The Bus

mB, anal, oral, cbt, sad, tort, rape

I had only ridden this bus once before, and that was three years ago. I'd been driving my car to school ever since, but my mom needed it today at the last minute when hers wouldn't start. It wasn't a school bus. It was the city bus.

He walked on the bus, and at first, I didn't even notice him. Then I looked up and saw him. Sitting across the aisle and up one seat was this young, blond boy. He couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve! He was wearing jeans, a Lakers jersey, and a baseball cap backward on his head. Beautiful blond hair poked out from the cap.

I watched this boy intently. I looked at his arms and watched the way they disappeared into the jersey. His armpits were void of even a wisp of hair. He appeared very nervous; looking back and forth from the street to something he was holding in his hand. And, he was oblivious to me staring at him. A few stops down the road, and he pulled the cord and got off. I watched him walk off down the street, a little more confident now that he knew where he was.


I pulled the cord requesting the next stop. As soon as the door opened, I sprinted out toward the boy. I slowly closed the distance between us until he was less than fifty feet in front of me. He had no idea I was behind him. He continued walking down the street, which was lined with various businesses. This was close enough to my neighborhood that I was very familiar with it.


From the time I got off the bus, I knew I was going to rape this boy! And, I had to arrange the bulge in my shorts frequently. I followed him as I thought of what lay down the road when the boy turned down an alley. My mind went frantic; what was down this alley? When I made it to the alley and looked down, all I could do is smile. The alley went way down out of sight, and no side streets were apparent for a long way. This alley had that look that said, "no one comes down here." It was apparently access for delivery to strip malls on either side of it, and dumpsters for trash. I ran to catch the kid.


"Hey, kid, wait up," I said as I slowly jogged to catch him.


"Yea," he asked as he turned around.


"Lakers are cool," I said as I kept walking past him.


He walked next to me, expecting me to say why I asked him to wait. I opened my backpack, and I pulled out a joint and lit it. This shit isn't just pot. It's heavily laced with dust. It's my 'rape pot.' It makes the kid flip out smoking it so they can't remember anything reliable about me.


"You ever get high," I asked as I took a small drag but made it look big.


"Yea, every now and then, it's cool," he said with a smile.


I handed him the joint and lit a clean one for me. We slipped into a recess that was an obviously seldom used loading dock, sheltered by an old trash dumpster. For the next ten minutes we sucked down the smoke, and I pretended to be interested in his life. When he finished it, he was laughing, and his body moved chaotically and clumsily around.


"Want another joint," I happily asked.


"Nope," he said with a big grin. "I feel great. Everything looks so weird. The colors! WOW! I can't believe the colors. Man, I can't even see your face."


That was what I was waiting for. I looked at my watch: 3:07 pm. They all say something like that. I pulled off my shirt, walked up to the boy, and pressed my body against his sandwiching him between my body and the wall.


"Hey, man, what you doing," he asked with a laugh.


"I'm going to hurt you bad. I'm going to rape you and beat the shit out of you."


In his dazed state, he thought this was a joke and laughed. I threw his hat to the ground and reached for his jersey. His arms began to flail, and one hit my hand. I raised my knee into his crotch with a vengeance causing him to double over on the ground. I fell upon him, punching him in his stomach, chest, and groin. He wasn't even crying, instead just trying in vain to cover from the blows. I pulled his jersey off of him and pinned his hands over his head with one arm while my body pinned his legs.


I rubbed my hands gently over his gorgeous body. No doubt, within a year his body would respond to puberty with magnificent teen muscles. But now, all he had was a lean little boy's body. I felt his arms and lingered at his armpits feeling their warmth and softness. I went across his chest and rubbed at each tiny little nipple. I moved my hand down his chest, feeling each rib and rubbing across it. I was about to punch him in the ribs when I tuned back into what he was saying.


"...don't have to force me, I would have done you anyway," he was saying with his head bouncing from side to side.


He still wasn't crying. I figured it out. At some point before someone else had fucked this boy. Maybe even hurt him. And I had the pleasure of scarring this boy again. I leaned down and placed my mouth on his. I was about to force my tongue into his mouth when his mouth popped open, and his tongue met mine. His mouth was delicious. It was small and warm, and I explored it with a passion.


I made a fist with my right hand while I was kissing him. Then, with all the strength in my muscular seventeen-year-old body, I punched him on the right side of his chest with the intent of breaking some ribs, but I was not rewarded with an audible crack. So I punched again, and again, and then stopped.


As he gasped to get his breath, I reached for his jeans unbuttoning them all at once. He was not able to fight, so I released his hands and yanked his pants down to his ankles. I ripped each shoe off and finished stripping him naked in no time revealing a hard, cut, little cock, maybe four inches long. One of the amusing effects of this shit is raging erections on my victims.


I stood up and looked to the alley. This was a great spot. We were far enough off of the alley that no one would see us. And, with this boy as quiet as he is, there was nothing to draw attention to my rape!


I was taking off my own shorts as I looked down at this kid. His body was very tone. His cock was gorgeous and devoid of a single hair. He was lying on his back with his hands clutched over his ribs and was just beginning to get his breath back.


