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."