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From: satyr <asatyr4bbws@yahoo.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.d
Subject: Re: {ASSM} The Bus To Croweville (MF, BBW, humor)
Date: Thu, 29 Jun 2006 12:17:05 -0700
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===================
Keep BBWs cumming!
Joris Huysmans wrote:
> Remember, there's a BBW story every week, encourage me to continue and let
> me know if you like reading them at joriskhuysmans (circle-A) hotmail
> (sppt!) com.
>
>
>
> THE BUS TO CROWEVILLE
> by Joris K. Huysmans
>
> "You go to Croweville?" I asked the bus driver.
>
> "Sure do, we'll be there about 2:15. In the a.m.," the driver said
> pointedly.
>
> "Thanks," I said, my eyes adjusting from the buglight glare of the terminal
> to the dark interior of the coach. I scanned up and down but every pair of
> seats had at least one taken, most by dozing older folks or wary-looking
> migrant workers. There was a somewhat chubby girl about my age, 23 or so,
> with pulled-back brown hair and a spaghetti-strap purple blouse, sitting
> looking out the window about halfway back. Better her than some old guy
> drooling on me, that was for sure.
>
> We nodded to each other as I sat down but it was too dark and quiet in the
> bus to really strike up a conversation. She looked out the window and I
> stared into space as the bus pulled out, precisely at 11:35 p.m. as
> promised. Hopefully I could get some sleep.
>
> An hour later everybody else on the bus seemed to be asleep except the
> driver (I hoped) and myself. I watched farmland go by the dark, then
> shifted my gaze down to the girl next to me. As I said, somewhat chubby,
> but pleasant to check out under the circumstances, there was something kind
> of sweet about the little bulge of cleavage between her big round breasts,
> the roll of her tummy, her little chubby fingers with tribal-style rings on
> each hand, the tattoo on one ankle, the little chubby toes in her
> flip-flops. From her feet I looked back up at her face-- and her eyes were
> open, staring at me.
>
> "Busted," she whispered.
>
> "Sorry," I said, my face flushing. "Not much else to do on this bus but
> look around."
>
> "I'm kind of cold," she whispered, apparently unbothered by what I'd been
> doing. "Is there a blanket anywhere?"
>
> I looked up the aisle; there was a small stack of them on one seat, unused.
> I got up and grabbed one quickly, and handed it to her.
>
> She unfolded it and started to pull it over herself, then offered one corner
> of it to me. "If you're cold too," she said.
>
> "Yeah, a little, I guess," I whispered.
>
> We both scrunched into our seats, kind of but not really facing each other,
> and she closed her eyes. I sank back into the zoned-but-not-really sleeping
> state that I'd been in for the last hour.
>
> And then I felt her hand on my leg, under the blanket.
>
> I looked over at her but her eyes were still closed. There was a faint
> smile, though. Was she asleep or coming on to me? Did it really matter?
>
> Her hand traveled up my leg, brushing my cock which was rapidly getting
> hard, then went under my shirt and rubbed my chest. No way she was doing
> this while asleep. But her eyes were still closed. Who knew what her
> fantasy was as it played out, but if she wanted to use me for it, I was just
> fine with that.
>
> I reached across under the blanket and put my hand on her hip. She didn't
> seem to mind so I slid it under her top as well. Her chubby belly was soft
> and jiggly, and she let me feel all around it and up to her bra-- which
> somehow she had already unclasped. I slid my hand under her big round tit,
> letting the weight of it drape over my hand, feeling the slightly sticky
> area right under her tit. I liked the feel of her size, the way the curves
> just kept on coming and shifting around as she squirmed in her seat.
>
> Now her hand went down and started rubbing my cock in my pants, so I reached
> for her leg and felt up her fat thigh under her skirt. No panties. She
> couldn't have gotten on the bus that way, could she? She must have taken
> them off when I wasn't paying attention, too. I slid my hand toward the
> place in between her legs and she let them part. It wasn't easy squeezing
> my hand in between her chubby thighs but I managed to do it and within a few
> moments I felt one of my fingers touch wetness. As I did she arched back
> like a cat, still keeping her eyes closed, and her pussy seemed to suck my
> finger inside it.
>
> I rubbed in and out of her slippery slit, and as I did she unzipped my fly
> under the blanket and fished around in my underwear until she came up with
> the head of my cock. She pulled it out and started jacking me, taking care
> not to make it too obvious under the blanket, though a quick look around
> suggested that no one was awake to notice. I kept rubbing her clit until I
> felt her big meaty thighs close tight around my hand and her upper body
> shook, her round tits squirming against me as she came. Finally she
> relaxed, and then she opened her eyes and looked at me, and kissed me for
> the first time. Her tongue darted inside my mouth, and then she pulled the
> blanket over her head and disappeared inside.
>
> I soon felt her hot breath on my cock as she licked the tip and then sucked
> it. I ran my hand over her broad back and the side of her fat dangling tit
> inside the cotton top, and it didn't take long before I was shooting into
> her mouth. I felt her swallow and keep sucking, two, three times. Finally
> I relaxed and she, almost daintily, slipped my cock back in my pants and
> zipped them up for me.
>
> We spent the next hour nuzzling and gently rubbing each other in different
> places; I really liked the feel of her, her big soft squishy belly, her
> round, hanging tits, her fat, sturdy thighs, and those adorable little toes
> at the end of her feet, and it was exciting to think of her with her tits
> out and her pussy spread wide under the blanket, no one but me the wiser to
> the half-naked glory underneath... then a moment came when sickly gray-white
> light flooded the bus from outside and we pulled into a station. We
> straightened ourselves up under the blanket, which she pulled over to her
> side. "Croweville," the bus driver said.
>
> I stretched in my seat and scratched my legs absent-mindedly. She looked at
> me kind of funny. "This is Croweville," she said.
>
> "I know," I said.
>
> "Aren't you getting off?" she said, looking slightly concerned.
>
> "I already got off," I said, smiling. She didn't smile. "Why?"
>
> "You asked the bus driver about Croweville."
>
> "Yeah, I know," I said. "My grandparents were born here, I kinda wanted to
> see it."
>
> "So you're not getting off?"
>
> "No, I'm going to Spartus. I'm taking a graduate seminar there. What about
> you?"
>
> Now she looked panic-stricken. "I go to the university, too... what program
> are you in?"
>
> "The creative writing program with..."
>
> "Dr. Fisher?"
>
> "How'd you know?"
>
> "I'm in it, too, I'm her T.A." She looked absolutely crestfallen. "I
> thought you were getting off and I'd never see you again. No one would ever
> know. And now..."
>
> "What? What's the big deal?"
>
> "Do you know what her first assignment is? Do you know what she has you
> write about, describe from start to finish, every detail, absolutely
> truthfully?" she asked me, with an utterly dismayed look on her face.
>
> "What?"
>
> "The trip from your hometown to the university."
>
> _________________________________________________________________
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>
> --
> Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
> reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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