Petrol Guy

I'm running, long strides, to make sure I get to the petrol station before the shop shuts at midnight. It's handy, this shop, keeps me in milk and bread most of the week, when I don't have time or the inclination to trek to the supermarket. I can pick up what I need on the way home from town, from the station. It's what lots of people do late at night, along with the lads evicted from the nearby pub picking up post-pub munchies, crisps and instant noodles, cheese and bread. And the blokes who work shifts and who are on the way home.

I slip through the sliding doors just as the guy behind the counter is turning the lights off, all except the ones over the till. Made it.

I said people, but actually it's all men. Except me. But the guy who works the late shift in the shop doesn't seem to have sussed that bit.

"Evening sir," he says each time, politeness itself.
I've never really liked to object.

I suppose, in the dark, late at night, when I'm looking a bit worse for wear, in jeans, Docs, men's winter jacket or baggy T-shirt, it's an easy enough mistake to make. Except about half the time I'm not wearing an outfit that hides my chest. I wear tight tops almost as often. With earrings. And long hair kept out of my face with fancy hair clips. Sometimes, even lipstick.
Well, it seemed that I had just about convinced Petrol Guy that I might be female. He'd started saying "Good evening," leaving off the 'sir'. And looking me up and down in that way that guys can't avoid doing. Some muscular twitch in the back of the neck. But then one night I wanted a trashy magazine to read.

"Your guide to orgasmic sex!", screamed Cosmo.
"Best make-up tips EVER!!" shouted Company.
"This season's colours and how to wear them", stated Elle, more quietly.

But I don't want to wear clothes I need advice for. And I'm quite good at acquiring my own orgasmic sex, if I do say so myself. I'm not an expert on makeup. It's the main reason I don't wear any. But I'm not paying 2.80 for the privilege of learning. I looked at the non-women's magazines.
Marie Claire: "My Hell in Pakistani Jail". Not exactly what I want to go with a dial-up pizza and a video.
Men's Health: "Pulling Women in Five Easy Lessons". Sounds good. Only the first step involves removing beards and keeping one's penis clean. I might have a problem with that.
Loaded: "Interview with football commentator" someoneorother. I think they should have stuck with the naked women.
Esquire: "Free: Tube Tales scripts". I liked Tube Tales. And there's usually stuff I want to read in Esquire.

Esquire wins. I take it to the till, along with a two-pint jug of semi-skimmed milk.

"That all, mate?"
"Er. Yeah. Oh. I'll have this as well." Well, it's why they put chocolate next to the till, isn't it?
"Good idea, sir."
Petrol Guy seems to have reverted to my being a bloke. Oh well.
It's only at this point I notice the free calendar on the front of the magazine. Naked women draped over fast cars. I wonder if that's what's confused him?

"So, do you like her, then?" Petrol Guy jabs his finger at the blonde on the red Ferrari's bonnet on the front of the calendar.
"Hmmm.... Not type, I'm afraid. The car's better!"
"Yeah. I don't like her either. She's married to that bloke," he named a famous actor. A well fit famous actor.
I thought I'd carry on confusing Petrol Guy.
"Now him, he's well gorgeous!"
"Oh yes. I'd have him, now, any day!",

Petrol Guy pauses. He looks at me.

I have to admit that I probably wouldn't be teasing Petrol Guy if he didn't happen to be young and beautiful. Milky-coffee skin, black glossy wavy hair, long eyelashes. And probably a really cute bum, if ever I got the chance to see it.

"Me too."

Petrol Guy looks shyly at me. Nervous, even. Not surprising. Late shift in a gas station isn't the time and place to generally admit you're queer. That's partly why I stick to the hard guy persona, even without being a guy at all. He's so young and sweet. I try to put him at his ease.
"Hey, good taste, man!"
He laughs. Clean white teeth. "Hey, you want, I've got some good pictures in back, good pictures, know what I mean?"
"Yeah?" I try to sound interested.
"Yeah. You want to go have a look? Here." He opens the door to the storeroom, switches on a dim light, pulls out a few magazines. I lift up the counter, and join him. "I need to lock up. I'll be with you in just one minute."

I squat down among the crates of Pot Noodles and pasta sauces, and take a look at the mags. Kinda typical gay porn stuff, orange-tinged pictures, lots of hard cocks out of context. Not my thing.

Petrol Guy comes back, shuts the door. He looks at me. "What do you think?"
"I don't know. Not really my thing. I guess I'm just fussy about the guys I go for. And a cock on a page just isn't the same as a live, warm one on a fit body, is it?"

It's not until after I say this that I realise I couldn't have come up with a better come-on if I'd tried. Hey, why not?
Petrol Guy looks me up and down. He shifts closer to me. "I don't know. Could you show me?"
"Show you what?"
We've moved close, and grab each other for stability. Well, partly for stability.
"A good cock."


I shift my leg, which was getting cramped. Petrol Guy lands on top of me, his head on my breast.
"You really are a woman, aren't you? Forget it. Forget I said anything." He's trying to keep his voice together. I kick myself for leading him on like this.
Teasing is one thing, but fucking with someone's emotions is different. He's so young, about twenty. I want to look after him.

"I've got a cock."
He turns back to me, to my crotch. He's really confused now, and looking rather uneasy.
"Not there. In my bag."
I've got a vibrator in my bag. Every girl should have one. Don't leave home without it.

