The aural arousal of overhearing a story about anal sex turns on this backdoor aficionado to the nth degree.

“I slept with him.”

I heard those words and stopped paying attention to my crossword puzzle. I was sitting in a burgundy leather booth at my favorite diner, sipping coffee and matching my wits against the puzzler in my local paper. So far, I’d been proud of my prowess. Now, I didn’t care what the correct answer to sixteen across was. I found myself far more interested in the conversation occurring in the booth behind me.

“On the first date?” a second female voice queried.

The answer was not really a word. It was more of a sigh or a hum of delight. I looked to my right and caught a flash of the women’s reflections in the diner window. The one with her back to my back had dark hair in a braid over one shoulder. The one across from her had curly red hair to her shoulders. The redhead was the one to lean in and say, “But you never fuck on the first date.”

“I did last night.”

“What got into you?”

“Roger.” There was giggling.

“Yes, I get that. But what did he do to you?”

“He fucked me. Oh, God, how he fucked me.”

More giggling.

I pretended to continue doing the crossword, in case they were paying attention to my movements. But I didn’t think I was on their radar. I started to write some of their key words into the small boxes of my puzzle.

“I mean,” said the louder voice, “What did he do to get you to fuck him? You’re always talking about how you have to really know a man before you let him in your bed.”

“We didn’t make it to my bed.”

“Nora!”

“We didn’t. We started having sex in the hallway outside of my apartment. He had my blouse open before I put the key in the lock. He got my bra undone before I turned the knob.”

“So to speak.”

“Touché.”

“So tell,” begged Nora’s friend. “What made you give in so quickly? I’ve known you forever. You never do stuff like this.”

“I know. That’s what made it so fucking exciting.”

“Fucking! Listen to you! The mouth on you. You never swear.”

Nora still was laughing. The sound of sheer giddiness in her voice made me smile. I wished I knew the women. I wished I could sidle into their booth so that I could be an actual participant in their conversation.

“So tell,” her friend continued. I was about to turn around and say, “Come on, Nora. Tell. What did Roger do to you?” when the waitress came over to refill my cup. Her eyes roved over my puzzle. FUCK.

I felt my cheeks go pink. She filled the coffee without a comment and moved on down the aisle. Nora, thankfully, didn’t stop talking. She said, “He started in at dinner. He was telling me how he’d been enamored of me for years, and it was only because he’d landed a job at a different company that he could finally get up the nerve to ask me out.”

“That’s not an explanation.”

“Well, the thing is … ” She lowered her voice. I held myself entirely still. “The thing is that we played this game at dinner. He said he was going to tell me a fantasy, and I would tell him one. It felt really safe.”

“So what was his fantasy?”

“To fuck me up the ass.”

I spilled my coffee all over the sparkly red Formica table, but I snatched up my puzzle in the nick of time. The waitress came over quickly and mopped up the mess with a white-and-blue dishtowel. The look she gave me this time let me know she was listening to the conversation, as well. She refilled my cup and didn’t say a word about the fact that my crossword puzzle was filled with words more appropriate for a bathroom wall. When she left, I added ANAL to a four-letter box. So “anal” wasn’t the answer to an old-fashioned machine used for tilling. Though it sounded like Nora had gotten plowed to me.

“The thing is,” Nora said again, “that was my fantasy as well. As soon as he said the words, I knew we were going to fuck.”

“I can’t believe you,” Nora’s friend said.

I could almost hear Nora shrug. “He said it in such a way, I knew we were going to do it. He promised to go slow. He explained that he would make me climax like I never had before. And then he made each of those promises come true.”

That’s when I pulled out my wallet and paid my bill, making sure to give a little more than I normally would have for the tip. I left the paper where it was and called my boyfriend as I walked from the diner. “I’m on my way over,” I told Logan.

“Oh, good. I thought I wasn’t going to see you until after lunch.”

“Have the lube out when I get there.”

There was a hesitation, then the husky sound of Logan clearing his throat. My man loves when we have anal sex. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be ready.”

I didn’t know if I could make it to his place fast enough. I thought I might actually have a spontaneous orgasm on the drive to his house. I wondered if that would work as an excuse if an officer pulled me over. “I’m sorry I went through the yellow light, sir. I was coming.” The entire ride, I replayed the women’s conversation in my head. I loved the thought of these people I didn’t know, had never met, would never see again, having anal on the first date. Why? Simple. Because that’s what Logan and I did.

I was about five miles away. Long enough for a trip down memory lane.

Logan and I had been set up by mutual friends. Our buddies were certain we’d hit it off. I was sure we wouldn’t. I’d heard about Logan over the years. He was a musician. He drove a motorcycle. He was hipper than me. I usually don’t go for rebels. But then we met, and there was something crazy about our initial connection. He was exactly my type in the looks department: long, black hair, blue eyes you could float a boat in, and full kissable lips. But I wasn’t going to be had by a pretty face alone. I wanted more. Substance, depth, a connection.

