Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Note 1: This is dedicated to the real Mark who requested this fantasy.
Note 2: Thanks to Tex Beethoven or editing.
* * * * *
Owning a grocery store has always been a major part of my adult life. (That statement will probably make more sense if you know that as soon as I graduated from college, my Dad gifted me into being its co-owner and his junior partner, kind of an antemortem inheritance, which was an arrangement that continued successfully and amicably until he retired twenty-six years later and I became the sole proprietor.)
The store will never get me rich, but it will also never allow me to go broke.
People always need food, good times or bad.
I love the job, as I’m a people person, and I love the daily interactions with strangers and with the regulars… some of whom have been coming to the store since my Dad had owned it outright, and I was an adolescent bag boy.
A few weeks ago, after over forty years in one capacity or another in this same grocery store (I’m 55, in case you’re curious), I encountered someone really sexy who intrigued me in a way I couldn’t explain. (And yes, she’s the reason for this story, but I’m getting ahead of myself.)
I’ve seen hot women saunter into the store flaunting their tits and asses many times… as a teenager I nurtured way more stroke fantasies about hot MILFs than I did about cheerleaders, or other girls my own age.
The first time I spied two women holding hands, I was shocked… scandalized… but these days it’s a daily occurrence, and I’m happy for them. I still don’t see too many guys holding hands, but this is the South, after all.
I’ve seen college girls flash their tits, occasionally targeting me personally.
One night I saw a guy fucking a girl in the middle of an aisle… both of them drunk… after ripping open a new box of condoms. (I had to boot them out of the store, but only after I got the guy to pay for the condoms; the incident was highly embarrassing for all concerned.)
I even saw a woman use a cucumber in a way it isn’t usually taken internally. (I still have the surveillance footage of that one.)
The point of all this is that occasionally I see sexy people, or even sexy things happening in my store, but it’s no big deal, and life goes on.
So I couldn’t explain the utter intrigue and attraction I felt for a certain younger woman who began coming into the store; the sexy one I mentioned earlier. Now don’t get me wrong, my almost eight-inch cock has hardened many times because of some of the women in my store: hot women, women with big tits, women in short skirts, women in tight jeans, women in stockings. Young women and older women. But I’m a married man, and although I can drool… and I can sometimes jerk off back in my office, I don’t cheat.
I admit that our sex life after more than thirty years together is as stale as month-old bread, but I made a promise in that church all those years ago, and I meant it.
For better or worse… although these days it was more like worse. Empty nest syndrome hit my wife hard, while I figured (wrongly) it might spark our sex life.
So I spent more time at work now… not less.
This younger woman didn’t really fit any of the categories I listed.
She was a beautiful Latina, but she was massive. Not overweight or obese, quite the opposite; she was what I guess for a lack of a better term could be called a muscle woman… a bodybuilder.
Although I’m 6’1″, she stood above me at 6’3″ or more.
While I was still quite lean for my age, thanks to a great metabolism and regularly working out, at 215 pounds I was pretty much the perfect weight for my height (ten pounds less would make me perfect, but I couldn’t ever get there, no matter how hard I worked out), she was, I’m guessing, around 250 pounds of pure muscle.
I couldn’t explain why, but she was the hottest woman I’d ever seen… even though before meeting her I’d never considered a body builder sexy in any way… there was just something about her demeanor and the way she carried herself that was downright sexy, even though she likely wasn’t trying to be.
I’d chatted with her a few times, including mentioning how I just couldn’t get those last ten pounds off, and after about a month of a few private jerk-off sessions interspersed with brief public generic conversations, she invited just as we were closing, “Why don’t you come over and work out with me tonight?”
“Excuse me?” I asked, even though I’d heard the invitation perfectly well, and it made my already hard cock flinch… so much so that she likely noticed it.
“My regular trainer isn’t available tonight, I have a big competition coming soon, and I can’t lift weights without a spotter, it wouldn’t be safe,” she explained. “Plus, I guarantee that a month training with me, and we’ll get rid of that little belly of yours.”
“Trust me, I’ve tried everything.”
“But I’m sure you’ve noticed how well I’ve sculped my own body without canlı bahis şirketleri employing any personal trainers, so I can guarantee it,” she said. “I’ll have you down those ten pounds, plus turn some of that other fat you’re carrying around into solid muscle within in a month.”
