It is a morning like many others. The sky is clear and blue and the mountain air is crisp.
You take your little car and drive to the local supermarket to buy some groceries.
The aisles are almost deserted, apart from some elderly people and a couple of housewives like you.
Suddenly you bump into someone accidentally.
"I am sorry..." you blurt almost automatically, even if you are not sure if it was you who bumped into the stranger or the other way around.
He is a middle-aged man, who wears a dark suit and a white shirt.
The accident wasn't really much, nobody got hurt, but he seems to take it seriously.
You feel like apologizing again.
"Sorry, I didn't mean it..."
"Do you think apologizing is enough? Come with me!"
Why should you follow the stranger? You should ignore him and continue your shopping, but the man doesn't bulge, and you start noticing that some people look at you sideways, wondering what is going on.
"You can retrieve your cart later," he says assertively, and you follow him as he goes through the cashier line.
You wonder where he is taking you, and suddenly you realize that he is heading to the toilet room.
You freeze, ready to leave the strange man, but by now he has grabbed your arm, and he is pushing you toward the men's toilet.
You look around, you should shout, but at the same time you don't want to attract the attention - it's silly, really, but you are unable to fight the man as you enter the men's toilet.
An elderly man is peeing, but thankfully he doesn't see you as you are pushed into a cubicle.
"I...am ...sorry..." you repeat, hoping that the man will let you go.
"Shut up and unbutton your shirt!"
You have no choice but to obey him.
"Take off your bra!"
You look at him: does it mean it?
Surely he is, he is still brimming with anger.
You unhook your bra clumsily pull it through the shirt sleeves, and hand it over to him.
He takes it and throws it on the floor.
"The panties now!"
He is staring at you, you feel helpless, unable to resist.
You desperately hope he will forgive you for whatever you did wrong and let you go.
Under his cold eyes, you lower your panties and take them off.
He takes them and throws them on the floor, with the bra.
"Kneel now!" You try to resist, but he grabs your hair and makes you kneel.
Next, he unzips his trousers and extracts his hard cock.
He pushes his legs among your bent knees and makes you spread yours.
Pushing your head against his crotch he barks his order: "Apologize with your mouth!"
You are not a whore, used to suck a stranger's cock. You do it for your husband when you don't want him to fuck you, and even then you do it half-heartedly, hating the idea that you are sucking his pee hole.
The stranger realizes that you are not a great cocksucker, and decides to take the matter, literally, in his hands.
He pushes your head against his penis, back and forth. He pushes so deeply that you feel gagged, ready to throw up.
Under his powerful grip you struggle, but can't resist.
Slowly you start to feel more comfortable, you realize that the ordeal will be over when he will cum, and try to do your best.
Half-naked, kneeling in a men's toilet cubicle, sucking a stranger's cock, trying hard to make him cum in your mouth, you feel like a cheap slut and the shame is mixed with a strange excitement that makes you blush.
Finally you feel a twist of the shaft, coated in your saliva, and a thick stream of whitish seed lands on your tongue.
You would like to breathe, but he is staying in your mouth, waiting for the whole load to be discharged, enjoying every moment of his release.
After a long while he takes the cock out and puts it back.
"Don't spit it and don't swallow it! Open your mouth!"
Once again you obey, and he grins as he looks at the foamy mix of saliva and sperm in your mouth.
"Keep it in your mouth while you shop, I'll tell you when you can swallow, do you understand?"
He is back to his stern look, and you nod.
He pulls you up and holding you by an arm, pushes you out of the cubicle.
You look at the bra and panties you have left there, and wonder at what the next man who'll visit it will think seeing them. Probably he will masturbate himself thinking of the horny woman who has been fucked there.
As you leave the toilet room, trying to button up your shirt, you meet the eye of a man entering it.
If he will enter the cubicle, he'll know you are that horny woman, you think.
Finally he releases you and you are back in the supermarket's aisles, alone.
All that happened seems to have been only a fantasy, but then you feel the acid taste of the cum in your mouth, and then you feel the nipples brushing against the shirt, and the bare pussy available below the skirt.
The man is nowhere to be seen, and you wonder if you should really obey to that final, bizarre order.
But you made it this far, why should you stop now?
You continue shopping, like any other day, and eventually you go to the counter.
The cashier asks you the usual questions, the fidelity card, the bags, cash or credit card, and you answer nodding or shaking your hand. Of course you can't open your mouth and speak, showing your mouth full of a stranger's seed.
Now you are ready to leave. He is nowhere to be seen.
