In the summer of 1975, I and three of my college friends decided to each buy one of those $175 Greyhound Ameripasses available then. For that price, one could ride anywhere in the system over the course of a month. We had seen those ads with Fred McMurray, of all people, urging people to Go Greyhound. So we did.
Except, with all of that traveling power in our hands, we over-planned the trip. We left New York’s Port Authority Bus Terminal on July 1st. After that, we took a hugely circuitous route that eventually brought us to Yellowstone, then Salt Lake City, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. Three times we rented cars to go to Yellowstone, Yosemite, and the Grand Canyon.
Of course, that gave us way too much time on the buses and not enough at our various destinations. One doesn’t realize how large this country is until one is slowly, painfully crossing it in a land vehicle. And unlike a train, there was nowhere to go inside a bus. There were meal stops, usually three of those per day. The rest of it was hours traveling along roads, mostly interstate highways.
My three companions, aged twenty and twenty-one, and I had interesting romantic situations that summer, namely that we had no romance at all. I had broken up with my girlfriend that spring. Jeff had the same problem. I don’t think Frank had ever had a girlfriend at all. As for Dave, he was very mysterious about his own past.
Somehow my three friends thought they had a chance for some one or two-night stands with whatever girls they might meet along the way. That seemed completely unrealistic to me. In fact, they met no girls at all that month. We were hardly in one place long enough to run into any.
Then, after the Grand Canyon, in Flagstaff, Arizona, we had a dilemma to solve. Unless we rode straight through to New York, our Ameripasses were going to expire. The other alternative was to stop someplace, probably in Missouri, stay in a motel, and buy new tickets for the final leg. Being young and foolish, we chose the first option.
Now we were really going to find out how big this fucking country was. After a night and a day, we had crossed New Mexico, northern Texas, and by late in the afternoon of the second day, we were mostly across Oklahoma.
At Tulsa, two girls did get on and sat just in front of us. They also had Ameripasses, and they had decided on Tulsa as the break point. It turned out that these two were nineteen and they attended Queens College. New York chicks! Obviously, we tried to chat them up as we rolled down I-44 towards the Missouri state line.
I’m not sure what my friends were thinking as there were three of them and only two females to deal with. In any case, one of them, Jenny, was short, plump, and had glasses and dark hair. The other one, Martha, was taller and slender. She was wearing shorts and she stretched out her long legs as if to tease us.
Yet she quickly decided that she wasn’t interested in any of us, and she went back to reading her book. Frank let out some of his frustrations by joking, “We’re all gay you know.” Martha frowned at him and then continued reading.
I could see that Jenny was the one with the personality, and she was friendly and interesting to talk to. Also, to my eyes, she wasn’t plump, but rather zaftig. Her blouse was scalloped in the front, and the tops of her ample breasts were visible. She had a denim skirt, which was short enough to show off her pale, juicy thighs.
Jeff, Frank, and Dave didn’t seem to appreciate the sweet joys that a zaftig girl could provide, and they started to ignore her. Jenny, however, picked up on that I was the one who liked her. She stood up and tapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s sit back here.”
A couple of rows back, there were two empty seats, and we went to those with Jenny sitting at the window. Outside, the sun was getting low in the sky; we were somewhere between Claremore and Vinita at that point.
We chatted for a while, and I found out that she had broken up with a boyfriend that spring. We commiserated with each other about our lost lovers. Then she told me that she lived in Forest Hills, Queens.
She revealed a fact to me. “I do have a car now, a 1966 Skylark.” That seemed to be a rather large hint to drop. I thought, hey, a chick with her own car. This just seems to keep getting better.
For a little while, we held hands and she affectionately squeezed mine. Then she pushed her glasses to the top of her head, and she leaned forward. I guessed that she wanted me to kiss her, and I was right. Soon we were having quite a passionate little smooching session going.
I could have done that all night, and I assumed that was as far as things were going to go that evening. However, I was wrong about that. Our bus was less than half full, and Jenny looked towards the back. She said, “You know, if we go to the very last row, I think we can do it back there.”
