I’d just started working at the administration office of Cirque Laurence in the north end of Montreal and was getting used to taking the bus up Papineau street every morning. I really loved my new job which basically consisted of secretarial work but also allowed me to see the artists at work creating a brand new circus show.
Every morning, I’d take the bus next to the little park at the corner of Robin and Montcalm, sometimes waiting more than twenty minutes, but usually making it just in time and getting to work really quickly.
Then last Wednesday, as I was thinking ‘Today is HUMP daaayyyy!’ with Michael Strahan’s voice in my head, like when he used to say that every Wednesday on Live with Kelly and Michael, I looked up between the buildings and said to myself, “Wow! What an amazing sky today. Not a single cloud. The sun is shining bright and it isn’t too hot. Man, I love spring.”
I couldn’t help but think that I might be a bit overdressed with this coat that isn’t exactly a heavy winter coat but not a light spring coat either. As I debated whether to take it off or keep it on, my eye was drawn to a long, second-story window across the street. Long curtains covered the glass but they seemed to be slightly open.
– What are you looking at? I asked, not knowing whom I was talking to, really, and happy that I was on my own at the bus stop, like every morning around this time.
I couldn’t really see anybody, but I did feel that someone was looking down at me. Intrigued, I kept staring at the window. After a few minutes, I noticed what looked like the tip of a hard cock. My eyes widened and I laughed to myself thinking, ‘Idiot! There’s no way that’s what you think!’
Nonetheless, I felt my own cock twinge in my pants. I just stood there, mesmerized. After a few seconds, I couldn’t help myself and looked around before adjusting my meat through the cotton of my pants. Still looking up at the window of this century-old house, I noticed the guy had shifted a bit and was now positioned so that his cock was sideways and was basically the only thing poking out between the curtains. It was as though the guy was using one of the drapes to hide his whole body and the other curtain as a backdrop for his hard cock. Since the drapes were blood red, the cock really stood out… no pun intended!
This was really hot to me and I started hoping the bus would be late. I didn’t know if the guy could see me somehow but I started rubbing my hardening dick through the fabric of my slacks, hoping to show him that I was definitely interested by his nice slab of meat. After a few seconds, a weird thought crossed my mind: “What if he’s only showing you his cock ‘cause he’s ugly as fuck?” I couldn’t help but smile and even chuckle, but I kept rubbing my cock, starting to feel heat in my crotch and pre-cum in my underwear.
I turned to see if the bus was coming. Nothing. When I looked back at the window, the guy had revealed a bit more of himself, showing me his little belly yet seemingly firm pecs. He was stroking his hard cock with his right hand and pinching his left nipple with the fingers of his left hand, even twisting it almost 180 degrees.
Quickly, I shot a look at my watch and thought: “Damn, dude, your timing really sucks! My bus is gonna be here any second and I can’t be late for work.”
When I looked up again, he was gone. “Shit!”, I thought, “Where did you go?”
I didn’t have time to think about it because my bus pulled up to the sidewalk and I got on. I tried to hide my hard-on the best I could as I showed my usual driver my pass and said hi, walking to the back of the bus. I sat in the last seat, making sure I was alone and, without even thinking – or maybe I should say ‘thinking with my cock head instead of my brain’ –, I whipped out a pack of tissues, unzipped my fly and unbuttoned my pants, pulling out my hard cock through the piss hole of my boxers.
Remembering the dude’s hard cock and what had just happened, I started jerking off, pulling the foreskin off my hard pole and then wrapping it back around my cock head, over and over until I started feeling my balls tighten around the base of my pole. I grabbed a few tissues and covered my dick so I’d shoot directly into the paper. I did manage to catch most of my cum and keep the moaning and groaning to a minimum so as not to attract the attention of the few people sitting at the front of the bus.
Then, there I was, sitting with my wet, sticky tissues in my hand, feeling like an idiot, but relieved of the sexual tension that this pervy exhibitionist had built up in me.
Through the whole day, I kept thinking about when I returned home and got off the bus just across the street from my morning corner. Would the guy still be there? I mean, he certainly wouldn’t have spent nine hours standing in the window like that, but I mean… would he think, ‘Hey, that guy that got on the bus this morning will probably be getting off the same bus between 5 and 6 pm, right?’
My concentration was definitely off at work and it made my boss laugh a few times during the day. He said it was kind of like seeing someone drunk for the first time. At first, it freaked me out a bit because I certainly didn’t want him to think I had a drinking problem and was showing up at the office inebriated, but he just meant that I wasn’t myself, that I usually was so mentally present that he felt my mind was somewhere else. And even though I know my boss is gay, I didn’t want him to know that I’d basically acted like a grade-A slut while I was waiting for the bus… and on the bus!
