From: tantalus <tantalus@mailmasher.com>
Organization: http://www.mailmasher.com pseudonymous service
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Date: Fri,  9 Aug 1996 00:37:47 UTC
Subject: The Bus Game

THE BUS GAME

When I was thirteen years old, my neighbor and I played a game. We 
called it the Bus Game because that was mostly where we played it. 
Sometimes we also played it in a movie theater, or at the library, or 
even on a park bench. But mostly it was a game for the bus.

It sounds silly, but we were really into it for almost a year. We'd 
play it every chance we got. Here's how it worked. Before we went to 
the bus stop to catch the bus my friend would handcuff my hands behind 
my back. Sometimes he'd tie my wrists to each leg with a belt or a 
leather bootlace or something like that, but mostly we used the 
handcuffs behind my back. Sometimes he'd even leave the key at his 
house so I'd know there would be no way for me to be released until we 
got back. Then he'd put a big overcoat on me and button it up so no 
one could see the cuffs. We'd walk down to the corner and wait for the 
bus. Usually we'd sit toward the back, but sometimes he'd feel real 
bold and pick a seat right in the middle of a big crowd of people, or 
even right up front behind the driver. Both of the side pockets of the 
overcoat had the bottoms cut out, and once we were sitting down he 
would slip his hand into whichever pocket was handy and start playing 
with my dick. That was the idea of the game, for him to make me have a 
hard-on and then to masturbate me very slowly without anyone catching 
on to what was going on. I know it sounds really dumb, but for several 
months we were almost addicted to that game.

Right away when you read this you're probably thinking, "Oh, sure, a 
couple of little queers acting up." Well, it wasn't like that at all. 
I guess you could have said my friend was a little weird, but no one 
could have said there was anything faggy about me. I was into baseball 
and swimming and weight-lifting and even got a 92-pound letter on the 
junior high wrestling team that same year. It's just that I really 
liked this stupid game we invented. I won't lie and say that I didn't 
like being beat off or anything like that, because I certainly did. 
But I don't think that would qualify any 13-year-old as being weird or 
queer. 

He even cut off the legs from a pair of old jeans and fixed them so 
they hung from the overcoat so I could slip my legs into them and it 
would look like I had clothes on under the coat but actually I would 
be stark naked. But that was pretty cold in the winter, so he put the 
jean bottoms on a raincoat and we saved that trick mostly for warmer 
weather and in the winter I would have pants on, but the rules were 
that the fly had to be open and I couldn't wear any underwear.

The 26 bus was our favorite because it made the trip all the way out 
to the ferry and then back and the round trip took about forty 
minutes. So for forty minutes I would have to sit there and pretend to 
look out the window or smile and nod at the other passengers while he 
was rolling my glans between his thumb and forefinger or giving me a 
straight up-down-up-down stroking. Sometimes he would use some lube 
jelly and sometimes he wouldn't, but when he'd use it that was part of 
the game, too. He had to get a big gob on his fingers and get it into 
the pocket without being seen. The lube jobs were always the toughest 
because they felt so mind-blowingly good. 

The game was that he had to play with my boner for as long as he could 
without letting me shoot and I couldn't react in any way to what was 
happening. And when I came, if I did, I couldn't do anything that 
would cause anyone on the bus to look at me like they thought 
something funny was happening. If they did, I lost, and I would have 
to pay a penalty when we got back to the house. But if I had a perfect 
run and nobody tumbled the whole trip out and back, then he was the 
one who had to pay the penalty. The odds were on his side, of course, 
even one-handed, because if I were winning toward the end of the run 
he would always finish me off just before we came to our stop, and he 
knew so much about my dick and what I liked that he could make it very 
hard for me not to draw some stares.

There were all kinds of variations to the game. Sometimes I would try 
to keep him from getting me hard. I'd do multiplication tables or 
count the cars we passed or anything so I could keep from thinking 
about what he was doing to me under the coat. Other times I'd already 
be stiff when he first reached into the pocket. And he had all kinds 
of tricks, too. I couldn't tell you all the things he knew how to do 
because I don't think I could remember them all. I do remember that a 
couple of times we tried it without the handcuffs, but it wasn't as 
much fun that way. It was best when we both knew from the beginning 
that I was completely helpless and he could do anything he wanted. 
Risk and danger, I guess. We both liked it best that way.

We were almost caught a couple of times. Once an old lady was sitting 
right behind us and after a couple of minutes she leaned up on the 
back of seat and shook him by the shoulder and said "What are you boys 
doing up there?" But my friend said we weren't doing anything and she 
should mind her own business and stop bothering people or he'd call 
the driver, and so she didn't press it. And once we were almost alone 
on the bus pretty late one summer night and there was a guy across the 
aisle that kept looking over at me. I had the aisle seat and my friend 
was against the window, but he saw this guy looking at me and started 
to tease me. He said "That guy over there really likes you. Maybe he'd 
like to buy you from me?" and a lot of stuff like that. The guy did 
look like maybe he could be gay or something. So my friend is doing me 
real slow and he takes my dick and slips it up through the front of 
the raincoat so the head is sticking out and starts wiggling it 
around! After a few seconds this guy must have seen the movement and 
he looks down and sees the tip of my cock sticking out the front of 
the coat. I was scared he was going to do something, but he just got 
up and got off at the next stop. He gave us a real dirty look, though. 
After that I was afraid we might meet him on the bus again, but we 
never did.

Once or twice we tried other versions of the game. Once in a movie. 
Once or twice in the library downtown. Two or three times on park 
benches. Once even in a big, mostly empty church downtown. But they 
weren't as much fun as the bus. It was something about the movement 
and noise of the bus, all the different people getting on and off, the 
natural time-limit the bus ride provided. The bus was better. That's 
why it became the Bus Game for us. I remember it that way.

But my friend was getting more and more daring and I finally had to 
stop playing the game with him. The time with the guy staring at my 
dick sticking through the front of the coat was only the beginning. He 
got wilder and wilder and I got real nervous and finally wouldn't play 
the game any more. We didn't spend much time with each other after 
that. There was never anything like the Bus Game for me after that. 
But I still remember it and sometimes laugh at some of the crazy stuff 
we did. My family moved away when I was fifteen and I lost track of my 
friend. I wonder about him sometimes.