0 comments/ 18489 views/ 10 favorites Aisle 8 By: BronzedLily Co-Written with BrownCuriousity * Crystal squinted as she rolled her cart into the bright supermarket. The fluorescent lights seemed brighter than the fading daylight outside. She yawned and then dropped her shades down over her eyes. Ever since she started working nights tending bar, she woke up later and later in the day. She had a date with Mark and promised him that she would cook for him tonight. The thought of cooking for Mark made her yawn even harder. He was a good looking guy, college grad, upwardly mobile, nice smile...but there were sides to him that she didn't like all of the time. And sometimes, she swore they were on completely different pages in whole separate books. As Crystal walked, wearing a tight baby T and a swishy peasant type skirt with flip flops, she noticed men staring. Even when she had the girls covered up and her wide hips camouflaged, men still paid attention to her. Sometimes she liked it a lot and sometimes the attention annoyed her. Today she liked it. Crystal wasn't any of the Hollywood stick figures in the magazines, but she knew she was beautiful. Her auburn hair was brushed back, falling slightly past her shoulders. A piece of gauzy cloth matching her white skirt acted as a headband. Her Georgia red clay brown skin made it seem like she glowed when she didn't. She had a pair of 36 DDs and a slim waist that fluted down to wide hips, thick thighs and a curvy full ass. She was a brick house and she knew it. But at 27 years old, she wanted more than just her shape or breast size to be what made her special. "Shit," she said to herself, wondering what to make for Mark. She walked down aisle six and that's when she saw him... She had first seen him two years ago when he moved into her apartment building. He was older, at least 15 years her senior, she figured, from his peppery grey hair and the slight crinkles at the corner of his eyes—this only made him look more distinguished. It also helped that he was in pretty good shape. He ran. She saw him in the mornings stretching and sprinting as she came in late from working nights. She would be just arriving home sometimes by the time he returned from his exercise, sweat slipping between the crevices of his muscles, his breathing labored, his face flushed. He always managed to say hello to her as she passed. She returned the greeting, had to force herself to do so calmly, the sight of him so intoxicating she would have to satisfy herself as soon as she got into her apartment. She had no idea why she had such a crush on this man. He seemed like a player, he dated a lot. She saw several different women entering and leaving his apartment over the last couple of years, but she had never gotten up enough courage to be one of them. He was classy, a sophisticated business man, and the women he dated usually seemed just as refined as he. Most of them, anyway. And the ones who weren't were downright gorgeous. Crystal was intimidated. But she knew she shouldn't care. Crystal had been dating Mark off and on for a while now. Their relationship was solid, sort of, when he managed to be in town, and they talked often enough when he was gone away. He was coming home tonight to be with Crystal. She should have no reason at all to be so concerned with her neighbor. Yet here she was, flustered. And here he was, pushing a cart up the aisle, flanked by a girl who looked to be younger than her, her body tight, nubile, everything Crystal had been when she was a nineteen year old. The girl wore an outfit so tight it fit like a tourniquet, and Crystal swore she saw the blood coursing through each of the girl's veins. So he was into children, Crystal surmised, as the young woman's chest heaved, and her breasts fought to escape their corseted barrier. Then Crystal stopped herself. She was dating Mark. She was dating Mark. But she had that itch, the kind Mark wasn't going to scratch. She wondered if she loved him. He was just the kind of person everyone had wanted her to date. He was a 'good catch'. Here she was just now gaining her associates degree at the city college, and she was going to keep going for her bachelors while she bartended downtown, but Mark had his Master's, and a job that provided the kind of security that would keep him employed until he was ready to leave. He was attractive and established, could even be marriage material, but right now, marriage was the furthest thing from Crystal's mind. She saw her neighbor look her way. Flipping her hair as she passed him, her cute pointy little nose turned up in the air, she said, "Hello Charles..." "Hello Kimberly..." When he saw her frown, he stopped cold and sucked his teeth, slapping his forehead in frustration, "No you're...umm...this is embarrassing..." The girl he was with snapped her gum, looking back and forth between the two neighbors. "Crystal..." she said still keeping her smile as she walked away, "You have a nice day, Charles." She wheeled her cart into the next aisle, stood still and allowed her heart to sink. He had not only forgotten her name, but made her feel like a total idiot in front of that young thing he parlayed around with. She was the newest of his flavors of the month, but she had been around a long time. The young girl was tall and leggy with a funky little haircut and hazel eyes. She was pretty: smooth caramel, buttery soft skin, and slender yet feminine. She seemed to be everything Crystal wasn't. Crystal had gone from feeling like the finest brickhouse in the entire supermarket, to feeling like trash after seeing Charles with his new young girlfriend. She shook her head and tried not to tear up as she felt her phone vibrate in her purse. Digging around in her bag she saw it was Mark. He was canceling again. She was angry yet relieved. Angry because she needed someone to take her frustration out on, simply because he was there and an asshole...and relieved because she was not looking forward to Mark and their world class signature