“Hi, sorry,” a female voice called from the aisle beside me, “… Sorry!”

It was late, I was tired from working my shift at the bar, and the last thing I needed was some drunk disturbing me on the bus home.

I kept my eyes set firmly on the pages of my book until the voice spoke up again, “Sorry, is this seat taken?”

The question was ridiculous – of course, the seat wasn’t taken – there were only five seats on the last bus occupied, not counting the driver, whose seat hopefully was taken.

Giving up, I looked up from my novel and to the smiling University student standing waiting for my attention in the aisle of the bus. I wasn’t surprised that the voice belonged to an attractive late-teen/early-twenties girl; she and her three friends were the only other passengers heading out of town; like me, they’d spent their night in the Pub, they’d just been on the other side of the counter.

It was too late for me to be interested in anything this girl – well, OK, pretty girl – had to say to me, but being rude just wasn’t in my nature.

Given the hour, a little passive aggression could be forgiven though, “Sure, I think that seat is free.”

Without another word, the girl took the seat next to me in a slow and deliberate attempt to draw my eyes to her body; smoothing down her skirt was a nice touch because I found myself taking in her whole figure, even against the best of my intentions.

I’d say she was a senior in University; under other circumstances, I’d likely have judged her as a graduate and probably wouldn’t have checked her ID if she came into my bar. The fact that she was in a group, all drunk and giggly girls, shaved those extra years and maturity from her appearance, which made me think twenty rather than twenty-five.

Even wrapped up against the autumn cold, it was obvious that the girl was a sexy little thing. A little beret-style hat framed her straight, brunette, medium-length hair. The thick woolly jump she wore disguised her true figure, but there were bumps where you’d hope to see them, and I’d willingly be prepared to bet that she had a good figure, somewhere buried beneath those layers.

All I could really see was her face, and there she was beautiful; a smile filled with emotion, pale white skin – probably as much due to the cold as genetics – with grey-blue eyes, which looked right into you, in a sexy unconscious way.

Pretty or not, I was shattered from a twelve-hour shift and just wanted to get to the point, “So, what’s up; I presume I don’t know you?”

It happened, when you worked the bar, strangers would approach you, missing the fact that you were paid to be polite to them while working and that faces in a busy bar all just blurred into one unless you were a long-time regular.

I didn’t work in student pub – having already served my time – and if I’d ever seen this girl before, I’d no memory of her face. The girl was certainly pretty enough and had she been closer to my thirty years, I’d have made a point of remembering her, assuming we’d ever met, of course.

“Is the book any good?” the girl asked.

Honestly, the book wasn’t going to be memorable. Pretty girl interrupting or not, I doubt I could’ve told a paying audience what the novel was actually about.

The relative quality of the book really wasn’t something I wanted to get into this late at night. “Yeah, it’s alright,” I answered, keeping things simple.

The girl just smiled back at me, her eyes fixed on the book in my lap. The gaze started to disconcert me – a drunken Uni student staring at my crotch – perhaps she really did want to talk about the book.

Just for something to say, I asked, “Do you like to read?”

“Sometimes,” she answered, but it was clearly not the conversation that she wanted to have. Raising her eyes to my own – hers swimming in and out of focus slightly – she asked, “I hate disturbing you like this, but I was wondering if you could do me a favour?”

Well, I didn’t smoke, so cigarettes weren’t available, and there was enough of a slur to the girl's words to stop me giving her alcohol – even If I had some to give. A quick inventory of my person, and all I had on offer was a bag with my dirty work clothes in; it seemed unlikely she’d come over to offer to do my washing.

“My friends dared me to come over here – we’re playing Truth or Dare,” the girl went on, giggling loudly, for some reason I couldn’t fathom.

Her three friends at the back of the bus heard her giggles and burst into much more raucous laughter.

Well, I was older, but not old, especially when compared to a University student; I took a guess, clearly missing something, “So, your friends dared you to come over and talk to a stranger on the bus?”

In the seat beside me, the girl’s giggles bubbled up and then boiled over into true laughter, “What sort of dare would that be?”

Well, I was a stranger – a strange man in fact – this was the last bus, and while we weren’t in a major city, I thought it was still pretty daring coming over to me. Had our roles and genders been reversed, I wouldn’t have been comfortable doing it, even after a fun night out and a few pints.

