Let's start out with a joke this time, to evoke a light-hearted mood.
The guy goes to the check-out counter of the supermarket with a salad for one, a pre-wrapped sandwich, and one can of soda.
The cute young clerk eyes his purchase and says to him, "You're single?" The customer grins and nods his head. "You can tell by my meal, huh?"
And the girl says, "No, you're fuckin' ugly."
It was that round, tight, perfectly sculptured bubble ass that caught my eye in aisle six of the Food Lion in Fairfax, Virginia.
I saw her for the first time on Labor Day weekend, and it was one of those rare occasions when you just can't help but to stop in your tracks and gape. It helped that I saw her from behind, and what a behind! The bottom of her ass cheeks were peeking out from beneath an almost obscenely small pair of baby blue short shorts as she leaned over to peruse an item on the shelf. My immediate thought was that she had to be around my own age with a fit body like that, early thirties I guessed, as I couldn't see the front of her yet. She had a light brown, almost auburn page-boy hair cut that stopped just above the shoulders, and the shoulders were toned, exposed by the thin spaghetti straps on her tank top.
Her back was almost muscular, and in my humble opinion, the back is a feature of a woman that is overlooked by most men while enjoying many of the other natural beauties of a woman, kind of like an inexperienced fisherman tossing back a smaller, tastier fish in a quest for larger aquatic treats. Sometimes, you have to enjoy the smaller, more subtle pleasures, and this beauty's back, combined with that taut bubble ass, were causing an instant zucchini in my own khaki shorts. I guessed she was a former gymnast, and as it turned out, I was close enough. Ice-skater was her former hobby, albeit several decades ago, at least on a professional level.
She turned suddenly, perhaps sensing someone's presence, and she first glanced at my face, curled up in a rather silly smile of appreciation, but then her gaze turned just as quickly to my crotch, where there was no disguising the intent there. Busted!
I saw her face for the first time, and it was clear that her backside belied her chronological age. Though very pretty, her face had some lines and wrinkles that, surprisingly to me, only caused her to appear even more sexy. Her dark eyes seared unemotionally into my crotch like a laser.
My mouth opened in an attempt to find something witty and charming to say, but before I could do so, her lips curled in almost a disgusted sneer, her eyes never leaving my crotch. She turned back to the item of her attention, which was clearly not my cock, leaning even farther over now, causing the shorts to stretch almost half-way up her butt, and I was inexplicably overcome with mortification. I turned on the heels of my sandals and my hard-on and I scurried down the aisle, with me secretly cursing my erect member under my breath. "Well, dickhead, you got me in trouble again, can't you EVER show any restraint?"
Busted and rejected, and I hadn't even swung the bat. On my next several trips to this Food Lion, I eased tentatively down the aisle, hurrying in and out, such was the trepidation I harbored of seeing her again. I really pondered going to another supermarket, but what the hell, this was so convenient, almost right across the street from my townhouse complex, so I just 'grinned and bore it', so to speak.
It had to be over a month later when I was back on perhaps my fourth or fifth visit since that fateful day, and by now, I was pretty much assured that I would never see her again, when I heard a sultry voice over my shoulder in that very same aisle six. "What, no smile today for me?" I turned, just KNOWING, without really knowing, that it was her.
This time, it was she that greeted me with a smile, but I confess I lingered on her mature, confident face only long enough to again notice the dark eyes, but this time, I saw the hint of some freckles that had the beginnings of age spots on her cheeks and nose. This only added to her sexiness, but the fact that she had on a tight brown cotton sweater that accentuated a pair of full, disproportionately big tits on that petite, barely five-foot-frame frame certainly added to the allure exponentially. She wore faded jeans this time, and though she was facing me, I instantly envisioned what that marvelous butt of hers looked like encased in tight denim.
Once again, I was betrayed by the less-than-little guy in my own jeans, and once again, her gaze inched downward to that very spot. Only this time, she did not turn away. In fact, she smiled, and put her hands on her hips and clicked her tongue in mock petulance.
"My, my, is that a zucchini in your pants or are you just glad to see me?"
Her sense of humor served as an immediate source of comfort as well as an aphrodisiac, as if I needed more incentive to lust after this beautiful creature perhaps fifteen or twenty years my senior. I had always had a thing for older women, ever since my encounter maybe ten years ago with my sexual mentor, Beth (see 'Story Time'). Turns out, Brenda, which was this woman's name, later admitted to me that she had never before had a lover so young, so our collision of worlds in aisle six resulted in quite the fortuitous mating of libidos.
We chatted for a bit, and I found out that she was indeed a former ice-skater who had never quite made it to the Olympics back in the eighties, but she channeled her love for sport and fitness into a career both as a fitness trainer and a coach of gymnastics and swimming at a local university in Northern Virginia.
She commented on my nearly empty shopping cart, and I told her the joke which started this little story, and she tossed back her head and giggled delightedly before looking at me intently with those 'come-fuck-me-dark-eyes' of hers and said, "Well, you may be single," glancing at my finger which had no ring, "But you're far from fuckin' ugly. To the contrary. Why do you think I approached you?"
