Gas Station

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He was standing exactly where he said he’d be. He was easy to pick out from the other people waiting curbside at the airport terminal; he stood at least a head taller than most people, and his slim, muscular build and air of relaxed confidence gave him a grace that was uncommon in most men. He was the kind of person that people always ask for directions. I glanced at my watch. I already knew I was 10 minutes late, but it seemed like the thing to do.

I had taken too much time getting ready for his arrival. I glanced at myself in the rear view mirror. I was what my grandmother used to call “of a certain age,” and even though I knew my body was what men I dated called “tight,” I still felt insecure about it. I must’ve appraised myself in the black micro-mini, tight white blouse and ultra-high patent peep-toe pumps (the ones with the ankle strap, he liked those best) for hours in the mirror. Every time I went out without panties I always felt that everyone knew, and in a skirt this short, they just might.

Despite the heat, my makeup was intact. I smoothed my black hair to make sure there were no strays poking out of the chignon I had put it up in (he liked me to be perfect when we met, tidy and put together, so that after he took me I looked as ravished as I felt) and took a deep breath as I pulled up to the curb.

He came around to the driver’s side and motioned for me to move over. Not wanting to get out of the car and expose myself to everyone arriving on flight 256 (US Air, out of Chicago) I awkwardly clambered over the gear shift and managed to get in the passenger seat. He regarded my effort, a slight smile on his face.

“I should make you get out of the car and put my bag in the trunk for making me wait for you. Of course, you’d have to bend over to pick it up. Then everyone here could see that gorgeous pussy,” he said. He stood with his arms folded, regarding me coolly with his green eyes. I waited a few heartbeats, took a deep breath, smoothed down my too-short skirt and went to open my door.

“No, ” he said, “I’ll do it myself. You’d probably like that, everyone here looking at you.” He moved to the back and I popped open the trunk. After stowing his bag, he returned to the car and got in. He paused for a moment, taking some time to assess me.

“You’re such a good girl,” he finally said. I blushed with pleasure.

After three weeks of not seeing him, the desire to touch him caused me almost physical pain.

“I am so glad you’re home,” I said, my voice wavering. “I missed you so much. May I touch you?”

“Of course, baby,” he said, and leaned towards me for a kiss. I threw my arms around him, and his lips lightly brushed mine. He saw the disappointment in my face, and laughed. He leaned in for what I thought would be a proper kiss, and instead I felt him thrust his fingers roughly into my pussy. I gasped, and he laughed again. I heard a car horn.

“We’ll have more time for this later,” he said as he pushed his wet fingers into my mouth. He started to drive.

He relaxed and began to talk about his trip. My pussy ached where he had touched me, and my mouth tasted of my sweet, salty desire. I put my hand on his leg. I said something witty, and he laughed again. I struggled to compose myself. He asked about my cat. I told him a funny story about a friend. He laughed again and took my hand. He passed the usual exit, and took a different one.

“Short cut,” he winked.

He pulled off at a gas station. istanbul travesti A crew of construction workers were outside talking a break. They were working on expanding the parking lot. They glanced at us disinterestedly and went back to smoking and talking about whatever construction workers talk about. He drove the car past them and parked. I could see an expanse of woods stretching out behind the station. There was no telling from my vantage point how far it went back.

“Get out,” he said. “I have something to show you.”

I pulled futilely at my skirt and got out of the car. Upon seeing me, the construction crew had decided we warranted more attention. In his loose white linen shirt and perfectly fitted jeans, my lover’s casual sensuality was palpable, but it wasn’t him they were interested in. I felt their eyes on me as I walked across the lot. He took my hand and pulled me to him. He pressed his lips to my ear. His breath was hot.

“Everyone is looking at you,” he said, “you are such a little whore. I should make you suck one of them off. You could go into the bathroom and wait. I’d send them in, one by one. It wouldn’t take much convincing them. They’re bored and horny. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I held my breath. I would like it. I wouldn’t like it. I couldn’t answer.

“Tell me what you are,” he said. That was easy to answer.

