He had always dreaded the times his wife forced him to tagalong to the weekly Walmart trips.
He sat, overly relaxed, on the hard bench outside of McDonald's perfectly situated at the front of the store near the cashiers. The only redeeming part of coming with her was sitting here, where he could let his eyes roam across the many girls checking out.
His eyes rose and fell as women walked by, washing up over from perfectly manicured feet and the gentle curve of thighs that disappeared under skirts.
His wife, aging but attractive, stood several feet away locked in dispute with a cashier over a receipt. He sighed, focusing his attention elsewhere.
A flash of color pulled his attention down. A pair of bright orange flip flops carried in a striking image of a young girl's legs, her creamy flawless muscle definition carrying his glance all the way up to her tight red short shorts.
He followed the orange flip flops and the incredible view that the legs attached afforded him, willing himself to concentrate. Groups of people pushed their way past him, carrying their belongings to the outside as he tried to tune out the incessant beeping of the checkout stands. He remained focused on the incredibly fit girl, catching flashes of her legs and bright orange sandals through the crowd.
When the crowd passed, she was already walking away. Texting and oblivious, he took in her long brown hair brushing and swaying atop the waistband of her shorts, tickling the peep of lower back that was exposed. He felt himself grow uncomfortably stiff in his jeans as he watched hungrily, hoping to be rewarded with a peek of her underwear as the fabric of her shorts shifted with each step.
Suddenly, something white fluttered out of the girl's hand -- her receipt fell slowly to the ground, landing among the swirling mass of customers pushing to exit. She swept her hair to the side and turned to descend, teasing him now with a delicious flash of hip bone peeking out over the red shorts. She began to bend down, tan calves and a rounded ass commanding his vision as his jeans constricted him painfully. Mesermized, he looked on as the act of bending over caused her shorts to fall slightly, knowing her underwear was just about to peek over...
"Honey?" an irritated voice demanded.
He turned sharply to see his wife standing, her face full of accusation. She had seen him... he'd been caught.
He felt his face start to get hot as he tried to spin an angle. He recognized her from the neighborhood? She was the daughter of a friend of his? Nothing made sense.
"Honey, are you paying attention? I told you that I need to speak with a manager. Can you wait here while I go to customer service?" she asked, as he nodded slowly. Had she not seen?
He smiled warmly and understandingly. The harsh fluorescent light did not flatter her, and he was eager to look away.
"Take your time, sweetheart. I appreciate you figuring all of this out. I'll be right here." She smiled and walked away toward customer service, giving him chance to exhale sharply and revel in his luck.
Now, he thought, where was I? More importantly, where is she?
He turned to look for those tight red shorts, the long brown hair, and those ridiculous orange flip flops. His eyes searched the crowd madly, resting after he found nothing. He sighed. She must have left.
He turned the other way, looking harder for that flash of sexy flesh-tone in the crowd. Suddenly, he felt a pressure on the bench beside him. He willed himself not to turn to see who it was -- the wrong person sitting next to him would make his erection deflate in an instant.
Still refusing to turn, his breath caught in his throat when he saw it in the corner of his eye... An orange flip flop, dangling lackadaisically beside him.
He forced himself to remain casual, cock throbbing in his jeans painfully as he turned to face the other direction, hoping he seemed nonchalant. In his peripheral vision, he took her in: slender, pretty face under a mess of brown, thick hair straightened and falling over the tops of her full breasts. Her tight white top hugged the tight stomach, curving hip bones still peeking out over those incredible short shorts. She shifted and unknowingly afforded him a better view, allowing him to take in the swell of her tan calves and slender thighs.
He coughed, hoping to startle her into moving suddenly, and couldn't have asked for a better reaction. She turned swiftly toward him, large brown eyes and thick lashes wide in surprise.
"Are you alright?" she asked, with a slight accent. His cock pushed harder; she was Latina, wordlessly explaining her coffee colored skin and generous curves.