I knew what she meant, but I still said, “Do what, exactly?” It was a way to tease her, and also, I was trying to determine if she was bluffing me.
She laughed, “Come on, you know what I mean.” Yet I looked closely at her, and she seemed to be serious.
“All right, how do you expect for us to get away with it?”
I was still half-wondering if she was joshing with me, but she had a reply. “It’s easy. I’ll just sit on your lap. Then I’ll raise my skirt, and I’ll do a reverse cowgirl on you.”
I know I heard that correctly, but I still had trouble believing it. Jenny smiled at me and said, “I hope you don’t think I’m too fast.”
I had a comeback, “Baby, I don’t just think you’re fast, I know it!”
She found that funny. This girl is both good-natured and hot as hell. I decided to act on what I knew and see what happened. “Okay, I’ll go back there and you meet me in about five minutes.”
“Sure, sounds like a plan to me.”
As I started to walk towards the back, I thought, wow, am I really going to get laid right here on this bus? Less than an hour earlier, it had been the last thing I had expected. I was aware then that I had an erection.
When Jenny arrived, she sat by the window while I had the aisle seat. I had a concern. “The restroom door is right there, you know.”
She shrugged, “So what? If anybody comes back here, I’ll pull my skirt down and it will look like I’m just sitting on your lap, an affectionate little position, you might say. Believe me, they’re not going to care.”
By now, it was dusk outside, but there was enough light inside the bus to see what we were doing. After making out for a bit more, she slid over onto my lap. She reached under herself to rub my crotch, but I said, “Jenny, I don’t think I need much preparation in that area.”
“That’s fine, but I think I do.” She raised her skirt and slid her panties off. Those were pink with white dots, and they were of an ample cut. She threw them back into my face. “Here, get a whiff of these. You look like a panty-sniffing kind of guy.”
“Of course, honey, whatever you say.” I did catch her aroma on the pink cloth. Then she took them back and dropped them on the seat where she had been.
After that, I got my hand under her and fondled her crotch. I put a couple of fingers into her, and worked on her cunt, including her clitoris. In turn, she ground her behind into the front of my pants. We were fortunate in that we were sitting right over the engine, and the noise of that drowned out our quiet moans and gasps of pleasure.
She was getting wetter in her pussy, and then she said, “I’m ready now. Oh please, put it into me.”
I opened my zipper, and I let my cock stick out. It just slipped into her. However, I came way too fast, like in five minutes. I tried to hold it back, but then I just gave in to the pressure and shot a big load up into her.
As I sat back, she giggled. “I know, you young guys are often on a hair-trigger. Let’s just call it priming the pump. Rest up for a while, then we’ll do it again.”
This girl is so cool, how did I have the luck to meet her? She went back to her seat and we smooched again for a while.
After about fifteen minutes, I said, “I’m ready again if you are.”
“Oh yeah, I haven’t come yet, so I’m certainly up for it.”
This time, I unbuckled my pants but I didn’t pull them down. Also, I had plenty of stamina for her. Jenny got back on me, and we banged away at each other, me moving up as she moved down. To steady herself, she gasped the seatback in front of her. I briefly worried that someone would see her that way but no one looked back.
I held and stroked her beautiful round buttocks and hips. This time, she came first. Her movements became faster, then she stopped and gyrated her crotch into mine. Her sandaled feet went up on the seatback, and I could feel her quiver. She quietly said something like, “Oh, oh, oh!”
She didn’t stop for long, and she went back to pounding me so that I could come again. Jenny could feel my climax approaching. “That’s it, put your hot load up into me.” I held her around her waist, pushed up, and shot off into her. My face was buried in the back of her blouse.
We sat like that for a couple of minutes, and when we had relaxed a bit, she got off of me. She slipped her panties back on and she said, “Man, I really need these. Your cum is just pouring out of me.” After that, we held each other and we talked again for a while.
