Exit 13 to Vandehei Ch. 02

Will Anna's adulterous fantasies become a reality? When a seemingly normal routine merges into an erotic adventure, Anna's sex life takes a very naughty turn... right onto Exit 13 to Vandehei.

All characters engaging in sexual relationships or activities are 18 years old or older.

This story is completely fictional. Any character likenesses to gas station attendants are accidental.

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Mi Novio Guapo

I arrive to mi novio guapo's with my panties damp and my nipples pebbled into hard points against my shirt. Kris meets me at the door ready to carry in the load from the car. His eyes travel down my body, caress me all the way back up to my eyes and he grins. I push him inside as he envelops me in a full-body embrace.

"Love, I've missed you so much... I've been thinking about touching you the entire drive."

"Hueles a cielo... You smell so good." He buries his face into my neck and inhales.

Slipping my hands under Kris's shirt, I feel the hardness of his stomach under my fingertips. I trail my tongue along the underside of his ears, running across the stubble of his jaw. He sucks in a breath of air and I groan, smelling the masculine scent I've come to associate with pleasure and home. Needing to immerse myself in his intoxicating masculinity, I nuzzle into his neck. Finally, he takes my chin and directs his mouth atop my own.

As he trails searing, hot lips down my own neck, I gently drag my nails across the growing bulge of Kris's jeans.

"Ay Dios Mios... Slow down, Mami." His hands stop my own from feeling the throbbing rigidity of his cock. My body, however, does not crave slow. Slipping Kris's shirt off and on to the floor, I pull the end of his belt until I feel the buckle catch to open. I look into my lover's eyes and smile.

"Babe, I gotta taste you." His eyes darken with pleasure. Who is he to deny a woman what she wants?

I drink in my lover. He is average height with tan skin that grows dark in the summer time. Dark hair, dark eyes. Broad, sexy shoulders give way to muscular arms that masterfully change 200 pounds of rubber tires; arms that are cut with definition and painted with tattoos.

Tonight his hair is drawn back into a tight ponytail, the freshly shaved undercut runs smooth beneath the pads of my fingertips as I caress the backs of his ears, drawing my lover into a heady kiss. He smiles down at me, the single dimple on the side of his mouth causes my cunt to briefly tighten and release.

But the magna opera are his large, expert hands. Those seminal digits, masters of sensual manipulation, large yet nimble fingers that strum the desire from my wound up chords to illicit the sensual sounds of a woman in the throes of passion. Fingers I know will thrum the cream from my cunt while he laps at my flowering petals. However, I am getting ahead of myself.

He smells of earthy pleasures - I breathe in raw manhood as my tongue caresses the soft skin under his jawline. The saltiness of his skin tastes like sex and home. He grunts and I feel his cock pulse under my searching hands. Drunk on his kisses, I sink onto my knees. I am in a Dionysian trance. Dragging his jeans and boxer-briefs down; his eyes are filled with devotion and need as he smiles down into my blue eyes.

I worship his body. A raw, pagan ritual of instinct and lust. First sliding my hands up and down his muscular, hard quads and his perfect ass - tight from the endless squats in the auto shop. I nip and lick at the tops of his thighs, sighing into the smell of male sex.

My tongue leaves cool offerings on the sensitive skin of his pelvis. I nibble and tongue, alternating between the blowing of cool air and the melodic rubbing of a deep, tantric touch. I move closer to the base of his cock with the machinations of my mouth and deeply searching pressures of my fingertips. His whole body moves and grinds with my touch; we are in a Bacchic dance; swaying within the minute tremors of swelling pleasure.

Burying my nose under his sack, I feel my nose tickle his perineum as I tongue along the base of his hole. I spread his cheeks and pulse my tongue; finally dragging my fingernails down his muscular thighs. I communicate my veneration with my hands and mouth; he becomes my designing rod and I send electric pleasures through his stiff member.

I feel his body tremble with need, an intoxicating juxtaposition from the raw, muscular power he normally exudes, and I brush the silk skin of his member with the tip of my tongue. Gently cupping his balls, I trace my tongue along the sides of his cock, slowly circling the ridged tip around and around again until his cock becomes even harder in my hand. I take my time, worshipping his cock with reverence and intention. His sigh is audible when I finally take his full length into my mouth.