arguments again. She hung up the phone angrily and left her cart right there in the middle of the aisle walking out of the store. Dinner that night was a bowl of cereal. She had the night off and would actually get to go to sleep at a decent hour. She was never like the nightlifers who worked at her bar, so used to boozin', druggin' and staying up all night long that they could only close their eyes in the daylight. She dreamed of the day when she could have a regular respectable nine to five. As she put her bowl in the sink her phone rang. It was Mark. She shook her head and decided to ignore the call. She didn't feel like dealing with him right now. She would tidy up a bit and then just head back to bed. She grabbed the garbage from the pail in the kitchen and walked it out to the hallway to put it in the chute. As she padded down the hallway in short pajama shorts and a tight nipple baring t-shirt, her hair in a ponytail, she heard someone step off of the elevator. She turned and saw it was Charles. He came in holding his suit jacket over his shoulder, his tie loose as he whistled lazily. He locked eyes with her and stared at her up and down. Her thick curvy legs, sexy ass with the little dip in her back, all the way up to her round firm breasts. He nodded at her curtly before rushing indoors. Meanwhile, Crystal just stood there holding the bag of trash, her heart beating out of her chest. After she dumped the garbage she went back into her apartment. Feeling panicked and anxious, she shook her head vigorously and cursed at herself. How could this guy, her neighbor, make her feel so silly? It was one thing to be attracted to someone. It was another to feel so exposed, so naked, so vulnerable when she was around him. Perhaps that was part of the fascination. Tossing and turning, she finally went to sleep. It wasn't until the middle of the night when she managed to hear her phone beeping. She picked it up and realized Mark had left a voice mail. Listening to it, she heard him say that he was sorry for everything and would be taking the red eye back to be with her in a couple of hours. "I can't wait to taste that dinner you made for me...I bet it's good. I'll see you soon baby." She panicked. It was her first time really cooking for Mark and she didn't want to let him down. She needed to feel wanted by someone after her run-ins with Charles. She wondered why he made her feel insecure and smitten as she threw on some clothes to head back out to the 24 hour supermarket. It was kind of a steamy night out, the humidity making her tank top cling to her skin. No need for sunglasses at 1 a.m. though the supermarket was still as bright as ever. She grabbed the nearest cart and went towards the meat section, hoping to figure what to cook when she got there. It would've been easier to just not cook anything at all, but she didn't want Mark to know that she had given up on him as soon as they had an argument. And that's when she saw him again. Her heart leapt out of her chest as she tried to hurry by Charles, albeit casually. But it was too late; they locked eyes. "Hey! Hey!" he called out and she stopped. "Hey," he repeated, smiling as he backed up his cart and parked it across from hers. She smiled too, but hers was somewhat guarded, and Charles noticed the beginnings of the same rueful expression he had seen on her face in the store earlier that day. He remembered his prior faux pas. He began to speak again, stopped then closed his eyes for a moment. Then, as if a light bulb had flashed on in his mind, he opened his eyes and uttered, "Crystal." "You remember," she answered coquettishly, but the rue was still on her face. He flashed a toothy grin. "What are you doing out here at this time of night?" "I could ask you the same," she responded, checking him out at the same time. He wore a red T shirt, tan khakis and the latest style of Nikes, also tan; from their gleam, she knew these weren't his running shoes. His T shirt hung from his body slightly loosely, but clung enough to show off his form. He was muscular, sinewy, not huge like a body builder, but by no means scrawny. His arms were guns, their definition so acute, you could their muscles work as he moved. Crystal was imagining how his bare chest looked when she blinked, realizing that he had spoken to her again. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch that," she covered. He looked in her eyes knowingly, held her gaze for a second longer than she liked, then eased into a smile. "You never answered me," he repeated. "Why are you here?" "I'm supposed to be making dinner for my..." She caught herself. "Boyfriend?" "No. He isn't my boyfriend." "Well he must be something special to get you out of the house at this time of night food shopping." "He's a friend," Crystal responded quickly, shifting her weight to one side and putting her hands on her hips. Charles held up his hands in surrender. "Am I intruding? I don't mean to step on your toes by asking about . . ." Crystal laughed lightly. "I'm sorry." She shifted her weight to the center, dropped her hands on her cart. "I . . I don't know what he is to me right now. I just . . ." "But he has you out here buying food to make him dinner? Hmm. I wish I had a lady to do that for me." She crossed her arms. "Maybe you ought to get that girl you were with earlier to make you dinner. Or breakfast. Assuming she's potty trained." He laughed good naturedly and crossed his own arms. "You're funny," he said, chuckling to himself. And sexy as hell, he thought as he checked out her breasts squeezed in the tight top. He thanked his maker that they met up in the meat section, the cool air hardening her nipples as she and he stood conversing. "You're staring at me," Crystal said, thinking he would quickly avert his eyes. She wished he would. She was getting hot in places she had forgotten existed. He continued to stare, his smile waning some, his intensity rising. He was quiet for a second longer before he responded, "My apologies. How rude of