Stranger on the Bus – Part 10

Everyone in this story is 18+

The leaves were turning, painting the woods in shades of rust and gold, the air crisp with the bite of autumn. I was out back, splitting wood with the axe, sweat beading despite the chill, when I heard the crunch of tires on gravel. My heart kicked up before I even turned—nobody came out here unannounced. I dropped the axe, wiped my brow, and jogged to the front of the house, boots kicking up dust.

There he was. Max, stepping out of a tiny, beat-up rental car, paint chipped and bumper rattling, his suitcase slung over one shoulder. His blonde hair was longer now, catching the late afternoon sun, wearing a loose sweater and jeans that hugged his thighs. That infuriating smirk hit me like a punch to the chest. I hadn’t known he was coming. Hadn’t even crossed my mind he’d show up out of nowhere.

“Surprise, lumberjack,” he called, dropping his bag as I barreled toward him.

I didn’t stop to think. I closed the distance, grabbed his face, and kissed him—hard, desperate, tasting coffee and mint on his lips. His hands fisted my flannel, pulling me closer, his body lean and warm against mine. The rental car’s engine ticked as it cooled, but I barely noticed, too caught up in the feel of him, the way his tongue slid against mine, hungry and familiar.

“Missed me?” he teased, pulling back just enough to grin, eyes glinting with that cocky spark that I’ve grown to love to hate.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I said, voice rough, still holding his face like he might vanish.

“Fall Break,” he said, shrugging like it was nothing. “Three days plus the weekend. Thought I’d crash your sad lumberjack life.”

I kissed him again, deeper, my hands sliding down to grip his ass through those tight jeans. He laughed into my mouth, the sound turning into a sharp gasp as I pressed myself against him, already hard, my shaft straining against my jeans.

“Right here?” he said, voice low, teasing, as he glanced at the empty driveway. “You’re feral, Jones.”

“You showed up unannounced,” I growled, shoving him back against the side of the rental car, the metal cool under my palms as I pinned him there. His legs parted instinctively, letting me slot between them, our hips grinding together, denim catching on denim. The gravel crunched under our boots, the woods silent except for our heavy breaths and the rustle of leaves.

He tugged at my belt, fingers quick and sure, yanking my jeans down just enough to free my length. The cool air hit my skin, but his hand was warmer, stroking me with that reckless confidence that drove me wild. I ripped at his jeans, shoving them down his thighs, exposing his smooth, pale skin, his dick already rigid and leaking, bobbing against his stomach.

“No underwear?” I said, raising an eyebrow, my voice thick with want.

“Thought I’d make it easy for you,” he shot back, grinning as he spit into his palm and slicked himself up, his shaft glistening in the fading light.

I grabbed his hips, spun him around, and pushed him down over the hood of the car, his palms slapping against the metal. His ass was perfect—round, tight, begging to be fucked. I spit into my hand, slicked my dick, and pressed against his hole, feeling the resistance, the way his body tensed then softened for me.

“Do it,” he said, voice thick, glancing back over his shoulder. “Fuck me right here.”

I didn’t wait. I pushed in, slow at first, enjoying the tight grip of him, the way his body opened for me, his breath hitching as I filled him. The car creaked under his weight, gravel shifting under my boots as I started to move, thrusting deep, my hands gripping his hips hard enough to leave marks. His sweater rode up, exposing the curve of his spine, the faint tan line from summer still lingering on his skin.

“Fuck, Max,” I panted, slamming into him, the slap of skin echoing in the quiet driveway. His ass bounced with every thrust, his hole clenching around me, wet and needy, pulling me deeper. He braced himself against the hood, fingers digging into the metal, his breaths coming in sharp, filthy sounds that made my length throb.

“Harder,” he demanded, pushing back against me, his voice raw, desperate. “Make me feel it.”

I grabbed his shoulders, yanking him back onto me, fucking him with everything I had, the car rocking with each brutal thrust. His dick slapped against his stomach, untouched, leaking pre-cum onto the hood, the sight so filthy it pushed me closer to the edge.

Then Max twisted, shoving me back with surprising force, his eyes wild and dark. “My turn to ride you, lumberjack.”

Before I could react, he pushed me down onto the gravel, the rough stones biting into my bare ass as I hit the ground. He straddled me quick, knees on either side of my hips, his hand guiding my shaft back to his hole. He sank down hard, taking me all the way in one brutal drop, his body swallowing me whole, masking the slight pain of gravel in my ass.

