Malcolm The Bus Driver

Moving back into town has given me one unexpected perk: the chance to rekindle an old flame, or rather the chance to ignite the flame that never was.

When I found out that the townhouse I’d spent so much time saving up for came equipped with an evening bus stop layover, I went ballistic. Especially after I learned that newly acquired bus stop had been grandfathered in three days prior to my moving in.

Soon though, the hourly sound of the bus pulling up in front of my house became sort of a calming remedy. I was enjoying such an evening when my doorbell suddenly rang.

Most of my neighbors are yuppies who largely keep to themselves, and most of my friends still live out in the outskirts, so I wasn’t sure who could be at the door.

I opened it, and there stood a familiar face I recognized immediately doing the pee-pee dance.

“I’m sorry to impose. Can I use your restroom?” he asked politely, looking dapper in his uniform.

“Sure,” I said, not giving it a second thought.

Back in the not-too-distant eighties, it was Malcolm—my best friend’s cousin—that turned me onto men. No, he wasn’t my first or anything like that (though I wished). He just revved up my engine, every time he swaggered by. And, because he was older than me and my best friend, he was the coolest thing a bunch of teenagers from Kentucky ever knew.

“Thank you.” Malcolm said, emerging from the restroom. He glanced at me for a moment before asking, “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

I started to shake my head. I was so embarrassed he had played in my fantasy for years and yet he couldn’t even remember my name. Besides, I didn’t want to bore him with the details or even embarrassing myself even further by drooling over the still-gorgeous man equipped with a heavy moustache and a thick soul patch under his full lips.

“I don’t think so.” I lied.

“Yeah, I do,” Malcolm grinned. “You’re Jeremy’s best friend. Benny.”

Malcolm was the guy I worshiped when I was younger, so I tried my best to stifle my excitement at his remembrance.

I must have done it well, because he immediately felt the need to remind me of who he was.

Once I gave in, we enjoyed a pleasant conversation about the past, my new townhouse, and his second career as a bus driver before he had to continue on his route.

A couple of days later, I rode along with Malcolm on his often-empty end-of-the-line bus. Our conversations were comfortable, like truly good friends that never lost touch. And whenever he had to pull off, our conversations ended there and continued right where we left off whenever he came back around.

“Benny, can I ask you something?” Malcolm asked me one day while we were alone on the bus.

“Nothing has stopped you before.” I said.

“Nah, never mind,” he said.

“Go on and ask. Don’t be scared. Grow a pair!”

“How come you never mentioned a girlfriend or anything?”

I was petrified.

Malcolm continued, sensing my being uncomfortable to the question. “I guess you haven’t met the right woman yet, huh?”

“No,” I sighed.

Even though I had always been comfortable with being gay, there was no way in hell I was going to wreck this golden opportunity to spend time with Malcolm by telling him about myself. As childish and as foolish as it was, it felt like we were starting to build a real bond. I wasn’t ready to kill the dream of a budding friendship.

“I was married once,” he said.

“I know, I remember Jeremy was one of your groomsmen, remember? He talked about that “Monopoly Man” tux and hat for weeks. So, what happened between you and your wife?” I asked out of courtesy.

Even after all this time, I had her name seared into my brain as the evil bitch that married the love of my life. To rub salt on the wound, she was the only person that somehow knew I had a thing for Malcolm and went on and married him anyway.

“Well, Benny Boy, she and I stayed married for ten long years and been divorced about just as long now. See we had a major problem in our relationship.”

“And what was that?” I asked, feeling like he was baiting my curiosity.

Malcolm turned his head to the back of the bus to make sure that there weren’t any other passengers on the bus, and said, “She liked girls, and I liked guys.” He winked.

I smiled back at him.

“Seems like I brightened your day?” Malcolm said.

“Maybe,” I said, smiling foolishly.

He winked back again, and said, “maybe, huh?”

“Tell you what. If you’re free later stop on by the house after work, and maybe I return the favor and brighten up your night!”

A few hours later, I was under the moonlight, firing up the gas grill when I saw a car creep up the alleyway. A second after it parked in the common parking area, Malcolm popped out of his car in his uniform with a brown bag in tow, making his way into my backyard.

“Cooking up some burgers on the grill, I see.”

“Yep,” I answered. “It’s one of those inner-city perks. What’s in the bag?”

“Condoms,” Malcolm joked with a straight face.

“Aren’t you presumptuous? With a bag that big, it looks like you’ve only got enough to get us through the week.”

“Nah, this is just for tonight.”  Malcolm smirked.

“Seriously, what’s in the bag?” I asked, flipping the burgers.

He sat the bag down on the brick retainer wall and pulled out two bottles of my favorite cheap red wine and a carton of vanilla ice cream. He said he wasn’t sure what to bring to such a late-night dinner, but he remembered me talking highly of the wine. He wasn’t exactly sure what my favorite flavor of ice cream was, so he went with the safest universal bet.

We ate outside under the stars and city lamps, entertaining ourselves with lively conversation that carried us from the past to the present. After dinner, I heated up some leftover apple pie and served it with the ice cream. It was better than good. The added treat was when Malcolm spilled some of his dessert on his crisp white shirt.

“I’ve got another shirt inside,” I said, getting up.

“Sit down, Benny. Finish your dessert. I’ll be fine.” Malcolm assured me.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said, wiping away the remaining mess, “nothing that a little pre-treatment can’t get out.” 

Malcolm was still playing with the spot on his shirt when he decided to remove it from his body, exposing a thick salt and pepper pelt that sprouted wildly from his crotch to his firm pectorals.