me..." He changed the subject quickly, "So, what are you making for your friend?" "Well, I'm not sure," Crystal said as she began to push her cart again, "but I really need to make it before he gets home. Honestly I should've had this cooked last night." She turned right and he followed. "Okay," he said, as they walked. "That was why you were here earlier, right?" "Yeah, you know, when you couldn't remember my name?" "I'm sorry. Really. My memory is not like it used to be." He paused then continued. "For instance, I'm supposed to be making cupcakes for my daughter's bake sale and I forgot the key ingredient. I bought the eggs, the milk, the frosting. I even bought the shells the cupcakes are supposed to go in when you bake them. But I forgot the cake mix. That's why I'm here." He chuckled. "I have to bake three dozen cupcakes in the middle of the night and jet them on down to her school in the morning." "Oh," she said looking around. The store was practically empty at this time of night. He walked gingerly next to her with his basket. She could feel butterflies in her stomach. "You bake?" she asked. "A little. I'm a pretty good cook." She shrugged, "I'm learning..." "Really?" he smiled, "I'm sure I could teach you some things..." She blushed. "Well, since you're such an expert at desserts...what's a quick sexy one I can make?" It wasn't a coincidence that she mentioned this. The ice cream syrups and whipped cream in the aisle they were in reminded her of sweets. He picked up a can of whipped cream. "There are plenty of things you can do with this..." She backed away from the cart and smiled. Was he flirting with her? Excitement coursed through her body. "Oh yeah? Like what?" To her amazement he popped off the cap and squeezed some on his finger. He placed the dab of whipped cream into his mouth and made a satisfied groan, "Hmm..this goes great on anything." She rolled her eyes. He was shamelessly seductive. "You're a mess..." "I just get really creative thoughts at this time of the night is all..." "Like?" "Like what this would go good on...can I show you?" She was taken aback but she answered, "Sure..." He grabbed her hand and put a dab of cream on her finger. He then put her finger in his mouth and began to suck sensually. The visual sent shivers down her spine. "See? And I could think of a whole lot of other places...I mean, things this could go well on..." "Like?" she asked, her heart beating faster. He stepped forward and boldly brushed her hair away from her neck, exposing her collarbone. He squeezed cream out on his finger and then applied it in small circular motions on her neck. They stood there in the middle of the fluorescent white aisle as he did this, no passersby to witness him lean in and begin to suck the cream off of her skin. She moaned, and her knees buckled. She forgot all about groceries when he was done. "Can I show you another place?" "Please." She breathed deeply. He slid the strap of her tank top down and sprayed a dollop of cream on her nape, then slowly slurped it off. He sprayed another, a hair's breath away from the last, then licked it right off her shoulder. Spray, lick, spray, lick, down her shoulder, down her right arm until he reached her wrist, which he then turned over, dolloped with more cream, and kissed with the intensity she imagined he would use on her lips. He nibbled her wrist for a moment more before planting kisses up the inside of her arm, wrapping it around his neck as his lips traveled to their next destination. Her sighs rang in his ear. He could feel her shallowed breath on him as he approached the swell of her breasts, their rise and fall as intoxicating to him as his lips had been to her. She could hear that can shaking again, and she laughed quietly, anticipating the coolness of the cream against her warm skin. Where was he going next? He wouldn't give her time to wonder as he lowered her shirt, just a little, just enough to expose her right nipple, thick and erect, which he dotted with the cream, and then proceeded to draw into his mouth very slowly. He sucked and rolled her nipple between his lips, tongued its center lightly; Crystal's breath caught. He flicked her nipple, licked off its sugary covering, and Crystal had to hold on to Charles' shoulders just to remain upright. He licked the nipple clean and sprayed again, this time covering her entire areola, before tracing tiny swirls in the whipped topping with the expert tip of his tongue. He might as well have been sucking her clit. Her nerves were on edge, her knees wobbly, her pussy so wet she thought she might leak onto the floor. Charles sucked off the cream with soft kisses, worked his way down to her right nipple, which he teased with soft flicks and nibbles and then lapped at it with pure abandon. His slurps were loud in her ears. Her moans were loud in his. He grunted his satisfaction, let his lips pull and play with her tender breast until she squealed and backed away slightly, looking around quickly to see if anyone was watching, if anyone had heard. Charles didn't seem to care. He did not let go of her breast, did not stop his attack, and before she knew it, he had closed in on her again, and lowered her shirt completely. He dotted both nipples with cream, covered both areolas generously, and began to suck them like it was his only vocation in life. Crystal shuddered every time Charles added cream to her breasts, his warm mouth melting the whiteness and licking it off each time. He plied on more each time than the last, changing cans when the first had been emptied. Through the white peaks, Charles ran his tongue making long, luxurious paths that ended at Crystal's dark brown nipples. After his last travail, he reached behind Crystal, grabbed a bottle of chocolate syrup then squeezed a trail of its brown, rich liquid over her heaving breasts. The warmth of her body heated the syrup and they could smell its sweet scent permeating the air. Charles added whipped cream to her breasts before digging into his newest