Sunday Quickie: The Tuesday Dairy

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Apologies if this is a story I’ve repeated. First, I didn’t realize how many of these flash stories I had. Second, I need a better organization system. Enjoy!

***

On Tuesday, I didn’t go to the grocery store to just get laid. I didn’t have to go in the first place, my cupboards and fridge had enough food for a few days. Only needed eggs, milk, and butter. So I wore cut-off jeans that were cut off a wee bit too short, and a low-cut tank top that showed off the little freckled cleavage I have. And what of it if I wore dark wrap-around shades so I could check out guys without them knowing?

Just a typical loony day at the store in the sweltering summer. Every aisle was packed with people and their loaded shopping carts. I used a hand-basket so I could zip around the store and be done. All my stuff was on the outside sections anyway. But I wanted to walk down the frozen aisle anyway.

Not because I wanted ice cream, which I sort of did. And not just to cool off, which I wanted to. But really because of the guy standing in front of the ice cream section, blocking the way with his cart.

He was cute, average height but still taller than me, dirty blond hair and day old stubble. He wore a red t-shirt and jeans, and a pair of brown sandals. Soft blue eyes, built in the right places but not bulky, he looked like a boy scout grown up. Just my type.

“Excuse me,” I said, pointing to his cart. He stood up straighter, sucked his gut in instantly, and smiled. He had nice, perfect white teeth.

“Sorry,” he pulled his shopping cart out of the way. His eyes darted up and down my body, and settled on my sunglasses. I strutted past, and could feel his gaze on my back like a finger tickling my spine and shoulder blades.

I pivoted on my heels, fast. The boy scout didn’t have time to avert his gaze. I pointed at the ice cream display. “Are you going to be much longer?”

“Which one would you like?” he asked.

I took off my shades, giving him my best flirty smile. “Irish mint cream.”

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ye, lass,” he opened the freezer door and got out the one I asked for.

“It’s two p.m.,” I said.

“It’s also happy hour somewhere in the world,” he said, setting the ice cream in my hand basket.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Where’d you like to meet?”

“Your car, fifteen minutes.” I had no idea why I said that, or what I meant by it. Just slipped out. Sex with a stranger has long been a fantasy of mine. I wondered if that’s what he had in mind too, or if he just honestly wanted a mid-afternoon drink.

He smiled, straightening his shirt collar. “I have a truck. I’ll meet you at the front doors and show you.”

“My name’s Miriam.”

“Aaron,” he said.

We locked eyes for a long second. My knees felt weak, as if they were going to buckle under me. It was all I could do to turn away. Luckily, Aaron turned at the same time. I dared a peep over my shoulder, and he was around the corner. Gone. He didn’t look back.

I kept looking at my watch, stretching out the quick grocery shopping I’d planned on. I even sampled all the free snacks along the way, just to kill time. Fifteen minutes couldn’t pass fast enough. Now my fantasy seemed to be coming true, I wasn’t so sure of myself.

I paid for my eggs, milk, and butter and spontaneous ice cream, and strolled to the doors. My heart beat rapidly, I pressed my shades down tight on my face. A ringing noise buzzed in my ears as if I’d just walked out of a heavy metal concert.

Aaron waited for me, a brown paper grocery bag in each arm. “Hey,” he said. I replied back likewise. Next I know, I’m walking with him to his truck—a big black monster with tinted windows. He opens the passenger door, sets my groceries in the back seat cab, and helps me up. In a flash, he’s around the other side and in the driver’s seat. Next I know, I’ve got my arms around his shoulders and tonguing the inside of his front teeth.

He grabbed me by the biceps in a firm, strong grip, trying to push me away. But he doesn’t put up much of a fight. He just sort of leans back and lets me take over.

Not like I’m one to pass up such an opportunity.

I unzipped his jeans, and pull them down along with the boxers. His manhood was short, five inches, but thick as my wrist. I wrapped my hand around it, barely touching my fingers with my thumb. Only one other boyfriend had a penis this thick, but he’d been too long for me. Grossly long, and I’d passed him up.

A moment of doubt passed through my mind. Aaron smiled at me, a twinkle in his eyes. Boy scout, very much grown up.

I went down on him.

Slurped that thick rod right up. My lips stretched around him, taking in all of it. Aaron ran his fingers through my hair, nudging me downwards. Not pushing. Just a little assertion. I don’t deny him. I’m guilty of wanting it too. Then he pushed me away.

And pinned me to the seat, while he unzips my booty shorts. I’m sweating now, panting from the heat outside and the heat burning up my body. Aaron returned the favor I just gave him. His tongue swirled around my lower lips, touched the clit, flicking and moaning. Then he dived in, teasing me, driving me hot and wild with each thrust of his tongue, until I couldn’t take it anymore. Aaron seemed to know just when to stop. I pushed him back to his seat, and straddled him.

That massive cock was too thick. I tried to sit on the thing, but my wet pussy wouldn’t stretch far enough. I spat on Aaron’s cock, then spat again, this time a line of drool flowing from my lips to his member. I spat again, for good measure. And then eased my lower lips on top of that bad boy.

The stretching hurt a little at first. I didn’t even know if I could take him all the way. Aaron massaged my hips and lower back. I fingered my clit, getting myself wet again. I knew I wanted it when a squirt came out, and just slid the rest of the way down. He filled me better than my favorite toys. I wiggled around on him, and gyrated my hips. He moaned, leaning his head back in agonizing delight.

Then I really fucked him. Between my pussy juice and saliva, I made a lot of wet thwapping noises against him. Smack, smack, smack.

An orgasm jolted through my body. I let out a scream and pulled his hair as hard as I could. That cock convulsed and throbbed against my tunnel walls. My orgasm kept going, another one. And then my pussy tightened and spat out his cock.

I didn’t bother hugging or kissing him. I patted him on the cheek, wiping some of my pussy juice on him. “See you next Tuesday?” I said.

“You know it.” Aaron seemed half asleep, clearly exhausted. I let myself out of the truck.

Walking across the parking lot, some fluid—his or mine, I don’t know—trickled down my thigh. Unfortunately, my ice cream was melted.

***

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Author: D. Anthony Brown

Indie writer and publisher. Among other jack-of-all-trade skills...

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