“Is that your way of telling me you want me to wash your shirt?”

“After you cooked this wonderful meal? Absolutely not! I just thought eating with a half naked man sitting across from you was a good way of saying ‘Thank You’.”  He finished, taking his spoon scooping it into my bowl.

“Not, if you take looking at half naked man sitting across from you as a good way of saying your welcome.”  I said, as I began to peel off my shirt, too.

He laughed, causing me to be a bit sensitive about my pointy thumbtack nipples.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Almost hairless,” Malcolm laughed some more. “If my dad was still kicking, he’d tell you that you didn’t drink enough of that mountain moonshine growing up.”

“And what would he say about men who wear apple pie á la mode?”

“A clumsy fruitcake,” he said in a mocking redneck tone that could’ve applied to anyone we knew in the most rural parts of our home state.

Once Malcolm helped me finish my dessert, we walked inside.

I knew if I didn’t get him into a shirt, I might begin to foam at the mouth.

I started digging through my second bedroom closet to find a shirt, and heard him ask me from out in the hallway, “So when did you know you were interested in me?”

I was almost too afraid to give him a truthful answer, so I made something up on the fly.

“Liar,” he said, laughing, as I tossed him the shirt from across the room so he could put it on.

“Huh?”

“Right after Melanie and I were married, she told me she knew you were into me. It seems you gave the girl the evil eye at our wedding when she was walking down the aisle.”

I laughed, taking a seat on the bed in the room. “She saw that, huh?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, sneaking a seat next to me in the room. “I got a secret to tell you. I was deep into you, too.”

“Really!” I said with a childish glow.

“Why do you think I came around you so many times?”

“I thought it was just because you liked coming by.” I said forthcoming.

“I do.” He said, flexing his handsomely thick eyebrows.

With that, he leaned forward with a kiss.

I reached for the remote to the stereo.

I had waited for this moment for a long time, and I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted mood music and tried discreetly as a small room would permit me to check my breath. I wanted his lips against mine, but I was also afraid; afraid that the fantasy wouldn’t live up to the expectations.

Hungrily, my mouth went for his, and we kissed deeply and passionately.

He stood up and unzipped his pants.

“Nice cock,” I said, staring at his crotch, after freeing the unusually plump thing from captivity.

“Thanks.” Malcolm grinned, pulling my cock out and slowly fondling it with his forefingers. “Yours is pretty decent, too.”

I swallowed hard. There it was the object of so many of my fantasies for so many years, stiffening right before my very eyes.

I mindlessly dropped to my knees and started licking the tip before sliding the stubby shaft down my throat until my nose crushed against his wild thick bush. Because his meat was growing so enormous in my mouth, I worked his thick mushroom head with my tongue and back down my throat. I could tell I was driving him crazy the way his strong hands grabbed my shoulders.

My head was bobbing up and down on his hot rod, and with his strong steering wheel hands gently pushing on my head, urging me to take him deeper than I ever could’ve thought possible. While I worked his cock, I couldn’t resist squeezing his hefty nuts, resulting in spine-tingling groans that told me he was enjoying every minute of it.

I soon moved my tongue bath down to his salty balls, popping each of those hair-covered eggs into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it while gently tugging on the other.

“Ohhh Yeah, Benny Boy,” Malcolm groveled with water in his eyes. “You’re about to make me cum.”

While I was pleased my oral talents were bringing him to the edge, I had other plans for his load. And, in no time flat, I was on the bed with Malcolm’s probing tongue on my twitching hole.

I quivered each time he replaced his tongue with his thick spit-lubed fingers, loosing me up for the slab of meat that was about to come.

“C’mon, now,” I moaned, wagging my fleshly butt on his meaty fingers. “Gimme that cock!”

Malcolm reached into his pockets, and panted, “It’s the only reason I kept my pants on,” pulling out a condom.

Malcolm rolled the condom down over his full stiff prick and rubbed the flared head against my puckered hole.

I endured the teasing for as long as I could before backing my ass right onto his cock. We were both surprised at how quickly and easily my asshole gobbled up his inches.

I grunted lowly as he invaded me with that thing, waiting eagerly for the pain to subside and be replaced by the waves of pleasure sure to come.

Malcolm fucked me doggy style on the bed, building a steady rhythm.

Then, he flipped me on my back and raised my legs up by my ankles. The sensation sent surges through my body, but it wasn’t until he took my second toe into his mouth my asshole opened like a broken dam. He was then able to bury his thick rod inside me to the hilt.

He humped that beautiful cock into me for what felt like kingdom come against the synchronized serenades of our moans.

With a long, firm jerk, I willed my load onto his thick fur. Malcolm continued to pound away at my ass like it was some sort of complex puzzle he was trying to solve with sweat streaming down his face and chest as he continued a torrid pace to that of a wild stallion.

Malcolm then suddenly pressed deep into me.

His thick hairy torso stiffened as he looked straight into my eyes. And with that, his cock expanded and jerked with rage inside of my stuffed hole.

His body shuddered from the aftershock of his explosive orgasm. He panted heavily. Malcolm soon pulled out from my used ass and yanked the cum-filled condom from his exhausted cock.

“You know, I’m like the bus company.” Malcolm panted, still towering over me.

“How’s that?” 

“I’m an equal opportunity employer.”

“Great,” I said, pulling him in for a kiss.

Though, my second fantasy always involved me fucking Malcolm, I was happy living out one fantasy for the night.

And besides, in the kitchen, there was still another bottle of my favorite cheap wine and some leftover apple pie á la mode we hadn’t finished off.