creation, attacking each breast separately. Her left had the pleasure of receiving small kisses planted all around, down to her areola, until he reached her nipple, hard like granite, against which he fluttered his tongue rapidly. Crystal's moans were increasing, her voice now raspy with her lust. Her right breast, cream and chocolate running and dripping from its tip, he swabbed with the flat of his wide tongue, savoring the sweetness of the chocolate as he licked it from her coppery skin. He nibbled her areola, doused it with more chocolate, and licked it clean again. He squeezed out more chocolate, covered her entire right breast then lapped at her nipple. She licked the swell. He finally pulled away from her and stood up straight, his six foot two frame hovering over hers as she fixed her shirt. He looked at her and smiled as he tilted her chin towards him and gave her a deep lingering kiss. The world had faded away at that moment, and Crystal was burning inside. Suddenly he dropped to his knees in front of her, lifting up her shirt to tongue and tease her navel. He slipped his tongue inside of her belly button, pressing deeply, making her feel sensations through her body that she never felt before. She closed her eyes and let him take control, not realizing that her short denim skirt was hiked up over her hips, exposing her pussy. Crystal rarely wore underwear, especially in bed, and when she ran out tonight, she was glad that she didn't. There was a thin layer of fuzz on her plump mound. She looked down and watched him slip a finger into her tight wet pussy. She could feel her walls throbbing against his fingers as he skillfully fucked her. She began to gasp, trying to keep herself quiet, not even believing that this was happening right now. Aisle 8 Suddenly he grabbed her hips and pulled her pussy into his face. She felt his tongue lap over her clit lightly. She breathed heavily as he teased her again while fingering her, her juices beginning to run down her thighs. She grabbed his head and bucked her hips. In this position, his tongue couldn't constantly stimulate her clit but when it hit the right spot, she almost cried out in pleasure. "Yes, fucking eat my pussy Charles...yes..." she moaned out loud. He grunted in agreement, doing what he was told to do, licking and sucking at her clit until she nearly crumbled on top of him, cumming hard on his face. "Oh my God..." she heard herself yell unintentionally. Had someone heard her? If they had she didn't care. Charles was making her cum and that's all that mattered. He stood up slowly; the hard floor had been rough on his knees. She thanked him by wrapping her arms around him and kissing him deeply licking his face. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back. Suddenly he grabbed her waist and turned her around. He stood behind her, grinding his hardness into her ass. She took a deep breath. She didn't realize how turned on he was. He suddenly bent her over and grabbed her hips. Before she knew it, he was entering her from behind, slowly filling her up to the hilt. The only thing she could think of was how big his dick had to be. He filled her up wider and deeper than Mark ever could. And she felt the difference once he began to stroke deeply in and out of her. She held on to a nearby shelf for support, almost bringing down the merchandise as he pounded deep inside of her. Charles stood behind her, pumping in her tight dripping pussy, the prettiest sight he'd seen in a long time. She felt so good around his dick. He began to pound deep, hitting the spot inside of her that made her lose her breath and gasp. "Fuck...fuck me Charles, fuck the shit out of me!" she gasped, stuttering. He obliged, giving her all he had. Before he knew it, her pussy was clamping down on his thick long cock, and she was throwing her head back and cumming so hard that her whole body shook for what seemed like whole minutes. He couldn't take it anymore. The constant milking and spasms sent him over the edge. He felt his nuts tighten right before he let go deep inside of her, grunting and sweating. Finally he pulled out, and it took them a minute to gather their bearings. "Wow," he said, as he fixed his clothing. She smiled at him, trying to straighten herself out. "Can I possibly..." he said, still breathing hard, "teach you some more recipes at my house around seven tomorrow?" She pulled her skirt down over her curvy ass and answered, "Sounds like a plan." He chuckled as she tried to fix her hair when a worker came into the aisle, bewildered by the empty whipped cream cans on the floor and the open bottle of chocolate syrup dripping from a nearby shelf. "Ummm," he said, "Are you guys...okay?" "Sure," Charles responded confidently, flashing a winning smile casually as if this were a normal scene. "Fine establishment you have here son." "Well thank you sir..." The boy took one last look at the two before turning away and yelling: "Cleanup in aisle eight!" The End Aisle Six 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?" "I thought it was to arrest me, quite honestly, after my behavior last time," I confessed. Her eyes blazed into mine, resulting in the dual effect on me of both anxiety and arousal. "You only made one mistake last time." She waited for my reaction, but I just turned my palms upwards in the universal unspoken gesture that says, "I have no fucking idea what you mean, please help me." Or something like that. She continued, "You weren't bold enough." She licked her lips seductively. "I like bold." She stepped closer to me, so that our bodies almost touched, oblivious to other customers in the aisle. "I like it when a man takes control, is confident." She was so close now that her ample tits rubbed against my chest, and she lifted her face up to my own. "Kiss me." I leaned down, not really caring who might be watching this blatant, impromptu seduction of a man and woman almost a generation apart in age, with the intent of kissing her lightly and softly, but she took her hand and