I greedily take in the length of his cock, feeling the silk tip brush the back of my throat. Up and down, again and again, I take his cock into my mouth; running my fingers along the sides and base. I pump and coax his pleasure, feeling the pressure rise and pulsate. His movements become harder and less controlled. It is here that I offer my mouth fully. Grunting, he grabs my wild hair and fucks my mouth.

My eyes water and my nose is running as he throat fucks my offered mouth. A slick covering of deep saliva mixes with the tears and snot; creating a lubricant of bodily fluids to sanctify the taking of his pleasure. I feel his cock expand in my mouth and I grip the backs of his thighs. I feel the rising wave of pleasure as it possesses his body. A guttural sound emerges from Kris's mouth and heat paints the back of my throat.

His cum coats my throat, leaking from the sides of my full mouth. I am reverent, still on my knees. By the time I swallow the last of his cum, my cunt is dripping; waiting for my own offering.

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The drive to Colorado becomes its own sort of ritual. The highs and lows associated with each stretch take me from mile marker to mile marker. Angela Carter weaves strangely erotic, yet dark tales along the drive. I am discovering her interpretation of a bloody chamber; filth and fetish, innocence and sex, beast and woman. And I am reflecting on my unlikely desire for this minor character in my own complex life. What is it about about my Sinclair station attendant? Is it the consistent human interaction in a world of text messages and DMs? The simple joy in an un-orchestrated, chance meeting? Is it pheromones? What strange glitch in the mind is causing this minor obsession? Am I the filth? The beast? The sex in this strange dichotomy?

My body has registered our location before my churning mind. My nipples grow hard and my face flushes; only after do I see my exit ahead in the distance.

Fuck. Looking across the turnabout, I feel my mouth turn down into a slight frown. The Sinclair station has myriad vehicles positioned (Haphazardly. These cretins.) around the pumps and spaces. I've forgotten its Memorial Day weekend.

...

Josh, my Sinclair attendant. Immediately I note the slumped shoulders, the dark circles around his normally bright eyes, the strained nature of his movements and customer interactions. He seems as tired as I feel. Looking up, we make unintentional eye contact and his eyes brighten. There he is. I smile.

"How are you?"

"It's going to be a long weekend," I perk a searching eyebrow... "Memorial Day."

I nod with understanding.

"You have to work all weekend?"

"All weekend and a double-shift on Monday. Tuesday is my day off."

"Do you at least get holiday... or overtime pay?" His sad shake of the head contains all the resignation of a man defeated. I am determined to brighten my Sinclair station attendant's weekend.

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It's Monday and I turn onto Exit 13 toward Vandehei. This goes beyond flirtatious eyes or small talk. I have plans to engage. Earlier today I bagged up a joint and a square of chocolate edibles. Taking from my collection of blank thank you notes and graduation cards, I write my Sinclair station attendant a message:

"Josh,

Hope this takes the edge off a crazy long weekend. Don't enjoy all at once. Thanks for being the highlight of Wyoming...

- Anna"

I underlined "highlight". Twice. Fuck. I am a spaz.

I briefly consider adding my number but I am essentially engaged to mi novio guapo and I do not. Part of me thinks I don't even have the audacity to give him the gift. But I seal the illegal contraband into an envelope... an envelope originally intended for graduation cards for my students. It's the tiny ironies.

"Josh at Sinclair's - from your favorite school teacher!" I pen in heavy dark ink. The Piolet G2 ink flows faster than my moistening cunt.

I have a minor panic attack when I arrive to the door; ready to walk into the building. Again Sinclair's is much busier than usual because of the holiday weekend. Though he is helping a customer, he stops and chirps "Hello" to me when I walk in.

I stop into the Sinclair's bathroom to collect my thoughts. I rush to the bathroom, collecting several steadying breaths before I decide to approach him at the counter. My hand trembles holding the small envelope. The station feels impossibly tiny and giant at the same.

When I walk out, Josh is engaging in small talk with another customer. How can he be *still* so charming after a double shift?!

"- and 5:00oclock makes a 17 hour shift." Josh's dark hair falls over his eyes and I see the hint of his tattoo peeking out from under his uniformed shirt. I am entranced with his beauty and compelled - without hesitation - to engage.

"That is disgusting!" I interject with outraged empathy. Sounded better in my head. Fuck.

"You're back!" Josh's eyes light up.

"I am." He smiles into my own searching eyes, "How's work been?"

