It's Only Human Nature

We were rumbling along the interstate whipping past sunflowers and endless amber waves of grain. I'd settled in with a paperback, intending to read myself into a stupor. Bus fare to Denver was Greg's parting gift. That and a kick in the teeth finding him all curled up under Joe yesterday.

I came home early to find my significant other moaning and screeching, begging Joe to pound his ass harder. They didn't hear me come in. I sure as hell heard them – as did everyone that was home in the west wing of the Sheldon Arms Apartments at four fifteen that afternoon.

Should have taken it in stride, stripped down and joined the party. But, damn it all, watching Greg spread his ass for our new neighbor didn't turn me on. I'd thought we had something special. Always before we'd been open about it if either of us got hot for someone else.

Shit, only two weeks ago we had Ari on that bed with me humping his bony butt and smooching with Greg while Ari choked down Greg's cock like a dip stick checking for an oil refill.

That session ended with Ari covered from his sandy hair to his knobby knees with cum splatters. This session ended with me loosing it, punching out Joe and taking a round house right on my own chin, delivered by my supposed lover.

So here I was with a sore jaw and a broken heart (well cracked a little) on my way to a new life in a new locale.

We stopped in the middle of nowhere and this tubby little fellow huffs and puffs two duffel bags onto the bus. The driver let him stow them in an empty pair of seats up front – said they'd go underneath with the rest of the baggage at our next official stop. Chubby bounced down the aisle and the driver whipped back onto the highway. He plopped in the vacant seat across from me. We exchanged glances. He was as unimpressed with me as I was with him. This was the start of a beautiful friendship. We ignored each other until the lunch stop. There, by chance, we were side by side at the counter.

I don't remember how or about what, but a conversation happened. Over greasy hamburgers, fries and tall glasses of weak iced tea, I decided my first impression had been too quick, too cruel. His name was Rodger. He wasn't fat, just hefty. In fact, taking time and studying him as we talked, I discovered Rodger was a pretty compact bundle of muscles. He was still short. But, so what. He had a quick wit and a sharp tongue. He had me laughing with his stories about life on the farm.

Found out later that he changed his mind about me, too. Decided I wasn't such a skinny geek. Liked my laugh. Most of all he liked that I listened, wasn't constantly trying to top him with tales from my own past.

Back on the bus we returned to our seats. Rodger looked over at me. I looked over at him. He gave me a conspiratorial grin, moved to the window seat and motioned for me to come join him. Somehow we had both known about each other from the moment he first caromed down that aisle. Now we had both decided that we might as well enjoy the rest of the trip into Denver, together.

Once he made his mind up, Roger wasn't waiting for the sun to set. He had been wearing a light blue windbreaker. It now lay casually in his lap and was flipped to cover mine too as I settled in beside him. His hand landed in my lap along with the jacket. He winked and gave me a not too gentle squeeze.

"You, sir, are a bold prick," I commented.

"And a hot one, too," he said, taking my hand and moving it under cover to cup his swollen crotch.

Roger was busy with his hand in my lap. He was an expert on touch mechanics and quickly had my cock poking up hard , with my pants gapping open. He rubbed my dick head to and fro on the twill of that jacket. I blew hot air at the ceiling to keep from moaning. Damn that felt good, and Roger knew it. He grinned at me and waggled my cock one more time.

It wasn't his plan, I was sure. I know it wasn't mine. But, that last yank was it. My cock leaped in his hand and spit cum, gobs of cum, soaking his jacket, running down, dripping on his hand, staining my slacks. Now what the hell would I do until dark? Even then, how was I going to change clothes? My bags were underneath, accessible only at full service stops – under the bright lights of a terminal filled with lots of curious eyes.

Somehow all that didn't matter. It was the humor of it that hit me, and then Roger. I started chuckling, snorting and then burst out laughing. Roger slowly extracted his hand from under the blue windbreaker. With it still smeared with my sticky cum, he reached over and swiped his hand across the front of my shirt. We both started howling. Everyone on the bus, including the driver, was watching, smiling, sure there had to be an innocent, healthy reason for our hilarity.