wrapped it around the back of my head, and her tongue snaked down my throat hungrily, eagerly. Her warm, wet tongue traversed my mouth, the hot, wet kiss of a knowledgeable and ambitious woman, a unique type of kiss that I hadn't quite experienced until then, and certainly not in the cereal aisle. Brenda released the kiss after perhaps twenty seconds, which seemed like an eternity, and the soccer mom nearest to us took her Cheerios and hustled in the opposite direction. "You can really kiss, wow, you passed the first test with an A-plus," Brenda panted huskily. I struggled to regain both my breath and composure after the surprise interlude, as Brenda leaned into me and whispered into my ear, "How would you like to come at dinner tonight at my place?" I was confused at her choice of syntax, and clumsily tried to rephrase her inquiry. "Do you mean come to dinner at your place?" She frowned slightly, subtlety rubbing her pelvis against my own, grinding her hard body into me so that I could feel the soft heat emanating from beneath her jeans. "No, silly boy, I said it correctly. How would you like to come AT dinner?" She gave me her address, which was only two blocks from my own unit, and directed me to be there in forty-five minutes. As I watched her amazing, rounded fifty-one-year-old ass wriggle up the aisle, I called to her, "Um, should I bring anything?" She stopped, turned, and looked down to my crotch again. "Yes, it's a BYOZ party." She laughed at her own joke and at my puzzled expression, before clarifying. "Bring your own zucchini." I had made a decision in that subsequent forty-five minutes. If she liked bold, well, bold she shall get. Even though her brazen ambition had me on my heels in the grocery store, it was also a truism that I had about seven-and-a-half inches of hard confidence that I packed within my own jeans, and dammit, I was not afraid to use it. Also, through the grace of God, he had blessed me with stamina that one of my many former girlfriends had once termed 'Superhuman'. Still relatively naive in such matters, I assumed it was natural for all men to be able to sustain a hard-on for hours and after several ejaculations, but the frequency of my repeat carnal business from women soon reinforced otherwise. Apparently, I was quite the swordsman, I was beginning to realize. I had been so focused on my work lately that I didn't absorb that it had been several months for me without sex. The combination of my own pent-up sexual energy and Brenda's was going to result in a carnal rendezvous for the ages on this night. I knocked on Brenda's door, resisting the urge to use my throbbing hard-on, which easily could have achieved the task. She opened the door adorned in white lingerie from head-to-toe, fishnet stockings held up by a garter belt, with a white string thong over the garters (for easy dispersal, I learned soon enough), and an ivory lace underwire push-up bra which made her chest look huge on her compact torso. Since food was the theme tonight, I analogized that her tits looked like ripe, firm cantaloupes. She had on a pair of four-inch fuck-me pearly white stilettos. She held a small device in her hand, and did a small pirouette as she grabbed me and pulled me through the vestibule, permitting me a panoramic three-sixty-degree view of her smokin' body. If AARP had a contest for a poster woman, she would have won, hands down. Ninety-eight pounds of pure dynamite wrapped in a fifty-plus package, a mini-Raquel Welch. I desperately had to have my hard cock deep in that anal cavity, and soon, I decided. I'd only fucked two women anally in my life, yet I knew that this woman would teach me many tricks to facilitate my sexual continuing education this evening. She closed the door and pushed me against it, kissing me deeply once again, shoving her tongue into me urgently, exhibiting her desire to take control immediately, and for now, I was a willing passenger. I groped down and out of curiosity reached for the instrument in her tiny hand, and determined that it was a vibrator of some sort. I leaned back and looked at her inquiringly and asked, "What's this?". I fondled the small instrument in her palm. "This is a rabbit, John, I thought it would be nice to have as an appetizer." She led me by the hand into her living room and eased me onto her plush couch. "Have you ever had rabbit?" She stood in front of me and peeled her thong to one side and eased the device into her glistening folds, and the small hum of the vibrator mixed with her soft squeals before she extracted it from her cunt after a few seconds and then offered it to me, pushing it to my lips. "Tastes like chicken, try it." I sucked on the vibrator's cock-shaped head, now covered with her sweet nectar, and she moaned delightedly as she observed my enjoyment of her juices. She knelt in front of me as she took the vibrator back into her own hand, savoring her own taste as she wrapped her lips around the shaft of the rabbit. "Sometimes, it pays to have varied taste in cuisine, don't you think, John?" She eased my hips up off the couch and began to nibble at the buckle of my belt. "I like to be hands-free when it comes to removing certain items, you won't mind if this takes a little longer, I hope?" For the next several agonizing minutes, she tugged at my belt, successfully tugging the belt through each of the belt loops around my waist, and then, dramatically, took the entire leather belt between her teeth and spit it out on the floor at my feet. My penis was now literally dancing within my jeans, titanium hard, such was the erotic show. The encore was when she took the button between her lips and sucked it out of the small slit in the waistband, and she next took the denim in her mouth and began to tug it downward, slowly, like a puppy in a game of tug-of-war. Except she was meeting no resistance from me. Finally, excruciatingly, my member popped free from the jeans once they reached mid-thigh, and my blood-engorged manhood slapped against her small, pretty