During my lunch break, I spent a little more time than usual in the bathroom, giving myself a ‘facecloth bath’ in the private area. I was thinking, ‘If that guy is there, waiting for you when you get off the bus, you better make sure you’re as clean as you can after that jerk-off session on the bus!’
When I got back on the bus after my day’s work, my heart started racing in anticipation of what might happen when I got off… the bus, I mean. I felt like everybody was looking at me funny, like ‘uh-huh… so you’re gonna get laid by a stranger in a few minutes, you perverted little fuck?’, ‘Who does that, you sick horn dog?’, ‘What is wrong with you, dude? Are you that desperate that you fuck any perverted sicko that jacks off for you in his living room window?’
The more these made-up voices were talking to me, the more I thought, ‘They’re right! What am I doing? This is crazy! I don’t need this. I’m a good-looking guy. I don’t have any trouble meeting people and having sex like a normal person. I don’t need to have sex with strangers.’
Yeah. I know. But wasn’t that the whole idea? The forbidden side of it. The unknown. Sure. That’s what made it so exciting. Like a glory hole… or a fortuitous encounter in a bath house. Or a bush in a public park.
Fuck those voices! If the guy was there, I’d go for it.
When I got off the bus, I tried to look aloof, nonchalant, like I was just going to walk home without even looking in that direction. I made a few steps and then casually glanced up at the window. The drapes seemed to be drawn. The guy didn’t seem to be there. Part of me was relieved. Unfortunately, it was a very small part. The very rational, good-boy part of me that was so boring and never wanted me to do anything exciting, exhilarating, illicit.
Then, just as I prepared to turn around and actually walk in the direction that would have taken me to my apartment, I suddenly noticed the curtains moving. Was I dreaming? Was it just my brain playing tricks on me? I looked again. Longer this time. The drapes actually did move and the guy really did appear between the curtains. My heart started beating quickly.
He was dressed. Wearing jeans and what seemed like a beautiful, heavy, forest green wool cardigan. Much less revealing than his morning nakedness, but when he slipped his hand under the shirt and started rubbing his chest, I understood that he was still somehow interested. What did he want exactly? Did he want me to come up to his apartment? Did he want me to just watch him while he stripped and jacked off? I couldn’t really tell until he used his other hand to signal me over and disappeared behind the drapes, letting the curtains fall back into place.
Before I knew it, his door on the ground floor was ajar and I crossed the street after making sure no car was coming. When I passed the entrance, he was standing on the second step and holding the door from the top. As soon as he saw I was inside, he swung the door closed behind me.
– Salut, he said, greeting me.
I wasn’t surprised he spoke French because the Gay Village is mostly francophone, but I was almost surprised he had spoken. I was half expecting this to be a wordless, random hook-up with nothing but body fluids exchanged. He had a hot, husky voice and – even with just one word – sounded warm and welcoming.
– Salut, I shot back.
He asked me if I wanted to come up and I agreed. He told me he’d spotted me the previous week and had noticed that I pretty much took the bus at around the same time every weekday morning and almost always came off the bus around the same time at the end of the day. This could have sounded a bit ‘stalker-y’ if I hadn’t taken the bus in front of his apartment, but I was the one entering his line of vision every day and he wasn’t following me around town or hiding in the bushes in front of my place.
When we sat down on his futon hide-a-bed, he smiled at me and started rubbing my thigh through my pants. I instantly felt my cock become rock hard and made it pulse a few times inside my clothes so he’d notice I was appreciating what he was doing.
He came closer and started kissing my neck. He smelled nice and felt even better. Goosebumps started covering my whole body and my hand made its way through his hair. Before I knew it, we were kissing on the mouth. I could taste what might have been cinnamon mouthwash or chewing gum. Whatever it was, his breath was fresh and I’m pretty sure he didn’t mind the peppermint on my breath from the chewing gum I'd wrapped in its wrapper and thrown out just before I’d entered his place.
He slipped his hands under my shirt and lifted it over my head, caressing my upper body and seeming to appreciate my pecs and nipples. I certainly appreciated his touch, and my nipples perked up even more. He started kissing, licking and nibbling on my nips and I just let my head fall back on the cushion. Quickly, his mouth made its way down my sternum to my bully button. It tickled when he licked inside my navel, but it was a pleasant feeling. I felt his hands unbutton my pants and unzip my fly. He pulled my pants off my butt and started nibbling at my cock through my boxer shorts. I suddenly thought that – although my cock and balls were clean – there might be some residue from my morning jack-off session in my boxers. Since his mouth was already driving my cock crazy, I decided to take matters into my own hands and tore my boxers off, pulling both my pants and underwear out from around my ankles.