He laughed euphorically, wild and bright, the sound cut off by a sharp cry as he rode me harder, his thighs flexing, ass slapping against my thighs. Sweat dripped down my back, the gravel digging in deeper with every thrust, but the pain just sharpened the pleasure. His hand flew to his dick, stroking fast, matching the rhythm of his hips, his body tightening as he got closer.

“Jones—fuck—Its coming!” He didn’t finish, his body locking up as he erupted, thick ropes of cum splattering across my face, warm and sticky, hitting my cheeks, my lips, my chin. The salty taste filled my mouth as I licked it away, the sight of him unraveling pushing me over the edge. I buried myself deep, unloading my heavy balls inside him, my vision blurring as I filled him, my hips jerking with each surge.

We stayed there, panting, his body slumped over me, my dick still inside him, cum leaking down his thigh onto the gravel. The air smelled of sex and pine, the woods swallowing our sounds as we caught our breath.

“Welcome back,” I said, voice hoarse, pulling out slow and watching my cum drip from his hole.

“Good thing you live in the middle of nowhere,” Max gasped, his voice breaking as he started to bounce, grinding down on me, his hole squeezing tight around my length.

“Good thing you’re so fucking hot,” I shot back, breathless, my hips bucking up to meet him. “I think I’ve got gravel in my ass.”

He turned, grinning, his face flushed and sweaty.

◆◆◆

Later, we sprawled on the couch, Max curled against my chest, his legs tangled with mine, the fire crackling in the wood stove. The house smelled of cedar and the faint tang of our earlier mess, the flannel he’d stolen again draped over his shoulders. We’d showered, but the heat of him still lingered on my skin, his breath warm against my neck.

“How’d you afford that car?” I asked, my hand tracing lazy patterns on his back. “You’re always broke.”

He tilted his head, smirking. “Been pulling shifts at the campus coffee shop. Barista life. Saved every tip for this piece-of-shit rental.” He paused, his eyes softening. “You’re worth it.”

My chest tightened, the words hitting harder than I expected. “Shit, Max,” I said, voice rough, “I think I love you.”

I froze, the words hanging in the air, my heart pounding like I’d just fucked up everything. “I mean—shit, I didn’t—”

He cut me off, climbing into my lap and kissing me, slow and deep, his hands cupping my face. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright, his grin wide. “I love you too, you lumberjack-fool.”

I laughed, relief flooding through me, and pulled him closer, kissing him again, tasting the warmth of him, the promise of something more. The fire crackled, the woods whispered outside, and the quiet didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

“So,” he said, settling against me, “three days. Plus the weekend. What’s the plan?”

“Keep you naked and fed,” I said, kissing his temple. “Maybe teach you to chop wood properly this time.”

He snorted. “Pass. I’m more of a ‘watch you chop wood and get hard’ kind of guy.”

I laughed, but the quiet settled in, softer now. He was here, but only for a few days. Then he’d be back to college, to his new life, and I’d be here, splitting logs and pretending the silence didn’t echo without him.

“Max,” I said, voice low, “what happens when you go back?”

He stilled, his fingers pausing on my chest. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “This. Us. You’re hours away. You’ve got classes, new people, probably some hot art major waiting to jump you. I’m just… here.”

He sat up, straddling my lap, his eyes searching mine. “You think I’m gonna forget you because some guy in a beret knows how to paint?”

I smirked, but it didn’t hide the ache. “Maybe.”

He leaned in, kissing me slow, soft, his hands cupping my face. “Jones, you’re the only one who’s ever punched my dad for me. You think I’m letting that go?”

My chest tightened, but I held his gaze. “Long distance is hard. You’re young. You’ve got shit to figure out.”

“So do you,” he said, poking my chest. “What’s stopping you from figuring it out too? You’re, what, twenty-five? Not exactly retired. Ever thought about college?”

I blinked. “Me? I’m not exactly the classroom type.”

He grinned, wicked. “Neither was I, till I was. You could take some courses. Something practical. Forestry or some shit. You’d kill it.”

I laughed, the idea ridiculous but… not entirely crazy. “You trying to turn me into a scholar now?”

“I’m trying to keep you in my life,” he said, softer now, his eyes serious. “Long distance sucks, yeah. But I’m not ready to let this—us—go. Are you?”

I looked at him, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips still swollen from our earlier kiss, and something clicked. I didn’t want to let him go either. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Okay,” I said, pulling him close. “We’ll try it. Long distance. FaceTime. Dirty texts. The whole deal.”

He grinned, bright and smug. “You’re gonna be so bad at FaceTime.”

“Fuck you,” I said, laughing, and tackled him back onto the couch, kissing him until we were both breathless.

The fire crackled, the woods whispered outside, and for the first time in a long time, the quiet didn’t feel so empty.