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“You’re so anal,”

I said to Mickey as he stood there, gazing at the schedule on his phone. I couldn’t help myself. I knew it wasn’t the nicest thing to say to my boyfriend, but I was watching him micromanage our entire weekend getaway, charting out exactly the hour we were going for a walk in the quaint country town, when we were having brunch, what time the wine tour began.

He looked up from the device in his hand, and his gray eyes met mine. “You think so?” he asked.

“We’re on vacation,” I reminded him, coming forward to run one hand along his cleanly shaven jaw.

He’d been up early as he always was. He’d showered, shaved, dressed in a pressed blue T-shirt and khakis. “Usually, people relax a little when they’re on vacation.”

I knew Mickey liked to keep things organized. His calendar was intense, both for work and for play. He annotated what was going on in his phone and on a paper schedule — the gym five days a week, poker on Friday, date night Saturday, and so on. I’d hoped going away would change him. Help him let his hair down, so to speak. Of course, he wouldn’t literally let his hair down. Mickey has a crew cut.

“Relax,” he said, as if tasting the word, savoring the syllables. “Why don’t you show me how?”

I thought right then — as I had several times since we’d started dating — that we were the perfect example of opposites who attracted. I wear my long blonde hair loose. Often I tuck a flower behind one ear in the spring. Mickey wears suits in dark colors and power ties. I prefer flowing sundresses, swirls of fabric, scarves I can tie around my neck or waist. I tend to jingle when I walk — either my earrings clink like wind chimes or I have an armful of sterling bangles that make music when I gesture.

“Show me,” he said again, and this time, he was leading me back to the bedroom of our suite. I wondered what he had in mind. How could I get him to leave the agenda behind and go with the flow?

That’s when I felt one of his large hands on my ass, and I turned to face him, startled. He winked at me, then spun me around again, so he was behind me and I was looking toward the framed photograph of a sunset over the bed. His hands cupped my ass cheeks through my floral sundress. He palmed both of my taut globes and then slightly pulled them apart, so I felt my asshole being subtly stretched. That was a decidedly erotic sensation.

“What if anal was on the agenda?” he asked, his voice filled with a longing I hadn’t heard before. “What would you think of that?”

We had done a lot in our six months together, but he’d never shown a sign he might be interested in my backdoor. I hadn’t pressed the issue, satisfied by the romance and creativity of our lovemaking in other ways. Mickey enjoyed fucking in the shower. He sometimes woke me up to make love in the middle of the night, the two of us rutting against one another when we were both half asleep. It was dreamy sex, sinuous and sublime.

Now, he was moving me onto the mattress, lifting the hem of my dress to my waist, kissing my ass cheeks through my pink bikinis, telling me how beautiful I was. Then he had my panties down, and he was cooing more reverently to my behind.

“God, do I love your ass,” he murmured as he touched me.

I was shocked and elated. I couldn’t believe this was my Mickey doing such dirty things, stroking the valley of my ass cheeks with one of his fingers while using his free hand to manipulate my pussy.

“We’ll miss brunch,” I pointed out as he circled my clit and gathered my dewy sex juices on his fingertips.

“Fuck brunch,” Mickey said.

“We might not make the tour,” I teased, reminding him of the vineyards we were supposed to visit.

“He was rocketing off in my tight ass, letting me feel his semen spurt deep inside me.”

“Fuck the tour,” he said. His hand was nearly dripping with my abundant ambrosia. Talking about anal had turned me on intensely. Mickey could tell for himself I was willing and ready. There was no mistaking how aroused I was. But then he asked, “Have you wanted to do this with me?”  

My “yes” was partially muffled by a fluffy pillow.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, you seemed so… ” I hated to say it again. This was silly.

“Anal,” he finished for me, pressing his well-lubed thumb against my asshole. I whimpered at the intrusion and almost came right then. I felt my body accept him. He started to finger-fuck my anus, and I worked to lower the cadence of my moans and sighs. We were in a hotel, after all. No need to alert the other guests what we were up to.