“I’m a dirty whore,” I whispered.

“That’s right, ” he said, straightening up. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. I’m not handing you over to a bunch of construction men jacked-up on Red Bull. Not yet anyway. Come on.”

He walked into the woods. I followed him. He showed me a little path that led to a hidden grove. There was a single tombstone there.

“Look at the dates,” he said. “That pre-dates the Civil War.”

“Bury my heart at BP,” I said, forgetting about my skirt and bending down to take a closer look. “How did you know this was here?”

“I know this place like the back of my hand, baby,” he said lightly. I stood up. He smiled at me.

Suddenly, he was upon me. I cried out with longing as I felt his hands on my body, on my breasts and ass, between my legs. I kissed him, clutching at his body. I ran my hands up and down his back, relishing the closeness of his muscular body. I pushed my hands up his shirt, feeling his smooth, firm stomach. He was so beautiful. He was sucking my nipples through the thin fabric of my shirt. I went lower, feeling his hardness as he pressed his body against me. He let out a little moan as I rubbed his cock through the tough jean fabric. He pulled back and slapped me. I gasped. He smiled.

“You’re a greedy little slut,” he panted. “Not here. Not yet.” He pointed into the woods. “Start walking.”

Every part of my body felt as if it were ignited . My pussy was wet, swollen with desire. As I walked, the friction of my thighs rubbing against it made my knees buckle. I felt my juices run down my leg. My body was in agony, the need for his touch was so strong.

I followed him up a small hill. The trees were thicker here, but I could still see the construction crew if I knew where to look. They had returned to work. A few of them took furtive glances in the direction we had gone. I should make you suck one of them off. You could go into the bathroom and wait. I’d send them in, one by one. You’d like that.

He had stopped beside a large living oak tree.

“Take off your clothes,” He demanded, “Keep şişli travesti the shoes.”

I did as he asked, first removing the blouse, then my bra, then the skirt. His face softened.

“Your body is so perfect,” he sighed. Then more demands, “Get up against the tree.”

I pushed my back against the tree, facing him.

“Not that way,” he said, turning me roughly,” do you need to be told how to do everything? You should know what I want by now.”

I felt the rough bark against my face. I reached up and found purchase on a branch. I spread my legs in anticipation of him.

He bit me so hard that his teeth pierced my skin.

I cried out in pain, twisting my body to move away, but hit the tree instead. He pinched my ass where he had bitten it, and with his other hand, began rubbing my clit lightly. The combination of pleasure and pain was almost unbearable.

“Keep your hands up there. ” His voice was rough, deep. “I should leave you here, take your clothes. I’m sure one of those nice gentlemen would give you a ride home. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“No Sir,” I whispered.

“No?” He roared. Then quietly, into my ear, “I know what you are. Tell me what you are.”

“I’m a slut,” I whispered.

“You’re a little slut who forgets her place,” he said, “I’ve invested so much time in you, and what do I get? You show up to the airport late and keep me waiting, not even bothering to get out of the car to greet me and take my bag. Tell me why I should even bother with you anymore.” He stopped pinching me and brought his hand up to lightly stroke my nipple.

“I don’t know,” I said. I could feel tears coming. I never knew the right thing to say. I just knew that I wanted him, and I never wanted him to stop.

He sighed. His hands released me and the tell-tale rustle of leaves told me he was walking away.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” he said, “Oh wait, you don’t have any panties, because you’re a fucking whore. I’m not leaving. I’m looking for something to punish you with.” I closed my eyes tightly. I could feel tears welling up. I wouldn’t let them come, not yet.

“I should make you do this,” he said, “but you’d probably just fuck it up.” I could hear a rooty, tearing sound.

“Shit,” he said. “I cut my hand. The things I do for you.”

I felt the sting of something sharp and biting across my back. I squirmed against the tree, but didn’t let go. I took a deep breath and as the second lash came down, I felt the tears finally come.