– Tu es vraiment beau, he whispered.
I didn’t know if he was talking about my beauty in general or if he was talking about the beauty of my man parts. Anyhow, it certainly didn’t do anything to hinder my arousal.
– You’re really hot, too, I replied in French.
– I really didn’t expect anything like this to happen to me today when I woke up.
He chuckled and came up to kiss me on the mouth again. After a few seconds, I started flashing back to his nude body in the window in the morning and thought, ‘He is really overdressed right now. Let’s do something about that.’
I took off his green wool shirt, thinking, ‘Wow! This thing must be soooooo comfortable!’ and then I took off his jeans and yellow Diesel briefs which were bulging like crazy. Almost instantly, we ended up lying on the futon in a 69 position, his hot, hard, uncut cock pumping into my mouth as my stiff pole slipped between his lips, getting a great swabbing.
I could hear him moan and could almost imagine his eyes rolling to the back of his head. His pleasure was making mine grow and, when I felt his fingers starting to play with my balls, and scratching lightly on the skin under my scrotum, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was ready to erupt.
Quickly, I pulled my cock out of his mouth and twisted around so I could kiss his mouth, almost thanking him for the sensations he had just given me.
He asked me why I had wanted him to stop and smiled when I said I didn’t want to cum just yet. We kissed some more in what was actually a really romantic and sensuous manner which surprised me because I thought this would be a carnal, animalistic, anonymous fuck fest.
We mutually caressed each other’s hard cock as we continued kissing. When he went fishing for a condom in his jeans, I thought: ‘Hum… he thinks I’m a bottom, huh?’ I felt uncomfortable for a second but when he started inching down to my cock and sucked on it a few times before looking up at me, he said:
– I want to feel you inside me. Are you okay with that?
I smiled and he tore open the condom packet with his teeth, rolling the sheath on my hard pole and positioning himself with a foot on each side of me, slowly inching my cock into his anal cavity without letting his eyes turn away from mine.
He moaned with pleasure and kept a smile on his face. He was definitely used to having stuff stuffed up his ass and it felt really good to watch my cock disappear inside him.
Once he’d made it all the way to the base, He oscillated a bit and then started bobbing up and down, allowing me an amazing view of my hard pole appearing and disappearing inside him and his own hard dick bobbing while his balls slapped against my pubes.
It took no time at all before he started accelerating, moaning and groaning.
– Mmmmm…. Ah, fuck, j’vas venir! Mmmm…
He wasn’t even touching his cock and he was ready to explode. When his pole started shooting strand after strand of cum, his asshole tightened and my own cock erupted inside him, driving me crazy with lust and ecstasy. Part of me was disappointed I wasn’t seeing the result of my orgasm, but when I did pull out of him and took the condom off my deflating cock, I realized that my morning jerk-off session in the bus hadn’t hindered my cum shot.
We cuddled for a while, naked on the futon. He caressed my pecs and perused my whole body with his hands for a while. Then, spontaneously, he took in a deep breath, as though he was preparing to exhale an amazing sigh of relief, but bounced up and said:
– It’s happy hour! You want a drink? Wine, beer… a cocktail? Anything you want. I’m a bartender, you know. My name is Jean-Patrick.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
– I’ll have the specialty of the house.
– Coming right up. Oh and by the way, you’re lucky. Between 5 and 7, it’s two for the price of one.
Again, I laughed.
He disappeared into the kitchen and I headed to the curtains he’d appeared behind that morning. I looked outside, still naked, and smiled. A few people were walking on the sidewalks on both sides of the street and even up and down Montcalm, but they were all looking down at their cell phones or at the sideway.
Jean-Patrick came back with a tray and four Salted Caramel Martinis.
– Quatre ? I exclaimed.
– I told you it was 2 for 1, didn’t I?
I’d never had cocktails in the nude before but it certainly was a nice experience. Turns out Jean-Patrick is also a great cook. He made chicken parmigiana and took out a great bottle of Chianti.
That night, I slept over. The next morning, before going across the street to my bus stop, I had to quickly race home to change my clothes and take care of Dietrich, my cat, but I didn’t miss my bus and got to work on time.
My boss remarked that I was back to my old self. Funny. I didn’t feel the same.