When Colin first came to us for help, none of us could quite believe the nightmare that he’d been living. Such was the horror of the awful events that he gradually shared with us, that many of our own staff, hardened by years of exposure to the most sordid aspects of society’s depravity, needed specialist therapy themselves.
Colin finally accepted that he had a problem and that things needed to change, when he woke to find himself naked in the middle of the A318. Over the next few days, we helped Colin to unlock the memory of the hours leading up to this moment.
Late into the previous evening, seeking his ultimate thrill, he had broken into the bus depot. There he prowled along the lines of coaches and double-decker buses, touching them, admiring their lines, their beauty, their rugged but streamlined features. He knew that he was alone and wouldn’t be disturbed, having watched the last of the drivers leave some time ago.
He stripped naked, revelling in the cold air, thick with the familiar smell of engine oil. He began to crawl down into the inspection pit below one of the buses, thrilled to be exposed to the vulnerable underside of this big metallic beast. There he found a huge vat full of engineering grease. Dare he? He didn’t need to think for long. He seized the opportunity to smear the grease all over his body, writhing in ecstasy as he sought to fondle and probe his body with his greased fingers. But he needed more. This was so far just his solitary pleasure, he needed to involve the object of his lust.
Again he wondered if he would dare, but how often would he get a chance like this again? Colin selected the bus that had caught his eye earlier, a long 130 seater double-decker. He applied more of the thick black grease to his body, paying particular attention to his arms and went to the rear of the vehicle which had become the object of his sexual desire. Seating himself on the ground he touched the exhaust pipe, testing it. It was still warm, just as he’d imagined. With one hand stroking his cock he slid his other arm into the inviting pipe. Oh it felt good to finally be fisting a bus. Deeper he pushed his fist into her and revelled as he realised that the further he pushed his arm in, the warmer it became.
Frantically he pumped away at his grease-covered cock. As his orgasm erupted, he gave his arm one final hard thrust.
When he finally recovered his breath and composure, he sought to pull out his arm, only to discover, that he was stuck. That final thrust as he’d fisted the bus with joy had somehow caused his hand to get stuck, stuck deep into the bowels of the bus exhaust system. There was nothing he could do, the more he fought and struggled, the more fast he became. He might have fisted the bus, but now the bus was claiming him.
Realising he had no choice but to wait until help arrived when the depot opened, he settled himself down and got as comfortable as he could. He drifted into a deep sleep, infused with oil and grease and motor traction vehicles.
When he woke with a start it was because he had the realisation that his hand and wrist were burning. The depot was open and rather than spot Colin and rescue him from his captive predicament, the driver came and started the engine. He overheard the driver complaining that it didn’t sound right, but was taking it out anyway.
Colin stood, naked, behind the bus, covered in grease with arm wedged right up the bus. And it began to move off. Colin had no choice but to go with it, running awkwardly behind the bus, out of the depot and onto the main road. As it picked up speed he was sure he’d be killed until with one final burst on the throttle, the engine blew his arm out and he sprawled head-long, naked onto the tarmac, banging his head and passing out.
That was where the police found Colin, tipped off by a hysterical member of the public. After being checked over at the hospital and his tell-tale wrist burn dressed, he was discharged with a knowing look and given a card with the details of our crisis centre on it.
It took a while for Colin to truly come to terms with what he is, but progress has been made and, although Colin still has sexual feelings towards large public transportation vehicles, he has, to this date, not attempted to fist a bus again.
If you have been affected by any of the issues raised here, do contact your local Public Vehicle Sexual Desires clinic or contact Transport for London who can direct you to their museum and depot open days.