“OK,” I tried to smile, as much to settle my own confusion, as an attempt to play it cool, “well, how I can help?”

She smiled and said, “I have to bring the girls back some cum.”

“And…” but the words died, my brain losing access to the required level of oxygen needed to fully function, with the blood flow being redirected, by my libido, to parts further south.

A pretty girl says cum… the body reacts… public bus or not.

“So, I need some cum,” the girl went on, with a dirty look on her face.

“And...” I stumbled again. I mean, even my cock could see where this was going, but my cognitive reasoning was struggling like hell to get with the programme.

“You’re the only boy here, and I can’t ask the driver,” the girl pointed out, “so it has to be you.”

Well, you couldn’t fault logic like that. Or could you, what if there were cameras on the bus? – or someone passing saw us through the window…

“Quick, hurry up,” the girl prompted me, taking the book from my lap and dropping it on the floor, “we get off soon, and if I don’t have your cum, I’ll fail my dare.”

“OK,” I mean, the bus was empty apart from the driver, who was hopefully concentrating on the road, and the girl's friends. “So, are you going to...?”

I wanted to say suck it but didn’t want to push my luck.

“I’m not going to do anything. They dared me to get your cum before our stop but not to touch you.”

My brain had caught up and cottoned onto the fact that I wasn’t getting a blowjob. The only place my disappointment wasn’t felt was in my cock. If the girl wasn’t even going to wank me off, I did have a question, “Why should I help?”

“Because I’m a bad girl, and you want to show me what a big cock you have,” she answered in a voice dripping with so much sex that the words bad girl seemed to pulse right through my body to my cock.

It was a line, but a line I wanted to hear and gave me every excuse I needed – fuck it – why should I hold back; I unzipped and just pulled my cock out.

The, so far permanent, giggle fell from the girl's voice. “Ooh, nice cock,” she purred, “It’s a shame I wasn’t dared to suck it; you’re more than a mouthful.”

There was no sense in hanging around; on the moving bus, there was no one to catch us, but that didn’t dispel the feeling that someone might, so I just started wanking off, as if I was alone and had somewhere to be in a hurry.

Feeling myself fully hardening, becoming thicker and longer, tightening into the loose grip I’d started wanking with, the girl purred, looking right at my cock, “How big does it get?”

“Pretty big,” I answered, yanking my balls through my fly to show off my full size to the girl’s pretty face.

“OK – no shit – those are big,” she said, looking at my balls as I looked at her face. “Your cock is really, really thick.”

I didn’t say anything; I just wanked it harder. My stop was coming up too; I was willing to miss one stop for this if needed, but not two and a three-mile walk home in the cold.

“The boys in my University aren’t like that.” Her eyes were on my cock and hand as I wanked it. “My boyfriend is really thin compared to you.”

“You have a boyfriend?”

She made eye contact with me for a brief moment, “Are you jealous?”

“Not at all,” I answered honestly.

“You shouldn’t be – I don’t tell the girls, but he’s so small, I can only really feel it when he does me in the arse.”

I got a little harder at that, my imagination running along a whole new direction, “You like it up the arse?”

“Sometimes, sure,” she answered her eyes on the beating of my cock. “When it’s my boyfriend, it’s OK because he’s so small. I like that I don’t have to pretend to moan, and it doesn’t even hurt anymore; I like a little pain though, the sexy feeling of a dick being pushed into my bum.”

“Wow, that’s hot,” I said, becoming even more turned on. I had no idea what her body really looked like, but I liked the submissive side and had dreams of gently pushing her cheeks apart, and then not being so gentle as I pushed the head of cock against her tight arse.

“Is it?" She glanced at me for a second time. “We all do it… anal, I mean.”

“We?” I asked, which the girl answered by inclining her head in the direction of her friends at the back of the bus, who were all still giggling and chatting conspiratorially; guessing at some version of what was going on, even though they couldn’t see what was happening in our seats.

“It’s the only safe way to let guys cum in you.”

I mean, what could you say to that logic, “You could try condoms.”

“Don’t be dense; I mean properly cum inside you.”

“So you do anal when your boyfriend wants to cum in you?”