“Hold that thought,” Mickey said, and he moved off the bed. I heard him rummaging in his luggage, and I was surprised when he returned with a travel-sized bottle of lube.

“Anal was on your agenda the whole time!” I squealed.

He shrugged at me. “I didn’t know if you’d be into it.”

I wanted him to be into me, and I looked him in the eye as I told him so. No more waiting. No hesitant dances. He was going to lube up that monster of a cock of his and get busy with my backdoor. He stripped out of his clothes, and for the first time ever, he didn’t fold them neatly and put them on a chair. He let the garments fall to the floor, discarded and forgotten. His body was so fuck-worthy — hard muscles, lean powerful lines.

As he unscrewed the cap on the lube, I told him plainly what I wanted from him. We were both on the same page; there was no reason to hold back any longer.

“I can’t wait to feel your cock in my asshole,” I said. “Get your dick really wet with that lube and then come over here.”

He said, “You’ve never talked like that before.” He didn’t look shocked. There was a smile on his face.

“You didn’t tell me you liked anal.”

“Who doesn’t like anal?”

Then there were no words as I watched him do exactly what I’d requested, pouring a generous amount of the liquid into his palm and using his hand to stroke his cock slowly and sensually. He told me to take off the rest of my clothes, and I did so in a flash. He joined me on the mattress, put me on my hands and knees facing away from him, and set the head of his dick against my eager asshole. I sucked in my breath. He pushed. It had been too long since I’d felt that sensation. My body was lit up with excitement. I began to babble, telling him how much I craved having a thick cock in my ass.

“Keep talking,” he whispered. “I love to hear you say those filthy words.”

“I hadn’t told you before,” I said, “because I thought you didn’t want to. You never even seemed to look at my butt.”

“I looked,” he said. “You just didn’t see me.”

“I masturbate to thoughts of this,” I told him. “All the time.”

“Me, too,” he said. So we weren’t such opposites after all, were we?

“Fuck my ass,” I begged him. “Fuck it hard and fast!”

He put a hand on each of my cheeks and plowed me, and then he was the one to start telling me his desires. “Every time you swish by in one of your short skirts, I want to do this,” he said. “I want to lift up your skirt, tug your panties to the side, and fuck your ass just like this.”

All those lost moments. All those times we could have been having anal and didn’t. I mourned them quietly until he began to move at a more rapid pace. Then I had a happier thought. Now that we were both in erotic alignment, we could make up for lost time.

“Touch yourself,” he said. “Touch that pretty pussy of yours.”

I brought one hand between my legs and started to work my clit in rhythm to his thrusts. We were going to climax together. I was determined. I could feel the head of his cock deep inside me. He paused briefly when he had completely bottomed out, letting me revel in the sensation of being so well filled. I contracted my muscles on his cock. He groaned and called me a dirty girl. I loved that. It seemed as if anal sex had opened up all sorts of wonders for the two of us. Maybe we’d simply been too polite in the past to let the other know what we’d wanted.

I found my voice now. “Please,” I said. “Keep going. You feel so good inside me.”

Mickey resumed pounding me until he reached the edge of reason. “I’m going to come,” he told me, his voice raw and hungry. “I’m going to shoot.”

“Fill me up,” I said, matching his tone. “Fill me up, baby.”

Then he was rocketing off in my tight ass, letting me feel his semen spurt deep inside me. That’s all I needed. In seconds, I was coming right along with him, the motions of our lovemaking shaking the bed and making the headboard hit the wall.

After that, we were quiet for a few seconds. I think he was shocked by my filthy mouth. I was transported by this new Mickey. We showered together and redressed. Then I saw him check the schedule on his phone and my heart sank. That was an old Mickey move. But suddenly he tossed the phone onto a chair and said, “You know, they serve brunch for two more hours. You want to try that again before we get something to eat?”

I laughed and led him back to the bedroom.

“This time,” I told him, “I’ll be on top. What do you think?”

“I think you better pencil in anal for tomorrow’s agenda as well,” he said. “That is, if you want to keep an agenda. I’m leaving mine open from now on.”

