[F][NB] Met a stranger at a gas station and let them fill me up…

I hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to leave my ex-wife’s bed this morning, but it was. I had woken up at 6AM, my eyes immediately alert to the rising sun, body flushed with anxiety. It had taken hours to fall asleep the night before, but I wasn’t tired. Anticipation will do that to you. While I stared at the ceiling waiting for a more appropriate waking time, my ex-wife slept soundly, dirty blond hair fanning around her cherubic face. The soft fuzz on her cheek glowed in the morning light, and I was tempted to stroke it with the back of my fingers, as I had so many times before, but I didn’t.

We hadn’t shared a bed since we decided to amicably separate – me sleeping in the guest room, her in our bedroom. Formerly our bedroom. At first I thought sleeping without her next to me would be difficult, even though we hadn’t been intimate in years, but I adapted quickly. I did, at times, miss her heat. The night before I moved across the country seemed like a good time for a small ask; one last shared night in our (her) bed. I would have enough time to sleep alone. She, angel that she is, of course obliged me. It is her nature to be kind. We got dressed in our pajamas separately, forcing an undoing of our previous unabashed intimacy.

She was asleep by 11PM, peaceful and without nervousness. My blood felt fast and hot. I grew impatient staring at the ceiling in the dark, scrolling aimlessly through Twitter, and reading endless articles about the end of the world. My other hand was already resting inside my waistband, mindlessly twirling the public hair that had grown beyond control. It didn’t take much convincing to slip my fingers through the forest of hair and find my clit, the soft interior lips coated in a shy wetness, my thighs trembling open. It didn’t take long – the payoff not entirely satisfying, but enough to get me to sleep. I knew my ex-wife wouldn’t mind, as this had been our routine for a while now, and she found no privacy necessary when it came to self-pleasure.

By 8AM I was tired of laying around, so I made us coffee. She drank it groggily from bed. I drank mine in a to-go mug, pacing and loading the last few items into my truck. I was neither excited for nor dreading the drive. My ex-wife sent me off with a packed lunch and a kiss on the cheek, a tight hug, and a “good luck.”

“Text me so I know you’re alive,” she shouted as I backed out of the driveway.

“I will.”

The afternoon stretched on. I had finished the packed lunch by noon and was ravenous again by 5PM, and really had to pee. Of course, there was absolutely nothing to see or eat for miles. The barren country roads looked like green deserts. Fields of tall grass, supple summer growth just starting to keel over for fall, and not much else. Suddenly, as if a mirage, a gas station appeared.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered to myself in relief. I pulled into the desolate parking lot, parking myself between two pickup trucks. Aside from the two vehicles, there were no signs of life. Inside, I made a bee-line for the restroom, hurriedly yanking my leggings down and plopping on the seat without bothering to put a cover down; it looked clean enough. My thighs spilled over the side of the porcelain, thick and tanned from a summer of landscaping work and packing. I sighed heavily as I urinated, appreciating the sound of the stream landing in the hollow bowl.

After, washing my hands, I found myself stuck in the mirror, examining. Dark, pit eyes washed over my reflection, taking in the round face, the messy black hair in a frizzy bun, the darkened freckles scattered across my chin and forehead. My oversized t-shirt didn’t quite hide the formidable chest I carry, but I don’t mind. Large hands, long torso, large toothy grin. Small gap in my front teeth, which I used to be self-conscious about, but now I like. I tucked a curl behind my ear, smiled at my reflection, and left the bathroom in search of nourishment.

Aside from the usual dry sundries present in a gas station, there was a warming case rotating hot dogs that looked about as tired as I was, and a nacho station featuring round yellow corn tortilla chips, canned jalapeno slices, mystery gruel that I presumed was something akin to meat, and thick, gooey cheese sauce. I didn’t love my choices but I never do.

“Slim pickins’, huh,” said a voice next to me. I turned to look at the most beautiful person I’d seen in months: grass-green eyes, a sweet round belly in a pair of worn overalls, buzzed hair, callused hands. A gap in their grinning teeth to match mine.

‘Yeah,” I faltered, forcing a laugh to fill my awkward silences.

“You think that’s chorizo?” They pointed at the mystery gruel.

“I, um, I’m not sure.”

‘I’m a vegan anyway.”

“Oh! That’s cool.”

“I’m just kidding, I’m not a vegan. Just jokin’ around.”

I wanted to dunk my head into the cheese sauce and drown. It had been a while since I’d flirted with anyone, and apparently I had forgotten basic conversational skills.

“Well, see ya!’ I grabbed the closest thing resembling food and rushed away to the cashier, realizing only after paying that I had purchased a family-sized bag of peanut M&Ms, which I am, of course, allergic to. “You’re an idiot,” I mumbled to myself while slamming through the front doors and running to my car. I resigned myself to finding food elsewhere, stuck my key in the ignition, turned, and nothing happened. I tried again. One more time. God damnit. I looked around the parking lot; the only people here were the Nacho Daddy and the cashier, who both appeared to still be inside. I got out of my car right as the Nacho Daddy exited the station. They started walking toward me.

