Something tells me that I have been spending way too much time reading stories at literotica, for there could be no other reason for what I was stooping to late Saturday morning. Stooping was the key word, because that was exactly what I was doing by bending over in front of the young man at the Farmers Market, the top button of my blouse "accidentally" open to expose my modest cleavage, and even that small valley only existed because of the push-up bra I was wearing.
Fifty seven year old women have no business exposing themselves in front of a young man like this, I thought to myself as I glanced up quickly for the boy's reaction. Not a boy, I corrected myself, because the high school ring he wore indicated he graduated last June.
Just as I had hoped, the young man had been looking - leering might be a better term - and I enjoyed Randy's reaction when I caught him staring at my titties. Instead of jerking his head away, he just smiled and went back to looking. Thankfully he didn't laugh, and as I turned my attention back down to the planter I was considering buying, my eyes strayed to Randy's crotch.
There it was. The outline of his cock was evident through the rather snug black sweatpants. Long and thin, the bulge snaked over towards his right pocket, and the bulge wasn't there when I first arrived at his family's stand. I know because I checked.
I had seen the bulge last week when I was here, which is why I came back again this week. Randy had been wearing looser clothing, and when we started talking about my efforts to grow things my eyes had strayed down to his crotch.
Last week the view wasn't as clear but there was enough to see to get my interest, and that was how I knew the boy's name was Randy. I kept the conversation going just to get to know the young guy, and I loved the way the bulge stayed as it was. Was he hard? Tough to say, although the size of the organ in question was certainly impressive.
Much more than one would expect from a lad no more than 5'8" and maybe 130 pounds soaking wet. Soaking wet - another apt choice of words, because after chatting with Randy last week that was the condition between my legs.
I told Randy that I was going to think about the planter because I wasn't sure whether I had room on the deck for it or not, and told him I would come back next week. Randy's parents were working the stand - nice folks who I had bought things from before.
Randy's father was as black as night and his lovely mother's skin was bronze in tone. The beautiful young man they had created was a blend of the parents, his skin a rich chocolate color that looked so soft and smooth he looked good enough to eat. Randy had a baby-face and looked like he didn't even shave yet, which made me feel guilty about what I was doing, but only for a second.
"I think I'm going to buy it," I said of the planter, which was a lot like the color of Randy's skin, and I guess that perhaps there was a subliminal selling point in that.
"I'd be happy to help you to your car with that," Randy offered after I had paid his father for it.
"Oh, I parked on the other side," I explained as I gestured over to the street that runs parallel to the main street most people parked on in front of the open-air market. "Couldn't find a spot over here."
That was usually true, but I hadn't looked this time either.
"Long way for you to carry that heavy thing. I can drive back over," I suggested in a tone that I hoped gave a hint that wasn't really what I wanted to do.
"Just as easy for me to walk it back there," Randy kindly offered.
"Take the cart, Randy," his father said helpfully, sending his son off with me and my purchase.
"Awfully nice to do this for me, Randy," I said, a bit sad that he wasn't carrying the planter in his arms so I could see the muscles in his nicely shaped biceps bulge like they had when he lifted it.
"No problem Mrs..."
"Marie," I said in cutting him off.
"Marie," he repeated as he looked over at me like he had in the market.
"Something wrong?" I asked with innocent eyes and a lecherous grin when I saw where his eyes were.
"Uh - your blouse. The top button is open."
"I know," I informed him. "I saw you looking down there back at the stand. Do you always check out the old ladies that shop down here?"
"The ones I like I do," Randy said.
"Bet you're sorry there wasn't more to look at," I said. "I know I am."