Then I sat on his chest and grabbed him by the hair as I thrust my cock into his mouth. For the next few minutes, I fucked his mouth ferociously, depriving him of all but a minimal amount of air. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and muffled cries came from his mouth. Then, his teeth brushed against my dick. I pulled out and punched him in the mouth. Immediately there was a trickle of blood from his lower lip.


I got off of his chest and went down between his legs, spreading them. His hole was beautiful. It just looked perfect. But, it also looked like it had been fucked before. I lined up two fingers and rammed them in with one merciless jab. Then I fucked his ass over and over again with all my strength as if I was trying to ram my hand into his ass.


He was still crying and was rubbing his lip and looking at the blood. I could only guess what it looked like in his present condition. I decided to divert his attention by quickly pulling my hand out of his ass, making it into a fist, and punching him in the nuts. Not just once, but over and over again. At least fifteen times I hit him in the balls. He tried to protect them with his hands, but they were easy to grab and hold away. And my weight contained his legs easily. When I was done I let go of his hands, which fell to his already bruising balls. His legs wanted to come together, but my body prevented that from happening. I put his legs on my shoulders and brought my dick closer to its target. I spat on my hand and rubbed it over my dick. I wanted to hurt him, not me!


I positioned my dick at his hole and started pushing deep into him. He winced and tried to close his legs in vain, while I kept pushing against his sphincter. A few moments later and I felt my dick start to make its way into his hole. And I kept pushing it into him. It was so tight around my cock head, and it begged me to push further into his ass. I obliged it by beginning to fuck back and forth adding cock to his ass each time. His face and body showed his pain, and that quickened my pace. After a minute or two I was buried in his ass to the hilt. It was tight. I fucked him. In and out, over and over, I rammed in and out of him. I shoved in him and held it there.


I reached over, grabbed my lighter in my right hand, and grabbed his hands with my left. I lit the lighter and held it to the tip of his cock. It took a moment for his drugged boy to realize what I was doing. When he did, he began thrashing about, but this eleven-year-old boy was no challenge to hold in place as I burnt the head of his cock.


He was crying and screaming. With his hands in mine, I dropped my fist into his stomach knocking the breath out of him. Then I returned the lighter to his cock head. Twenty seconds passed, and I could hear his skin sizzling and see the blisters developing as he cried and struggled to breathe. I continued mutilating his cock. Another twenty seconds and the blisters were bursting, and his skin was charring.


Another boy scarred forever, and he would remember me for the rest of his life.


"Please...please...please...stop...it hurts so bad," he stammered out.


"Good," I replied, "it's supposed to."


With the burn now bigger than a quarter, centered at that wonderful pleasure spot on the underside of his dick and wrapping around it, I dropped the hot lighter on his stomach. A nice bonus burn! I then continued to fuck him with even more ferocity.


I was so close to cumming deep in him, but I wanted to torment him longer! So I developed a pattern: I fucked him for ten thrusts, then punched him in the balls, then cruelly grabbed his dick twisting and yanking it over the fresh burn. Then I started again. I'm not sure how many cycles I went through, but when I was done, his cock head was all slimy and bloody, and the entire area around his nuts was bruised.


He was just crying and whimpering like a baby. And, it snuck up on me. I came without warning. His ass was sweet, and I relished filling it. When I was done, I pulled my cum, blood, and slightly shit-coated cock out of his ass and thrust it into his mouth. Since he felt a need to breathe, he had no choice but to suck and lick it clean.


Then I retrieved my lighter and lay across his body with all my weight. Lighting the lighter, I held it to his torn and bleeding ass hole. He fought and kicked, and screamed for easily two minutes, as I torched his ass hole. In a repeat of his cock, blisters formed, and then burst and spread. Reformed and burst again. His hole was charred red, blistered and slimy.


Then I got off of him and looked at my watch 3:49 pm. Forty-two minutes I had this boy. I slowly got dressed as his hands explored his abused body. His burnt cock head. His bruised balls. The cut on his lip. His charred ass hole. His burnt stomach. His sore, bruised ribs. His tender stomach.


I was dressed. I liked the way this broken boy looked. I put my face in his.


"You should give up drugs, kid," I teased. "They'll kill you."


The dazed look on his face told me he couldn't even focus on my face, let alone remember it.


Another victim unable to testify.


Only one last thing to do, I grabbed my backpack and pulled out a fifth of Jack Daniel's. I put the mouth of the bottle at his ass hole and rammed it in. Then I angled his body up, allowing the alcohol to seep into his ass. I forced a finger down next to the mouth of the bottle. The cavity it created filled with JD in no time. I fucked my finger in and out of his ass pushing as much alcohol in him as I could. He was screaming and dazed and kicking around, but I had a mission. A minute later I pulled it out and stepped back. Taking a very big drink, I returned the JD to my backpack.


And another victim with unusable physical evidence.


Besides, it would give him a great buzz. I grabbed his clothes and started shredding the shirt as I walked off.


"Thanks, kid. You were great!"


The first dumpster I got to, I finished shredding his shirt and pants and threw them away. Then I put his boxers in my backpack. I always keep a souvenir. I looked back at the dock. He was pathetic just like I like to leave them.