face. I'm not sure which one of us got more excited upon seeing my girth virtually cover the entire length of her face, but I groaned lightly as she gasped in delight, finally taking my shaft within her tiny palms, which served the purpose of making my cock look even larger. "This is what I've been waiting for, my God, it's beautiful," she gushed, admiring the view with her lust-filled almond eyes. "I'm going to use this cock for my pleasure all night, just as you're going to use my tight body for your pleasure." She stopped at gazed at me for emphasis. "In all of my holes." I raised my butt from the couch, simply as an altruistic, gentlemanly gesture, you understand, and pulled the jeans off of my ankles, and sat there naked from the waist down. She reached back again for the rabbit with one hand, and began to caress my testicles with the humming little pseudo-mammal, and with the other, she took a glass of chilled chardonnay from the coffee table, and brought it to my cock, dipping my shaft into the glass, covering it with the wine. She must fancy a nutty chardonnay, I surmised. Brenda swirled the wine-filled glass around my cock for several seconds, as if allowing the wine to properly breathe (on my cock, that is), and looked up at me, obviously proud of her seduction thus far, and inquired, "Is the glass cold, baby?" I again thought of an old joke and replied, "Yeah, and deep, too!" When she removed the glass from my cock, she placed the glass back on the coaster within reach and began a surprisingly, soft, slow, gentle, oral massage of my cock, augmenting her sucking and licking with the thrill of the vibrator that sensuously caressed my balls. As frantically as he kissed, her blow-job technique was just the opposite, she took her time and savored my taste, still never using her hands. One hand expertly manipulated the rabbit's increasingly erotic sensation on my nuts, and the other dipped to her own crotch and she teasingly massaged her own clit as she sucked me. She gradually lowered the rabbit's head to that incredibly sensitive area between the base of my shaft and the top of my anus, and she must have accelerated the speed of the device, for it began to hum louder and flicker against my pubic bone, causing me to get even harder, though I truly did not think it was possible. When she ran the rabbit head over the rim of my asshole, my balls literally ached and began to tremble like a mini-volcano, and sensing my impending release, she began to take her mouth and wrap it tightly around my cock shaft, not harder, just tighter, and her tongue tickled my cock head. Just before I exploded, with impeccable timing, she released her mouth from my cock and reached for the glass of chardonnay once more, and she eased the tip of the vibrator head into my ass. Immediately upon insertion, torrents of my hot, warm, creamy seed shot directly into the wine glass which she had placed on the tip of my cock, and I watched, mesmerized, as I shot load after load my semen into the glass, and watched it mix with the wine like an eerie science experiment. I had never imagined anything remotely close to this, nor could I have conjured up such a clever and unique gesture, and the more I was amazed, the more I came and came, an ejaculation that I have not since replicated. Brenda mercifully extracted the rabbit from my anus and placed one finger into the wine-glass, swirling it so that the milky cum on the surface began to mix with the less dense wine below it, and she brought it to her lips and took a long gulp. My cock still twitched and pulsed and shivered as I watched her tilt her head back, swallow, and then bring her mouth to the glass again, and she licked the rim, snaking her pink tongue around the top, and then took another deep swig. Her cheeks were swollen due to the cocktail double of wine and cum in her mouth, and she brought her lips to my own, slithered her tongue inside my mouth like a tiny jaws-of-life, and eased the tangy liquid combo into my own mouth as she lowered her hand to vigorously rouse my cock, shaking loose any last vestiges of sperm. I could clearly taste my own cum mixed with the chardonnay, and I won't even try to disguise the reality that I liked it, although I've not since been able to procure that vintage anywhere else. "Um, excuse me, garcon, I don't see it on your wine list, but do you have a bottle of 1991 Cum of Some Young Guy, perchance?" Turnabout is fair play, as they say, and I took the impromptu 'shot glass' from her hand, picked her up in one motion, flipped her lithe body onto the couch, and gripped the tiny strand of silk that covered her pussy and pulled it tautly, deeply into her steamy snatch, causing her to yelp in delighted surprise, and poured the remains of the cum-filled wine glass onto her belly button. We watched together as the COCK-tail dripped down her stomach, going downstream in the small crevice of her tight belly, easing over the slight triangular wisp of auburn-colored pubic hair that topped her slit like a Christmas tree ornament, finally oozing beneath the stretched fabric digging into her cunt, with small currents running into her asshole. I pulled the thong even more tightly into her cunt, causing her inner labia to fold around the fabric like a blooming flower, and began to ever so softly lap the wine off of the very sensitive area just on top of her mons and finally let my tongue graze over the very tip of her swollen clit, peeking from beneath her hood on the side of the thong. I lapped at the nectar as I pulled her legs apart lewdly, placing one of her limber legs on the arm of the couch, and I began to reciprocate the gentle, unhurried, oral assault on her wonderful, clean, tight and vulnerable pussy. My tongue explored her outer labia first, and I watched the six-pack wiggle and heave as I stuck my tongue into her hole, tongue-fucking her gently, lightly, making sure that she understood that I was going to duplicate her own 'hands-free' technique, and that I was going to