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A Bus Ride with April (reposted by original author)

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Dylan hugged his parents good-bye as the bus pulled into the station.  He had had a good visit with them, but since he lived a three-hour bus ride away he was only able to see them about one weekend a month.  He looked forward to his next visit, but he also looked forward to getting home to all the games that he hadn’t packed, not to mention the friends he had made since moving.  He had packed light; everything he had needed to bring for the weekend had fit into a backpack, the same one he had used when he was in school.  He didn’t bother to give it to the person loading the luggage compartment, opting instead to bring it onto the bus with him.

 

After showing his ticket and boarding the bus, Dylan chose a row near the middle; he didn’t want to be the very last person to leave the bus, but he wanted to make sure that the frontmost seats were available for anyone who had trouble walking.  He sat in the seat by the window, put his backpack under his seat, and watched the bus continue to fill up.  Some of the passengers sat near the front, some near the back, and some not too far from Dylan himself.  He noticed one extremely attractive woman with long, wavy caramel-coloured hair boarding the bus, wearing a backpack of her own.  Dylan hoped she would sit somewhere in his field of vision, so he could glance at her once in a while to make the long bus ride pass more quickly.

 

Dylan glanced frequently at the woman as she walked along the aisle.  He couldn’t help smiling slightly as she got closer.  When she was a few rows away, he directed his gaze elsewhere but continued to watch her from the corner of his eye.  When she reached his row, she startled Dylan by looking straight at him.  Dylan looked at her nervously, and she gestured to the seat the seat next to him and asked, “Is it okay if I sit here?”

 

“Sure,” Dylan said, not believing his luck.

 

“Thanks,” the woman said, taking off her backpack and sitting down.  She unzipped her backpack, took out a bottle, and handed it to Dylan.  “Want some lemonade?” she asked.

 

“Sure,” Dylan said again, taking the bottle and opening it.  He took a sip, then closed the bottle back up and handed it back to the woman as she zipped her backpack back up.

 

“Keep it,” she said, not taking the bottle back.  “I have others for myself.”  Dylan opened the bottle back up, took another few sips, then closed it and put it into the netting on the back of the seat in front of him, while the woman put her backpack under her seat.  “I’m April,” the woman said, extended her right hand.

 

“Dylan,” Dylan said, shaking her hand.

 

The bus started moving.  Dylan looked out the window and saw that his parents were still there.  He waved good-bye to them until they were out of sight.

 

“Friends of yours?” April asked.

 

“My parents,” Dylan answered.  “I came to visit them for the weekend.”  He retrieved the bottle of lemonade and took another sip before putting it back.

 

“Did you enjoy seeing them?” April inquired.

 

“Yes, I did,” Dylan replied.  “It’ll be good to get home, though.”

 

“I hear you,” April said.  “Trips are fun, but carrying around luggage can make you a bit weary.  I mean, I know you only came for the weekend, but you must have at least brought a change of clothes, right?”

 

“Yeah, and even if I’d just brought my toothbrush that’s still more than I’d have to have on me at home.”

 

“Do you come this way often?”

 

“About once every three weeks.”

 

They continued chatting as the bus made its way to the freeway and then picked up speed.  Occasionally Dylan would glance out the window, but most of the time he was focused on April.  This was better than he could have imagined.  He didn’t have to steal sneaky glances at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice; she was actively encouraging him to look at her, to the point where she might be offended if he looked away for more than a moment.  In fact, she was engaging with him; it seemed she had no end of questions to ask and stories to share and comparisons to make between their two lives.  What was most surprising was that she was socializing so eagerly with someone she had never met before, and knew nothing about other than the fact that he was traveling.  Dylan had always been under the impression that talking to strangers was an exercise that had to be undertaken with the utmost caution if at all, but far from being frightened, Dylan actually found April’s attitude quite refreshing.

 

Dylan was grateful for the lemonade April had given him.  It was a warm day, and, particularly with all the talking, Dylan found his throat drying out quite a bit.  He took sips every few minutes while he chatted with April, but he was hardly aware of it; April herself held most of his attention.  It had been a long time since Dylan had seen anyone as attractive as April, and the way she smiled and laughed and seemed to really like Dylan completely captivated him.  He was actually surprised when he found that the bottle was empty.  He couldn’t have finished it already, could he?  He would have to remember to bring his own beverage the next time he went on a long bus trip.

 

“I can take that,” April said, holding out her hand.  He handed her the empty bottle and she put it back in her backpack.

 

“Is it okay if I put my legs on your lap?” April asked.  “I’m feeling a bit cramped.”

 

“Sure,” Dylan said once again, and she did so, stretching her legs out all the way to the wall.  This was beyond belief.  The most beautiful woman Dylan had seen in three years was cuddling with him after knowing him for — Dylan looked at his watch — less than half an hour.

 

April put her mouth close to Dylan’s ear and said softly, “I really like you.”

 

Was she a prostitute?  “You’d better watch it,” Dylan said, “or I’m going to think you’re a werewolf.”