“Yeah, or whoever,” some precum went flying at that; it was my body’s way of acknowledging that I was definitely whoever, but fucking this girl could only ever be a fantasy.

“Whoever?” I had to ask, “You cheat on your boyfriend?”

“It not cheating if it’s just a blowjob, or, well, you know – if they just do me in the bum,” she said with a drunken giggle. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this; are you going to cum?”

With the images flashing through my head, it was a miracle that I was still hanging on. I wanted to hear more, to further flesh out my fantasy, “So you just bend over and…”

“Yeah, mostly it’s in a car, or you know, outside – cos I live in the halls still – so I bend over, or get on my knees; guys just like to push my skirt up and do me.”

“Fuck you in the arse,” I said clearly, realising I might have missed out on more than just further education by skipping college.

“Unless it’s my boyfriend, and he has a condom.”

I didn’t know the guy, but I doubted he carried them.

“Are you going to cum yet?”

“Any second,” I again answered honestly.

“Your cock is really sexy,” she said, her eyes focused on me wanking my shaft and the big thick-cut head of my cock. “I wish I could play with it.”

“You could,” I tried to sound nonchalant, or at least as nonchalant as anyone wanking off on a bus can be.

“No,” she seemed sad, “and if you don’t cum before the next stop, I lose my dare – how about if I give you my phone number, and you can take me out sometime.”

“And your boyfriend won't mind.”

“I just won't tell him – I’d love to see your cock again – to feel it inside me.”

That nearly made me blow. “So, I should bring condoms?”

“No, don’t. I told you. I don’t cheat on my boyfriend. If I like you, you can fuck me up the arse.”

I was about to cum; the girl was so dirty. “What happens if we don’t get on? Surely, you’ll still owe me a favour.”

She laughed at my brazenness, but her eyes stayed glued to my big hard cock, which I was furiously beating off. Her slutty stories – truth or not – had brought me to the edge. “Yes, since you’ve been so helpful – I guess I’ll bring you off – when we meet, I mean – would you like to cum in my mouth?”

My orgasm started to build up, “Would you swallow?”

Whether it was truth or dare, she answered immediately, “Always.”

“I’m going to cum,” I announced.

“Wait,” she said, “cum in the…”

But it was too late to wait, and I had a slutty secret of my own. I held the shaft hard-tight in my hand, and as I felt the pressure build, I released and wanked it fast, aiming my cock towards the girl's face, and managed to blast cum the distance up onto her.

The underlying look of slightly-drunken mirth dropped from the girl's face as the cum literally slapped into her cheek and lips.

The second and third spurts only managed to make her woolly jumper and skirt, but both felt just as good to me. The release was exactly what I needed after work; even though I’d not known it, I’d built up a lot of frustration.

Her composure returned in the next instant, and when the smile returned, it was a purely dirty smirk. Her tongue slipped out, taking the small spot of cum from the corner of her lips.

“You bastard,” she almost moaned, her eyes devouring my straining cock, as it tried to force out everything I had built up inside me. “I can’t believe you did that,” her hand rose to her cheek, obviously with the intention of wiping it clean; before she caught her motion and thought better of it.

“How much of what you just told me was bullshit?” I asked, as a thirty-year-old man who hadn’t believed in Santa for a long time.

I pushed my cock back into my jeans, its head and my hand still sticky, which broke the spell over the girl who looked up to make eye contact with me, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She looked like such a slut, fully dressed for the colder weather but with my cum coating from the side of her face and staining her clothes.

The way she looked was like a picture from a dirty movie. I grabbed my phone from my pocket, “Can I have your phone number?” I asked, taking a quick picture of her face before she had a chance to react.

The girl obviously saw the action, subtlety was hardly the forte of any man who’d just cum. Instead of being offended or enraged, she used her own phone to take a selfie and then a picture of my face and the sticky hand I’d brought myself off with.

“You can’t have my phone number,” she said, not quite breaking my heart, “but give me yours; maybe I’ll give you a call sometime.”

I rattled off my phone number for the girl, who seemed to type it into her phone, before standing and heading back to her friends.

A great cheer went up from the other three women as she walked to the back of the bus, her cum-stained face showing that she’d managed her dare.

God knows where the dares would go from there. I almost felt regret at having to get off the bus as it stopped before the group of girls cheering had died down.