A Kyle Story - Karen and Chloe (M&D on a bus)

Kyles was not sure if COVID was good or bad for his freshman year at university. On one hand, the online classes meant he could sleep until noon, play games all day, and generally do fuck all. On the other hand, it meant his mother had stopped doing his shopping, citing "viral exposure risks," and now he had to take the bus across town to the only grocery store that accepted his EBT card. Fifteen fucking stops. Each way.

But today, as the bus hissed to a stop and two figures stepped on, Kyle decided COVID might be the best thing that ever happened to him.

The first was a woman in her early forties—classic soccer mom, the kind Kyle had seen in the suburbs. Her white hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she wore a pressed button-up shirt tucked into jeans that hugged her soft, wide hips. A pair of expensive sunglasses sat on her head, and a blue surgical mask covered the lower half of her face. She moved with the weary authority of someone who managed a household, a husband, and at least two children's schedules.

The second was a girl, maybe twenty-ish, with the taut, unmarred freshness of youth. She was a different cut of meat entirely: leaner, her tits small and high, straining against a cheap tank top that had probably cost a fraction of what her mother's shirt did. Her hips were still narrow, but Kyle could see the blueprint of soft expansion, the promise that she would one day fill out just like the woman beside her. A mask covered her face too, but nothing could hide the annoyance in her posture.

Kyle's small eyes tracked them as they settled into the seat across the aisle. He leaned back, his bulk pressing against the grimy plastic, and watched.

"Mom, why the fuck we take the bus?" the daughter hissed, pulling out her phone. "We could've called an uber!"

"Honey, don't cuss!" The mother's voice was sharp, practiced, the voice of a woman who had said the same thing a thousand times. "There are less people on the bus, less chance of getting the virus! It's safer."

The daughter rolled her eyes so hard Kyle could see it through the mask.

Kyle leaned forward, his voice a low, unhurried rumble from the back of his throat. He was still not sure how whatever this thing worked, but he was sure to not pass a single opportunity.

"You two gonna be on this ride for a while?"

The mother glanced at him. A flicker of annoyance crossed her eyes. She had been looked at by men like Kyle before. She had learned to assess and categorize quickly. He was clearly not a threat to them.

"Yeah, about twenty minutes or so," she said. "We need to get to the other side of town."

Kyle nodded, settling back. His belly rose and fell with his breathing, the stained fabric of his shirt pulling tight. "You bored?"

A pause. The daughter looked at her phone with exaggerated focus. The mother just sighed, a sound that seemed to come from the very bottom of her soft, complacent body.

"I'm Karen," she said, gesturing limply to the girl. "This is Chloe. And... yeah. There aren't much to do till me get to our stop."

Kyle smiled. It was not a friendly smile. It was the smile of a man who had been told, again and again, that everything he did was fine.

"Good," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "Then here's what we can do. We can get to the back. The three of us. Karen, you're gonna get on your knees and suck my cock. Keep your mask on, pull it down just enough. Chloe, you're gonna pull those tight little jeans down and ride me. We all keep our masks up top, no risk of the virus. Just three bored people on a bus passing the time."

He said it the way another man might order a coffee.

Chloe stiffened, her mouth falling open beneath her mask. Her phone clattered to the seat. "What the—"

But Karen just looked at him, then at her daughter, then out the window at the dreary strip malls sliding by. Her shoulders slumped in a gesture of absolute, resigned permission.

"Fi-ine," she said, her voice full of annoyed acceptance. She reached into her purse—a large, shapeless thing that had probably held juice boxes and coloring books a decade ago—and pulled out a condom. "You fuck her pussy. Not her ass. Just her pussy. And you wear this."

"Whatever you say." Kyle nodded.

Chloe's eyes went wide, her voice a strained, high whine. "Mom, what the fuck? I—I haven't even... me and Brad, we've only done light stuff. Toys and shit. I was gonna... my first dick was supposed to be his."

Karen didn't look at her. "Well, it's not like you have anything else to do. Get up. Let's go to the back."

The bus was empty. Kyle stood, his bulk unfolding, and led the way to the very last row. The seat was a continuous bench, grimy and wide, the patterned fabric worn smooth by decades of asses. He sat, unzipping his jeans with a heavy, deliberate sound. His cock was already thick and half-hard, a pale, meaty thing nestled in a thatch of dark hair. Three months of daily use had made him comfortable with it in a way he had never been before.