Eventually we settled down. I got myself redressed. Roger let me keep the jacket, with the evidence refolded inside, as a shield on my lap. Between gasps for air he informed me he thought it best if we waited to continue after dark, when our activities would be less conspicuous. I agreed, and sat, rubbing on my slacks with the jacket, flapping it. My hope was that the dry smeared cum would appear more like the results of messy table manners than of sexual abandon.

After being the one counseling a wait until dark, Roger didn't. He sat there right beside me and unzipped.

"You got yours. I'm going to get mine," he hissed when I reached over to stop his obvious intent to expose himself. "You want to help, or just breath hard and watch?"

I unfolded his windbreaker, wet side up, and offered it as a protective tent over my arm that rested between us. He shrugged it off, gave me and the rest of the bus a 'fuck off' with his middle finger. Sliding down on his tail bone, he shifted his open jeans off his hips. He shoved his briefs down inside the denim stretched across his crotch, tucking their front waistband and gathered white cotton under his balls.

What thrust up beside me was awesome to behold. By my guess, later confirmed by the owner, a nine inch column of hot uncircumcised flesh with the balls of a bull moose was on display. It arched up and out with a weird kink near inch three, measuring from the tip, that slew the hooded head to the left – his left. It was my left too. That's the between us arm that dropped the jacket and reached out. Keeping my eyes scanning the aisle, I used peripheral vision and a well developed sense of touch for the male body to guide my hand.

Our hands met and together wrapped their way around that super organ. It felt silky soft with a wooden core. I could feel Rogers pulse where my fingertips rested above his ballsack. I moved them lightly, jiggling his gonads. His cock moved within our grasp, swelling, lengthening. I watched in amazement as it continued reacting when Roger cupped his hand over mine and stroked down, skinning the foreskin away. It rolled down. Out crept this perfect bell of rosy flesh, with a sparkling dew drop slowly forming on its tip.

I was having difficulty keeping watch, and wondering just what the hell we were going to do if some kind elderly lady decided to come over and offer us a homemade cookie or two. That, I guess was a big part of the thrill I was experiencing. It wasn't like I'd never helped a guy whack off. But I'd never engaged in any sex in such a confined and public place. Big problem . . . I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than just run my fist up and down on that cock. My mouth was watering. My recent relieved sex drive was back in full force. I was in agony with the tightness of my slacks and underwear clamping down on my struggling, blood pounding privates.

Roger just wanted to cum. He took a firm hold and started jacking with quick short hard strokes. His tongue stuck out all pink and wet from between his teeth. He didn't pause once, kept pounding, harder, faster, without a grunt or groan. He held his hand at just the right angle so it didn't smack cloth or flesh, neither did his arm. It was like watching a herky jerky silent movie in vivid spectra color.

"You do this a lot? Seems you've had practice," I whispered.

"Use to sit in the back row at church. Oh boy" Roger said softly, his voice just reaching my ear. "Wow! Gimme that jacket."

he whipped the windbreaker off my lap and gripped it around his prick with his hand, continuing to stroke away. His feet were pressed hard on the floor. His body strained back against his seat. I watched as his mouth flew open but remained silent. One after the other orgasmic shudders radiated from his pelvic region. Down there his hand was clinched, pulsing, stripping out every last drop. He squeezed it into the blue twill. That became one soggy jacket.

It was twilight when we stopped to eat. I retrieved one of my bags and changed to jeans --- no briefs. No one gave a shit if I had tomato soup or giant cum stains on my pants. No one except me. We hurried through the meal. The sun was sinking far in the west. Night fell. The hum of the tires was hypnotic. Rolling over equally spaced joints in the concrete of the interstate sent a rhythmic thudding shivering through the bus. It tingled my now less confined manhood. I could hear the road hissing at me.

