I'm a big believer in the bus system. Public transportation keeps the air cleaner, cuts down on traffic, and it gives the population a chance to coexist peacefully for a few miles of communal riding each day. But the real point is it's a great place to cruise. The bus system should start an ad campaign: "Cruise while you cruise."

So, for all of the reasons above, I take the bus home everyday. I work for a big West Coast bank in San Francisco (a bank I'd rather not name but believe me, you've heard of it) and I live up near--well, let's just say I live in one of the hilly neighborhoods.

Last Tuesday I got on the bus at Market Street and was lucky to find a seat by the rear door. It was hot that day, and I regretted, for once, that my banking job requires me to wear a suit. See, I look good in a suit, so I usually like wearing one. I'm six foot three, slim, and fair-skinned.

My dick is shaped like the rest of me--long and slim and white. It tapers from the base of my shaft to the head, which makes it perfect for sucking. But sometimes I fantasize that I have a different kind of dick, one that isn't in such perfect proportion. I fantasize my dick has an oversized, unapologetic mushroom head, the kind of head that's always big and purple, even when you're totally flaccid. The kind of head that shows up through a bathing suit even in cold water. The kind of head that never shrinks and always looks ready for action, even if the rest of the penis has yet to get hard. The kind of head that, last Tuesday, was staring me--I'm not kidding, I swear it could see me--right in the face.

I don't know when he'd got on the bus, but he was wearing green, nylon gym shorts and a white polo shirt, and his nicely-shaped feet were scantly covered by Birkenstocks. I couldn't see his face without being obvious, so I just stared right in front of me at the enormous, obvious cockhead in front of me. The ridge was strongly defined against his shorts, teasingly implying how fleshy the rest of it was. I sat and rode and stared. When I boarded the bus, I'd been angry I didn't have a newspaper to read, but now I was perfectly satisfied to watch that dick of his, the head protruding almost to the point of indecency, the head prodding the smooth fabric of his shorts, the head bouncing up and down with the motion of the bus.

Inside, I was ready to explode. Outwardly, I made my face look blank. If he was trying to turn me on, he'd have to make that clear to me. San Francisco is known as the gay capital of the world, but there are plenty of straights here, and some of them can get pretty aggressive with homos who try to pick them up. I wasn't in the mood to get bashed that day, especially because it was hot outside.

Unfortunately, I was concentrating so hard on checking out Mr. Mushroom Head while looking nonchalant that I missed my stop. Actually, I was way past my stop. I pulled the signal and brushed past the green shorts guy to get out the door at the next stop.

Walking home, I was pissed. I was almost a mile from my apartment building. On top of that, I'd missed my chance to pick up the guy on the bus. (Why'd I hesitate? I'm a fool!) Worst of all, I had no idea what he looked like.....at least above the waist.

I got home and threw off my clothes. I sat on the couch, turned on the TV, and ordered Thai food. I wanted to relax after a hard day. But all I could think about was that guy. Mostly I was thinking about his dick, but soon it was turning into a whole fantasy about him, and what he was like, and what the rest of him looked like, and how good a cocksucker he was, and what fun he'd be on a date, and before I knew it, I came all over my new couch. (I'd hardly even realized how vigorously I was touching myself.)

At that point I grew even more obsessed. If I could stain upholstery over him, I could meet him. I determined that I would cross paths with that guy again. He was like my Cinderella, except with a big cockhead instead of a glass slipper as the clue. Where to find him? The bus, of course. Same time, same stop. Maybe I'd even get to the bus stop a little earlier, to make sure I wouldn't miss him.

And what to call him? Even saying it in my head, "That Guy on the Bus" was way too long, and it lacked punch. "Cinderella" was too campy and silly, considering what I had in mind for him. "Green Shorts"? Ridiculous. Then, it popped into my head, and I knew what to name him: Bus Buddy. I swore that starting the next day I'd keep my eyes open for him.

Wednesday evening. Got on the bus and rode home. No sign of Bus Buddy.

Thursday evening. Took an earlier bus. Rode next to a woman with two kids and cheap perfume. Where is my Bus Buddy?

Friday evening. Had to work late (!!!) and, naturally, missed Bus Buddy. Thought about finding a new job that doesn't keep employees late on Fridays.

Saturday and Sunday. Spent the weekend indoors. Cleaned out refrigerator, recycled magazines, took clothes to the thrift store. Stayed as busy as possible. Didn't sleep Sunday night due to anticipation of the coming day. Too much excitement. Couldn't sleep even after beating off a couple times.

Monday.

I knew Monday was the lucky day. I knew. He'd be on that bus, I was sure. I could feel it in my bones--all my bones, as you can imagine. Monday would be the day.

