The characters in this story are eighteen or older.
He crashed into me as I exited the grocery knocking me and my shopping cart over leaving me and some of the food on the sidewalk. He landed over the cart himself with his butt in the air. Nearby his skateboard sat upside down wheels spinning.
"Oh shit!" he said corralling a melon trying to roll away. "I'm so sorry lady. Are you alright?"
"I'm okay I think," I said checking myself and my clothes. "Are you alright? You're holding you leg."
"I think so," he said rubbing the meat of his thigh having rolled off the cart to sit on the ground.
Elbow pads graced his long brown arms and he wore a helmet but no kneepads were in evidence. As he pulled up the leg of his long loose shorts to inspect his thigh my eyes went right up the insides of his thighs to the bulge which moved nicely as he rolled over and sat with his legs wide open. Had he gone commando? As he rolled to his side to get up my eyes took in the sharp firm curves of his young butt.
"Let me help you up," he said reaching out two big hands.
I took them in mine but he pulled me up so strongly I stumbled forward into his arms. He felt warm and sweaty in the Florida sun but wore some body spray which smelled really good.
"Whoa!" he said catching me. "Sorry."
"You don't know your own strength, hun," I said regaining my feet but lingering in his arms for a moment with my body pressed to his hoping he liked my tits flattening to him as much as I did before we separated.
"Ooo my elbow," I said cupping it.
"Oh my God are you okay?" he said.
"Yeah I just bumped it," I said rubbing it.
Long dark locks streaked with purple and decorated with beads spilled past his shoulders from beneath his helmet. A mass of freckles dotted his dark face beneath pale blue eyes. Long brown forearms and legs sported fine body hair. African skin? Anglo freckles and blue eyes? Mulatto.
He was tall--at least a six footer with a slim body type. Broad shoulders beneath a large sleeveless loose yellow & purple shirt contrasted with narrow hips in a way I could not ignore. Nor could I ignore the definition of his shoulder muscles. I wondered if he was eighteen.
"Well this is a mess," I said still rubbing my elbow.
"I got this," he said getting to work cleaning it up.
"It's the least you can do young man," I scolded him. "You realize there are no skateboarding signs posted don't you?"
"I know, I know but the double bump from the handicapped ramp in the sidewalk is so fun to hit," he said putting spilt groceries back in their bags.
"Aren't you a little old to be skateboarding?" I said.
"I'm only eighteen," he said grabbing my cart and setting it upright in one powerful motion.
"You're certainly old enough to know the difference," I said.
"I know. I'm really sorry," he said again.
After re-bagging the groceries which had spilled inside the cart he picked up his skateboard. His arms were slim but I like the way they flexed when he set the cart upright. He was not heavily muscled but nice definition showed.
For the first time his eyes ran over me and went straight to my chest fixating on my cleavage in a white skin tight scoop neck top before running down my torso to my spandex shorts then down my legs. While he did my eyes focused on the bulge pushing out the front of his shorts. I wondered how much he had and decided I had to know. Most men don't know how quickly women decide they want someone.
His eyes had difficulty staying on mine without drifting down to my tits again. As a fifty-two year old cougar I used my DDD girls to troll for suitable young cubs on a regular basis. Still I feigned anger and scolded.
"I cannot believe you just did that," I frowned shaking my head while opening a carton and checking to see if any of the eggs were broken.
"I said I'm sorry," he protested. "Look. I'll replace them if any are broken," he said.
When I glanced up at him his eyes were locked on my cleavage.
"Are there... are any broken?" he said nervously, lifting his eyes to mine knowing I caught them on my chest again.
"They're fine," I pouted.
"You won't tell anyone will you? I don't want to get busted again," he said.
"I won't tell if you come help load these in my car," I said.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure," he said, his face relieved that I was smiling. "I'll push the cart."
I followed him out into the lot watching his tight buns roll under his shorts. The way the small of his back arched into his butt made my pussy tingle. I wondered if I could get him home.
"Where are you parked" he said pausing.
"Go left," I said admiring his youthful self assured strut. "Next aisle over. The white BMW sedan."
I popped the trunk and admired his long back and broad shoulders as he loaded shopping bags.
"There," he said closing the trunk.
"Thank you young man," I said. "What's your name?"
"Jeremy," he said.
"Hi Jeremy I'm Sandy," I said holding out my hand.
"Hi Sandy," he smiled, his large hand holding mine gently this time.
"Will you do me one more favor Jeremy?"
"Name it."
"Come home and help me unload these groceries? My elbow is still sore. It's nearby. Only a couple miles."
"Yeah. Yeah sure," he said. "I'm so sorry I hurt your elbow. Is it bad?"
"Know how your arm goes numb when you hit your funny bone?" I said. "It's like that."
"Oh man I hate that feeling," he said.
He got in. I drove.
"You're out early this morning," I said.
"I like to board before it gets too hot," he said, "and before too many people are around."
"So you don't crash into them?" I teased.
"Yeah. Sorry."
He smiled when I glanced at him.
"What do you do Sandy?" he said.
"I'm a nurse," I said.
"At a hospital?"
"In a clinic," I said.
"How long have you been a nurse?"
"Thirty years," I said.
"Thirty? Whoa. How old are you Sandy?"
"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to ask women how old they are?" I teased.
"Oh. Sorry," he blushed flashing a big toothy smile.
"It's okay Jeremy. I'm fifty-two."
"Wow. You don't look it Sandy."
"Thanks hun.
"Where do you live?"
"Up here just off the beach," I said turning into my neighborhood.
"Cool," he said. "I like the beach up here."
He carried in my groceries and helped me put them away. I brushed against him several times as we moved between refrigerator, cupboards and pantry wondering if he'd take the hint. He blushed and smiled. I liked that he was shy and respectful but mature enough to understand what was happening.
"Are you sure you're okay, Jeremy?" I said. "You keep rubbing your thigh. And you've been limping a little."
"I'm okay, I just hit your cart really hard," he said still rubbing it then lifting the long baggy leg of his board shorts again to inspect it. "Just need to work it out."
"Let me take a look at it," I said squatting on the floor. "Pull your pant leg all the way up, please."
When he did the outline of his sizable package showed clearly. My fingers felt and probed his thigh muscle--the quadriceps--asking him where it hurt.
"Mostly up high here where it hit your cart," he indicated.
"Here?" I said rubbing his upper thigh right next to his bulge.
"Ooo, yeah," he said.
"It's not bruised," I said rubbing all around the spot letting the back of my hand brush lightly against his junk. "Feel better?"
"Definitely," he said.
His trapped junk bowed out as he got erect.
"Sorry Sandy," he said.
"It's okay Jeremy," I said. "Sorry if I got a little too close."
"It's okay," he said.
"Did you injure your groin?" I said moving my hand inside his thigh.
"I don't think so," he said.
"Is it okay if I touch you?"
"Yeah."
I cupped his bulge. "Any pain here."
"No," he said.
"My, my you're a big boy aren't you?" I said fingers around his erection through the fabric of his shorts. It felt thick.
"Yeah kinda," he shrugged.
"I think you'll be okay," said letting go of his rod and rubbing his thigh again before pulling down his pant leg and standing up.
While we leaned against the kitchen island sipping orange juice I rested a hand on his waist. He reciprocated.