“Well okay, why not?” I nodded, thinking it would be fun; I’d love to lose these ten pounds, and I’d have lots of opportunities to watch her body in action.
“Be wearing your workout clothes when you arrive; I’ll make sure you really sweat,” she said, giving me a really nice smile for the first time since I’d met her.
“Uh, sure,” I nodded, sensing that perhaps she was flirting with me… although based on her tone and the look on her face, I couldn’t remotely tell. I’m decent looking, and I do get hit on occasionally, although alas, less and less each year. A fifty-five-year-old bald man doesn’t draw in the ladies the same way I did in my twenties.
“Here’s my address,” she said, handing me a card, which strangely displayed a nearby address, but no name. “Get there as soon as you can,” she added, and strolled out.
I watched her leave, her tight ass and muscular legs in her tight skirt really showcasing the back half of her.
I adjusted my cock and went into my office to grab some workout clothes. I had a couple of sets there, one of them freshly laundered, which of course is the one I changed into.
Once Amy and I had closed the store and locked it up tight, I texted my wife I was going to work out after work (not a lie), and I walked the two blocks to where she lived.
I knocked on the door, oddly feeling a little giddy… as if this was a first date… even though it would likely be just a workout… but with her in a leotard or whatever, even that would be plenty hot.
She greeted me at the door, now wearing tight shorts and a workout bra, an outfit that did nothing to conceal her impressive six pack abs, and said, “Come on in.”
“Sure,” I said, following her downstairs and into a basement that was completely filled with exercise equipment, primarily weights in various configurations, making it a full gym. “Wow,” I said, as I looked around at all the top end equipment.
She went over to a huge set of weights, lay down on the bench and said, “Please, for now, just spot me.”
“Sure,” I nodded, walking around to the spotter’s location, which gave me an amazing view of her entire body.
Of her strong, muscular legs.
Her fleshy tits.
Her washboard stomach.
Then as she began to lift, a view of her arms… which had more well-defined muscles than any man’s I knew. I couldn’t explain it, as I certainly didn’t have an arm fetish or a muscles fetish, and yet my cock ached, as I watched her lift a huge set of weights… 150 pounds… up and down.
After she did three reps of twenty, which was three reps of twenty more than I could lift that kind of weight, she said, “Now let’s work on you for a little while.”
“Me?” I asked.
“Yep, I promised we’re going to get those last ten pounds off of you,” she said, thoroughly looking me over, so no doubt noticing the bulge in my shorts. “You’re actually in pretty good shape for someone your age.”
“Thanks,” I said, appreciating the compliment, something my wife never gave me, even though I’d remained at this weight for years while she’d gained about eighty pounds with the interminable excuse of having had two kids twenty-plus years ago.
“Did you get turned on watching me pump?” she asked, making eye contact with me immediately after taking another look at my crotch. Yup, she’d noticed all right.
I stammered, a little embarrassed, “Um, I, well, a little.”
“It looks more like a lot,” she disagreed.
I laughed awkwardly, surprised by her brazen words, and having no idea of what the hell to say.
“A workout with me is intense, guaranteed to get you into the best shape of your life, but it’s also a little… well… a lot unorthodox,” she said, which again had me at a loss for what to say. “You up for it?”
“Sure,” I said after a brief hesitation. This women was obviously a fitness guru, and she could probably teach me a lot; plus, I was intrigued.
“But for this fitness regime to work, you must do whatever I say without hesitation; is that clear?” she asked, her tone strong and no-nonsense.
“Yes,” I nodded, a little frightened to refuse her anything, and in total awe of this dominant, beautiful woman.
“Excellent,” she nodded. “Let’s see you do some sit-ups. Lie down on the floor, face up.”
She pointed to a nearby black mat, and I obediently lay down on it. She stood at my feet and said, “Now remember, my motivational approach may be unorthodox, but it has a hundred percent success rate, and it literally changes people’s lives.”
“Sounds good; I’m all in,” I nodded, ready to do whatever she told me to, although her brag seemed a little extreme… changing everyone’s lives through workouts? What, like everyone in the world?
“And canlı kaçak iddaa soon I’ll be all in too,” she said, which didn’t make any sense to me at all. She then instructed me, “Each time you sit up you must remain in place for three seconds and you may stare… but don’t touch.”