Except for one small problem. A report we printed up in my department for Tuesday's board meeting turned out to have been prepared using the wrong figures. To avoid being fired, we all had to stay and fix the data. It took an extra hour. Then another hour. And another.

I got to the bus stop three hours late. I hated my job, I hated San Francisco, and I hated that I hadn't just grabbed Bus Buddy by the dick and jerked him off right there on the bus. I was so eager to get on the bus and get home that I didn't notice I'd boarded the wrong bus until I was halfway to Noe Valley. I pulled the signal and gathered my stuff to get off.

But guess who got on at the next stop! There, at the front of the bus, was Bus Buddy, in a blue T-shirt and those same nylon shorts, green and shiny. What was he doing on the wrong bus? He didn't notice me, sitting in the back, but I sure noticed him.

He was very cute, with black, curly hair. He was built like an Italian soccer player: muscular but not stocky; well-built, but graceful; strong, but agile. His skin was olive-complected and a little sweaty.

And then he headed to the back of the bus. I pulled out my newspaper, to look nonchalant. (Yes, I know that was a dumb maneuver, but it's what I did.) After half a minute, I pretended to read an article at the top of the page. That way, I could glance over the newspaper and see what Bus Buddy was doing.

He was looking right at me, watching to see if I was going to watch him. Now that he saw me look up, he smiled. It was a sweet, friendly smile, but slow. The slowness made it clear he was smiling more than just a friendly smile. He put his hands on his hips, I guess to show off how developed his torso was. I, of course, was looking to see what was developing down below, in those green shorts. Predictably, there it was, unerect, but firm and unyielding as ever. I decided to speak.

"Um, I got on the wrong bus. Do you know where this is headed?"

What a stupid line! But he smiled anyway, and said, "Sure. We're about two minutes from Noe Valley."

"Oh. How do I get back to Market Street?"

"In my car. I'll take you."

"You have a car?"

"It's parked in front of my house."

My dick was already hard, but when he said that, my swollen pole started throbbing. His voice was smooth and sexy, and his smile was a killer, a certified lethal weapon.

"Oh," I croaked out. "Okay."

We got off at the next stop. It was chilly outside, and I hoped his house would be close. (This city is hot one moment and freezing the next!) We walked along a block or two.

I decided to break the silence. "Where did you say your--"

"Sh," he said. "Wait."

I wasn't sure at this point what was going on, but I kept walking. On the next block was a Safeway with a big parking lot. The store was closed, but a few workers were inside, pricing things and cleaning up under dim lighting. Bus Buddy headed into the parking lot, walking against the brick wall separating the parking lot from the lot next door. I followed him.

"Is this a shortcut?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, turning to face me. He smiled. And then his mouth pounced on mine in a wet, soft kiss. I backed up beside the brick wall, and Bus Buddy kept kissing me, now with firm, deliberate lips. His weight began to press against my body, pinning me to the wall.

Once I recovered from the surprise, I started kissing him back. I reached down to grab for his dick, but his hand intercepted and held my wrist.

"Not now," he said. "Later."

We kept kissing, and I rubbed his firm torso. His skin was soft, and it was wet from sweat.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked.

"Sh," was his reply.

He turned me around to face the wall. He made little kisses on my neck while taking off my suit jacket, and then my tie. Then he reached his hands around my chest and unbuttoned my shirt, button by button. I shivered as his forearms brushed against my nipples and tickled under my arms.

"Don't turn around," he said, as he took off my shirt and undershirt.

By now I didn't feel the cold at all. Sweat was rolling down the back of my neck. I reached my arms toward the wall and placed my palms flat against the bricks. Bus Buddy was licking and kissing my back. He slid his tongue up my spine, catching and licking off the streams of sweat that had formed there. His warm, wet breath alerted my skin just before his mouth reached a new spot on my body. Each time I felt his breath I knew his lips would follow soon after. He kept working my back with his mouth while undressing me with his hands. Before I knew it, he'd undone my belt and taken down my pants.

"Hang on a second," I said, trying to catch my breath, but my underwear was next to go. (This guy was unstoppable!) My stiff erection pointed straight up, extending past my belly button, bouncing against my hairless belly. I could feel Bus Buddy's warm face get lower and lower on my body, his warm, wet breath still touching my skin a moment before his lips arrived. Now he was at my ass crack, breathing his breath between my ass cheeks. Knowing what was coming next, I started to pant.

He worked his wet mouth gently between my cheeks, leisurely exploring until he found my asshole. He licked it gently at first, soft and slow. Then his tongue got more aggressive. His chin was scratching my ass cheeks with five o'clock shadow. I loved it! Wet on the inside, rough on the outside. Pretty soon, his tongue had found its way into my butthole. He moved it like an expert, giving little flicks to the rim as he went in and out. My ass was twitching in delight, and I was panting even harder.