prolong and control her inevitable release just oh, so shy of the brink of carnal torture, teetering on the edge of frustration and ecstasy. For the next twenty minutes or so, I blatantly ignored her verbal exhortations to use my fingers to fuck her, to make her cum, to suck her clit, and instead, I leisurely nibbled and sucked on her exquisite inner thighs, occasionally letting my head drift southward to giver her anus a brief rim licking, before starting my ascent upwards again to blow my hot breath onto the distended flaps of her cunt, savoring her flowing juices the entire time. She was nearly frantic with the overwhelming need to cum by now, which was exactly the reaction that I wanted to evoke. I gazed up from my vantage point between her legs, my tongue licking at her pink vaginal jowls, and was pleased to see that her eyes were shut and her hands hung onto the pillows on the couch in a death grip. I raised my head from her cunt and whispered to her, "Look at me." She either ignored or did not hear my whispered plea due to her own groaning, so I repeated my demand, louder this time. Her eyes finally opened, and she looked down at me with glassy, tear-filled pupils. Aisle Six "Just remember who's in control now," I teased. "Please," she whimpered. "Please. Please let me cum." My head rose up from her sopping crotch and I feigned that I couldn't hear her, cupping a hand to my ear. "What's that you say?" "Make me cum, please, just, uuuh, please...." "Who's in control for the rest of the night?" I lowere my head once more to her cunt, though keeping my mouth just inches from her slit. "You are, you are, just, please...." "You're my little slut, my cockwhore, right? Tell me. Who's my slut, who belongs to me?" She reached down to grab my head in her hands, but I resisted until I heard the magic words. "Tell me again, are you my slut, do you belong to me, will you do anything I say?" She looked down at me with the intensity of a warrior going to battle. "I belong to you, you can do anything you want, I'm your slut, your cockwhore, I'll do anything you say, you can fill my cunt and ass and mouth with that magnificent cock of yours, anywhere, anytime, and way, just make me cum. Please. Now." I had evoked the desired Pavlovian response. She was mine. I brought my mouth to envelope her clit at the same time I inserted my index finger into her slit and my pinkie into her anus, and brought my other hand up to pinch her eraser-hard nipple and she shot a hot stream of milky liquid onto my face and her screams rattled off of the walls and windows for minutes, cumming multiple times, and once she began to cum, I was determined to control when she would stop also. She came perhaps ten times, for several minutes, wailing and writhing as I inhaled her sweet aroma before I finally released my lips from her throbbing clit. She still panted uncontrollably and her eyes were essentially rolled up into her head, when I relentlessly picked her tiny frame off of the couch, and threw her roughly down, face-first, and placed her in front of me doggy-style, her knees on the floor, her ass high up in the air, and I took dead aim and plunged my cock deeply into that snug vaginal canal and fucked her savagely, pushing her so hard into the couch that it began to move along the carpet, so forcible were my thrusts into her. I savored the view of her tight ass in front of me, and began to smack her cheeks firmly, like bongo drums, as my swollen balls slapped heavily and noisily against her backside, and I pulled her cheeks apart and re-inserted a finger into her bowel, exploring it and stretching it until I was satisfied that she was ready for my seven-and-half-inch instrument. I thought of grabbing the rabbit and inserting it into her brown puckered hole, but then quickly remembered that the rabbit had just been inside my own ass a short while ago, so I decided that our little furry friend would just have to be satisfied as a spectator for Brenda's pending anal penetration. I continued my penile barrage on her cunt from behind for another few minutes, her shrieks of glee now muffled into the cushions of the couch, her face buried as deeply into them as my cock was in her cunt, until finally asking "What do you want?" I gave her a hint by wiggling yet another finger into her pulsing anus, stretching her even further. Her head finally appeared from the hiding place deep in the cushions and she peered over her shoulder and hissed, "Do it. Take my ass." So I did. She grunted as I very slowly eased my engorged cock head into her sphincter, although it was more accessible than I would have imagined, having been prepared by a diet of saliva, cum, chardonnay, and finger-food. She looked back at me and smiled through pursed lips, getting accustomed to the size. "I don't think I've ever had a zucchini that was quite that large before, but I like it. I love your big cock in my ass." I can fuck for a long time after I've had my first ejaculation, and I was sincerely concerned that I would tire Brenda out after about fifteen more minutes of rhythmic anal plundering, but she continued to exhort me with increasingly vocal demands, "Fuck me harder, don't hold back, I want it all, that's a fantastic cock, I want it deep in my ass, it feels wonderful, stretch me apart, stud." After eventually realizing that I wasn't going to cum for at least the immediate future, Brenda suggested that we take a shower, because she 'wanted to try something'. Sounded palatable to me, she hadn't had a bad idea yet. She contracted her anal muscles so that I exited her asshole with an audible 'pop', and that evoked another small stream of her juice to flow out of her pussy and down between her legs. Once in the shower, she took control once again, and I morphed happily into the role of submissive, allowing her to attend to my cock with various slow and sensual digital and oral administrations, culminating the soapy party when she turned her back to me, put her hands up against the tile wall, spread her