ANAL ADORATION - Story

Beautiful story of anal adoration

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I didn’t hear him enter, but I sensed his presence. Closing my eyes, I listened as he stood watching me. I imagined the thoughts running through his mind as he looked across to where I waited, crouched low against the bed, bottom raised high in the air like a stretching animal, like a cat waiting to pounce. Wearing only my mask, bra and suspender stockings, I was naked where it mattered. My vagina displayed for his approval, my anus waiting and ready. Take me, I’m yours, I prayed. I imagined that the breeze from the open window was his cool breath on my skin. My ice cold lover. Still he waited and watched. The anticipation was pure agony and pleasure.

Three days earlier I had thrown some clothes into the Aston Martin and left my life in a cloud of summer dust. The engine roared my frustration out across the countryside as I tore my way southward. I didn’t leave a note. I didn’t care. Kids, husband, none of it mattered. I needed some time away, needed to vent and live as a woman again. The hotel was expensive but perfect, a luxurious getaway, spa treatments and champagne.

But more than that, it was within easy reach of a truck stop diner with greasy food and dirty coffee.

“Is everything to your satisfaction?”

I grinned and swayed my hips, shifting my bottom back and forth. He didn’t reply, and a little thrill went up my spine. I heard the clink of ice as he lifted the glass I had left for him. Dutch courage, perhaps, or just a little aperitif while he surveyed the toys I had selected. In either case, it was only a moment before I heard him approaching the bed.

I tensed and waited, and then felt his fingers lightly brush my buttocks. I mewled, but he remained as silent as ever. I couldn’t even hear him breathing. I stayed in position as his hands moved across my bottom, back and forth, sending shivers through my body and making my breath come in fits. Then I gasped as his fingers settled into the cleft of my buttocks. I waited for them to move down and stroke my sex, but they stayed still.

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“Please,” I said, my voice high and breathy. “Please don’t be gentle.”

Did he chuckle, just a little, as he lifted his hand away? My body relaxed, deflated, and I breathed a sigh. I heard him cross the room as I closed my eyes and gulped air.

I had known he was the one as soon as I saw him. Young, certainly, but his face was hard, like he’d seen too much of life already. He climbed out of his cab and said nothing to the other drivers as he walked past them into the diner, jeans and skin dirty with engine grease. I watched him through binoculars, parked across the road where the car would be less conspicuous. He sat at a table, alone, and waited to be served. I knew he was the one.

What did he think, I wondered, when he found the envelope slipped under the wiper blade of his truck? Did he look around, puzzled, trying to find the person who’d put it there? I was long gone by then, standing under the shower in my hotel room, revelling in the hot jet that prickled my skin. Did he puzzle it over in his mind as he opened the envelope to find...

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Read all about the wonderful author: Nicci Haydon