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The Night Bus Chapter One
Imogen's twenty-third birthday had been a nightmare. I should have known it would be and not gone. But she was my best friend from uni and we hadn't seen each other as often as we'd liked in the past few months. As it happened I didn't get to spend time with her anyway; the party was too crowded and the music too loud and the alcohol too plentiful. I'd drunk it too plentifully anyway. Jack had been there, my ex, with his new boy, David. We'd been together formally for two years, plus occasional fucks since we'd first met two years before that. He'd dumped me without ceremony or explanation three months earlier and I still hadn't really recovered.
The party began awkwardly. I hadn't known Jack or David would be there but I found the two of them on the sofa together when I went into the sitting room. Of course I should've known Jack would be there; all our set from uni were. I guess it would have been bad enough if he were alone but David made it exponentially worse. Jack looked up at me and scowled; I turned and went into the library instead. There was booze in the library as well as the sitting room and that's where I started drinking.
You'd think there'd be plenty of space for two people -- no, three people -- to avoid each other completely in a house that size but it seemed Jack and David were everywhere I went, standing or sitting next to each other at first, then holding hands, then kissing, then touching each other as the night went on. Jack's hand on David's arse. David's arm round Jack's waist. You'd think they'd spend some time apart, to separate and mingle. There were scores of people there: Imogen's friends from school, our set from uni, her newish mates from work. But David was someone new, someone Jack had met out, not one of our uni set, and he probably didn't know anyone there on his own. But thinking back, when Jack and I had been together, I had followed him room to room wherever we went together, too, like a puppy on an invisible lead.
I don't think they were following me. Usually I found them already in a room or in the back garden or wherever I went, before I'd got there. Maybe I'd been following them, subconsciously. Or maybe consciously, even, by the time I'd got drunk. At some point someone I hadn't met yet pressed a couple of dubiously nondescript tablets in my hand and I'd been drunk enough to swallow them. Jack and David had already progressed to openly groping each other by then and the rest of the party were too sweaty, drunk, drugged up, dancing, throbbing, thronging, snogging, or shagging to notice them or care. All except me, it seemed.
Jack had evolved from scowling to ignoring to glaring icily when our eyes met as the night went on. Now, though, he was smirking. David was straddling his lap on a chair in the dining room as I stared at them across the room, David's head on Jack's shoulder. I couldn't help but remember how many times he'd fucked me like that, me straddling his lap, and I couldn't help but feel the ghost of his cock inside me as I stared. I think I felt my hole actually quiver and I couldn't look away. Jack leant down to murmur something in David's ear. Jack knew. David, who'd ignored me all night long, glanced at me over his shoulder, grinned and bit his lower lip, then began an exaggerated parody of a lap dance. I still couldn't look away. Jack had been the only man to fuck me who could make me cum without touching myself, which was good, really, because he didn't let me touch myself when we were together. That's not what my cock was for, he'd said; that's not what I was for.
After seeing the lap dance I staggered out of the house and into the lane. I took out my mobile to summon an Uber but the battery was dead. Fuck! I stumbled down the street. I'd been to Imogen's parents' house before; I vaguely remembered a bus stop about a quarter-mile away. After lumbering up the hill and turning a corner or two, there it was.
I lay down on the cool metal bench to stop my head spinning. I felt flushed and quite warm so I unbuttoned my shirt and let the soft autumn breeze blow over me. I must have dozed off because I don't know how long it took for the night bus to arrive. I stepped on and stupidly waved my dead phone over the reader, the driver and scattered handful of passengers glaring at me as nothing happened, before I remembered it was dead and used the bank card in my wallet. Chagrined, I turned to the stairs and ascended to the deserted upper deck just in time to collapse into a seat.
I must have dozed off again because I was roused by the commotion of three teenagers clamoring up the stairs. Fuck, I was dizzy; my brain felt foggy. My eyes focused reluctantly on the three boys as they moved to stand in the center of the aisle despite all the seats but mine being empty. All three wore baseball caps, nylon tracksuits, and trainers. All three wore chain necklaces and white vests under the unzipped jackets. What fucking bus had I got on, I wondered. Where the fuck was I? My head lolled towards the window to get my bearings but the bus was moving now and the storefront signs blurred and merged together. I felt ill and turned back to the relatively stationary interior of the bus.