When we shook hands, I felt a jolt to my core. So there was the chemical attraction. Over drinks — that’s all I had agreed to — we found ourselves sharing intimate details of our past relationships. And when, at some point, his thigh bumped against mine at the restaurant, I felt my pussy tighten. The conversation lasted past drinks and into a late dinner. The discussion went from confessional to what I can only describe as pure foreplay. I’d been toying with the fringe on my dress as I said, “What’s your favorite way to fuck?”

“I’m a backdoor man,” he told me.

We left the restaurant minutes later.

I was almost to his house now, and I kept thinking of what had happened that night. He’d taken me to his place, and he’d undressed me in his bedroom. He’d gone slowly at first, as if unsure that I really was ready to do this. I’d had to slather up his cock with lube and bend over for him, insisting that yes, I am an anal-hound all the way. I love anal sex. It’s the one way I know I’ll always get off. The only way I truly feel fulfilled.

Logan had primed me with his cock in my pussy first, then he had parted my cheeks and pushed his dickhead against my tight hole.

My key was in the lock now. No more reminiscing. Logan was sitting on the sofa. He had spread out towels on the carpet, put music on the stereo, and there was the lube. Waiting.

I was stripping out of my clothes almost before I kicked the door shut. Logan looked surprised by my actions, but he didn’t appear anything but happy. He stood and pulled his white t-shirt over his head, then went to work on his black jeans. When we were both naked, he took me in his arms and kissed me. I could feel how hard his dick was. I reached down and stroked him, and he shivered. “I got a hard-on as soon as you said ‘lube,’” he told me.

“I knew you would.”

I reached for the bottle and poured a generous amount of the glistening liquid into my palm. Logan stood still while I wrapped my greasy fist around his fine dick and began to work him. He was fully erect and felt fierce in my hand. I lubed him up generously, knowing that the more grease I got on his cock, the smoother the ride would be for me. But I wasn’t content to merely let my fingers do the talking. I said, “I almost came on the way over, fantasizing.”

“Tell me,” he insisted.

I handed him the lube and bent over in front of him. He used the lubrication to oil up my asshole. I reached back and held my cheeks wide apart for him so he could get in really deep. He let one thumb flicker over my opening, and I cried out. Logan knows how totally sensitive my rosebud is. He knows that if he touches me in the perfect way, I can come from anal stimulation alone. Hell, I can practically come from thinking about having him fuck my backdoor.

“You like it,” Logan said in a low, raw voice as he prepped my rear hole.

“Yes,” I hissed between my teeth.

I was desperate for him to start fucking me. He was clearly more interested in taking things slow. I’ve never been good at slow. I like fast and hard. “Put it in me,” I demanded.

“There’s no rush, Becky,” Logan insisted. Clearly, he had not been the one eavesdropping on the sexy conversation at the diner. There was most definitely a rush. I was desperate to feel his fabulous cock in my asshole.

“But I’m so ready,” I said, and I knew I sounded pouty and petulant, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed Logan’s cock inside me. I glanced at him over my shoulder. I tried to make my eyes look sensual and inviting. “Come on, baby,” I said, trying to be seductive. “Let me feel your big, fat cock in my tight little hole.”

Logan didn’t fall for my tricks.

He slid his cock forward as if he were going to pierce me. Then at the last possible moment he dipped down to enter my pussy. I practically screamed No!, but I knew better. Logan is a tease. As much as he likes anal, he also likes to make me wait. He made me wait now, fucking my slippery pussy in nice, even strokes. He even brought one hand between my legs to tickle my clit while he fucked me, as if giving me a consolation prize for not simply reaming my ass from the start.

Actually, his motions were working on me. I felt myself starting to melt for him. He rubbed his knuckles roughly up and over my clit, and I said, “Oh, fuck, I’m going to … Logan, I’m going to come.”

He’d apparently been waiting for my words, because as soon as I spoke, he was in motion. He moved his hand from my clit, grabbed hold of my asscheeks, and pulled them wide open. His cock hesitated for one brief second, and then he was in. Oh, sweet heaven, he was in me.

I braced myself with my hands on the coffee table, and I arched my back like a bow. Logan drove in hard, and as he did, he said, “You’re so damn tight, Becky. I love how you feel.” I came almost instantly around his dick. My asshole squeezed him in a series of contractions that was practically obscene in strength. I’d been ready to climax for nearly an hour. I went off in a major way — and all the time I pictured Nora exploring anal, giving in to her basest desires. My body was wracked with the pleasure. I felt as if I was experiencing a double-orgasm — one in my pussy and one in my asshole.

Logan was just getting started. He seemed to appreciate the way my body responded to him, and he held still for a moment, allowing me to eke out every last ripple of pleasure. Then he started to fuck me in the most divine rhythm. Leave it to a musician to be able to incorporate the beat of the music into the way he was fucking me. In, out, in and out to the sounds pulsing from the speakers. I realized right then that he’d chosen a record with a throbbing bass. He must have imagined what our actions would be like before I’d even arrived.

