tagGay MaleProduce

Produce

byjthserra©

 

Produce

It wasn't much of a job, but I was proud of it and when I was surprisingly promoted to Assistant Manager of Produce, I took it seriously. In a few short years I had progressed from basically a broom pusher, to stock boy, to backup cashier and now, Assistant Manager of Produce. Sure, I had seen others vault from summer stocking jobs to store manager as they graduated college, but no one had risen like I had without a college degree or a father in the business.

So, yes, I took my job seriously, and in spite of some of my coworker's advice to "Lighten up," I approached produce like it was a valuable as fine diamonds or gold. I meticulously arranged the tomatoes, culling out the bruised ones, moving the ones that needed a touch more ripening to the back and keeping only the finest of the bunch in easy reach of the customer. Lettuce became an art, as every few hours I rotated the heads slightly, removing any off color leaves. At the end of each day, I personally fine misted the apples and other fruit, assuring myself the next day would be as fruitful as today.

Perhaps I was my finest with the customers though, taking time out of my busy arranging and culling schedule to discuss the best way to determine the freshness and soundness of an incredible variety of produce with wary customers. I taught many how to lightly caress a tomato, so they could insure it was ripe without damaging the delicate flesh. The proper melon thumping technique fascinated numerous shoppers as did the finger roll of the cucumber. In fact, I believe I was at my finest as I tenderly manipulated a ripe cucumber through my fingers, feeling the soft, but definite firmness that attested to the perfect ripeness.

It was during one such demonstration with a cucumber that I was rudely elbowed aside by a man, who grabbed several lengths, stroked them with his fingers (obviously mimicking me) and then carted away. Recovering from the sudden shock, I was able to compose myself and complete my explanation to the small group of people who had gathered. Handing the perfectly ripe cucumber to one of the spectators I returned to my hourly check of the counters and then went off in search of the rude shopper.

He had already left the store, but he had burnt an image in my mind, so when he returned to my produce area several days later, I watched his every step and more importantly his every exploration into the produce. It was odd watching him as he carelessly grabbed the lettuce and melons and tossed them into his cart with a pathetic disinterest, but when he picked the bananas he carefully stroked the curved length, at one point lifting one to his face and running along the light stubble of his beard.

Later, as he looked at some grapes, I noticed his long fingers cupping around just two grapes and rolling them in a manner that sent a tingle through my crotch. Although I was mad at his abuse of the fruit and vegetables, I found myself oddly drawn to this thin man. He seemed to saunter with an arrogance through produce, as if the fine products were simply his to play with. What finally sent me over the edge was his supercilious return to the cucumbers.

I glared from across the room, as he lifted one after another member and circled his fist around the girth and moved his hand up and down the length. Watching him now, I realized he had not mocked me several days earlier, he just did this every visit, casually abusing the magnificently shaped cukes. After he finally chose two rather thin cucumbers, he put them in a small cellophane bag and placed them in his cart. Enraged at his brusque approach to my produce, I decided to face him down and teach him a lesson about fine fruit and vegetables.

Unfortunately as I moved toward him, another customer cornered me with a question and by the time I quickly answered her, he had disappeared down the cereal aisle. I hurried in pursuit, but just as I spotted his tight ass moving down the aisle, he swirled off down the snack aisle and when I saw the light toss of his nicely groomed hair he moved over to the dairy section.

Finally near the pharmacy, I noticed an abandoned cart, which, from the ravaged look of the fruit and vegetables inside, I recognized as his. Looking just past the cart, I realized he went into the restroom so I stepped down the short hallway and into the men's room. Listening to the door squeak closed, I looked around. The urinals were empty, but I saw a shadow in one of the open stalls so I walked over. His back was turned and his pants were at his ankles, so what I saw first was the fine dimples in a picture-perfect ass.

"Step inside and lock the door," he said, his back still turned to me. I followed instructions and then moved closer to him, reaching my hand around him and clasping his already firm cock. Taking a deep breath, I ran my fingers over the gentle curve of him, caressing his soft skin like a cucumber.

Leaning forward and resting his hands on the wall above the toilet, he pushed his ass back until it rubbed against me, against my hard cock. I continued running my fingers over the length of him as he wriggled his ass against me. I longed to turn him and take him in my mouth, but he seemed to be enjoying my finger technique on him too much.

"Oh yeah, don't stop," he whispered in a breathless gasp.

"You like this?" I growled, remembering his abuse of the cucumbers. I pressed my cock hard against his ass while my finger slid over the thick head of his cock and then firmly pattered down his shaft. I moved my other hand down to his balls and gently checked the ripeness of his grapes, actually thinking to myself they seemed more the size of lemons.

He moaned and I felt him begin to stiffen. Knowing he was about to come, I continued my cucumber technique on him, teasing him, driving him wild. Feeling his ass against me, had me feeling pretty good when suddenly I heard the squeak of the door into the restroom. I immediately removed my hand, stood up and then slipped out of the stall, closing the door behind me. Leaving him hanging on the edge in the stall, I nodded to the other man at the urinal, walked to the sink, washed my hands and stepped through the door.

Walking back to produce I smiled, thinking I had taught my rude and now very frustrated customer a valuable lesson about disturbing my produce.

 

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