The boys were talking and laughing with each other, taking no notice of me. One of them seemed the leader based on the deference from the other two, even though my intuition was awash in booze and whatever those tablets were. He was taller than the other two, blond hair and fringe showing beneath his cap, a stud in each earlobe, his face smooth. He smiled at a joke, showing straight white teeth. His tracksuit was loose and baggy but his body seemed quite fit beneath. The other two were fit as well -- though shorter, not as slender, and dark-haired -- but my gaze was drawn to him. Of course I couldn't help lowering my eyes to his crotch and felt my pulse quicken because he coincidentally shifted his weight from one foot to the other, causing something unexpectedly large to sway inside.
I don't know how long I stared before I heard someone say, 'Hey, Charlie, I think posh boy there is faggin' out over you.' I looked up. The three boys were smirking at me now.
'Fuck, Charlie,' another voice said to the blond, 'she's actually fuckin' droolin'!'
I realised my mouth was slightly open and swallowed. I waved a hand at my face, found my chin, and wiped it. The boy was right, it was wet.
'That right, fagboy?' the one who was Charlie asked now. I recognised a predatory look in all three pairs of eyes. I wobbled my head no.
'Didn't hear you, fagboy,' one of the others said.
'Go on then, you want this, don't ya?' Charlie asked. He reached down and loosely gripped his cock. My eyes reflexively followed his hand. I heard one boy snicker. Fuck! Two things were apparent: Charlie wasn't wearing anything beneath his tracksuit bottoms and whatever he was holding was huge. It was too floppy to be hard but it filled his hand with plenty to spare.
I wobbled my head no again, mumbling 'No' as well, but my eyes never left what Charlie was holding. How do you mumble a single syllable, I remember thinking, before Charlie spoke to me again.
'Hey? Hey, fagboy?' he called softly. Almost seductively. 'Look up here.' I reluctantly pulled my eyes up from his cock and over his narrow torso to his angular face. Oh fuck me, I noticed now: his eyes were chips of lapis lazuli above sharp, high cheekbones. 'If you ask really nicely, I'll let you suck it.'
I wobbled no a third time. 'Lemme 'lone,' I slurred.
'Go on, you want it,' he said knowingly. 'Look,' he nodded down, lowering his eyes. I followed them. His hand had moved to the waistband of his tracksuit bottoms and he was slowing lowering it. A strip of lightly tanned flesh showed below the hem of his white vest before the skin sharply turned pale and cream-coloured where his waistband had been, just above the gradual thickening of an untrimmed bush of straw-coloured pubes. I heard myself moan. They heard it, too. Charlie's mates chuckled nastily.
'Go on, you want it,' Charlie repeated. This time I nodded. 'Yeah, fagboy?' he asked. 'I knew it. What do you want?'
Fuck, I could see the root of his cock now. It was thick, too. It looked at least three fingers wide, still limp based on the outline of the rest under the flimsy fabric. 'To suck it,' I slurred.
'Yeah? You want it in your mouth?' Charlie asked.
'Yeah,' I said.
'Yeah what?' he asked.
'Yeah, please,' I said.
'Come on then,' he beaconed. I grabbed the top of the seat in front of me and began to stand but he interrupted me. 'No, no, fagboy. On your knees.' I heard laughter from either side but Charlie and his crotch were all I had in mind. I slumped off the seat onto the floor and crawled to him. As I closed the distance between us, Charlie took a couple steps backwards. More laughter as I continued on, undeterred.
'Stop there,' he said when I was about a metre away. 'Look up here again.' I sat back on my heels and looked up at him. He seemed to tower above me. I remembered he was taller than his mates; taller than me, too, I thought. I'm 5'10" so I reckoned he was something over 6'.
'If I let you have this you're gonna treat it right, yeah?' he asked. I nodded. 'I mean you're gonna do whatever I tell you to do, yeah?' I nodded. He reached down and smacked my cheek. Not hard, just a tap really. 'No, say it.'