Karen followed, her movements slow, practiced. She knew exactly what she was doing—a proper suburban MILF who had learned long ago that sometimes the path of least resistance was the only path worth taking. She knelt on the gritty floor in front of him, the worn denim of her jeans straining over the colossal, soft mounds of her thighs and ass. She pulled her mask up to her nose, leaving her mouth and chin bare—the faded lipstick a smear of color on her pliant mouth.

She looked up at him with eyes that were slightly interested yet utterly bored, a woman going through motions she had performed many times before. Then she took his cock in her hand, giving it two slow, practiced pumps before lowering her head. Her mouth was wet and warm, a mindless, sucking hole that swallowed him with an obscene, wet sound.

Chloe stood frozen for a moment, her arms crossed over her small tits, her face a mask of horror and something else—something she didn't want to name. Kyle grabbed her by the wrist, his grip startlingly strong.

"Get your pants down. Now."

With trembling, clumsy fingers, she unbuttoned her jeans and shoved them down her legs. Her panties were pink cotton with little flowers all over—cute, innocent, the kind a girl bought before she knew what they would be used for. He hooked a finger into the waistband and pushed them aside. Her pussy was bare, shaved smooth, the slit pink and tight-looking, already slick with a nervous wetness.

Kyle's thick fingers found her clit, rubbing in slow, lazy circles. Chloe's legs trembled. A small, strangled sound escaped her throat. Her hips twitched involuntarily, pushing against his hand even as her face twisted with shame.

"Stop playing with her pussy," Karen said flatly, her mouth still wet from his cock. "Get the condom on."

"Okay, okay, geez." Kyle grinned, pulling his hand away from Chloe's twitching cunt. "Seems you can't wait to taste your daughter on my cock, lol."

He pulled the young woman onto his lap, and Karen had to maneuver carefully so she didn't get hit by her daughter's flailing legs. Kyle spread Chloe's thighs so she straddled him, her back to his chest, her small ass pressing against his soft belly.

"Fuck, you got nice tits here," he grunted, his hands gripping her shirt in the chest area, squeezing the small, firm mounds through the cheap fabric.

He got his hands under her clothes, pushing the tank top up to her armpits, and played with her bare tits. They were small and perfect, fitting entirely in his palms, her nipples hard little pebbles against his fingers. Chloe whimpered, her head falling back against his shoulder.

Karen noticed and her eyes narrowed. "Stop molesting my daughter's tits."

"Fine, fine." Kyle released the girl's chest with a wet smack of his palms. He pointed down at his cock, still glistening with Karen's spit. "Fix the condom on with your mouth, then put it inside your daughter's pussy."

Karen's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue. She took the foil packet, tore it open with her teeth, and rolled the condom onto his shaft using only her mouth—a neat trick made Kyle even harder. When she was done, she looked up at her daughter's face.

"Brace yourself, he is quite thick," she positioned Kyle's cock at the entrance of her daughter's pussy, her fingers steady and clinical. "Honey, try to move on your own. It's better to do it on your own terms, you don't want him to rail it in."

Yet, that was exactly what Kyle planned. Chloe let out a choked, pained cry as Kyle pulled her down onto him. Her body arched, her small tits bouncing under the bunched-up tank top as he began to work her up and down on his shaft, using her like a fleshlight.

"That's it," he breathed into her ear, his fat gut pressing against the small of her back. "Take it. This is what you needed, huh? A real cock splitting that little cunt open. Not some toy. Not some boyfriend's little boy-stick."

Chloe's eyes were screwed shut, tears leaking from the corners, her mouth open in a silent, agonized O. But her body was starting to move with him, a primal, involuntary rhythm. Her thighs were pale and smooth, trembling against his jeans.

Then her hand shot out, grabbing her mother's hair. She pressed Karen's face down—down to where her own pussy was stretched around Kyle's cock, the condom glistening with her wetness.

"Down there," Chloe gasped, her voice a raw, **** thing. "Lick me there, Mom. I need—I need—"

Karen's eyes went wide with shock, then narrowed with something that might have been pride or might have been rage. But she didn't pull away. She settled between her daughter's thighs, her tongue finding the swollen nub of Chloe's clit, lapping at it in steady, practiced strokes.

"You are lucky I have nothing else to do, girl!" Karen snapped, her voice muffled against her daughter's flesh. "Making your mom eat you out while getting fucked like a teen-slut on the bus!"

A new sound cut through—the hiss of the bus doors. A man got on, mid-thirties, a phone in his hand. He saw them immediately, his eyes widening. A grin split his face, cruel and eager. He raised his phone, the red light blinking.

