Jeramie Lecleaux is an eighteen-year-old teen detective and slut puppy who is always willing use his greatest ASSets to save the day.
A rainy day, busy parents, and no wheels of their own force Jeramie and Ricky to take the bus to school. Along the way, the grumpy driver picks up a passenger who ends up being more than he seems. Things take a dangerous turn when everyone on the bus is taken hostage.
Can Jeramie get his classmates out of this jam?
And if his quick wits can't, will his talented boy hole do the trick?
Riding the Bus Driver is a 7,900-word short story.
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Excerpt
“It’s true!” someone from behind them called out.
The voice shattered the silence. Jeramie felt his body slack. His eyes kept facing forward, watching the gunman shake his head.
“What?” the masked man barked.
“Jeramie never gets in trouble on the bus,” another voice added. “He’s the only one Mr. Barksdale seems to like.”
Privately, Jeramie doubted that very much. He wasn’t about to contradict any of their statements, though. The gunman was considering their words carefully now.
As if on cue, Mr. Barksdale hit a pothole, rocking the bus slightly. “Okay, fine!” the gunman barked, waving his gun. “You, go up to the front and see if you can help the old fart keep the bus steady.”
Jeramie nodded once and hopped up out of his seat. He was forced to squeeze by the masked man. The gunman didn’t want to move. As he did, Jeramie felt his rear brush against the gunman’s front. He could feel what the gunman was packing in there.
He could also feel the cock there jump when Jeramie made contact. Jeramie filed this information away for later. It would probably be useful, if what he had deduced so far proved accurate.
“Mr. Barksdale?” Jeramie said softly, getting the older man’s attention as he approached the front.
The bus driver glanced briefly toward him. Jeramie didn’t waste time, opting to climb right in Mr. Barksdale’s lap instead of waiting for permission. The old man seemed surprised, but didn’t protest.
“Just relax,” Jeramie whispered, softly as he could. “I have a plan.”
To his surprise, Mr. Barksdale was hard too. This made things much easier. Smiling to himself, Jeramie reached down, taking hold of his shorts and giving them a slight push. He could see via the mirror that no one was watching him. A couple of students had been staring when he climbed up into Mr. Barksdale’s lap, but their attention was diverted by the gunman, who had resumed waving his weapon around.
“I was trying to get him to drop the gun,” Mr. Barksdale whispered while Jeramie wiggled around. “But I’m scared he’d fire it inste—what are you doing?”
Jeramie had reached underneath his rear, freeing Mr. Barksdale’s swollen cock from his work jeans.