At the Supermaret

I first saw her in the produce section at the market. Too old to be a girl, too young to be a woman, she stood a full six feet tall, with long black hair, vivid red lips like the raspberries in her basket, firm round breasts like the fresh peaches she was squeezing, a rear shaped perfect as a pear. She was wearing a black raincoat tied loosely over a blue turtleneck sweater and a tie dye skirt. The dramatic look was completed by calf length leather boots.

I couldn't help but stare as we silently danced separately through the fruit stands, testing and sampling, her hair flowing like water about her. Perhaps pretty girls sense these things, because suddenly, she met my eyes, smiled, and glanced away. I took it as a friendly smile, but was unsure whether it was sweet or shy.

Our ballet revolved, and she circled out of my view as I sorted through the cucumbers. Suddenly, I sensed a presence beside me, and a voice said "I bet you're just going to waste that in a salad- a girl like me knows better uses for a nice ripe cuke." I turned, but whoever spoke had moved silently away. My beauty was near enough, but appeared engrossed in the cabbage patch. Half a dozen other, less appealing lasses were closer. There was no way of knowing for sure which had spoken, and whether it was a tease or a serious flirtation. I noticed one chubby teen giggling with her friends, and assumed that perhaps she had just performed a dare at my expense. I'm sure I blushed.

I looked down, taking a moment to collect my composure. As I looked up, the black haired beauty was staring at me, grinning. She then spun around, basket in hand, and disappeared around a corner.

I continued shopping, distracted by thoughts of this angelic vision. I selected apricot jelly, wishing I could smear it all over her belly, and the joy I'd have licking her clean. That led to considering licking down her tummy, and that called for liquid honey- to pour , of course, on her pussy, which I imagined as hairless, virginal, girlish. I was lost in my thoughts. Not surprisingly, this caused my to bump my cart into a display of cereal cleverly constructed in the middle of the aisle. I clumsily started to stack boxes, then I noticed long elegant fingers attached to delicate hands stacking alongside me. I turned, It was my vision. " Captain Crunch was my favourite as a child," she said, "but I've put aside childish things." she giggled. " well, I still like to play!"

As quickly as she was there, she was gone, done the aisle, around a corner towards the deli. I was left behind, still cleaning up my mess. I felt just like I was in Grade Five all over again, when Becky Saunders had pulled my pants down at recess, and had run behind the tree, calling " Catch me, kiss me". I never did catch Becky, and felt hopeless about this tease. The same urges motivated me to give chase, even as I recalled the humiliation of the other kids chanting " catch me, catch me, you look like you hafta go pee!". But this time, instead of my penis shriveling from embarrassment, I was hard as mahogany. Noticing that reaction pleased me, and any sense of shame vanished, driven out by the solid self-esteem of a man with a hard cock. A perfect recipe for foolishness.

I reconnoitered the bakery section, looking for a long raincoat amongst the bagels, boots below baskets of baguettes, our radiant raven hair above the pastries and pies. No luck. My firmness abated, my spirits sagged. I'm sure my shoulders slumped, all the predictable after effects of an unrequited surge of testosterone. Dejected, I steered slowly to the frozen foods,imaging little solace in a micro waved meal. As I examined my choices, debating mentally between the lasagna and the pizza, the air around my was stirred, a swirl of hair brushing past. "If you really want comfort food, you need good home cooking", she called as she spun away again, this time headed towards the checkout counters. Her voice was musical, a perfect alto, richly resonating, echoing in my ears.

Instead of the pre-cooked meal, I selected a juicy steak, returned to the specialty shop area and selected a fine wine, then circled through produce to hand pick baking potatoes. Even if it was a dinner for one, I would do it up right, practicing my romantic dining. The fresh fruit would be perfect for fruit salad for dessert, even if I was eating alone out of a bowl rather than playfully off the sweet skin of a soulmate. The ripe cucumber and a few greens seemed destined to be my solo salad.

I trudged to the checkout, my buoyed spirits already deflating as I contemplated the utter aloneness just me and cable tv. " who are you trying to kid?" I thought to myself. I paid for my purchases, not even glancing at the cashier, and exited towards my car. I loaded my purchases, and climbed in, turning the key.

The sweet alto voice beside me said " Sweety, next time we roleplay supermarket pickup, I need you to do a better job than that, but , just this one more time, since you bought such romantic vitals , I'll do whatever you want." Becky Saunders, now, many years later, my wife, slid her delicate fingers into my belly, undid the buckle, and loosened my pants. Right in the middle of the parking lot, she extracted my raging hardon and in one head bob deep throated me. The anticipation built up by her flirtations was too much, and I exploded immediately , filling her mouth. Of course, she swallowed, then she reached back into the groceries, grabbed a quart of milk, ripped it open, drank deeply, letting it run down al over her chest. I noticed for the first time that she had removed the sweater while waiting for me, and her peach sized breasts were encased only in finest lace. My hungry lips found her nipples, suckling them like plums. I cleaned the spilled milk, and licked downwards, searching for sweet nectar. She stopped me. " Let's save something for dessert sweetie! Take me home and feed me good red meat, then stroke me, lick me, eat me and fill me."

I did as she wished, enjoying the romantic evening fully, thankful of that day in Grade Five after all.