“Car trouble?” They called out.

“I guess so.”

“You wanna hand?” I nodded. They smiled, holding out a cardboard tray of chips and cheese goo in their hand.

“Have a snack, I don’t think candy counts as dinner. Then we can try jumpin’ the car.” I sat with them on the curb of the station, waiting for them to eat a few chips before I took any. We sat in silence for a couple of seconds, munching on the illusion of food.

“‘Spretty bad,” they laughed. I giggled.

“Yeah, not great.”

“It’s edible,” they countered.

“Technically true.” Now we were both laughing.

“Sorry, this is the best I could offer,” they said, feigning remorse.

“Oh gosh, excuse me, I’m an ass! Thank you for sharing!” The guilt rushed to my face in the form of a pink flush. They laughed at me,

“Thassa a cute blush you got there.” This, of course, only made it worse. They polished off their chips and stood up, wiping the crumbs off their hands directly onto their flannel shirt. My thighs grew warm at the carelessness.

“Now let’s see if we can’t jump your truck.”

As it turned out, we could not. After several attempts that all ended in failure, they decided to “poke around” under my hood. I stood by and let them work, trying not to admire their thick legs for too long. They popped back up every so often to ask for water, a tool from their truck, a rag, each of which I procured as quickly as I could. By the end of all their work, my truck was still dead and they were covered in grease, which I thought suited them. They wiped their forehead, shined with sweat, with the back of their hand, leaving a greasy black streak behind.

“You’ve got a little…” I indicated toward their forehead.

“Would you?” They looked at me expectantly.

“Sure.” My hands trembled as I wiped their forehead clean with a t-shirt I dug up from my belongings. I could feel their warm breath on my wrists.

‘Better?”

“Much.”

“Great. You need a tow truck. I got a buddy, but it’ll take ‘im an hour to get here at least. You in a rush?”

“Not really.”

“Good. Me neither.”

“Oh, you don’t have to stay,” I found myself saying and then regretting.

“‘Course I do. Can’t have you out here alone when it gets dark. Gets kinda spooky.”

The chivalry was not lost on me, and was much appreciated. I also did not want to be alone in the middle of nowhere at night with a broken truck filled with all of my earthly possessions.

“You wanna go for a walk while we wait?”

“Where?” I motioned to the nothingness around us.

“The grass. It don’t look like much but it’s beautiful when you’re in it, trust me.” And I did. I looked both ways before crossing the road, instantly realizing how foolish I looked when there were no cars in sight. They must have seen my breath catch in embarrassment.

“Smart. Dang crazy people come drivin’ down this road reckless as all get out. Better safe than sorry.” I was grateful for their permission.

Once across the street, they took my hand, ever gentle, and led me into the tall grass. They weren’t wrong: once inside the grass, you couldn’t see much else, only barely the road over the tops of the vegetation. The deeper we went, the hotter I felt, a small marble of yearning bouncing through my stomach and throat. In what seemed like seconds but was probably minutes, we were in a very small clearing of grass, a patch of ground big enough for two large people, surrounded by green and brown grass and a big, dusky sky.

“We may just catch a sunset from down here.” They sat on the ground and I joined them, waiting for them to lie horizontal before I did. They grabbed a stalk of grass out of the earth to play with, swishing the stalk over their arms and tickling their own nose. They laughed.

“Feels funny. Wanna try?”

“Sure.”

They propped themself up on an elbow, and used the grass to touch the tip of my nose, my arms and elbow pits, grazing over my stomach, where my t-shirt had ridden up. Across my throat, behind my ears. The marble was behind my teeth. I could feel my back arching up to meet the grass they held, my chest pushed forward, aching.

“Relax,” they whispered in my ear. I let my lungs release the breath I hadn’t realized I had been keeping. I closed my eyes. The gentle grass tickling stopped, and before I had registered the lack of touch, I felt the stranger by my feet, peeling off my socks. I was embarrassed at how sweaty they were, yet quickly abandoned that feeling as they caressed my big toe with their tongue, sucking each subsequent toe with such love I thought I would cry. While one hand held my foot to their eager mouth, their other hand snaked up my thighs, squeezing my hip and ass, dragging their rough, short nails down my leg and up again. Each time I shuddered. They gave no indication they would stop, and I was ok with that. I could feel my nipples harden under my shirt, my underwear definitely soaked beyond repair, my toes curling against their teeth every time their hand brushed past my pubic mound.

My lips craved theirs, and though I knew they could sense this, they refused to give it to me. I was grateful. Their mouth left my toes and made its way up the inside of my thigh, kissing every few seconds, so that it took far too long for them to reach my pussy. Right before they should have kissed it, they stopped. My pelvis jumped almost outside my body.

“Can I take these off?” I nodded, and they peeled off my leggings in one fell swoop. The underwear I had chosen for driving had not been not my finest choice. White, cotton panties, lint stuck to the seams. They didn’t seem to notice, choosing to pour their mouth over my clit and suck, inhaling the sweat and wetness through the cotton, drenching everything in a thick coat of saliva. My legs trembled, and still they would not kiss me. Instead, they removed my panties with absolutely no fanfare and tossed them into the grass.

