Chapter 31: Claimed From Behind

The week was a countdown.

Each night I pressed a finger against my asshole, feeling the resistance, the tight ring of muscle that seemed impossible to breach. Monday night I pushed past the first knuckle. Tuesday night I managed two. By Wednesday I could slide my middle finger in to the base, my breath catching at the strange fullness.

Thursday night I used my index and middle together.

The stretch burned. My eyes watered. But I held still, letting my body adjust to the invasion, and when the pain faded something else took its place, a deep pressure that made my pussy clench around nothing.

Friday arrived.

Dinner was spaghetti. My mother chattered about her garden. My father nodded along, his hand resting on hers. At 8:15 he pushed back from the table, kissed her forehead, and said, “Ready?”

She smiled. “Ready.”

The front door clicked shut at 8:23.

I grabbed my keys.

The gas station lot was half-empty. My father’s sedan sat dark and still across the street. I crossed the road with my heart hammering, my thighs pressed together, my asshole tingling with anticipation.

The bell jingled.

Carl looked up from his magazine. That slow grin spread across his weathered face, but there was something different in his eyes tonight, a hunger that made my stomach flip.

“Megan.” He said my fake name like a prayer. “You’re back.”

“I want the same booth.”

He nodded, but didn’t look away. “Gloryhole?”

“Yes. I’m ready to try more.”

His grin widened. “I figured you might. I’ll make sure you get what you need.”

I pushed through the beaded curtain.

The hallway was dim, red and green lights glowing. My booth, the middle one, two doors, the hole at waist height, was waiting. I stepped inside and pushed the door shut. The lock clicked.

My clothes came off. Shirt. Jeans. Bra. Panties. I folded everything on the bench and turned toward the hole.

This time I knelt.

I positioned myself differently, knees wide, chest low, my ass presented at the perfect height. The hole was at hip level. I pressed my cheek against the cool wall and waited.

The fluorescent light buzzed.

Through the wall, I heard a door open and close. Footsteps. The shuffle of clothing. A zipper.

Then a cock pushed through the hole.

I knew it immediately. Thick. Veined. That deep purplish-red head with the slight upward curve. The same cock that had taken my virginity. The same cock that had filled my pussy with cum on that first night and again last week.

But this time, I didn’t turn around.

I pressed my ass against the opening.

I pressed my ass against the opening, feeling the heat of his cock against my skin. My breath came in short, shallow gasps. My fingers dug into the vinyl bench. I wanted this. I had spent all week preparing for this. But now that the moment was here, my body trembled with a fear I hadn’t expected.

“Not my pussy tonight,” I whispered, my voice catching, wavering like I was about to cry. I had to stop and swallow, my throat dry. “I ... I want it in my ass.”

The words hung in the air, fragile and shaking, and I pressed my forehead against the cool wall, waiting for his response, my whole body quivering with anticipation and dread.

On the other side of the wall, Carl’s breath stopped.

His hand froze on his shaft. The pre-cum glistened at his slit, and he stared at the back of her head through the hole, at the curve of her spine, at the tight little hole she was offering him.

Her asshole.

She wanted his cock in her ass.

His mouth went dry. His heart pounded against his ribs. He’d been inside her pussy, that tight, virgin cunt that had gripped him like a fist, but this was different. This was a part of her no one had ever touched. A part she’d been saving for him without even knowing it was him.