I pull it out. It may not be live, maybe not warm, but from the way Petrol Guy's eyes lose their teariness and start to gleam, I think it will do.

"So, you've never had a cock?"
"Would you want this one?" I don't want to take anything for granted.
"Do you want it in your arse?" As I said, don't take anything for granted.
"Yes." He's more sure now.
"You want me to thrust my hard, throbbing cock into your arse?"
"Oh yes!" He's looking at me with real excitement now.
I'm excited too. I want to see his naked bum in front of me.
"You have condoms?"
Ah. Not on me. I don't normally go around fucking blokes on a first date, as it were.
"No problem. I get some."

He nips back into the store, where condoms are handily on the counter. Not sure how nicking a packet will screw up the shop's stock control. No matter. An extra-strong condom fits snugly on the vibrator. I reach up from my kneeling position on the concrete floor, and grope Petrol Guy's arse.

"Come on. Kneel down." I put my coat down for him to put his knees on.
He gets down as fast as he can, fumbles with his belt, frantically tries to get his jeans down.
"Calm down." I don't want him coming just yet. I stroke his bum slowly, firmly, then take his balls in one hand, and stroke his cock with the other. He calms down a bit, still rock-hard and excited, but not in any danger of coming before I've had fun with him.

I push his jeans further down his thighs, and his shorts come down too. He really does have a cute bum. I pinch it a bit, and run my finger up his crack, teasing him. Reaching round, I can feel his hot cock, smooth and firm, and tight little balls pulled up underneath.
"Nice," I tell him. He exhales, trying to relax.
I squirt a dab of my lube onto my finger, and start to play with his crack more, looking for his arsehole. It's tight, pulled up inside him. It opens up ever so slightly as I play with it, and he moans. He's been wanting someone to do this for a long time. All his life.
I get my finger inside, teasing, probing, stretching. It even feels like a virgin arsehole.
"How does that feel?"
Good, then.

I take his cock in my other hand. He's leant forward now, pushing on some boxes. Nice to see Pot Noodles coming in useful. I rub round the ridge circling near the tip. No loose bits of skin to play with. Shame. But still a nice cock.
"Are you ready for my cock?"
"Aaaaah!" You breathe out, moaning. I'll take that as a yes.
"Good. My cock wants your ass." It certainly does. It's a beautiful arse he has, squirming on the end of my finger. It's going to look even better with a big vibrator in it, stretched wide, enjoying himself so much.

I put plenty of lube on the vibrator. It's going to be a tight fit. And he's going to love it.
"Here it is."

I put the slippery cock up to his arsehole, pressing it against his opening. He's clamped shut. No surprise. It's a big thing to accept, all puns intended. I squeeze his cock again, keeping him excited, stopping him getting too nervous.
"It's okay. I'm going to be really gentle. You can do it. You'll like it. Trust me."

I let him get used to the tip pressing his arsehole, his bum cheeks forced apart.
"Now, push out. Push me away."
He pushes, and it opens him up, so I can slide just an inch or so inside. I could shove in deeper, but not just yet. He reacts, trying to push my cock out, but I hold it in place, until he manages to stay still, my cock just inside him.

"How's that? You're doing well."
"Oh yes!"
"Great! Now, another push. Push against me."
He squirms, and I thrust my cock in, past the next ring of muscle. Got there! He tries to contract all his muscles, trying to squeeze me out, but can't do it. He relaxes, and enjoys the sensation of a filled arse. He's pushing back and forth onto my cock just like I do when I'm fucked. I slowly draw the vibrator backwards and forwards, making him move more. He's panting. I love seeing a man this excited.

I haven't turned the vibrator on yet, and already he's dripping spots of pre-come onto the cement floor. I grab his cock to hold it, keep it under control rather than flailing everywhere. I fuck him hard, thrusting so my hand whacks his bum with every stroke, and he loves it, pushing towards me, making amazing passionate sounds.

My hand gets tired. Time to make use of my cock's batteries.
The sudden buzzing inside you makes you stop, and you grip my cock hard. But not hard enough. I can still fuck you with it, hard and fast. It's your fantasy come true: a hard cock fucking you fast, pulsating inside your arse. Harder. Faster. Your bum is shivering, poor thing, squirming as much as it can, wanting and hating what's inside it. It's a strong sensation, physically and emotionally. You're loving it, even when it's a bit uncomfortable. I know you're loving it from the way you're crying "Yes, yes!" as well as crying at the same time. And from how you spray come all over the crates of Pot Noodles. And how you collapse, whimpering, "Oh my god!" and "Oh wow!"

I rescue the vibrator - don't want you sucking it up inside you!

"How was it?" I ask. I don't know what it is, but anyone who actively fucks anyone else always has this need for reassurance that they did OK.
Petrol Guy smiles.
"Do you need to keep your cock?"
"What sort of question is that! Buy your own. Under twenty quid in Soho."
"I will."

He doesn't know what to say. Nor do I, really. It's almost one o'clock now. Time I went to bed.
"Goodnight," I tell him. I get up, swing my bag back onto my shoulder, and go back into the store.
He looks up at me, but there's nothing else to say. I open the electric doors with the key that's in the lock and leave, giving him a final wave.
I wonder if he'll call me sir next time I need some milk?

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