I had automatically raised my arms above my head, not noticing the submissive position I had put myself in until their hands reached above my head and trapped both my wrists in one hand. They held me like this and reached for their beloved grass stalk, using it to trace over my clit, which jumped in response, and to slowly tug the hem of my shirt even further, almost exposing my chest beneath my sports bra to the rapidly cooling air. Then they began nibbling my earlobes, sucking on them hungrily, digging their teeth, at times, into the marsh of my neck, until I elicited unintentional moans into the grass. I was acutely aware that they were still fully dressed, and I was half naked and slowly getting more and more covered in dirt. I wanted their skin on mine, but I knew I wouldn’t get it. This made me want it more; it made me misbehave. I struggled my wrists against their hand, succeeding in breaking free just one. Just as quickly as I had gotten free, they had grabbed it with their other hand, and stopped kissing my ears. I moaned in protest.

“That wasn’t so smart,” they said, now straddling me so they could firmly pin my arms above my head. I gave them the cutest puppy eyes I could muster.

“That ain’t gonna work on me, darlin’. It’s a cute try though,” they smirked. I whimpered. They shook their head no, and reached for the grass stalk. Quickly, they wrapped it around my wrists, once, twice, then tugged firmly on the 2 ends. Now my wrists were bound together by a piece of hardy grass, digging ever so slightly into the tender pulse. With this crudely fashioned rig, they were able to completely control me, my hands incapacitated in a way that made me know struggling was futile. Now that they were able to firmly hold my wrists in place, they stuck their hand down my panties, plunging two large fingers inside me, almost instantly making me cum.

“Wait,” they said firmly. My wrists were tingling, starting to lose sensation from the grip of the grass cutting off my blood flow, but I almost didn’t notice, for they had added a third finger and were using my body like a puppet, deftly manipulating my body to move wherever they wanted me to. They would tug my wrists to their left and curl their fingers deeper, and I would bend with ease, the softness around my waist pressing into their thighs. With my nipple between their teeth, they could control the arch of my back, the collapse of my knees, the breathless, pitiful moans caught on my tongue.

Somehow, with a combination of what was now four fingers inside me and the grass still clenched around my wrists, they pulled me to my side and flipped me over, landing me in a tabletop position, my ass humiliatingly high in the air. I felt them pull my panties down, leaving them around my knees so I couldn’t spread my legs too far.My arms were still over my head, my hair completely out of its bun and cascading over my face. They added one more finger and pumped their fist in and out of me, breathing loudly over my yelps and the sounds of seeping wetness gushing over their fist and arms.

“I want you to wait one more minute before you cum, ok?”

“Ok,” I said, hoping I wasn’t lying. The minute was excruciatingly long, as they pulled my arms up over my head, and counterbalanced me by holding the grass stalk tightly, hovering me just slightly over the dirt, pumping their fist in me harder. My shoulders and wrists ached, being held now behind my back, but I liked it and hoped they would not stop, even after I came.

“Ready?”

I nodded my head vigorously.

“Good girl. You can cum now.” As they announced this with cruel casualty, they let go of my wrists, causing my face to plunge into the soft earth with no warning. The pain was minimal, the humiliation completely electrifying, and I came instantly, the dirt caught in my tongue and teeth as I came over and over, my pelvis clenching over their fist in stuttering contractions.

Finally, without bravado, they extracted their hand, wiggling their fingers free and shaking droplets of cum over my ass and legs. Then they joined me laying in the dirt, spooning me with the utmost gentleness. I felt my back curled perfectly into their chest, the metal of their overall clasps digging into my shoulder blade, their hand resting carefully and loosely at my throat. I felt completely at ease, in the arms of a nameless stranger, my body washed of anxieties and hunger and exhaustion. As I felt myself beginning to drift off, the ground gave a very subtle warning rumble; a large vehicle not too far away. And the sky, pitch.

“Truck’s here,” they mumbled into my hair. “Best get you back on your way.” They stood up and offered their hand for me to take. They collected my pants from the ground, turned them back inside, gave them a good dusting off, and offered their shoulder to lean on while I got dressed on shaky legs.

“Thank you,” I managed to whisper.

“Thank *you,”* which made me chortle, because I had done nothing, really, and yet.

By the time we made it back to the station, the tow-truck was pulled into the lot. The stranger waved at the driver.

“I’ll let him know what to do and get you all taken care of. You be safe now.” They pulled me in by the waist and kissed my cheek, nuzzling my ear softly before pulling away to talk to their friend. I hung back, wanting a moment to regroup in my truck, hoping they would come back for one more goodbye, or maybe a name. Instead, they went straight to their truck after, offering a wave from across the lot to me as I waited to hear where my next destination would be.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/mf6ssr/fnb_met_a_stranger_at_a_gas_station_and_let_them