"Do s-s-s-s-s it s-s-s-s-s do s-s-s-s-s it s-s-s-s-s . . . . "

My head was already resting easily on Roger's shoulder, feigning sleep. I was waiting for the full cloak of night to fall. When the driver cut th overhead lights to low, we were alone in a dark cavern. Soon the closest occupied seat was reverberating to a buzzing snore. One by one almost all the reading lights clicked off. I shoved the arm rest up between us. With the next thump, my head slipped off Roger's shoulder and landed in his lap.

"Oh, my, Kyle, whatever are you up to?" Roger whispered as he wiggled under me, his hand resting lightly, rubbing on my neck.

Like he didn't have any idea. Ya, sure. But, just in case there was any real question, I let my actions give him the answer. My hands tugged his shirt out of his pants. I reached under and up to play with his nipples, feeling them grow hard. Against my ear I felt another organ firming up. I nuzzled in, blowing hot air right through that stone washed denim. I lightly pinched his growing erection between my teeth.

Now all four hands were scrambling around -- buttons popping, zipper descending, denim and white cotton shoved out of the way. I tugged and lifted out that gorgeous crooked tool.

I snuggled down, letting my tongue lick up and down that quivering shaft. The heady aroma of ball sweat, dry cum and spunky head cheese all swirled around with a crisp clean baby powder smell. Roger reached in and rubbed his cock across my face, bending it down to let the weeping wetness where his foreskin gathered kiss on my ear. I lifted up, tracing the corded underside of his cock until the tip of my tongue met the puckered tip of his dick.

Roger's hips rocked gently, first bobbing his cock in front of me, then poking it at me. I shoved his hand out of the way, took hold and guided his thrusting right between my lips. Closing my mouth over the hooded head I pushed down, lifted up, pushed down again. I was slowly pulling the skin down, bringing that luscious steamy dick head out of hiding.

I was feeling reckless and wild. Figuring keeping watch this time was Roger's problem, I gave full attention to working that rod of his back and forth, in and out. I was quickly successful in pushing and pulling that foreskin out of the way. It rolled down until it rode, captured by the pressure of my lips, in cushiony folds along his hard throbbing shaft. I gripped a fold between my teeth and tugged, making soft little puppy growls. Roger boxed my ear and then patted me on the head.

"Good boy," he whispered, going along with the game.

"Yes-s-s-s-s-s" he hissed and began to quiver as I tongued and then tugged on his warm fuzzy, wet nutsack.

Roger reached over, undid the waist button on my jeans, slid the zipper all the way and reached in. That hand rooted around and locked onto my cock which had snaked its way down my left pants leg. It was a struggle with one hand, but Roger got me tugged free. Pulsing and hot my rod was in the tight grip of his fist.

Suddenly Roger had both hands dug into my armpits, pulling. He lifted me up until we were eye to eye. A sappy grin lit his sweat sprinkled face.

"Kyle, baby, I'm queer for you," he said softly.

I cocked my head and looked into his eyes, questioning, not clear what he was trying to tell me. Roger's tongue flicked across his upper lip. He leaned in, linking his hands in the middle of my back, hugging me tight. His mouth pressed hard on mine and then slid off. That tongue licked across my cheek and tunneled into my ear.

A whisper tickled across the dampness, "I'm yours, lover. Take me. Here. Now. Please!"

In the stillness that closed over us I again heard the hissing of the tires on the interstate, urging me on, joining with Roger's pleas.

"Do s-s-s-s-s it s-s-s-s-s do s-s-s-s-s-s it s-s-s-s-s-s . . . . ."

Roger didn't wait for a reply. He shifted around, kicked off his shoes and wiggled himself right out of those jeans and briefs.

“"Man, you are crazy," I said, grabbing his head and jerking him back to face me.

