Full Service

The numbers on the pump ticked upward with a steady mechanical patience, each click oddly soothing. Tabitha rested her hip against the car and watched them climb, sunlight warming her shoulders, the smell of pine and hot asphalt mingling in the air.

Roy was inside.

Her Roy.

The thought made her smile. Her Roy. Her man. Her boyfriend.

She missed him already.

It was ridiculous, she knew that. He'd only been gone a minute or two. Still, the absence tugged at her, a faint ache in her chest like reaching for something that should be in her hand and finding it missing. She felt better when he was near her; calmer, fuller, like the low hum of anxiety that had always lived in her bones had finally quieted.

He completed her. Not in a cheesy Hollywood sense, but in a real, deep, defining sense. With Roy, she had become Tabitha, the real Tabitha, the one she had always been meant to be.

The realization felt obvious in a way that startled her. Not dramatic. Not overwhelming. Just... true.

Images of the women she had loved over the years flicked through her mind, a slideshow of past mistakes. It had been real love, each and every time. Tabitha had been sure of it. Long conversations sprawled across messy beds. Shared toothbrushes. The slow, aching unraveling when it ended. She'd cried for weeks after Jenna. Months after Elise. Each breakup had felt like the end of the world, like she'd lost something irreplaceable.

And yet none of it compared to this.

What she felt for Roy was cleaner. Deeper. Like something settling into place rather than tearing itself apart.

Roy.

Even his name made her heart lift. Roy Robinson. Sweet, steady Roy, who listened when she spoke and looked at her like she was the only thing in the room. Who never made her feel like she had to perform or prove anything. Being with him felt like coming home to a place she hadn't known she was missing.

The pump clicked off.

She blinked, almost surprised to be back in her body. With a small, satisfied nod, she returned the nozzle to its cradle and capped the tank. Done. Everything taken care of.

Just like she liked it.

Inside, the bell chimed as she pushed through the door. The cool air raised goosebumps along her arms. She paid quickly, exchanging a pleasant nod with the clerk, then glanced toward the back hall.

Still occupied.

Her lips curved.

An idea sparked, playful, warm, a little wicked. She imagined Roy inside, probably overthinking something, that faint crease between his brows she loved so much. The thought of surprising him sent a pleasant thrill through her.

Why not?

Down the hall she walked, passing the ladies' room without slowing. The men's room door waited at the end, unassuming, daring her.

Tabitha took that dare without hesitation.

Slipping inside, she saw that Roy was the only other person in the room. Good. With a flick of her wrist, she locked the door, the click of the deadbolt sounded louder than expected.

Tabitha leaned back against the door, heart thudding, suddenly aware of how small the room felt. The hum of the lights. The faint echo of water dripping into the sink. Roy standing there, wide-eyed, hands still wet, like he'd been caught mid-thought.

She smiled at him, letting something playful and warm bloom across her face. God, she loved that look on him. That mixture of surprise and vulnerability, like he still couldn't quite believe she wanted him.

"Thought you could hide from me in here, sweetheart?" she said lightly, even as her pulse raced.

Roy looked ashen. "Tabitha, this is the..."

"Men's room," she finished his sentence, unfazed. Her boyfriend was a bit shy. That was fine. She didn't need him to perform, she needed him to know that she wanted him. "I know." She pushed herself off the door and took a few slow steps toward him. "We still have a drive ahead of us, and my engine's running a little hot."

Crossing the room, she watched him carefully, aware—acutely aware—of how different this was from anything she'd done before.

She'd been with women her whole adult life. Women's bodies made sense to her. The rhythms, the cues, the unspoken language of touch. This was... new territory. Unmapped. She didn't have muscle memory for this. No instinct to fall back on.

So she thought.

She thought about late-night movies where the camera lingered just long enough to suggest what happened next. About porn she'd watched out of curiosity more than desire, cataloging shapes and reactions without ever imagining herself in the scene. About her sister's half-embarrassed, half-amused advice over wine years ago—"Just pay attention. Men don't need perfection. They need enthusiasm."

That, at least, she could do.

"I figured I'd come in here to cool down," she went on, her voice lowering, teasing. "But it looks like you're doing a good job of heating things back up."

She stepped closer, close enough to smell his soap beneath the faint tang of gasoline and heat. Citrus and clean. Roy. Her hand brushed his arm, testing, deliberate, watching the way his breath changed.

Good. She was doing something right.

"Maybe," she added, smiling, "I'll have to look under the hood and see what the problem is."

"Maybe," he said, the word coming out quieter than he intended, "maybe we should get back on the road."

Tabitha blinked, then smiled, slow and reassuring.

"Hey," she said gently. "We're making great time. You don't have to worry so much." She stepped even closer, close enough that he could feel her warmth. "Besides, we're alone. Just us."

"And there's something I've been wanting to try," she added.

When she kissed him, she let confidence lead even if certainty lagged behind. Slow. Unrushed. She'd always been good at that part—at making someone feel chosen. She felt him respond, felt his hesitation soften, and the small success sent a quiet thrill through her.

"Relax," she murmured. "I've got you."

When she lowered herself, she kept her eyes on his. She wanted him anchored to her face, to her expression, not whatever fears were spiraling through his head.

Okay, she thought. Focus. You've seen this. You know the idea, even if the details are fuzzy.

Her hand slid up his thigh, tentative at first, then firmer as she felt the reaction she'd been hoping for. Heat bloomed low in her stomach—not just desire, but relief. Reassurance. Her sister had been right. This wasn't about technique. It was about attention.

She moved carefully, deliberately, giving herself time to think through each step before taking it. To adjust. To learn him. This wasn't instinct; it was intention, and somehow that made it feel even more intimate.

