Title: Driven to Distraction
Author: torino10154
Characters: Ernie Prang, Stan Shunpike, Madam Rosmerta
Rating: Hard R
Theme Chosen: Sacofricosis: the practice of cutting a hole in one's front trouser pocket for the purpose of masturbation
Other Content: Wanking, fantasy, semi-public sex
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: Driving the Knight Bus is tricky. Especially one handed.
Author's Notes: Thank you to gryffindorj for the plot advice, tamlane for the beta, and lilyseyes for the title. ♥

Some people thought it was amazing Ernie Prang could drive the Knight Bus with one hand. It was a triple decker but he could turn on a Knut.

They would have been even more impressed if they'd realised his other hand was ever in his front pocket, pushed through the seam in the fabric, and wrapped around his cock.

He wasn't much for bragging—he was a simple bus driver after all—but there was one particular night on which, to tell the truth, he was quite proud of how well he'd handled the bus. It had been a close one....

"Did ya' see her knockers, Ern?" Stan started the moment Madam Rosmerta boarded the bus and disappeared. "I might just be willin' to bury myself between them tits and forget about her quim all together."

"You might be lucky not to die a virgin." Ernie laughed, his voice rough from years of Firewhiskey and cigarettes.

Stan joined in, laughing a high pitched sound like a boy whose voice was still not settled into that of a man's. "Someday we'll pick up a witch who is dyin' to 'ave me."

"She'd be better off getting hit by the bus."

Stan laughed again, then jumped up when Ernie slammed on the brakes in front of the Three Broomsticks.

Both men turned and watched as Rosmerta descended the stairs. Stan wasn't wrong; Ernie's prick took notice of the way her tits moved beneath her robes. Not wearing nothing underneath was his guess, and he knew the sort of witch who didn't wear nothing underneath. Next time he was in Hogsmeade, he might just stop by for a pint.

"Gentlemen," she said, giving Stan a pat on the head and Ernie a saucy wink before sashaying away and into her pub.

"That's a nice piece of ar—"

"Language, Stan," Ernie said, slipping his hand back through the hole in his pocket, his cock throbbing at the touch.

"Ever so sorry, Ern," Stan replied though he was grinning widely. He sat down behind Ernie and held on to the poll by the stairs. "Rosmerta, she does have a nice bum, doesn't she?"

"Mm-hm," Ernie said, giving himself a stroke. She certainly did.

"I'd take her to bed, treat her right, I would."

"Go up to check on Madam Malkin, Stan," Ernie said. "I suspect she's not feeling well."

"Will do, Ern," Stan replied and stood. "Though she's not nearly as easy on the eyes," he mumbled as he climbed the stairs. Ernie knew Stan would stop in the loo to have a wank. He must have done it at least once a night for as long as he worked on the bus and having someone like Rosmerta on board made it more likely he'd end up in the loo twice.

Once Stan was well on his way, Ernie started to wank himself properly.

Stan might think he knew what to do with a woman, but Ernie knew from experience. He'd watch her spread her thighs wide, and then he'd press his cock to her cunt.

He ran his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precome he found there, imagining it was her wetness on his prick.

Ernie knew some liked to fuck a bird in the arse, but he liked the ease with which he could slide in and out, how he could tell she was turned on by how wet she was.

Ernie felt his heart starting to race. The thrill of flying across the countryside as he wanked himself was heady. They'd be in London soon and driving there was tricky on the best days. And it was a fair bit more difficult when he was hard enough to pound nails.

That was what made it thrilling to wank and drive.

He'd thrust into her, thinking only of his pleasure, rub his stubbled face against the soft skin of her tits.

His cock was hot and hard and he wanted to come. He just needed a little bit more.

He could see Rosmerta thrashing against the sheets, hair spilling out over the pillow, nails scratching his back as she cried out his name...

Ernie was close—oh, so close—his hand stroking as fast as it could within the confines of his trouser pocket.

"That Trafalagar Square, Ern?" Stan said from behind him. Ernie had been so lost in his fantasy he hadn't even heard him coming down the stairs.

"Yeah," he grunted, nearly at the edge of his seat. He could feel the sweat running down the back of his neck. Just a few more strokes and he felt his balls tightening.

"Oi, watch out, Ern!" Stan shouted and Ernie swerved to miss a London cab which was making its way around a traffic circle.

He started wanking himself again, biting the inside of his mouth to keep from groaning. There she was again in his mind, legs trembling as she let him fuck her till she screamed.

"Man with a cane in the zebra crossing!" Stan was the one that screamed but as Ernie slammed on the brakes, he thrust into his fist and came hard, spurting helplessly as the tires screeched to a stop. One last spurt burst out when all was quiet.

"Bloody hell, Ern," Stan said, panting, "gave me a fright."

"Hope you didn't piss yourself," Ernie said gruffly, taking his handkerchief from the other part of his pocket and wiping his hand. He caught sight of Stan in the rearview mirror and saw he was a bit pale. "After we drop off Madam Malkin, we'll go for a pint."

Stan then turned red and looked away. "Bit short this month."

Ernie reached into his other pocket and felt the small coin pouch there. "My treat."

"Thanks, Ern," Stan said softly. "I'll buy the next round."

Ernie knew Stan and knew his Galleons would be long gone before he'd even rounded the corner from Gringotts.

"Sure thing, Stan." Ernie put both hands on the wheel and sped toward Diagon Alley.