"So", he replies, grinning, "give me a shot of your tranquilizer, before I get really wild." He rolled his eyes, scrunched up his face like a man man and then grabbed my dick and started pulling me over into the window seat – sliding me under him.

"Hold it, hot shot." I shifted on one cheek and dug out my billfold. Working by feel under that wiggling ass, I got a condom and suited up.

Roger made his contribution to our planned adventure, digging two server-packs of catchup from his shirt pocket. Well, I had to agree, it would be wet.

"How the hell are we going to clean up that mess, ass hole."

From I didn't know where my companion pulled a good two inch handful of paper towels. "A gift from the diner's restroom, buddy," he replied.

Half standing, with his butt shoved in my chest, Roger got busy smearing catchup on my hot dog. I felt dribbles running onto my balls, then he was rubbing it in, stroking my cock, his fingers sliding in the red wetness. Slowly he settled into my lap. He was straddling my legs, lowering, guiding, sliding on. No feeling of resistance. His buns closed around my cock.

My hands were caressing his sides, reaching around and tweaking his nipples. My hips shivered and then shoved up, hard. I was sure Roger's ass hand been porked on a regular basis. My cock went deep. His body closed around me, encasing my dick in a pulsing warmth. I was turned on. Now I wanted to plow high, plow wide, plow deep into that slick hole.

As quick as the initial coupling was, the resulting fuck was just as quick. I was lost in the steaming dark. My hips pumped, arms squeezed tight. My mouth pressed on his back as I chewed his shoulder blade tips. I licked the sweat as it rolled down from the hair on the nape of his neck, bucking into him harder, and harder, faster, and faster.

Roger's hands started on the seat, next to my bounding rear. He brought first one foot and then the other up to rest in front of his hands. Then he leaned and grabbed the seat back in front of us and slammed is ass into my lap, meeting me as I thrust up.

The air burst out of both of us. A whine like a baby's cry escaped from me. Roger bounced again with a soft grunt. He ground his hips around and down, around and up. My cock was being jerked left and right, shoved in and out. The soft embrace of his love canal was setting my rod tingling, firmly gripping every inch.

I could tell Roger was stroking on his own prick with the same bouncing rhythm. He was shaking, riding faster and faster, pumping both cocks and humming. The damn sex fiend was getting us off to the tune of 'You are My Sunshine.' I almost broke up, maybe would have, but there wasn't time left for a laugh.

My gut was churning, hot flashes were stabbing my balls and ripping the skin off my dick. Cum was bubbling like lava ready to erupt. I shoved up and locked by arms tight holding us together as I blew. Wave after wave of sensual trembling washed over me. My cock pulsed within Roger's gut and my cum spurted. He was struggling to keep humping. I was fighting, holding him impaled deep on my pulsing, spewing prick.

I could feel him rocking as his hand continued tugging frantically on his cock. My cum continued gushing, swelling that rubber. It was going to burst, come pouring out his nose. Then I went limp, unable to move, my body quaking. Contentment rolled. Roger kept twitching. I could hear, far off, the pounding beat of his fist. Then he wasn't humming anymore.

"Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!" his voice was raspy, breathy, soft but fired with passion. He began to thrash and squirm in my lap. My hearing cleared as the crisp, clear wet slushy smacks of his jism echoed. It hit and ran down the seat back, and shot up to rain down on the jeans at my feet. Shit. Now I had two pair of pants with cum splatters. Such is life.

We busied ourselves cleaning up. He squiggled into his clothes. I tugged up my jeans, swiped at the spots, curled up in the isle seat and fell into a restful slumber.

We arrived in Denver with the light of dawn creeping over the town. Before we headed our own ways, we exchanged 'where you going to be' information and swore we'd see each other again, soon. When I settled into my seat on the downtown limo, I saw Roger in front of the terminal engaged in an animated conversation with this tall blond in a Stetson and gray snakeskin boots. Haven't see him since.

Didn't really expect to. After all, what happened was only human nature for us guys. You take what you can get when you can get it. Right?