When she finally looked down—

Joy surged through her, bright and sudden. There it was. Right in front of her. Bulging in his khakis, a firm, hard reflection of his own love for her. She had done it. She'd given her boyfriend an erection. It was like she'd unlocked something she hadn't even known she was searching for her whole life.

She looked back up at him, eyes shining, a smile tugging at her lips. She knew that she was attractive, and she was pretty sure that she'd given men reason to get hard in the past, but this beautiful cock, this one gorgeous penis, was for her. And she for it.

"Baby," she breathed, her hands reaching up and opening the front of his pants, slowly sliding the zipper down, the clicking of the teeth causing butterflies in her stomach. Then, eyes locked on her man, she pulled open his pants and freed her trophy from its prison.

It was far more beautiful than she could have ever imagined.

Never before had she considered a penis attractive. The whole idea of finding pleasure from a man's appendage had felt foreign. Gross, even. But Roy's was different. Not objectively, of course. Tabitha was in no way an expert at how penises were supposed to look, but she had a fairly good idea that Roy's was normal, ordinary.

And yet it wasn't. Her eyes moved from his eyes to his penis, then back again. Her heart quickened as she did. The same love she felt for her boyfriend she felt for his penis. It was, after all, part of him, so why wouldn't she love it?

Experimentally, she reached out with one hand and touched it. It was hot. She wrapped her fingers around it gently. That's what men liked, right? It seemed so, as her man moaned as she did. But she didn't get onto her knees in a gas station restroom to give Roy a handjob.

Gently pulling Roy's erection toward her, she sat up on her knees and brought the head of his penis to her lips. What would it taste like? What would it feel like? This was where her inexperience with men would certainly show. Not that she expected her Roy to reject her. He was a kind, patient man. But that didn't mean that she wanted to give him a substandard experience, take advantage of his generosity by doing a lackluster job. No, any job worth doing was a job worth doing well.

Keeping her eyes locked on his, she experimentally slid the tip of his penis into her mouth. It was bigger than she anticipated, but that was immaterial. What mattered was that Roy shook with pleasure as she did, leaning back to steady himself on the sink.

Perfect.

She tried to slide it deeper, then slid it out again, pausing to kiss it on the tip. Not a performative kiss, but a genuine, loving kiss. She did it without thinking about it, without planning, without deeper meaning. She loved Roy Robinson, so why wouldn't she kiss him?

And then she took him back in. The experience was strange, having his hot, hard appendage slide in and out of her mouth. In the past, she had always considered the idea of a blowjob to be demeaning. The concept of reducing the source of expression to nothing more than a second hole to be fucked by a man was humiliating, insulting. But now that she was doing it, she could see that it was so much more. She had used her mouth for oral sex with women countless times, but a blowjob was different. As Roy began to thrust in and out of her mouth, matching the rhythm of her sucking, she could see that this was a gift of vulnerability, a symbol of her relationship with her boyfriend.

She loved him so much, trusted him so deeply, that she was willing to use her entire being to make him feel good.

The thought made her smile around his cock, increasing the movement of her head up and down. She wasn't able to take him as deeply as she suspected he wanted to go. Her inexperience did give her some limits to her abilities, but she would improve over time. She didn't want blowjobs to be their only sexual outlet. No, she wanted him to enjoy her whole body, and he would that weekend, she was sure of it, but if blowjobs turned out to be one of his favourite things, she would improve. Tabitha wasn't sure, but she suspected there were tips and tricks online, coaching videos, even books on how to give the best blowjobs in the world.

And Tabitha was a great student.

Roy began to moan, his body beginning to shake. It was then that she realized what was about to happen.

Oh shit.

She hadn't considered how to finish.

Yes, she knew that when a man orgasmed he released a flow of sperm. She wasn't stupid. But on her knees, at his feet, his cock in her mouth, Tabitha began to panic. Some women allowed the orgasm to happen in their mouths, some even swallowed it, but she wasn't ready for that. Not yet. What if she did it wrong? What if she choked on it? Would she gag? Would that turn him off? Make him think that she didn't love him?

That wouldn't do.

She grasped the base of his cock with her left hand and slid him out of her mouth.

"That's it, babe," she cooed, making her hand match the rhythm her mouth had used. "Give it to me. Show me how much you love me."

And he did. Fountains of sperm erupted from the tip of his penis. She should have aimed it away, she should have thought it through, but instead it landed square on her face. Ropes of it, over and over, painting her like a Jackson Pollock. It was disgusting, but at the same time she knew that some guys were into that kind of thing. Maybe Roy was one of those guys. This was the only way to find out.

Soon, leaning back against the sink, Roy's orgasm finally stopped. She gave the tip of his penis one last soft kiss, then released him, allowing him to become flaccid again. She stayed there, on her knees, at his feet, staring up at him with a smile. Making no move to clean her face, she stayed, giving him time to enjoy the experience, giving him time to enjoy what she looked like, the work of art he had created.

"Thank you," he breathed, his breathing coming rapidly.

"Thank you right back," she said through her smile. "If this is a preview of how much fun you want to have at the cabin, I think we're in for a good weekend."

He looked down at her and smiled, his eyes taking in her cum-soaked face, a hunger appearing that she hadn't noticed before, an appreciation of how far she was willing to go with him. For him.

"Now someone's eventually going to start asking question about us being in here. I suggest you head out and grab a snack and a drink while I clean up," she paused, "unless you want me to wear this for the rest of the drive. Your call."

Roy's face took on an ashen look as his eyes went wide. He quickly shuffled away from the sink, did up his pants, and thanked her again as he let himself out of the restroom. Her man, her boyfriend, was quite a character. Willing to cum all over her face in a public washroom, but wanted to protect her dignity from public humiliation. The same warmth she'd felt in her chest for him all day seemed to grow at the thought. She loved him. He loved her. What more could a woman like her want in life?