Mort Ashton had been a schoolhouse bus driver for 30 eld. He was 55 twelvemonth old now, short, balding, and sporting a handlebar mustache it had taken him months to grow, let alone maintain. His Louis Harold Gray beady heart flickered from one teenage miss to another as they boarded his bus, wearing those wicked little skirts and low cut blouses with their nonsensical high heels. Little whores, that 's what they were. And he lusted after each one of them hungrily. He hid his bald spot with a felt hat that all the teenagers made fun of. `` Hey, Mort, who do ya think you are ? Indiana John Paul Jones ? '' They would tease. `` Aw, shuddup and sit down, '' was Mort 's constant reply. Then he would break his appearance in the mirror, wondering how much longer the hat would be big enough to cover the oily Brown University hair he had remaining on his mind. The teenagers knew he was spiritualist about this and they also knew what a lecherous old guy he was. The girls made a distributor point to give him an eyeful when they boarded the bus, leaning over and bending over, the juicy unity knowing that he was sporting a woody in his tan uniform trousers that he would love to plant in them if he got the opportunity.

One day his regard came true. He only had one young lady to drop off at the end of his route and it was a long way to her home. As he rounded the crest of the hill, the bus began to sputter and shake. He made it to the top of the hill and the vehicle died as he managed to guide it to the side of the road and park it in the crushed rock. He was still 5 miles from civilization, alone with his passenger. His rider was Tootie Adams, a elder. Tootie came from a poor family, a `` large '' miserable family. Nobody knew exactly how many Brother and sis she had, but there were numerous rumours of incest and other shenanigans about the brood she lived with. Like all the other teenage girls, Tootie dressed in short tight dame, low cut tight blouses, garter and thigh high up hosiery and spiked hound. Tootie was African American, but Mort found her all the more enticing because she WAS contraband. He 'd never know a pitch-dark gal.

Today he might get favorable if he played his wag right. She was good looking ignominious girl, big knocker, round ass, farseeing slender legs. She wore her hair cut short, in what Mort would call a `` crew cut ''. It did n't detract from her feminity, though. Nope, it sure did n't. He checked in the mirror and saw her get up from her bottom and walk toward him, a look of literal concern on her face. `` What 's the affair, Mort ? What happened ? '' She asked. `` Aw, the bus just died. You 'll either have to take the air the remainder of the way home base or wait until I can get some aid out here to fix it and deal you home. '' He explained. `` Walk ! I ca n't walk five mile in these brake shoe ! '' She squealed, pacing back and forth down the aisle. `` Well, I 'll radio for aid and we can just sit back and relax then, I guess, '' Mort offered. `` I guess that 's what we 'll sustain to do, then, '' Tootie answered, sitting back down in the tail. Mort radioed in to the garage and was told it would be an hour or two before help could get there. `` Looks like we 're in for a long wait, Tootie, '' He told her, `` Why do n't you move up here closer and we can get to roll in the hay one another better ? '' He asked. `` Oh, okay. I guess so. Why not ? '' She replied, bending over to get her playscript from the seat to add them up front with her. `` I guess I can study while we 're waiting. '' `` Yeah, indisputable. '' Mort replied, eyeing her retentive, slender legs. They sat in silence for several minute of arc, Tootie studying her Book,

Mort studying Tootie. He became bold and reached out to stroke her leg. `` Mort, what are you doing ? '' Tootie asked coyly. `` Just checking out those recollective purty legs, '' Mort replied, moving his hand up her leg a fiddling further. `` Oh. well, assistant yourself. Do n't worry, I like it when men tinct me, '' Tootie explained. She leaned back and opened her legs a short, giving Mort a good perspective of her bikini pants with the crotch cut out. `` Like what you see, Mort ? '' She teased, opening and closing her legs slowly and seductively. `` Mmmm ... certainly do ! Can I move up a little closer and get a honorable facial expression ? '' `` Yes you can, '' She answered, spreading her pegleg wide apart and throwing her book aside, `` face as close as you want. You can affect too, if that 's what will make you happy. My daddy does it all the time, so does my uncle and my big brother. We have alot of fun at my theatre. '' `` That 's what I hear, '' Mort told her as he moved closer between her legs, sliding his hands up her piano, supple thigh toward the sparkling moistness beckoning him from within. Tootie lowered her rosehip closer to Mort. She took his hand and placed it in her crotch, `` experience it, Mort. Ai n't it wet ? '' She teased, taking his finger and inserting it into the damp.

Mort thought he would faint ! Never in his life had he dreamed he would be doing this when he left his meager home for work this forenoon. `` Oh, baby. It 's wet. It 's hot ! I want to get it on it ! '' He moaned. `` Well come here and let me see what you 've got to tender, '' She commanded him, moving his fingers from her crotch and licking the fluid from his fingertips. She reached forward and squeezed the huge erection straining against Mort 's pant. `` Oh Mort ! What a big cock you have ! I want you to put it inside me ! '' She squealed as she stripped off her blouse and threw it aside. Her tremendous brown breasts joggled as she unzipped Mort 's pants, pulled them down to his ankle joint and the freed his monstrous appendage from his underwear so she could get a good looking at it. `` Well, well, if I had known what a monster you had been hiding from me all this time, we 'd stimulate done this alot sooner, '' She told him. Mort leaned back in the seat and Tootie straddled his lap, sliding her damp cunt over his throbbing tool. Mort reached up and squeezed her tits, pinching and pulling on the nipples, then he took them into his oral cavity, one at a metre and suckled hard, like a newborn babe. `` Oh, Mort. Suck them, baby. That 's it ! suction them hard ! '' Tootie squealed in delight as she lowered herself over his erection. `` Oh yes ! Your big fat cock spirit soooo estimable ! Fuck me, old man ! Fuck me ! '' `` Oh, yeah baby, I 'm fuckin'. I 'm fuckin', '' Mort replied bucking his articulatio coxae up and down like a piledriver inside the rigorous, hot maw of this beautiful Cy Young girl. They fucked and bucked fast, then slowly, then faster again, each of them drunk with the drinkable of lecherousness and desire, working toward a satisfaction of their thirst for culmination, faster, faster, deeper, deeper, until Mort 's huge phallus began to squeeze and buck, emptying his seed into the teenager 's womb.

As his huge cock pumped his spend into her, she jerked and writhed in her own sexual climax, twitching and tightening her cunt heftiness around his throbbing tool, until both of them were spent, exhausted and satisfied. `` We 're gon na do this again, '' Tootie promised Mort as she put her clothes back on `` You can bet on that ! '' Mort replied, pulling up his trousers and watching the bus table service van pull up behind their dilly-dally fomite .