legs wide, and ordered, succinctly, "Fill my cunt." I came for the second time that night, my semen mixing with the suds that cascaded from her pussy. She cleaned me thoroughly once more, achieving another full-borne erection, and led me to her bedroom for the first time. The room, like her lingerie earlier this evening, was white from wall-to-wall, including a massive king-sized bed. I glanced at a photo on her dresser of Brenda with another lovely woman, and they were arm-in-arm with the Eiffel Tower in the background. I imagine that my curious intent was sniffed out by Brenda when I asked, "Who's that with you in Paris?" She grinned as she reached into one of her dresser drawers and pulled out about a dozen silk scarves. "That's my dear friend Brandi, a fellow ice-skater. Isn't she sensational? I nodded enthusiastically, and Brenda anticipated my fertile brain's unspoken inquiry. "No, we are not lovers." I didn't know whether to feel relief or disappointment, when Brenda quickly added, "But recently, Brandi has expressed an interest in a threesome. We were seeking the proper candidate." My cock grew even longer. "Your performance in this next act may be a tie-breaker. Apparently Brandi has found quite a young stud of her own, and she's thinking of sharing him with me. But it seems he's a bit too timid at times. Let's see how you get graded." Brenda began to tie the scarves one-by-one to the brass headboard, securing perhaps a half-dozen while leaving another half-dozen strewn on the satin bed sheets. She maneuvered her flexible torso with her back against the bed board, facing me, and she propped her magnificent ass up on several fluffy pillows. She extended her arms as far as they could be stretched, while crossing her ankles tightly in an 'X" position, almost as if she were on an imaginary crucifix, and looked at me intently. "You won't need an instruction manual to know what to do to me next, do you, John?" I scurried to tie her wrists to the brass, while she implored, "Tighter, I don't want to be able to escape, I want to be your prisoner, your slut, your sex slave." I knotted the scarves as snugly as a non-boy-scout could muster, and she nodded approval before saying, "My ankles, too. Secure my ankles to each other." Before I complied, she parted her thighs to complete reveal her glistening pussy, and looked at me and said simply, "Yoga." Funny how the ying and the yang work together. This woman's limberness was resulting in my cock's constant stiffness. Viva la difference. All of the restraints ended up with her sitting in an upright position firmly against the head of the bed, arms outstretched, ankles tied. She looked like one deliciously edible compact bundle of immobile sexual groceries. My cock and me hovered above her, stiff and poised and certainly ready, but unsure of what to do, where to begin. It was like fumbling for the first piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Brenda quickly clarified the intent of the aerobic exercise about to commence. "Face-fuck me. Use my mouth like it was a cunt and just stick your cock as far in me as you can, I want to deep-throat you and feel the tip of your cock as far in me as you can." My cock was raring to go, but I hesitated, sincerely not wanting to hurt her. "Do it, you big pussy, what's wrong, not man enough to give your slutwhore what she wants?" Brenda's last syllables were muffled as I stuffed my long cock down her throat, grabbing the back of her head tightly in my strong hands, and pulling them toward me roughly, repeatedly, as her magical mouth gripped my thrusting dick in an oral vice-like hold. The sensation of truly fucking a woman's mouth as if it really were a pussy was electrifying, and Brenda was doing her utmost to simulate a pulsing vagina with her churning mouth and tongue and lips, it was clear that she had no gag reflex, or if she did, it had to be several more centimeters down her larynx, because I could feel my cock pummeling into some unknown inside oral channel deep in her mouth. I expected tears to run down her face, but instead, the smoldering look of unbridled lust in her eyes almost spooked me. This was a woman who clearly had little or no boundaries when it came to sexual experimentation, and even as I ravaged her face with a pounding mouth fuck, my kind wandered with a variety of wicked thoughts about what we would do next. Since I could now dictate the events to transpire, I decided that I would end with a bang, so to speak. I picked up one of the extraneous scarves from the nightstand, pulled my impossibly twitching cock out of Brenda's mouth, and before she had time to protest, I replaced the stuffing of her mouth from my cock to a scarf. I watched as her eyes glazed over in a wild combination of fear and sexual anticipation, as I picked her up from the bed, scurried my hips between those tied ankles, and began to alternate pumping my cock into first her cunt, and then her anus, about ten hard thrusts each, her various body orifices having only one place to land, and that was on the tip of my hard cock, over and over and over again, as her body contorted, suspended in space until landing on my penile target, until I finally extracted my cock and shot an enormous burst of seed all over her heaving, bouncing, sweaty tits. I slowly undid the scarves, taking my own sweet time to release her, reconfirming my intent to control her for any future activities, until, at last, I gently pulled the last scarf from her mouth. "You win," she said, simply, valiantly trying to catch her breath. "I'll let Brandi know that we have our candidate." Brenda and I next met exactly two weeks later, by mutual design, in aisle six at the Food Lion. And this time, by request, she brought along her fellow ice-skating friend, Brandi. But that's another story for another day. Let's just say that Brandi mixes as equally well with cum as chardonnay does. And, ironically enough, she really enjoyed rabbit as an appetizer also, just before the zucchini main course.