His face falls and I understand he has had a shit shift. "So long. So, so long but... "

I have the envelope in my hand - I imagine this will make his 17 hour shift much, much better. He bores into my eyes with energy. I can do this -

"...but you are sunshine one a cloudy day." I blush deeply. Eep! He called me sunshine! It's like he read my mind. Are we sharing a moment? I think we're sharing a moment.

"Well... hopefully this will take off the edge. I brought you something..." I hand Josh the envelope, fingers trembling, smiling like a mad woman. He is both surprised and delighted. He reads the addressed envelope.

"'From your favorite school teacher'... Well that much is true!" Josh hits me with a sideways, charmed grin and I am close to actually swooning. I feel myself blushing from the tips of my toes to my hairline. Almost immediately I am wet.

"Just don't... don't open it at work." I warn.

He grins and cocks an eyebrow. "What is it?" My god he is adorable. I feel my cunt clench.

"Illegal." I wink and grin back.

"Do I owe you anything?"

"Just a beer... sometime in the near future... on me. You are 21, right?" Oh fuck. Fuck. What if he's not? What if he's is not even 18?! I am perilously close to a panic attack.

A chuckle. He gestures to the liquor cabinet behind him. "Of course I am. 26, actually." Thank Christ.

I am nervous and he can tell. My stomach is somersaulting and my fingertips are tingling. I feel the sexual tension rise from my fluttering stomach into my pebbled nipples and all the way through my tight chest. I breathe out palpable sexual tension.

"Well... see you around, Josh." He crinkle smiles. For me.

"Take care, Anna. And thanks."

I drive home grinning, hoping he reads my note over while getting high and touching himself. I sink into the ritual of the drive and imagine Josh inhaling deeply from the kush and passing me the joint.

...

Sitting on the floor of his bedroom, backs against his bed, giggling and holding hands. I feel like I'm in high school again. Butterflies tremble in my stomach as he leans across me to put the joint down on the bedside table across from us. His face hovers an inch above my own and I reach out to stroke the underside of his chin. He smells lightly of cigarettes and gasoline covered by a haze of burning weed. Sexual tension builds in my lungs and fills the space around our bodies. I imagine languid sexuality riding the coattails of our exhaled smoke.

The infinite space around us collapses as he leans in to take my mouth. I am surprised when he playfully licks my lips with the tip of his tongue. He grins down into my face with his soft, dark eyes. Growling, I nip back.

"I appreciated your gift today, Anna. And your little note."

"I didn't think you would invite me over to partake. But I'm glad you did, Josh."

"I bet you are. You're horny little slut-teacher," Josh reaches to tweak my nipples, "Your nipples are hard for me." Josh stands.

The weed is causing my head to spin and Josh reaches for my hands to pull me from the floor. Grabbing the sides of my face, he pulls me into a deep kiss. Our tongues dance and I feel my stomach clench with desire. Our chemistry is crackling and ready to boil over. I feel his pheromones in the tips of my fingers and the lips of my cunt.

I lift my own shirt off and Josh leans in to kiss down my neck and chest, lifting tresses of wild, curly hair for easier access. He takes a hardened nipple into his mouth and I gasp. He sucks and nips my sensitive nipple. My head falls backwards as I close my eyes and reach out to pull Josh closer with tops of his dark work slacks. My fingertips brush his stomach as he works my breasts.

Behind my eyelids an orchestra of twinkling stars explode to the chorus of my sensitive nerve endings. Josh nips at my nipples and works my tits. I am careening through expanded space and riding a burning comet of need.

"Come back to me, Anna."

"I'm here." I reply, as Josh pushes me onto his bed. His fingers deftly work the button and zipper of my jeans and he then slides them off. My black laced thong looks dark against the white, smoothness of my cunt and thighs. Josh smiles down at me.

"Did you dress up for me, Naughty Anna?" I blush deeply and nod.

"I hoped... maybe..." Josh cuts off my reply when he gently cups my pubic mound with his hand. He teases my slit against the panties, feeling my wetness spread over black lace.

"Already wet. Let's get you ready for my cock, slut." I moan out a throaty "yes". His fingertips slip under moistened lace as his other hand unbuttons his slacks. I sit up and reach for his Sinclair's work shirt, pulling it unceremoniously off his body. I slide my hands up his arms and finger the tribal tattoo.

