Last bus of the night, and I was the only passenger. Just me and Stacey behind the wheel.
She was thick, gorgeous, with hair scraped back and a uniform that couldn't hide her curves. I'd seen her on this route for months—always nodded, never spoken.
"You're my regular," she said at a red light. "Every Friday, same time."
"Creature of habit."
"Me too." She caught my eye in the mirror. "Last stop's the depot. Fancy coming along for the ride?"
The depot was dark, empty. She parked the bus, turned off the engine.
"Been wanting to do this for months," she admitted. "Watch you get on, watch you sit there. Think about what it'd be like."
"And now?"
"Now we find out."
She climbed out of the driver's seat, walked back to where I was sitting. Straddled me in the aisle.
"God, you're fit," she breathed. "Been driving this route going mental thinking about you."
"Same."
"Then shut up and kiss me."
Her body was soft and warm, pressing against me. Her uniform came off piece by piece—shirt, trousers, practical underwear.
"Like what you see?"
"Fucking love it."
I pulled her down onto the seats, buried my face between her tits. She moaned, ground against me.
"More—need more—"
I dropped lower, found her wet and ready. Ate her there on the bus seats, felt her shake.
"Inside me—now—"
I stood, pulled her to the edge of the seat, pushed in. She was tight, hot, moaning loud.
"Harder—yes—don't stop—"
We fucked on that empty bus, the depot silent around us. She came twice, then a third time.
"Close—inside—"
I came deep, holding her against me.
We lay there on the bus seats, catching breath.
"Same time next Friday?" she asked.
"I'll catch your bus."
"I'll save you the back seat."
Started getting that bus every Friday. Never paid full fare again.