'I'm gonna do whatever you tell me,' I slurred.
'Say it right, fagboy,' he said. The smirk was gone now. He looked stern. Jack had been like this, too, when we were together. It felt right, familiar. I knew what to say. I'd said it often.
'I'm gonna do whatever you tell me, sir,' I said.
'Go on then,' he said. As I shuffled forwards, he wrapped his free hand round the back of my skull and guided my face into his crotch.
'Oh fuck,' I murmured as I breathed in his scent. Somewhere, long ago, there was a faint remnant of body wash on his skin buried under cigarettes and cannabis, but in his crotch these were vastly overpowered by the funky musk of a lad who'd spent all day freeballing in a tracksuit, the untrimmed bush storing up the aroma and releasing it to me now, each individual pube a wick wafting it to my nose. I'd never sucked off anyone who hadn't at least trimmed, even if they weren't shaved smooth all over like me.
'Look up at me,' Charlie said. I left my nose in his pubes as I tilted my face and eyes up. 'Pull my trousers down. Slow. Slow enough for you to kiss every centimetre of my cock as they come down. Start here,' he pointed to the exposed base.
'Yes, sir,' I whispered.
'Louder, fagboy,' he said.
'Yes, sir,' I repeated.
'Kiss,' he said. I did. My hands haltingly found their way to his waistband as he let it go I and slowly lowered it, and I lowered my face and lips at the same time. He was plumping up with anticipation now but still wasn't close to hard. He braced himself on a handrail with one hand as the other lightly gripped my skull. I was counting each kiss in my head. At fifteen I hadn't even got to the head. Fuck! Six inches of just shaft, still mostly flaccid. And it stayed fucking thick the whole way down. It even widened more at the head. His knob slipped free from behind the waistband. His foreskin just covered the piss slit. I looked up at him and licked my lips.
'You wanna suck it?' he asked.
I nodded. 'Yeah. Yes, sir. Yes, please.'
'Put my knob on your tongue,' he said.
Our eyes still locked together, I opened my mouth and caught the end of his cock on my tongue, pulling it between my lips.
'Suck it while you lick out my hood,' he said.
I moaned as I obeyed. Fuck, he tasted delicious. Salt, sweat, maybe a hint of piss. Maybe even a hint of stale cum? From a wank sometime after he'd showered?
He was getting hard now. His hand urged my face closer to his body and I broke eye contact and started swallowing my way down. When my nose and lips were buried in his pubes and pressed tight against his firm flesh, his grip tightened and he held me in place. I could feel his cock burrowing into me, swelling, stiffening, lengthening, thickening. I stifled one gag, then another, my eyes watering, until I choked hard. I couldn't breathe now. My hands, which had been wrapped round the waistband, opened and I pressed my palms against his thighs. They were harder than I expected, unyielding. So was his grip, even one-handed.
'You don't need air, fagboy,' Charlie said. 'You need my cock. Now choke.' And I did, trying to struggle free. At last, as I started to see flashes against a darkening background, he let me push away. I gasped through throat slime in my mouth and snot running from my nose as I fell back on my heels.
'Oh fuck,' I panted. I stared at the cock that jutted up in front of me, spit-coated and rising at least eight inches from the nest of slobbery straw pubes. Its own weight pulled it down from his stomach like a clock's hand pointing at two. I could see his balls clearly now, hairy too, of course; each looked to be the size of a lemon in his low-hanging sack. I could feel hairs in my mouth and worked my tongue round to find them. I reached up to pluck them out but he narrowed his eyes and calmly said, 'Don't you fuckin' dare.'
'Yes, sir,' I puffed, blushing.
'Back to work,' Charlie said after I'd drawn a couple of ragged breaths. I eagerly moved forwards and took him into my mouth again. Always up for a challenge, me. I dared to close my hands on his narrow hips to help me keep my balance as the bus juddered along. I looked back up to see him looking down through narrow lids, his face relaxed. He wrapped his hand back round my head. He knew I wanted to please him now and wouldn't resist, so it was mostly just a gesture of domination, of possession, as he let me set the pace. He would occasionally issue commands in a firm but patient tone. 'Deeper.' 'Suck harder.' 'Tongue my knob.' Occasionally, he would again pull me all the way down until I throated him completely but he'd let me up again when I began to struggle. As I thought he might be getting close, he pulled my mouth off his cock and slid it down to his balls.