While he fucked me, I continued to let myself envision Nora and her Roger — whoever they were. I thought of what it felt like to be taken anally for the first time by a new partner. There was always a little bit of a learning curve. I wondered if Roger had remembered to use plenty of lube. I wondered if Nora had parted her own cheeks or let her new lover hold her open himself. I could feel how wet my pussy was growing at these thoughts.

In fact, when Logan pushed in hard enough to make me moan, I almost called out the name Roger. That let me know I needed to release the fantasy and pay more attention to my flesh-and-blood lover behind me. I shook back my hair and looked over my shoulder at him. “That feels so good,” I said.

“I know.”

“You’re going to make me come again if you keep working me like that,” I said next.

“Then I’d better keep working you like that,” he said, and he began to fuck me even harder, even faster. I brought one hand off the coffee table to stroke my clit while Logan drove in deep. Logan didn’t mind that. He was using both of his hands to hold my cheeks apart so he could watch his cock go in and out of my rear hole. When the pleasure flooded me once more, I practically came unhinged. I cried out so loud that I muffled the sounds against my right arm, not wanting any of Logan’s neighbors to come banging on the front door. Not while Logan was in my backdoor!

Only after my orgasm had subsided did Logan reach his own limits. He gripped me tight by the hips, slammed his body to mine, and shot his load deep inside me. His body jerked with spasm after spasm as he filled me up with his seed. Together, we collapsed against the coffee table, drinking the air in with hungry breaths, completely demolished by the ride. I was shiny with sweat, my hair slicked against my face and the back of my neck, my whole body trembling as if I’d just finished a monster workout. Logan looked as decimated as I felt.

We sat next to each other, listening to the music for a few moments, both of us pleased with what had just occurred. When we’d recovered, Logan led me to the bathroom and we settled into his Jacuzzi tub for a shared bubble bath.

“What got into you this morning?” he asked as he sudsed me all over.

“Nora and Roger and the crossword,” I said, thinking of how Nora had answered a similar question earlier in the morning. Then I confessed to eavesdropping on the women at the diner.

“What did they look like?” Logan wanted to know.

I’d only been able to spy on them in the window and glance quickly when I walked by on my way out of the restaurant. But I was able to fill Logan in with the basic details. “Nora had thick black hair that she was wearing in a braid.”

“Mmm,” Logan sighed, and he nudged me with one of his feet, angling to stroke me between my legs. “I like braids. Good for pulling.” I sat back against one of the jets and wriggled with pleasure.

“Her friend was a redhead,” I said, “but I never learned her name.”

“I love anonymous redheads.”

“And they were talking anal sex — all before they had breakfast.”

“I love anal before … ”

I splashed him. That started a water fight that ended with Logan grabbing me in his arms and facing my body so that one of the jets was spraying directly on my pussy. I felt as if I might dissolve under the steady beat. The jets were sublime, providing the perfect amount of clit stimulation. I wasn’t surprised at all to feel Logan’s cock getting erect again. I also wasn’t surprised to feel him wedging himself between my cheeks.

“You spread your pussy lips,” he said. “Let the spray really work you good.”

I did what he said, maneuvering into a position in which I felt as if I were being fucked by the steady stream of water. Since we’d already had anal, my backdoor was plenty primed and ready. But Logan made sure by working his pointer finger into my hole and gently stroking me on the inside.

I held on to the lip of the tub, preparing to feel Logan in my ass once more. But he surprised me. “Let yourself come,” he said, “and then I’m going to take your ass again.”

I came practically on his words, repeating his name over and over like a mantra. Logan spun me around and held my cheeks very wide apart. The spray from the jet pounded against my asshole. I sucked in a great gulp of air and then let it out again in a moan.

“Do you like that?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck my ass again.”

“How do you want me to fuck you?”

“Hard,” I whimpered. “So hard.”

Logan maneuvered me once more, and this time he insinuated his cock between my asscheeks and pressed my pussy against the spray. I was limp and relaxed, buffeted on the water and his cock. The bliss of the motions ricocheted inside me. I felt not as if I was going to come again, but as if I might never stop.

“Later on,” Logan said in a low voice, “we’ll go out to the diner, and we’ll talk all about the anal we had.”

“And maybe,” I panted, “maybe someone at the next booth will overhear and go home to his or her partner.”

“It will be like a chain reaction,” Logan whispered as he came, grinding his hips to my ass and pushing me into the spray. “Anal sex happening all over the city.”

My fingers searched for purchase on the lip of the tub as the final climax of the morning fell over me. I slid back in the bath against Logan, and I closed my eyes and let the water soothe me.

We’d had anal like never before — and all because of a morning coffee and a crossword.

Now, what was the correct answer to sixteen across?