 

April leaned back and laughed, then told Dylan a story about one of April’s college classmates who had called April a werewolf.  Dylan did not find this entirely reassuring, but eventually he decided that he could call for help if April attacked him.  And if she picked his pocket he would have plenty of time to find her before the driver let her off the bus.  He decided he would enjoy the situation while it lasted and worry later about any ulterior motives April might have.

 

April started moving her legs in Dylan’s lap.  When she was done with her story, she kissed Dylan on the cheek and asked, “Am I scaring you?”

 

“A little bit,” Dylan admitted.

 

“Do you want me to sit somewhere else?”

 

She didn’t seem offended; she was still smiling pleasantly.  Dylan was sure that he could have politely asked her to move and she would have done so without fuss.  But the idea of her leaving almost made Dylan start crying.  He suddenly no longer cared if she picked both his pockets and then stole his backpack for good measure.  Nothing he had with him was worth more than the experience he was having right now.

 

“No, stay,” he said fervently.

 

“Thanks,” April said, smiling even more widely, and she put her arm over Dylan’s shoulders.  “Tell me about the last party you went to,” she said.

 

Dylan did so, and April continued to move her legs around, occasionally going so far as to rub Dylan’s penis with her thigh through his pants.  When he was done with his story, April squeezed his shoulders with her arm, kissed him again, and then told a story of her own.

 

Dylan never wanted this bus ride to end.

 

When she was done with her story, April said, “I’m not a werewolf.  But I did play a trick on you.  I put something special in your lemonade.  In a few seconds you’re really going to wish you were sitting in an aisle seat.”  She smirked.

 

Dylan looked at her uncertainly, trying to figure out what she meant.  Then, out of nowhere, Dylan suddenly felt an unbelievably strong need to pee.  He had to immediately grab his penis to keep from wetting himself.  As he did this, April triumphantly shouted, “GOTCHA!” and started laughing hard.

 

Dylan tried to stand up to get to the bathroom at the back of the bus, but April’s legs kept him pinned in his seat.  “You’re staying right where you are,” April said, feeling the attempt.  “I want to watch you struggle not to pee in your pants.”

 

“April, move!” Dylan said insistently.

 

“And give up my front row seat to this show?  That’s not going to happen.”

 

“April, I really have to go the bathroom.”

 

“I know,” April said, still laughing.  “That stuff hits really hard.”

 

“Come on, April, this isn’t funny!”

 

April laughed even harder.  “Aww,” she teased.  “Do you have to pee?  Do you have to pee really, really bad?  Do you feel like you might start peeing in your pants at any second if I don’t let you out?”

 

“Yes!  Come on, April, hurry up!”  He was squeezing his penis tightly, desperately trying to keep control until he could get April to relent, but he could feel the pee pushing to get through, and he didn’t think he could hold on much longer.  Clearly this was a game to April.  How could he explain the reality of the problem in a way that April could understand?  All of his attempts just seemed to amuse her more.

 

Laughing did make April even more beautiful, though.  And Dylan found her triumphant, mischievous laugh even more pleasing than her warm laugh of earlier.  If the prank had been only mildly annoying like spraying Dylan with silly string he would have let it go and simply enjoyed April’s reaction.  He would have made a face both to give her some satisfaction and to discourage her from doing it constantly (Could one face do both of those things?), but he wouldn’t have spent half an hour complaining about it.  But what she had actually done created a serious issue for Dylan, and his enjoyment of April’s pleasure was much less than his desire to get out of the situation.

 

April lifted Dylan’s shirt above his bellybutton and ran her fingers along the exposed skin.  Dylan was starting to pant.  April pressed a finger between Dylan’s bellybutton and waistband, making him gasp and press his thighs together to keep from peeing.  Then April started tickling Dylan’s sides, making him laugh.  He crossed his legs and tensed his thighs.

 

“April, stop!” Dylan begged.  “I really, really have to pee.  Please let me out!”

 

“I got you so good!” April gloated.  “I love watching you squeeze your penis and hearing you beg me to let you go to the bathroom.  It’s really amazing how well that lemonade works.”

 

“I’m glad you’re having fun, April, but I really don’t know how much longer I can hold it.  Could you please stop tickling me?”

 

“Why, am I making it worse?” April teased, still tickling Dylan.  “What if I talked about flowing water like rivers or waterfalls, or if I made sounds like ssssssss…”

 

“What is wrong with you?” Dylan demanded.  He was starting to rock back and forth while he continued to squeeze his penis tightly with his hand and to tense his thighs regularly.  “Don’t you understand how badly I have to pee?”

 

“Why don’t you tell me?” April suggested playfully.  “Describe how it feels to be trapped in your seat, tickled, and teased after drinking my special lemonade.”

 

“April, I’m panicking right now.  I’m having trouble breathing.  I’m starting to sweat, even though the air conditioning is on full blast.  And it’s taking all of my strength to keep from peeing right here, in my pants, on the seat.”