" />

Anal Agenda

  • 2

Storyline

“You’re so anal,”

I said to Mickey as he stood there, gazing at the schedule on his phone. I couldn’t help myself. I knew it wasn’t the nicest thing to say to my boyfriend, but I was watching him micromanage our entire weekend getaway, charting out exactly the hour we were going for a walk in the quaint country town, when we were having brunch, what time the wine tour began.

He looked up from the device in his hand, and his gray eyes met mine. “You think so?” he asked.

“We’re on vacation,” I reminded him, coming forward to run one hand along his cleanly shaven jaw.

He’d been up early as he always was. He’d showered, shaved, dressed in a pressed blue T-shirt and khakis. “Usually, people relax a little when they’re on vacation.”

I knew Mickey liked to keep things organized. His calendar was intense, both for work and for play. He annotated what was going on in his phone and on a paper schedule — the gym five days a week, poker on Friday, date night Saturday, and so on. I’d hoped going away would change him. Help him let his hair down, so to speak. Of course, he wouldn’t literally let his hair down. Mickey has a crew cut.

“Relax,” he said, as if tasting the word, savoring the syllables. “Why don’t you show me how?”

I thought right then — as I had several times since we’d started dating — that we were the perfect example of opposites who attracted. I wear my long blonde hair loose. Often I tuck a flower behind one ear in the spring. Mickey wears suits in dark colors and power ties. I prefer flowing sundresses, swirls of fabric, scarves I can tie around my neck or waist. I tend to jingle when I walk — either my earrings clink like wind chimes or I have an armful of sterling bangles that make music when I gesture.

“Show me,” he said again, and this time, he was leading me back to the bedroom of our suite. I wondered what he had in mind. How could I get him to leave the agenda behind and go with the flow?

That’s when I felt one of his large hands on my ass, and I turned to face him, startled. He winked at me, then spun me around again, so he was behind me and I was looking toward the framed photograph of a sunset over the bed. His hands cupped my ass cheeks through my floral sundress. He palmed both of my taut globes and then slightly pulled them apart, so I felt my asshole being subtly stretched. That was a decidedly erotic sensation.

“What if anal was on the agenda?” he asked, his voice filled with a longing I hadn’t heard before. “What would you think of that?”

We had done a lot in our six months together, but he’d never shown a sign he might be interested in my backdoor. I hadn’t pressed the issue, satisfied by the romance and creativity of our lovemaking in other ways. Mickey enjoyed fucking in the shower. He sometimes woke me up to make love in the middle of the night, the two of us rutting against one another when we were both half asleep. It was dreamy sex, sinuous and sublime.

Now, he was moving me onto the mattress, lifting the hem of my dress to my waist, kissing my ass cheeks through my pink bikinis, telling me how beautiful I was. Then he had my panties down, and he was cooing more reverently to my behind.

“God, do I love your ass,” he murmured as he touched me.

I was shocked and elated. I couldn’t believe this was my Mickey doing such dirty things, stroking the valley of my ass cheeks with one of his fingers while using his free hand to manipulate my pussy.

“We’ll miss brunch,” I pointed out as he circled my clit and gathered my dewy sex juices on his fingertips.

“Fuck brunch,” Mickey said.

“We might not make the tour,” I teased, reminding him of the vineyards we were supposed to visit.

“He was rocketing off in my tight ass, letting me feel his semen spurt deep inside me.”

“Fuck the tour,” he said. His hand was nearly dripping with my abundant ambrosia. Talking about anal had turned me on intensely. Mickey could tell for himself I was willing and ready. There was no mistaking how aroused I was. But then he asked, “Have you wanted to do this with me?”  

My “yes” was partially muffled by a fluffy pillow.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, you seemed so… ” I hated to say it again. This was silly.

“Anal,” he finished for me, pressing his well-lubed thumb against my asshole. I whimpered at the intrusion and almost came right then. I felt my body accept him. He started to finger-fuck my anus, and I worked to lower the cadence of my moans and sighs. We were in a hotel, after all. No need to alert the other guests what we were up to.