His sack smelled like his bush and cock, but stronger -- less body wash and more musk here. I licked him hungrily and took one ball into my mouth at a time. Only one would fit. 'Easy, fagboy,' he warned as I sucked gently. I moaned in acknowledgement. I moved one hand to wank him as I sucked but he smacked me gently again as he shook his head. 'Hands off. Mouth only,' he said. 'At least until I take the other end.' I moaned again at the thought of this massive cock taking my arse. I felt my hole quiver, as it had when I'd watched David straddle Jack at the party. The party! Fuck, how long ago that seemed!
'Stop's comin', Charlie,' one of his friends said. I'd forgot all about them. One of Charlie's balls still in my mouth, I turned slightly to look at where the voice had come from. I jolted when I saw the boy had his mobile out, obviously filming me. I opened my mouth, pulled back, and looked to the other side; the second boy doing the same. For a moment, the fog of booze, drugs, and lust cleared.
'What the fuck're you doing?' I asked.
Charlie slapped me. For real this time. 'Oi! Manners, fagboy!'
'They're filming!' I said.
'Yeah? So?' Charlie said.
'I don't want this filmed!' I said.
Charlie glanced over at each of them in turn. 'All right, all right,' he muttered. 'Phones away.' They frowned but reluctantly lowered them.
'Now we're gettin' off at the next stop, fagboy, Gav, Nige, and me. You wanna come, too, don't you, so you can finish me off?' He looked down and I did, too, to see his hand clutching his still-hard, still-slobbery cock.
My brief window of clarity slammed shut when I looked back at his cock. I nodded. 'Yeah,' I said. I wanted his load now. I wanted to taste and swallow his cum. With balls that size, I bet it would be massive, even if I was right that he'd rubbed one out earlier.
Charlie grabbed my fringe and yanked my face to tilt towards his. 'What?' he glowered.
'Yes, sir,' I said. 'Yes, please.'
'Good faggot,' he said. He pulled his tracksuit bottoms up, trapping his cock against his body. It protruded obscenely above it against the white vest between the unzippered jacket flaps. He didn't even bother pulling the hem of his vest over it. He reached down and grabbed my fringe again as he snorted, then cleared his throat. He held my face still as he spat a fat, viscous gob on the centre of my forehead. I reached up to wipe it away as it slid thickly down to my nose but he smacked my hand away. 'Leave it,' he said, then he turned and walked towards the back stairs as the bus began to slow. The other two followed. I scrambled unsteadily to my feet and lurched after them and down the stairs.
On the pavement outside the bus, Charlie turned in the light of the bus stop. Despite the hour -- or perhaps because of it here, I had no idea where we were -- there were still a few people milling around. The mid-rise tower blocks of a housing estate rose along the road and beyond. His gob of snot and spit had made its way down the side of my nose and clung on the edge of my lip as I'd careered down the bus stairs. He reached out a finger and pushed it into my mouth, smirking as I opened my lips to accept it. His eyes held mine as his finger continued into down to the base and I closed my lips and began to suck it.
'Fuck, lads, I think fagboy's on heat,' he said. They snickered. 'Are you, fagboy? Are you a horny bitch?' Charlie asked.
'Yes, sir,' I mumbled around his finger before he pulled it out.
'Too fuckin' right, he is,' one of the boys said. 'Look at that.' He pointed to my crotch. 'Not much cock to show for himself from the sight of it but he must be as hard as he gets to be that wet. It looks like he's pissed himself.' We all looked down and saw a football-sized stain of moisture darkening my light grey trousers, making them cling to the trunks underneath. The four-inch lump of my hard cock was clearly visible, small as it was. The three of them laughed.
'Give me your shirt,' Charlie said. It was already open from the stop where I'd caught the bus so I just slipped it off my shoulders and handed it to him. He tossed it to the boy on my right. 'Hang on to that, Nige,' he said. 'Now your belt,' he said to me.