“Cat’s briar,” he said. “Nasty isn’t it?” I felt the sting of the vile, thorned plant as he raked it across my legs. The thorns grabbed at my skin. He drew the vine along my back, my ass. Then he backed away and I braced myself for another lash.

I heard the whoosh as it came down, and tried not to hold my breath. As the thorns tore my skin, I let out a sob.

“Please…” The tears were streaming down my face. I was sobbing openly now. The release was delicious.

“Are you crying?” he said with mock concern. “Poor little baby. Maybe I should stop. What do you think?” He kissed me on the cheek and stroked my head, pulling out the chignon and letting my hair flow freely down my back.

“No Sir,” I said, my voice shaky with tears and desire.

“‘No Sir’ what?” he asked.

“No Sir, please don’t stop.” I said, more clearly this time.

“How badly do you want it?” he spat, “I want bakırköy travesti you to beg me for it.”

I began to cry again, “Please, please don’t stop. “

He stroked my back and tenderly touched my lips. Then he backed away and brought the vine down across my legs.

“I’m done with this,” he said, throwing down the vine, “that shit is cutting up my hand. Get down off that tree and suck my cock.”

I quickly released my grip on the tree, turned and fell to my knees. Pain flashed in my back and legs as I changed position. I undid his jeans and drew his hard cock into my mouth. I felt his hands in my hair, first gently, then more insistent. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head roughly to him, his cock filling my throat. He reached down and pinched my nose. I choked and looked up at him. His eyes were dark.

Just as I felt I couldn’t take any more, he released me. I gasped for air, and saliva flowed down my chin. I drew him back into my mouth, my tongue moving along the head and shaft of his cock as I sucked him. I tasted a bit of sweet pre-cum. He moaned. His hands were back in my hair, and he pulled me to him again, pinching my nose. My eyes made a silent appeal to him, and he finally released me again, pushing me off him.

“Get on the ground. “he said. “Ass up.'”

I obeyed. He took off his shirt and jeans and threw them aside. He grabbed my ass with both hands and squeezed it, then I felt him as he thrust inside me. I moaned and pushed back against him. My hair and face were on the ground. I tasted dirt. His hands were on my hips, guiding me.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you,” he said throatily, “oh God, I’ve been wanting this.”

“Don’t stop fucking me,” I moaned, my hand on my clit. So close…

He slapped my hand away. “I didn’t tell you that you could touch yourself.” He pulled out of me. “Turn over.”

I turned to lie on my back, legs and arms open for him. He pulled my legs together and up over his shoulder as he pushed his cock into me. As he fucked me, I felt the pain from my lashing in my legs, back and ass anew.

“Can I please touch myself, Sir?” I asked breathlessly.

“Touch yourself,” he growled as he pounded into me. “Make yourself cum for me.”

Ever obedient, I began to rub my clit. It would not take very long. Suddenly he pulled out and leaned over me, sucking and stroking my nipples. It was all I needed. I came with such intensity that I felt dizzy. While I was still coming, he pushed my legs apart and thrust himself into me again, matching my contractions. I reached up to stroke his chest and wrapped my legs around him tightly. He came inside me, throwing his head back and letting out a lusty cry. He continued to thrust until he was exhausted, and he collapsed into my arms, spent. We lay together like that for a while, naked in the dirt.

“Oh baby,” he sighed, stroking my face. “We’ve got to get you home and clean you off. I don’t want anything to get infected. You’ve got some nasty scratches.”

I stood up and attempted to examine myself as he dressed. From what I could see, it looked like a cat had attacked me from behind.

He was standing in front of me, holding my clothes.

“Thank you,” I said, taking them from him. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to the girls at the gym.” I got dressed quickly and made a feeble attempt to brush leaves and debris out of my tangled hair. He took my hand.

“We look like shit,” he smiled. He kissed me. “I’m so glad to be back. Let’s get home and take care of you.”

The construction crew was back on break again, and as we passed them by, I heard one whistle and saw another guy give my lover the thumbs up. I smiled, looking down, a little ashamed and a little bit proud of myself.

“Welcome home,” I said.

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