I said, “Tomorrow morning, when we get to St. Louis, we have to change buses.”
“I’m suddenly thinking of Esther Smith. She only had a trolley, not a Greyhound bus. There’s not much you can do in one of those.”
“I’ve seen that movie, on TV.”
“Remember when she’s with that guy, John Truitt? She wanted him to come upstairs with her to turn off the lights, but the dummy, he didn’t get it and he went home.”
I said, “I know he even compares her perfume to what his grandmother wears. Oh, man, not too smooth! So I guess she wanted to do some kissing up there.”
“Maybe more than that. I don’t mean go all the way, but maybe do some heavy petting.” She giggled, “Maybe even, let’s face it, some mutual masturbation. At one point they’re practically panting for each other.”
“Come on, it was 1903.”
“So? They had sex back then or we wouldn’t be here now.” She smiled to herself, “That Esther Smith, she was a pretty hot number. When he smiled, she could feel the car shake. Actually, it wasn’t the car that was shaking, it was her!”
“Too bad, not more trolleys in St. Louis. But San Francisco is buying some new ones.”
“Martha and I were there. You don’t mean the cable cars?”
I said, “No, I meant the electric ones, the ones on Market Street.”
“Right, I did see those, but I didn’t ride them.”
A couple of minutes later, she asked me, “So when you get back to New York, what is the first thing you’re going to do?”
“First, I’m going to go home and take a shower.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Then, the next day, assuming you’re not busy, come into the city and have dinner with me.” I thought of all the restaurants and bars I had been to with my previous girlfriend. “I know some good places in the Village.”
She obviously liked the idea, but she didn’t want to overdo her enthusiasm. “I certainly don’t have anything planned. I’ll definitely meet you.”
Finally, around 10:00 PM, the bus left the main road for a meal stop. As we pulled into the parking lot, the driver turned on the main interior lights and we blinked in the glare.
I commented, “We’re only about four hours late for this.”
As Jenny and I left the bus, holding hands, Jeff, Frank, Dave, and Martha were standing around outside, trying to pretend that they weren’t there to see us. I just shrugged at them as we went by.
Fortunately, we weren’t at one of those awful Post House set-ups that Greyhound maintained for itself at some locations. It was a nice but modest diner with waitress service.
Jenny and I sat together, while my three guys were at another table and Martha was by herself. I said, “They’re all trying to make believe that they don’t notice us.”
“I don’t care; let them think whatever they want. Where are we, anyway?”
“I know we just stopped at Joplin a short while ago.” I looked at the menu. “Duenweg, Missouri. I’ve never heard of it.”
“Neither have I,” Then she said, “Joplin; isn’t that where Bonnie and Clyde had that big shootout?”
I was impressed. “That was it, all right.”
Jenny smiled at me. “I’ll be Bonnie to your Clyde. Although, I’d make a rather strange Bonnie Parker.”
“She didn’t look like Faye Dunaway, you know. She was this short little red-headed girl.”
“She was skinny, however.”
“That doesn’t make any difference to me,” and she laughed at that.
When we were getting ready to go, Jenny said, “When we get back on the bus, let’s go to the back again.” I wasn’t sure what my expression was. She continued, “What are you, twenty years old?”
“Ah, yeah, I am.”
“Then you definitely have the juice for it. I know I do.”
When we were mostly down the aisle, Jenny stopped and said, “I’ve got to go back and get my overnight bag from the rack.” She explained why when she sat down with me. “I have an extra set of panties in here. The ones I have on now are completely soaked from you.”
I felt a bit embarrassed yet oddly proud for having done that.
We gave ourselves a few minutes for the bus to back out and get going before she got back on my lap, lifted her skirt, and removed her old semen-drenched underpants. I noticed that our four companions had the decency not to look back in our direction.
We had our third reverse cowgirl of the evening, and if anything, it was even better than the second one.
After that, we cuddled against each other in our seats. I had been having some trouble sleeping on moving buses, but that night I slept perfectly until dawn caught us just outside St. Louis.