$name1 boards the last night bus home and lets a tall Black stranger finger her soaking cunt under her coat before she rides his thick cock on the empty upper deck.
$name1 had missed the earlier bus on purpose. Twenty-eight, coat buttoned wrong, knickers already damp from the filthy fantasy she had been chewing on all evening: a stranger, dark skin against her pale thighs, no names, no tomorrow. The last night bus hissed to a stop under the rain-slick streetlamp. She climbed on, climbed again to the upper deck, and found it almost empty.
Almost.
He sat three rows back on the left, long legs stretched, black hoodie, headphones around his neck. Tall. Broad. The kind of quiet that made her cunt clench. $name1 walked past him slowly enough that her coat brushed his knee, then slid into the seat across the aisle one row forward so he could see her profile in the dark window.
The bus pulled away. Rain streaked the glass. Downstairs someone coughed. Up here it was just the engine and her pulse.
She unbuttoned her coat. Under it she wore a short dress and nothing else — she had stuffed her knickers in her bag at the stop like a dare to herself. When she crossed her legs, the dress rode high. She felt his eyes. She did not look.
Two stops later he stood, walked forward, and sat beside her without asking.
“Cold night to ride with no knickers,” he said, voice low and amused. American accent, or Caribbean — she couldn’t place it. His thigh pressed warm against hers.
$name1’s breath caught. “How do you know?”
“You walked funny boarding. And your coat’s open like you want someone to notice.” His hand settled on her bare knee. Dark fingers on her skin. “Want me to stop?”
“No,” she whispered. “Don’t you fucking stop.”
He smiled, slow, and slid his hand up under her dress. $name1 parted her thighs for him without shame. His thick fingers found her bare, slick folds and groaned under his breath.
“Fuck. Soaking. You’ve been sitting here dripping for a stranger.”
“I’ve been thinking about a Black cock stretching me since I left the pub,” $name1 said, filthy and honest. “Put your fingers in me.”
He pushed two fingers into her cunt in one smooth thrust. $name1 bit her lip hard to keep from moaning. The bus rattled over a bump and his fingers curled, rubbing that spot that made her hips jerk. He finger-fucked her openly while the empty seats watched, thumb circling her swollen clit, wet sounds soft under the engine noise.
“Look at you,” he murmured against her ear. “Married?”
“Boyfriend. Doesn’t matter. Keep going.”
He added a third finger. The stretch burned sweet. $name1 gripped the seat in front, riding his hand, coat open, dress shoved to her waist. Anyone climbing the stairs would see her pale thighs spread around his dark wrist, her cunt sucking his fingers like a greedy mouth.
“Next stop’s mine unless you want more,” he said.
“Upper deck stays empty after the depot turn,” $name1 panted. “I’ve ridden this route drunk enough to know. Fuck me properly. Now.”
He pulled his fingers out, shiny with her cream, and licked them clean while she watched. Then he stood, unzipped, and freed a thick, dark cock that made her mouth water — heavy, veined, already leaking at the tip. $name1 shoved him into the seat, straddled him facing forward so the empty aisle and the night windows framed them, and sank down onto his cock in one filthy drop.
She cried out. He filled her to the root. The stretch was brutal and perfect. Her cunt clenched around every inch as she started to ride him, hands on the seat back, arse bouncing, dress bunched uselessly at her waist. His big hands gripped her hips and helped slam her down harder.
“That’s it — take that cock,” he growled. “Ride me like the dirty little slut who got on this bus looking for it.”
“I did,” $name1 gasped. “I fucking did. God, you’re so thick — stretching my boyfriend’s cunt —”
He thrust up hard, meeting her, skin slapping. Rain hammered the roof. The bus took a corner and she clung to him, grinding her clit against the base of his cock until sparks shot up her spine. He yanked the front of her dress down and sucked one nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing, while she fucked herself on him like she was starving.
“Harder,” she begged. “I want to feel you for days.”
He lifted her off, spun her so she faced the front window on her knees across the seat, and slammed back into her from behind. One hand in her hair, the other under her belly holding her up. His cock pounded deep, balls wet against her clit, the slap of their bodies loud enough that $name1 stopped caring who might hear downstairs.
“Look out there,” he ordered. “City lights. Anyone looking up at this bus sees a white girl getting railed on the top deck.”
$name1 moaned like a whore. She reached back and spread her own arse cheeks so he could drive deeper. He spat on her hole and rubbed his thumb there — not pushing in, just promising — while his cock wrecked her cunt. She was dripping down her thighs onto the seat fabric.
“I’m going to come,” she panted. “Don’t stop — fucking don’t —”
“Come on my cock then. Soak me.”
She shattered. Her cunt spasmed hard around him, thighs shaking, a broken cry ripping out of her throat as pleasure tore through her. He fucked her through it without mercy, then pulled out, flipped her onto her back across two seats, and shoved back in so he could watch her face while he chased his own orgasm.
$name1 wrapped her legs around his waist. “Come in me. Fill me up. I want to walk home with your cum leaking down my legs.”
He cursed, slammed deep, and came hard — thick pulses flooding her cunt, hot and filthy. She felt every spurt. He stayed buried, grinding through the aftershocks, until the bus brakes hissed for the next stop.
They both froze. Footsteps on the stairs. He pulled out fast, tucked himself away; $name1 yanked her dress down and closed her coat over the mess between her thighs. A drunk teenager stumbled up, ignored them, and collapsed three rows back with headphones in.
$name1’s cunt throbbed, full and leaking. She met the stranger’s eyes. He smirked, wiped a streak of her cream from his knuckles onto her coat collar like a brand, and stood as the bus slowed again.
“This is me,” he said. “You good?”
“Better than good.” She squeezed her thighs together and felt his cum slip out. “Same route next Friday?”
He laughed once, soft. “Wear the no-knickers coat again and find out.”
Then he was gone down the stairs into the rain. $name1 rode the rest of the way home with her coat buttoned, his cum soaking the seat of her dress, already planning how filthy she would be when the last bus came again.