“Don’t touch what?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” she said. “Now close your eyes, count to ten, and then give me your first sit-up.”
“Okay,” I said, a little curious about where this was going, a little overwhelmed, and a lot excited. “One, two, three…”
“Count to yourself,” she said. “And keep your eyes closed for the first three sit-ups. You must remain sitting up each time, until you hear my command.”
“Okay,” I said, as I counted off in my head. At ten I sat up and remained there, eyes closed, as I smelt something I couldn’t quite place.
“And down,” she said.
I went back down, and after a couple of seconds she said, “Up.”
I once again sat up, wanting to get a better smell of that unique scent; it was drawing me in the same way homemade cookies do.
“Absorb the scent you’re smelling,” she ordered, “Savour it,” just like I was already doing, dying to open my eyes to see what it was, and yet determined to obey this muscle goddess without exception.
“Whatever it is, it’s amazing,” I said as I took a big whiff.
“It’s one of a kind,” she said before adding, “Down.”
I reluctantly moved away from the scent for a brief period of time until she allowed me up again by saying “Up.”
I did.
It was on the third time up as I took in another big whiff that I realized, or I was pretty sure I realized that what I was smelling was her pussy. But that didn’t make much sense… although it would be at the right height if she was standing straddling my legs; and she’d said this would be unorthodox, which if I was correct it definitely was.
I desperately wanted to open my eyes and confirm my suspicion and yet I didn’t, knowing I’d be allowed to do so very soon.
“Down.”
Back on my back, she instructed me dispassionately, “This time, once you’re sitting back up you may open your eyes.”
“I can hardly wait to see what it is,” I said, dying to see her pussy… it had to be her pussy. And it had to be uncovered, because of the strength of the scent. What else could it possibly be? It smelt like pussy, although unlike anyone’s I’d ever smelt before.
As I rose back up, I opened my eyes and saw a completely shaved, slightly glistening pussy. It was so beautiful! My wife not having shaved since the Clinton Administration, meant I almost had to use a machete for hacking through the jungle to find her pussy, and that obstacle made this lack of one all the more enticing.
I loved eating pussy… at least I used to, back when my wife and I had regular sex. But now? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d tasted a pussy; it certainly wasn’t anytime this year. And a completely shaved pussy? Shit, likely sometime in the late eighties, if anyone had even begun shaving them back then.
“Like what you see?” she asked.
“Yes,” I admitted, “Wow!” in awe of a glistening pearl only a few inches in front of my eyes and my nose, stunned by what was transpiring.
“You’re not a faggot, are you?” she asked.
“No, no, no,” I quickly clarified. “I like women. Present company included!”
“Good,” she said, looking down at me. “Each time your face arrives up here you’re allowed a single lick. But only one, unless I indicate otherwise, is that clear?”
“I’m… I… well,” I said, her offer very appealing… yet I was married… not overly happily, but still married.
“I wasn’t asking you,” she said, grabbing my head and shoving her pussy in my face. She ground up and down on me before letting go and adding, “I’m telling you. You’ve already agreed to do whatever I say.”
“Sorry, you’re right, of course,” I apologized, in a complete daze, and still feeling her wetness on my lips.
“Now start doing your sit-ups,” she ordered. “And no more fucking intransigence.”
“Yes ma’am,” I nodded, overwhelmed by the dominance and beauty of this woman… her overwhelming mixture lethal to my marital vows. Her taste was lingering on my lips, her scent captured in my nostrils.
“Good boy,” she said, and now that I was obviously on board, her tone softening from her dominant approach.
I lay down and sat back up, and gave her a single lick between those pink pussy lips. Her wetness was like fireworks on my tongue.
I did it again.
And again.
And again.
The taste was so tantalizing.
The act so sensual.
The order so surreal.
I was obeying her mindlessly. I was working out without even realizing I was. I didn’t feel the usual burn of doing sit-ups, since all I wanted to do was lick that pussy the next time.
“Faster,” she ordered, after I’d done a couple-dozen-plus sit-ups.
I obeyed, beginning to really sweat, beginning to feel the burn as I licked her and dropped back down for another cycle.
“Faster,” canlı kaçak bahis she repeated a few sit-ups later. “I want to see you sweat.”
I wasn’t sure I could go much faster, the burn really beginning to hit me.