Bus Buddy stood up and pressed his bare body against mine. I don't know how he was able to undress me, undress himself, and rim my ass at the same time, but somehow he'd managed it. His warm chest was solid, but soft against my back. His big dick was anything but soft. It throbbed, hard as a rock! I felt his spongy mushroom head slide between my thighs, which were by now covered in sweat. His dick was hot between my sweaty legs. He began to thrust it forward and backward between my thighs, fucking my legs.

I wanted that dick inside me. I wanted to taste that mushroom head with my mouth. I wanted to feel it going up my ass. He had me so turned on that I couldn't speak, but if I could I would have told him to stop ignoring my hungry, twitching asshole. He was teasing me with his dickhead. He used one hand to grab his dick at the base. Then he moved it around in the space between my legs, poking and prodding different places with that mammoth, bulbous head. He whipped his dick out from between my legs and ran it along the sides of my buttcheeks. He rubbed it across the small of my back. The torture was unbearable, and I wanted to have that dick in my mouth, so I started to turn around. Bus Buddy took his other hand and put it on my shoulder to hold me against the wall. I tried to turn around again.

"Don't turn around."

"I want to see it." Never mind that I'd already seen it on the bus, I wanted to see it on a direct path to my mouth! "Can't I turn around?"

"Sure, but then I won't keep doing this. I'll just get my car and drive you back downtown."

"No!"

"Then don't turn around."

"Okay."

"Can I trust you?"

"I'm not sure."

He laughed and then swung around to my front. He put his hands on me and knelt down. His warm, soft, big hands were holding my ass, and then his mouth took my entire cock in one gulp. I almost spurted my load right then!

He must have sensed it, because he stayed still, my bone all the way down his throat, until I stopped panting. That took awhile, because his mouth was so warm and wet. Once I'd calmed down a little, Bus Buddy began to piston his mouth on my cock, up and down, up and down. Every ten seconds or so, he'd come to a complete stop, either with my bone all the way down his throat, or with his mouth just an inch away from my cockhead. I could tell how close his mouth was because I felt his warm breath.

After teasing me like this for awhile, he worked his hands around to my asshole. Needless to say, it was wet and ready for action. His fingers slid easily in and out of my crack. At the same time, his mouth was working my joint. I was ready to shoot my load.

"Fuck me!" I shouted. "Fuck me before I explode!" And before I even finished delivering my demand, he delivered himself to my back door. I heard the snap of latex, and two seconds later, he rammed that massive cock up my asshole. Under any other circumstances, it would have taken a moment for me to open up, but I was so hot and willing I took him in all at once. His cock was hot and hard in my wet, juicy asshole. I started moaning. He rode me hard, holding my ass in both hands and jamming his dick swiftly and deeply up my hole.

I didn't know how much longer I could hold out. The beautiful, big head of his dick found and tickled every inch of my manpussy. I was so turned on I started to see stars. Thank God I had the wall to hold onto, or I would have fallen down. He fucked me mercilessly, slipping up and down the walls of my asshole while tongueing the back of my neck.

I felt like a bucking bronco. He kept plowing deep into my asshole, riding me, taming me, not letting up for a moment. I could feel the deep twitching of my ass guts as the thrusting brought me closer and closer to orgasm. His own twitching added an extra beat to his thrusting, as he, too, got ready to blow. Suddenly, I couldn't hold on any longer. I blasted my load in six big spurts, each spurt bigger than the one before it. I was so busy getting off on my own climax that I didn't notice Bus Buddy had pulled his dick out of my ass and come around between me and the wall. With one hand on my shoulder, I heard him slip off his condom. Then he came like a rhino. Spurt after spurt hit my chest, my shoulders, my neck. One glob even reached my face.

There, on the wall in front of me, was a pattern of jizz from my cock: six big blobs. The blobs of cum from Bus Buddy's dick were all over me. I managed to wipe up most of his cum with my T-shirt, which I then flung over the brick wall before I got dressed. I didn't look at Bus Buddy, because I was a little mad. All I'd wanted was to see that purple head of his with pearly semen popping out of it, and he hadn't let me.

"Come on," he said, patting me on the shoulder, "Let's get you cleaned up."

When we got to his house it turned out, over a shower and dinner and more sex, that Bus Buddy had been on my bus last week because he had taken the wrong bus that day. He tried to follow me when I got off, but the doors closed on him. So thank God I had to work late Monday, and thank God I took the wrong bus that night! I love my job! I love San Francisco! And, most of all, I love the bus. And I love that cockhead of his, which, believe me, I've seen plenty since Monday.

Oh, and guess what his real name is? Buddy. Can you fucking believe it?!