 

April stopped tickling Dylan, and she also stopped laughing.  She slid a hand into her pants and started moving it around.

 

“What are you doing?” Dylan asked incredulously.

 

“I’m fingering myself.  This is just too beautiful.”

 

“What?  April, let me out!”

 

“Why?  Are you about to wet yourself?  Do you feel like, even squeezing as hard as you are, the pee is about to start flowing uncontrollably through the length of your penis and into your cute little pants?”

 

Dylan felt a spurt of pee shoot through his penis into his underwear.  He clamped down even harder with his hands, thighs, and internal muscles.  “April,” he said desperately, “I just spurted.  You have to let me out now!”

 

April removed her legs from Dylan’s lap, then started rubbing herself harder.  Dylan rose from the seat, hunching over because the overhead compartment prevented him from standing fully.  He tried to get past April, but her legs were in the way.

 

“I’m not letting you out yet,” April said.  “I just didn’t want you damaging the seat.”

 

Dylan felt another spurt escape his penis.  “April, please!” he begged.  “I spurted again.  I can’t hold this any longer!”  He was still squeezing himself frantically with his hand, and also moving his legs constantly, but he was sure that pretty soon it wouldn’t matter.

 

April, still masturbating, watched Dylan with her lips slightly parted, then licked them.  “You look so delicious,” she said breathily.

 

Perhaps she was a werewolf after all.

 

More spurts of pee made their way through Dylan’s frantic penis, despite all of his efforts to stop them.  They were becoming longer and more frequent.  It was becoming a broken but otherwise steady, and very embarrassing, flow into his pants.  He looked down and saw a growing visible wet spot.  “April,” he said, almost crying, “I’m wetting my pants.  Why can’t you let me out?”

 

April looked at the spot, open her mouth wider, then said, “Okay.  All right.  You can go.”  She took her hand out of her pants and swung her legs into the aisle.

 

Dylan made his way as quickly as he could past April’s seat, into the aisle, and toward the bathroom.  He was peeing into his pants almost continuously now, even while clamping down as hard as he could with his hand.  He was grateful that no one else on the bus said anything as he walked along the aisle.  When he finally made it to the bathroom he closed the door as quickly as he could, opened the toilet, and wrestled his still-peeing penis through the flies of his underwear and pants.  Then he completely stopped his failing efforts to hold and let the pee flow freely into the toilet.

 

It felt amazing.

 

When he was done, he flushed, closed the toilet, put himself back away, and looked down to see the damage.  It was pretty bad.  Not as bad as it could been, but fairly noticeable.  Also, he could feel quite a bit of wetness, and he did not think it would make for a pleasant bus journey.  He again felt like he might start crying.

 

Dylan heard a knock at the door, and a familiar voice asked, “Are you done yet?”  He opened the door a crack and saw April standing there holding his backpack in one hand and wearing her own.  Defiantly, Dylan decided that he no reason to hide the wet spot from April, since it was her fault, and so he opened the door the rest of the way.  April opened her mouth wide in an impressed expression.

 

Dylan found that he wasn’t angry with April for ruining his trip.  He was discouraged by the situation, but April herself was so enchanting that Dylan couldn’t resent anything that she did.  In fact, at that moment he was ready, almost eager, to have her take on her wolf form and eat him.  It would save him another two hours in wet pants, and if April really did find him delicious then Dylan thought she deserved the meal.  He would consider it an honour to bring her the pleasure.

 

What April actually did, though, was to close her mouth again and hold Dylan’s backpack out to him.  “Do you have anything to change into?” she asked.  “If not, I’ve got some men’s clothes that should fit you.”

 

Dylan took his backpack from her.  Yes!  He could change into yesterday’s underwear (it wasn’t that dirty) and the shorts he’d brought in case it got too hot.  Why hadn’t he thought of that?  “Yes, I do, thank you,” he said.

 

“I’ll see you back at the seat,” April said.  “If you still want to sit with me, that is.  I certainly won’t take it personally if you don’t, and since I’m pretty sure all your stuff’s in the backpack, you can just go straight to whatever seat you like.”

 

“Thanks again,” Dylan said, and closed and locked the door.  Perhaps it was rude of him not to tell April whether he would continue to sit with her, but he was a bit anxious to get changed.  Changing was rather difficult in that tiny room, but he was able to do it, and when he was done he put his peed-in pants and underwear into his backpack and walked back along the aisle to April’s seat.

 

April had moved to the window seat.  When he saw her, Dylan asked, “Am I still okay to sit with you?”

 

April smiled brightly.  “Absolutely!” she said, and gestured toward the aisle seat.  “Please.”

 

Dylan sat down, putting his backpack under his seat.  When he straightened back up from doing this, April rose from her own seat, straddled Dylan, facing him, with her knees on the seat on either side of him, and kissed him passionately on the lips.

 

Even with all of the difficulties he had endured, Dylan decided that he was having a very good day.

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