The Man on the Bus ------------------ by Jerry T. Ramsey Well, I had been given only about enough money to buy as many meals as my mother thought (by calculating the days times the times I would like to eat per day) I needed. I was instructed to not waste a bunch of my money on candy and other junk food, but to save it until I could have a good and complete meal. I was to use only the restaurants in the bus stations, not go outside and wander around finding other ones (or other things - my mom did know me pretty well). Since my birthday was going to elapse during my trip, she packed an extra couple of king sized Snickers bars into the handbag she had bought me just for that special day. (She bought a handbag for each of us five kids - four boys, one girl for the trip to Springfield, Ohio only a little over a year prior to this and mine at least was still as good as new). She wrote out a little bus schedule for me on a small notebook she sent with me. It detailed the gates, bus numbers, and the boarding times for each part of the journey through 9 states and even gave me information on what would be available at each bus station so I could adequately space out my meals, taking advantage of the best each station had to offer. My mother sure did do her homework. She was always (and still is) a very loving mother to me, but she was just too young back when she had us kids to know what to do. She did learn though as time dragged on, but she had no help from her parents or grandparents and even got no help from any of the fathers of us kids. She sure could pick some real winners in those days! I would say it must have been about halfway across the distance that I met up with this wino that boarded the bus. I had spent my dinner money on a friction-powered metal toy Greyhound bus in the Omaha station and so I knew I had better not spend any of the next day's food money on something to eat. Well, this old man had almost nothing with him, but I could tell he had something to eat in his overcoat pockets. He was sitting next to me not saying a word, but he was munching on some snacks he was pulling from his coat pocket. I must have been staring at him as he ate or something because he noticed me and asked me if I had any food as well as whether I was hungry. I told him my mother had given me the money to eat and I wanted the toy bus more so I bought it instead of a dinner and that I had to go hungry just until the morning when I'd be able to eat again. He asked me where I was going as he pulled out a small loaf of french bread and a small package of cheddar cheese. He proceeded to make me a small sandwich and I remember thanking him as he handed it to me. He said he didn't have much, but I looked like I needed it worse than he did (I was very skinny at that age) and I felt really bad about taking this poor (it was obvious to me that he was poor) man's food, but I was so hungry that I took the sandwich he gave me and two more like it. He asked me if I was thirsty and I was. He only had wine on him, so he poured me a little of it (it was Thunderbird apple wine) into the lid from the wine bottle and gave it to me, but he told me to sip at it and not to drink it like it was water. I remember how hard it was not to do that since I was so thirsty, but I did sip at it and found that it got me through one whole sandwich and part of the way through the second one. I asked him for more and he gave it to me. I was happy to have this new friend to keep me company one the bus. I had been sitting in the very first seat on the passenger side (near the door) on each bus up until now, but we were sitting in the last row on the driver side of the bus now. I was able to finish the sandwiches on the second capful of Thunderbird and then I began to get sleepy (wine will do that to a kid). The man (I never asked his name and he never gave it to me) saw this and he pulled me over to him and allowed me to lean against his side as I laid there. I slipped in and out of consciousness at least a few times as I recovered from the booze and the full belly I felt. At some point he put his arm around me and was soon fondling my hair and face, then my little arms and shoulders. I don't remember just how long this went on, but I do remember thinking to myself about how I wish I hadn't had the wine so I would be more alert. I felt like I wanted to enjoy this attention to the fullest and for all it was worth. During this time, the man asked me if I was okay and if it was okay for him to touch me in this way. He wanted to know if he scared me or bothered me in some way. I said, "Are you crazy?" and then laid my head back down, which was by this time closer to his lap than his side. I then picked up the one hand of his that I could reach and placed it on my chest for him. I wanted to make this easier for him. I could tell he was enjoying this fondling as much as I was. I knew little about sex at this time, but I knew what felt good to me and I could sure use some of that! I was 14, but I looked more like 8 or 10. I was always small, skinny, and lightweight for my age. Sexually, I was the equivelent (mentally) of about 6 or 8. I was always very bright (so I have always been told) but where sex was concerned, I was pretty innocent except for the few boy-boy and man-boy experiences I had up to this point in my life. The man acted as though he was afraid to do much to me, and I was so starved for this kind of contact that I had to do something. I kept moving his big and heavy hand on my chest and arms. Finally, I got enough of this and told him not to worry and that I was liking this and I also told him that nobody would ever do this kind of thing with me and I thought I would like it. He began to feel more comfortable about touching me and I then told him that it was okay with me if he wanted to do more. I even at some point tried to place his hand on my leg after sitting up and getting as close to him as I could. I was glad we were sitting in the very back of the bus across from the potty where nobody could see us unless they were on their way to or from using the bathroom. Even then, I knew I could easily hear them approaching and would have plenty of time to prepare. It wasn't long before this man was at ease with me enough to start rubbing my legs and belly. I told him that it felt really good. I got a really solid hard-on about this time and the man knew it. He couldn't stand it any longer and so began to fondle (massage really) my little penis. He looked down at me as if to try to read a reaction and I smiled right back at him. This seemed to please the man (probably in his late 30's or early 40's) and he smiled back at me kindly. He was shy and quiet but I thought I was beginning to understand him. He had nobody to be with and looked so lonely to me. I never asked him about his life, where he was headed, or anything else. I was satisfied just for his temporary friendship. Well, to make a long story a little less longer than I could, this man ended up masturbating me slowly and softly and I had several orgasms with him. He didn't do anything other than to give me pleasure, but he did seem to derive pleasure of his own out of this experience even though he never exposed or handled himself in front of me. He did kiss me lightly a few times and tell me how nice I was of a boy. He even told me that he wishes we could somehow meet each other again. I think I might have made his day (all for the total cost of 6 slices of half-dried french bread, some stale cheddar cheese, and two capfuls of Thunderbird wine), and he gave me something to eat and a little pleasure to help me get through mine. An even trade in my book.