“Hold that thought,” Mickey said, and he moved off the bed. I heard him rummaging in his luggage, and I was surprised when he returned with a travel-sized bottle of lube.

“Anal was on your agenda the whole time!” I squealed.

He shrugged at me. “I didn’t know if you’d be into it.”

I wanted him to be into me, and I looked him in the eye as I told him so. No more waiting. No hesitant dances. He was going to lube up that monster of a cock of his and get busy with my backdoor. He stripped out of his clothes, and for the first time ever, he didn’t fold them neatly and put them on a chair. He let the garments fall to the floor, discarded and forgotten. His body was so fuck-worthy — hard muscles, lean powerful lines.

As he unscrewed the cap on the lube, I told him plainly what I wanted from him. We were both on the same page; there was no reason to hold back any longer.

“I can’t wait to feel your cock in my asshole,” I said. “Get your dick really wet with that lube and then come over here.”

He said, “You’ve never talked like that before.” He didn’t look shocked. There was a smile on his face.

“You didn’t tell me you liked anal.”

“Who doesn’t like anal?”

Then there were no words as I watched him do exactly what I’d requested, pouring a generous amount of the liquid into his palm and using his hand to stroke his cock slowly and sensually. He told me to take off the rest of my clothes, and I did so in a flash. He joined me on the mattress, put me on my hands and knees facing away from him, and set the head of his dick against my eager asshole. I sucked in my breath. He pushed. It had been too long since I’d felt that sensation. My body was lit up with excitement. I began to babble, telling him how much I craved having a thick cock in my ass.

“Keep talking,” he whispered. “I love to hear you say those filthy words.”

“I hadn’t told you before,” I said, “because I thought you didn’t want to. You never even seemed to look at my butt.”

“I looked,” he said. “You just didn’t see me.”

“I masturbate to thoughts of this,” I told him. “All the time.”

“Me, too,” he said. So we weren’t such opposites after all, were we?

“Fuck my ass,” I begged him. “Fuck it hard and fast!”

He put a hand on each of my cheeks and plowed me, and then he was the one to start telling me his desires. “Every time you swish by in one of your short skirts, I want to do this,” he said. “I want to lift up your skirt, tug your panties to the side, and fuck your ass just like this.”

All those lost moments. All those times we could have been having anal and didn’t. I mourned them quietly until he began to move at a more rapid pace. Then I had a happier thought. Now that we were both in erotic alignment, we could make up for lost time.

“Touch yourself,” he said. “Touch that pretty pussy of yours.”

I brought one hand between my legs and started to work my clit in rhythm to his thrusts. We were going to climax together. I was determined. I could feel the head of his cock deep inside me. He paused briefly when he had completely bottomed out, letting me revel in the sensation of being so well filled. I contracted my muscles on his cock. He groaned and called me a dirty girl. I loved that. It seemed as if anal sex had opened up all sorts of wonders for the two of us. Maybe we’d simply been too polite in the past to let the other know what we’d wanted.

I found my voice now. “Please,” I said. “Keep going. You feel so good inside me.”

Mickey resumed pounding me until he reached the edge of reason. “I’m going to come,” he told me, his voice raw and hungry. “I’m going to shoot.”

“Fill me up,” I said, matching his tone. “Fill me up, baby.”

Then he was rocketing off in my tight ass, letting me feel his semen spurt deep inside me. That’s all I needed. In seconds, I was coming right along with him, the motions of our lovemaking shaking the bed and making the headboard hit the wall.

After that, we were quiet for a few seconds. I think he was shocked by my filthy mouth. I was transported by this new Mickey. We showered together and redressed. Then I saw him check the schedule on his phone and my heart sank. That was an old Mickey move. But suddenly he tossed the phone onto a chair and said, “You know, they serve brunch for two more hours. You want to try that again before we get something to eat?”

I laughed and led him back to the bedroom.

“This time,” I told him, “I’ll be on top. What do you think?”

“I think you better pencil in anal for tomorrow’s agenda as well,” he said. “That is, if you want to keep an agenda. I’m leaving mine open from now on.”

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