Tom kept repeating, “You’ve got to have money,” as he Worked in the supermarket each afternoon after school.
He repeated that phrase over and over as he struggled To forget Sally-Anne Matheson’s fantastic pussy.
Sally-Anne was one of a half a dozen spunky young 19 and 20-year-olds who were wet dream material at his School.
Just over a week ago he had spent the night with Sally-Anne in her bedroom eating her pussy. She had accompanied Tom to a high profile function at the town’s casino restaurant and snuck him up to her room, when they finally returned home.
He shook his head as he remembered how she had dropped her shirt and stood naked, waiting for him to take her. He was certain that when he left early next morning Sally-Anne was satisfied even thought they hadn’t fucked.
Tom would lay on his bed fingering his dick, reviewing his night with Sally-Anne. It was unbelievable. He knew that his mates wouldn’t believe any story that said, “He had spent the night with Sally-Anne Matheson, and didn’t fuck her.”
“Yes I’m still a virgin,” he would say to himself, “but I’m not complaining. I didn’t get to fuck her. I got to make love to her fabulous pussy with my tongue.” He would smile as he lay back in bed and remember that pussy.
He didn’t blame anyone but himself for that situation. He was sure Sally-Anne had wanted to fuck. He had been so happy eating her pussy that time had ran out, when her mother heard Sally-Anne’s squeals of delight. So Tom had to leave before he fucked her.
No he wasn’t shitty on Sally-Anne because he remained a virgin; he was shitty on her for dumping him for a 50-year-old man with money.
Sally-Anne’s pussy tingled every time she thought of Tom. “He was just fucking fabulous,” she said as she held court with a half a dozen of her class mates. “I have never had my pussy licked like Tom did, never ever. I’m wet now thinking of it. He didn’t paw me, he didn’t demand a blow job, he just made love to my pussy.”
They sat staring at Sally-Anne as she sighed and went on. “He didn’t lick and kiss me just for a minute or two, he kept going, he was so loving, so kind, it was so fantastic.”
She looked at them, “I can tell by the look on your faces you don’t believe me.” She grabbed the end of her skirt and raised it so they could see her panties. “See that bloody wet patch. I get wet every time I think of Tom’s tongue. The more I think of it, the more I realize that he didn’t lick me to get me to fuck. I wanted to fuck, but he just kept on making love to my breasts and my pussy for hours.”
“For hours?” Juanita asked.
“Yes for hours. It was so lovely.”
“His tongue drove me crazy. I kept coming and coming, it was amazing.”
“Well if he’s so fucking good, why you did dump him?” Melissa Greenfield asked sarcastically.
Sally-Anne sighed. “I’ve found me a lover with money. He can do things for me. He has promised to set me up in a well paid public relations job. He buys me clothes, takes me to top places. He’s got money and he spends it. Tom’s a great lover but as they say, he hasn’t got two brass farthings to rub together.”
Tom didn’t have two brass farthings, but he was starting to build a small bank account. He was making good money from tips. He had been told on his first day on the job to smile, be helpful, flirt a little and keep your mouth shut.
At the grocery store, Arthur who was leaving winked at Tom. “If the young grocery boy looks after the customers, they’ll look after him.”
Tom didn’t like Arthur, so he didn’t take much notice. He had been taught good manners by his mother. He found it easy to talk to strangers and offer help.
Molly, the check-out girl, whispered to him one afternoon when things got awkward with a customer, “Smile, dam you smile.”
Later, after the customer had left, she called him over. “Use that smile, you’ve got a smile that lights up your face, it makes people feel happy. No one will stay angry with someone who smiles at them like that.”
Tom loved to see people happy, so it wasn’t difficult to take Molly’s advice. “Ladies first,” he would say with a smile, as he stood back after opening a door. He would rush to open their car door, or to open and hold an umbrella in the rain, as his tips started to grow.
People started asking for him on arrival. Women especially loved talking to him, as he packed their purchases and accompanied them to their cars.
He realized quickly that they wanted someone to take the time to listen. Someone to make them welcome and ask about them.
‘I can’t work it out,” he said to Molly. “They’re so busy and yet I get the feeling they’re lonely. They just look for company.”
As his bank account grew, so did his interest in the women who were tipping so generously. He started to compliment them on their appearance, their clothes, their perfume, their hair.
As he did, he noticed things about then that had escaped him before. They loved to have someone flirt with them. They loved to be told they were beautiful. They liked to be taken note of, and admired.
One particular customer had caught his eye. He heard Molly call her Mrs. Tracey. She came in late every afternoon generally dressed in gym clothes or a tennis outfit. The tennis outfit was so short, that the cheeks of her arse and her tiny panties were nicely displayed, every time she bent down to pick up an item.
Tom loved the way her low cut sleeveless tops tightened around her breasts whenever she picked up groceries from her trolley. He planned to meet her and. assist her when an opportunity arrived