The Bus Driver Taught Me to Desire

I grew up in a house where everything was measured by what the people at church would say. Skirts to the knee, blouses buttoned all the way up, boyfriends chosen from among the congregation’s sons. At twenty-one I was still a virgin, and not because I had chosen it, but because I had never been allowed to choose anything. My name is Renata, and this is the story of how I stopped being the girl my parents wanted me to be.

The only person who ever came close to waking something in me was Damián, a boy from the choir who seemed as proper as I was but had restless hands. When my mother went into the kitchen to make coffee, he would take the chance to slide his fingers under my blouse, brush my back, search me through the folds of my skirt until he got to my panties over the fabric and pressed there, right where no one had ever touched me before. I let him, my heart about to burst out of my chest, feeling my cunt grow wet without fully understanding why, squeezing my thighs against his hand so he wouldn’t stop.

One afternoon my father walked in without warning and found us too close together. There were no shouts then, only a silence heavier than any reprimand. That same night I was forbidden to see him again.

Something broke in me. It wasn’t anger exactly; it was exhaustion from obeying. I told them I was going to study in another city, far away, and the argument that followed was the worst of my life. My mother put my suitcases by the door four weeks before classes started.

A cousin of mine, Joaquín, found out by chance and offered me his couch for those days. He also slipped me some cash so I wouldn’t go hungry the first few weeks. I never thanked him enough.

***

I arrived at the dorm with a single suitcase and the feeling that I was starting from scratch. I was assigned a room with a girl named Brisa, the opposite of me in every way: piercings, an easy laugh, a way of talking about her body as if it were the most natural thing in the world. We clicked right away, maybe because she saw in me something I still didn’t dare to look at.

The first night, when we were already in bed and about to sleep, I heard strange sounds from the top bunk. Soft moans, ragged breathing.

“Are you okay?” I asked, ingenuous.

“Relax, I’m just watching a movie,” she replied, as if nothing.

“What kind of movie?”

She let out a laugh she tried to smother against the pillow. She asked me to come up. I climbed the ladder and sat beside her, and then I saw the phone screen. I had never seen anything like it. A guy with a huge cock, thick and veined, was fucking a woman on all fours all the way to the hilt, and she was moaning and begging for more, harder, deeper. The camera zoomed in and you could see it going in and out, her cunt shining, his balls slapping her clit with each thrust. I stayed hypnotized, mouth slightly open, unable to look away from the size of that cock and the way the woman took it shamelessly, as if that were the most natural thing in the world.

“Look how she sucks him off afterward,” Brisa whispered beside me.

On the screen the woman turned around, took the whole cock down her throat, sucking and pulling out strings of saliva, until he grabbed her head and came in her mouth. She swallowed everything and showed the camera her clean tongue. My legs began to tremble, and in my panties a hot wet patch started to form, sliding down the inside of my thigh.

I didn’t say anything. I went back to my bunk with my face burning and a new dampness between my thighs. I, who had been sleepy minutes before, couldn’t sleep a wink all night. Something had been lit inside me, and I didn’t know how to put it out. I slipped my hand into my pajamas, not quite daring to go all the way, and barely touched myself over the hair. I pulled back my soaked fingers and brought them to my nose, startled by my own smell.

***

The days went by and no matter how much I tried I couldn’t fit into any group. The university was far from the dorm, and I made the last stretch almost always with the same man on the bus. I’ll call him my secret passenger, because I never knew his name and because what happened between us I never told anyone.

He was older than me, with gray in his beard and a calm gaze. From the first day I felt he never took his eyes off me. It wasn’t an uncomfortable stare; it was a stare that traveled over my whole body, lingering on my legs, my neck, my lips. At first I thought it was because of my clothes, because I still dressed like a fifty-year-old woman.

With the money Joaquín sent me, I started buying new things. I wanted a radical change, to wipe the church girl away in one blow. I wore a dress for the first time that looked beautiful on me. It wasn’t short, but since I have wide hips and a big ass, the fabric rode up and made it seem bolder than it was.

That afternoon the bus was packed and we had to travel standing, closer than usual. My secret passenger was looking at me with a different intensity, and instead of feeling uncomfortable I felt exposed in a way I liked. I gave no sign, but inside I was trembling. I could feel his eyes nailed to my tits, which were outlined without a bra against the thin fabric, the nipples hardened by the air conditioning and by knowing I was being watched.

Then I felt it. Something warm fell onto the fabric of my dress, at thigh level, and soaked through to touch my skin. When I brushed it with my fingers it was thick and white, with sticky strands stretching between my fingertips. It didn’t smell bad; it had a strong, salty, masculine smell. In my innocence I didn’t understand what it was. Before getting off, the man leaned toward my ear.

“You look much prettier like that,” he murmured. “Dress like this for me all the time.”

Far from bothering me, that whisper left me breathless. I got off the bus with burning cheeks and weak legs, feeling the semen cooling on my thigh and staining my panty.

***

At the dorm I showed the stain to Brisa. She examined it for a second and let out a little laugh.

“Renata, this is semen. Someone came thinking about you on that bus,” she said, and then squeezed my hand. “Be careful, there are a lot of perverts out there.”

I didn’t tell her what the man had whispered to me. I kept it as a hot secret. That night, putting two and two together, I understood that I had caused it, that my body had awakened someone’s desire to the point of making him lose control, making him pull out his cock on a full bus and come all over me. The idea lit me up like never before.