I was shivering now but not from cold as I unbuckled my belt and handed it to him. He was staring in my eyes again as he looped it round my neck, pulling the tail through the buckle to improvise a collar and lead. I looked down when he clicked his fingers and saw him pointing to the pavement. He said nothing. He didn't need to. I whimpered as I knelt. He turned and led me crawling down the street on my hands and knees, the other two following after us.
We didn't go far, half a block and the same round the corner, before Charlie led us into an alley between two buildings. A metal door hung on hinges that groaned as he pushed it open, the latch and lock broken. The alley was about four feet across but widened a few paces in to a small courtyard maybe eight- or ten-foot-square ringed with bins. A halogen lamp shone down like a spotlight.
'Nige?' Charlie called softly. As if they'd practice this routine before, the boy with my shirt tossed it to him. Charlie took the seam of one sleeve in his teeth, then pulled the cuff in one hand and the collar with the other. The sound of ripping cloth sliced through the silence as the sleeve came away, then Charlie tossed the remains back to his mate.
'Stand up, fagboy,' Charlie said as he twirled the sleeve into a rope. I rose and he turned me to face the wall. He crossed my wrists behind my back and tied them. For the first time I felt afraid. I'd been drunk and high and horny and wanted to suck Charlie off, and wanted him to fuck me even, but it was the middle of the night and I didn't know where I was and I was surrounded by three presumably straight teens in an alley, now with my hands tied behind me.
'Please,' I said.
'Fuckin' gaggin' for it, she is,' one of the boys said and the other laughed.
Having secured my hands, Charlie turned me round to face him. He seemed genuinely surprised that my eyes were watering. 'Please don't hurt me,' I said. He looked puzzled for a moment and then it clicked.
'What, like beat the shit out of you 'coz you're a faggot? Break your pretty posh face?' Charlie asked. I nodded. 'You just thought of that now? Followin' me half-naked through you don't even know where, crawlin' on your hands and knees? Fuckin' hell, you really do love my cock!' The others laughed.
'Nah, fagboy,' Charlie continued. 'I'm not gonna break your pretty posh face. I like your pretty posh face.' He leant in and I could smell the tobacco and cannabis on his breath. He stuck out his tongue and pressed it flat against the side of my face, hard. He licked from the bottom of my jaw to my temple. 'I'm going to own your pretty posh face. It's the rest of you I'm gonna break. Your weak fuckin' faggot brain mostly. And then I'm gonna own it all.'
He pushed down on my shoulders until I was kneeling again, the disgusting fluids of the alley soaking into my trousers. 'I'm gonna start with your throat,' Charlie said. 'And when I've broken that, I'm going to give it to them,' he gestured behind him to the others. 'No-one's gonna hurt your pretty posh face, not unless we have to knock the teeth of out it. You understand why we'd have to do that?'
I nodded. He gave me another tap to the cheek. 'Say it, fagboy,' he said calmly.
'I understand why, sir.'
'Good faggot,' he said. He was lowering his tracksuit bottoms again now. His cock had softened on the walk and slipped back down inside.
'And when you're suckin' off Gav and Nige,' Charlie continued as he slipped his knob back into my mouth, 'I'm gonna break your arse. Then I'm gonna give that to them, too. And if you're a really, really good faggot, we might text some mates to come for a bit of fun with you. A faggot's dream come true, innit, a fuckin' smorgasbord of straight cock and cum?' he asked.
I nodded lustfully, then moaned as he thrust his hips forwards and buried his cock in my throat again. I didn't see Charlie nod to the other boys or see them take their phones back out to film but I saw the videos later, as a lot of people have.
The sun was well into the sky when I staggered naked to peer out through the crack in the alley doorway, my holes sore and leaking. I was drenched in cum and piss as my bleary eyes frantically sought a landmark or street sign. Seeing none, I shouldered the door closed and scurried like a cockroach back to cower by the bins, waiting for dusk and trying to get my hands free. Fuck, Charlie, Gav, and Nige had a lot of mates.
[Continued.]