Annabeth believes passionately in freedom of speech, rights for people of all sexual orientations, and freedom of religion. She loves shoes, stockings, cooking, and excellent bass lines. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island and tweets @AnnabethLeong
She wore no bra or panties under her dress. Thomas had thrown both her and her vibrator out of the house without giving her a chance to retrieve the undergarments she’d discarded before the night’s epic masturbation session. He’d come home early from his night shift and caught her, still bleary from her orgasms, her clit half-numb after hours of intermittent vibration, her pussy so utterly wet it was frictionless, and shudders of electricity licking through her pelvis as nerves satiated beyond endurance attempted to continue functioning.
Instead of recognizing a good opportunity when he saw one and taking out his cock to finish her off, Thomas had started screaming incoherently about slutty, whorish behavior and her supposed attempt to replace his penis with a piece of silicone. Suzanne pointed out sharply that she’d be more than happy if he wanted to introduce some real meat to the equation. After all, she’d only been begging him to for a solid week and a half.
Her retort had only made him angrier. Thomas yanked her vibrator’s plug out of the wall, taking half the socket with it. Suzanne blinked and stumbled to her feet, her thigh muscles trembling and her knees gelatinous. She hadn’t been in much shape to argue her case.
Hence the truck stop. She used to flirt with truckers as a way of flirting with leaving town. Sometimes, she’d even hitched a ride for a few dozen miles and maybe a blowjob, but Suzanne had always lost her nerve well before making it to the state line. When she married Thomas, she gave up the charade and accepted she’d never get out of Summerton.
Tonight, she’d gotten mad enough to toy with the thought again. Suzanne wanted a piece of pie and a greasy burger and a man who wouldn’t mind seeing her play with her pussy. On the other hand, maybe she just needed a place to cool off where Thomas couldn’t find her. He’d never think to look for her here.
She emerged from tree-shaded darkness into the outskirts of the parking lot, greeted by blinding neon and halogen lights. Her hands closed around the rotted wooden fence that stood between her and her destination. She tossed one leg over it, then the other, careful to avoid splinters but not cautious of whatever view she might flash.
Trucks hunkered in the lot’s darker corners, chrome-colored and muscular. Through the truck stop diner’s big plate-glass windows, she saw a couple of guys nursing cups of coffee. At this hour, most of the truckers had probably bedded down in their cabs. Suzanne sighed. To take her pick of the men, she’d have had to get here a lot earlier.
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