"My, my. You are hungry. I'll take good care of you. And this tight cunt." Josh sinks two fingers into my wet pussy under drenched panties. He corks them in and out while thumbing my clit. Heat is rising in my body. He slips off my panties and steps out of his slacks and boxers.

I look at his stiff cock, pointing directly at me - waiting to be touched. He smiles at the desire clearly etched in my eyes. I reach out to cup his balls in one hand while my other explores the shaft and tip of his perfect cock. He moans out in pleasure. I lean in closer to taste the tip of cock with my tongue but he grabs my chin to stop me.

"I want your cunt. Right now." My already wet pussy clenches with renewed desire. Spreading my legs wide and looking down at my open, waiting cunt, Josh's cock thrums with hardness. Grasping my thigh in one hand and guiding his cock with the other, he slides his silken penis into my cunt.

Just as my Sinclair station attendant begins pumping his cock in and out of my pink pussy lips, I look down at my speedometer and realize I've hit 20 over the posted limit. My heartbeat starting to slow, I also decrease me speeding vehicle. I squirm in my seat, knowing if I touched my pussy, it'd be drenched with desire. My exit will be on the right soon and I know my needs will be met.

Shit. I gotta pick up another joint.

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Mi Novio Guapo

I strip off each article of clothing and meet Kris, naked, in his king sized bed. Here, he does not rush. We are in his space and he is king. His easy, sensual power licks tendrils across my naked body as he watches me drape across the dark bedspread. He watches intently but with ease, knowing his eyes are the first of the caresses I'll feel. I stretch and sigh into my nakedness as he watches.

"Let me worship your body."

"Please. Yes."

After a series of searing kisses, he touches every inch of my body whispering, first, with gentle murmurings and, next, with rough fingertips, finally stopping with my foot cupped reverently in his strong hands. He strokes the underside of my foot with his thumbs and alternates sensual licks on the tips of my toes. His fingers stroke deep the muscles of my tired feet and I feel the cool air teasing my moistening cunt lips. Working expertly up my calf, my thigh, and the pelvic crevice so close to my lips, Kris grins mischievously up at me and switches to work my other foot. I am squirming with need and wet with desire by the time he finishes.

His hands begin a tantric pleasure pressure within the crevice of my thighs, spreading fingers and pressure to the outer lips of my cunt. I feel the tension in my lower back and hips begin to release as his machinations achieve their desired outcome. His face dips closer towards my pussy.

Rough beard and soft, wet tongue impart gifts along the inner crevice of my cunt. He strokes, inhales, licks, and teases my desire out. Finally his tongue and his fingers break a gentle opening into my flushed lips. I tremble and hiss,

"Yes. yesyesyes." Kris nibbles and licks my outer lips and then diving deeper into my cunt walls, maneuvers his powerful fingers. His tongue expertly circles my budding clit again and again and again. Manly sounds of desire and approval escape his chest as he laps with burgeoning intensity at my pussy.

I feel my stomach muscles start to tremble and a rising tide is building within my overheated nerve circuits. He tongue circles my clit again. Again. A probing circular brush along eight thousand nerve endings. I cry out. My breath is ragged and my heartbeat irregular.

La petite mort. Time briefly stops; simultaneously expands and contracts... mirroring the orgasmic muscle spasms of my cunt walls. Nerve endings become a spatial machine and I feel the tips of my toes grow to the size of watermelons while my head and torso shrink to tiny, rapid-firing particles; each culminating more quickly into the effulgent, pulsing bud that is my clit; that is my entire body. Oxytocin. Dopamine. Serotonin. I am washed with chemicals. The feel good hormones drown my stressors and mirror the rush of liquid from my cunt. The flood gates burst and I am cumming all over Kris's chin and dark bedspread.

I catch my breath and discover tears running down my cheeks. Another tear inducing orgasm. Kris's statistics are impeccable. This is not reminiscent of high school love; this is body aflame, come apart at the seams love.

My body is still flushed and moist from orgasm when Kris crawls between my spread legs. His knees nudge my own even wider. He leans over, one muscular arm holds his whole muscular torso above me. I run my tongue along the protruding muscles of traps and deltoids.

He grasps his turgid cock and runs the silken top gently between my cunt lips. I feel the slickness coat the tip of his penis and I moan for his dick. I grasp his hard shoulders and wrap my legs around his waist. He continues to tease my clit with the ridge of his dick and I squirm below him.