I did the best I could; I sure didn’t want this unorthodox workout to end.
“Ten more, and I’ll give you a reward,” she offered when I was at around forty, as helplessly I began to slow down, my body unable to keep up with the frantic pace of my libido.
I continued working, sweat dripping off me, determined I could do ten more, while my muscles swore to me that they couldn’t possibly!
“Five more,” she informed me, as I was really slowing down, the pain really beginning to burn.
I sat back up and gave her a long, slow lick, trying to sneak a brief reprieve before the next one.
“Four more,” she counted down. “You can do it,” she encouraged me.
“I can do it,” I agreed against all evidence, now more determined than ever… especially since I was dying to know what the reward might be.
I did two very quick down-ups and licks.
“Only two more,” she said. “Attaboy, you can do it.” Her words were encouraging, pretty much just like every trainer I’d ever worked with, but with the added enticement of her pussy, she was pushing me too far.
I did one more, every inch of my body on fire… especially my poor, overworked abs, yet my cock remained hard as steel, and my mouth salivated with each tantalizing, teasing taste of her pussy.
“Only one more, and you receive the gift of a lifetime,” she promised, grabbing my head and pushing it firmly into her wetness. I mindlessly licked as long as she allowed me to, until she pushed me back down and said firmly, “Up you come just once more! Earn it!”
I nodded as I struggled to pull myself up one more time and finally succeeded, and I was once again getting another lick of her amazing pussy.
But not for long. Almost immediately she pushed me back down, straddled my face and said, “Here’s your reward.”
My head foggy with lust, my body burning with pain, I mindlessly began licking her pussy, desperate to get her off and taste the full flood of her sweet nectar, even as I couldn’t believe any of this was happening.
“That’s it, eat my pussy,” she encouraged me in a far more enjoyable exercise, as she began to grind on my face.
As I licked and she grinded on me, I realized that even though I’d eaten my wife’s pussy quite a lot before we’d slowed way down, I’d never once had a girl sit on my face. It was a completely different position, I was pretty much helpless, which somehow made it more enthralling.
“Faster, bitch,” she ordered, as she really rubbed her pussy on my face.
Being called a bitch was kind of startling, but my being used this roughly, completely for her pleasure, was intoxicating! I couldn’t explain it, but even as my body burned with pain from my recent intense workout, my cock raged in response to her rough, dominant treatment.
“Oh fuck, eat my cum,” she ordered, as she grabbed the back of my head and held it forcefully against her pussy, and as she exploded all over my face, and I discovered that a woman can give a facial.
My face was soaked with her pussy juice and I tried to lap up as much of it as I could as it continued squirting.
Once her orgasm was finished, lasting a good thirty seconds, squirting intermittently the entire time while I began having trouble breathing, she released her iron grip on my head and turned around, giving me a wonderful view of her ass, and said as I felt her hand go to my raging rod, “I see my style of workout turned you on.”
She rubbed my cock through my gym shorts for maybe fifteen seconds if even that, before I groaned and came in my underwear.
She laughed, “That was quick,” before she got up and said, as she went to grab her shorts, “I expect you to be here same time tomorrow.”
“Really?” I asked, both surprised and excited… this wasn’t a one-time thing? Wow!
“My usual spotter will be gone for a couple more days, and clearly we need to work on your stamina,” she said, and then looking down at the wet spot in my crotch added, “In all areas.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, suddenly feeling a wash of guilt at the realization I’d just inadvertently cheated on my wife.
“That wasn’t a request,” she said similar to before. “Just be here.”
“Okay,” I said, her tone kind of scaring me. I couldn’t explain it, it wasn’t like I thought she’d tell my wife on me, it’s just that I felt completely compelled to obey her. The particularly scary part being after my Dad retired, I was accustomed to making all my own decisions, but around this statuesque muscle woman, I was making absolutely none of them.
“You can see yourself out,” she dismissed me, wiping her face with a towel.
“See you tomorrow,” I said, still stunned at all that had just transpired.
I went back to the grocery store and let myself in… washed up… got the cum scent off my face and changed my stained underwear, as I replayed what just happened.
I couldn’t believe it, and I knew I shouldn’t go back tomorrow… yet my cock was still hard as I wondered what she might do to me tomorrow. Would she let me fuck her?
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32