"Oh, holy shit! Look at this!" he crowed, his voice a sharp, mocking bark. "Stupid horny fucking hoes! On the bus in broad daylight! Fucking pathetic."

Karen froze. She looked up, her eyes wide with a flash of panic. She pulled her mask back up over her face, the fabric covering her nose and mouth, muffling her voice as she turned and snapped at the man.

"Mind your own goddamn business, you fucking creep!"

The man laughed, stepping closer, his phone trained on them.

"Creep? I'm the creep? You're the one with your face buried in some fat fuck's dick while the little slut bounces on it! Look at her! Taking it like a champ!"

Chloe's body was shuddering now, a low, animal moan building in her throat. Kyle felt her cunt clench around him, a series of sharp, rhythmic spasms. Her thighs were shaking, her hands clawing at his knees. She was cumming, her first real cock driving her over the edge despite the shame, despite the stranger filming, despite everything. A thin, strangled scream tore from her lips as her body bucked uncontrollably.

"Fuck yes," Kyle grunted, his own climax building, a pressure at the base of his spine. He slapped her ass hard, the sound cracking through the bus. "That's it, you filthy little cunt. Take it. Now get off."

He shoved Chloe aside. Her limp body tumbled onto the bus floor in front of her mother, her legs still spread, her pussy red and glistening, the condom still lodged inside her, slick and used.

Kyle grabbed Karen by her hair and pulled her toward him.

"Get my fucking load, you worthless whore," he snarled, shoving her mask down just enough to expose her mouth. He jammed his cock past her lips, his hips jerking, and unloaded. Thick, hot ropes of cum shot down her throat, some spilling from the corners of her mouth, dripping onto her chin and the faded blue of her sweater. She swallowed, her throat working mechanically, her eyes staring at nothing.

He released her hair, and she slumped back, pulling her mask up with a shaking hand, covering the mess on her face.

The man with the phone was still filming, cackling. "Fucking disgusting! Sucking a stranger's cum right through her mask! You're a nasty piece of work, lady! Both of you! Now get over here and suck my cock, you stupid sluts!"

Karen and Chloe scrambled, pulling clothes back into place. Chloe's hands were shaking as she yanked her jeans up, not even bothering with her torn panties. Karen wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, the mask still firmly in place, her eyes filled with rage.

"Get yourself admitted, you creep!" Karen's voice rose, sharp and cutting. "Why do you care what others do in their free time! Mind your own business!"

The man laughed, phone still raised. "Mind my business? You're on public transit, you stupid cunt! You want privacy, get a room!"

"Go fuck yourself!" Chloe screamed, her voice raw, her face streaked with tears. "You're the pervert here! Filming people without permission!"

"Permission?" The man snorted. "You're fucking on a bus! There's no expectation of privacy on a—"

"Mind your own business!" Karen repeated, louder now, stepping toward him, her finger jabbing at his chest. "We weren't bothering anyone! You're the one making it weird!"

The argument continued for a while—a blur of shouted insults and pointing fingers. Kyle just rested, his cock softening against his thigh, watching with lazy satisfaction. Chloe had retreated to a seat, her phone back in her hands, scrolling through Instagram like none of it had happened.

Finally, Karen grabbed her daughter's hand.

"That, our stop, Chloe!" she barked, pulling her toward the door. "See? Dad is here to meet us!"

They moved toward the exit, the man with the phone still shouting after them. "Yeah, that's right! Run, you stupid fucking whores! Go suck your daddy's dick next! Fucking bus sluts!"

They stepped off onto the sidewalk. Kyle watched from the grimy window. He saw a man approaching the bus stop—mid-forties, khaki shorts, a polo shirt, the uniform of suburban fatherhood. Karen walked into his arms, her body sagging against his. She hugged him, then removed her mask and pressed her mouth to his in a deep, lingering kiss. The man's hand came up, cupping the back of her head, holding her there for a moment.

While her parents made out, Chloe launched a hand beneath the waistband. When her hand emerged, the condom dangled from her fingers—pink-tinged, glistening, empty. She flicked it, and kicked a tuft of dirt over the condom with the toe of her sneaker. Then she pulled out her phone, scrolling, her face blank, as if she'd just thrown away a gum wrapper.

Kyle smiled. He leaned back in his seat, his softening cock still hanging out of his jeans. He wished he had whatever these MILF and her hubby had. He also wished he didn't miss his stop ten minutes ago.