It was the first time I truly touched myself. I slipped off my panties under the sheet and spread my legs. I ran my hand over my pubis, felt the soft hair and then the swollen lips, soaked. With two fingers I parted myself and found my clit, small and hard, pulsing like a second heart. I started rubbing it in circles, first slowly, then faster, and when I couldn’t take it anymore I slipped my middle finger inside me. I was so wet it went in without effort, slick, hot. I pulled it out and put it in my mouth, wanting to taste myself, while I kept working my clit with my other hand. I thought of the cock I had seen on Brisa’s screen, I thought of the bus man’s semen falling on my dress, and a wave went through me. I had to bite my lip so I wouldn’t scream; I felt my cunt clench around my finger, my thighs shake, the pillow dampening beneath my waist. My first orgasm. I lay there trembling in the dark, fingers shiny and sticky, stunned by what my own body was capable of feeling.

I didn’t sleep, thinking about how I would dress the next day to please my secret passenger.

***

I chose another dress, this one shorter, white with a black sash at the waist. I decided not to wear a bra; I had always felt more comfortable without one, and now, besides, I was doing it on purpose. I wanted confirmation that it had been him, I wanted to see his reaction.

On the ride back I found him seated, the bus packed again. I approached slowly and felt the exact moment his eyes found me: they filled with joy and something darker, hungrier. A seat at the back was free and I headed toward it, but the man patted the space beside his body, inviting me. I sat next to him. As we brushed against each other I felt a hard bulge against my thigh, and I saw him adjust his pants discreetly. Under the fabric, the shape of his cock was fully outlined, thick, long, rising almost to his waist.

When the bus began to empty, he spoke to me in a low voice.

“You obeyed me with your clothes,” he said, and I felt my whole face burn. “Did you like what I left you yesterday on your dress?”

I turned my face and barely nodded. A jolt ran from the nape of my neck to my lower belly.

“Do you know what it is?” he insisted, his voice rough. “It’s my milk, my cum. I came on you because I couldn’t stand seeing you in that dress. Have you ever swallowed a man’s cum?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t speak, my mouth was dry and my cunt was already soaking the new panty I had put on.

“If you want more, come with me to the back.”

He got up first. I filled myself with a courage I didn’t know I had and walked to the last seat with my legs tight together, feeling my little dress ride up with every step. When I got there he already had it out, out of his pants, and it was huge. Truly huge: thick, dark-skinned and veiny, the shiny purple head peeking between the fingers of his hand, a clear string hanging from the tip. I stood there looking at it, unable to look away, mouth open and panties soaked, until he asked me to sit facing him.

I obeyed at once. I sat in the seat opposite him, with my knees almost touching his, and the cock was at the level of my face. Part of me wanted to lean in and taste it, open my mouth, stick out my tongue, discover what it tasted like. I remembered the woman in the movie taking it down her throat. I still didn’t dare. It was too soon.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked while stroking himself slowly, moving his hand up and down, squeezing the base with two fingers and twisting his wrist when he reached the glans.

I nodded again.

“Say it. I want to hear you say it.”

“I… I like your cock,” I murmured, and the moment the word left my mouth I felt something break inside me, the church girl dying all at once.

He gave a slight smile and sped up his hand.

“Good girl. Let me see you,” he said, glancing at my chest. “Take them out. I want to see your tits.”

I was with my back to the driver; nobody else could see me. With trembling fingers I pulled down the neckline of my dress and bared my tits for him. My nipples had gone hard as little peaks, dark and swollen. His eyes locked on me, his hand moved faster, and I felt powerful, desired, in possession of something I had been taught to hide for twenty-one years.

“Touch them,” he ordered in a hoarse whisper. “Pinch them for me.”

I brought my hands to my breasts and squeezed my nipples between my fingers. A lash of pleasure went straight down to my cunt, so strong that I spread my legs without even realizing it. He saw it and a little groan escaped him. Under the short dress my panties must have been visible, soaked through.

“Open your legs wider. I want to see how wet you are for me.”

I opened them. I felt the cool air between my thighs and knew he was seeing the dark stain on my underwear, the wetness shining through the fabric. His hand became a blurry smear over his cock, skin sliding up and down, the wet sound barely covered by the bus engine.

“I’m going to come,” he gasped. “Look at me. Look me in the eyes when I do it.”

I looked at him. His eyes closed for a moment, opened again, and suddenly he straightened a little, holding back a rough groan, and I felt the heat of his pleasure fall onto my skin. The first spurt hit my chest, between my tits, thick and burning. The second reached my belly. The third splashed the hem of the dress and the inside of my thigh. He kept coming, in smaller and smaller waves, until the last drop hung from the glans. Without thinking, almost by instinct, I collected a drop from my chest with my finger and brought it to my mouth. It tasted salty, a little bitter, dense. I swallowed it slowly and stuck out my empty tongue so he could see it, just as I had seen in the movie.

He let out a curse under his breath and his cock gave another jolt.

Who am I now? I thought, and the question didn’t scare me. It excited me. I slid one hand under my dress and shoved two fingers into my cunt, right there, in front of him. I was so wet they slipped in without any effort. I pulled them out shiny and held them out to him. He leaned in and sucked them one by one, staring at me hard, tasting all of me from my fingertips.

“You’re very obedient,” he whispered, composing himself and tucking his cock, still half-soft, back into his pants. “Next time come without underwear. And wear another dress. I want to taste all of you.”

There were two stops left before mine. I was so hot, with his cum cooling between my tits and on my thigh, that all I wanted was to get to my room and pleasure myself again, shove in three fingers and rub my clit until my vision blurred, even though I knew I’d keep his smell on my skin until the next day.

I got off the bus with a smile my parents would not have recognized. The modest church girl had stayed behind in another city forever. This was my new life, and for the first time I felt it was mine and no one else’s.