At the Supermarket

It is a morning like many others. The sky is clear and blue and the mountain air is crisp.

You take your little car and drive to the local supermarket to buy some groceries.

The aisles are almost deserted, apart from some elderly people and a couple of housewives like you.

Suddenly you bump into someone accidentally.

"I am sorry..." you blurt almost automatically, even if you are not sure if it was you who bumped into the stranger or the other way around.

He is a middle-aged man, who wears a dark suit and a white shirt.

The accident wasn't really much, nobody got hurt, but he seems to take it seriously.

You feel like apologizing again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it..."

"Do you think apologizing is enough? Come with me!"

Why should you follow the stranger? You should ignore him and continue your shopping, but the man doesn't bulge, and you start noticing that some people look at you sideways, wondering what is going on.

"You can retrieve your cart later," he says assertively, and you follow him as he goes through the cashier line.

You wonder where he is taking you, and suddenly you realize that he is heading to the toilet room.

You freeze, ready to leave the strange man, but by now he has grabbed your arm, and he is pushing you toward the men's toilet.

You look around, you should shout, but at the same time you don't want to attract the attention - it's silly, really, but you are unable to fight the man as you enter the men's toilet.

An elderly man is peeing, but thankfully he doesn't see you as you are pushed into a cubicle.

"I...am ...sorry..." you repeat, hoping that the man will let you go.

"Shut up and unbutton your shirt!"

You have no choice but to obey him.

"Take off your bra!"

You look at him: does it mean it?

Surely he is, he is still brimming with anger.

You unhook your bra clumsily pull it through the shirt sleeves, and hand it over to him.

He takes it and throws it on the floor.

"The panties now!"

He is staring at you, you feel helpless, unable to resist.

You desperately hope he will forgive you for whatever you did wrong and let you go.

Under his cold eyes, you lower your panties and take them off.

He takes them and throws them on the floor, with the bra.

"Kneel now!" You try to resist, but he grabs your hair and makes you kneel.

Next, he unzips his trousers and extracts his hard cock.

He pushes his legs among your bent knees and makes you spread yours.

Pushing your head against his crotch he barks his order: "Apologize with your mouth!"

You are not a whore, used to suck a stranger's cock. You do it for your husband when you don't want him to fuck you, and even then you do it half-heartedly, hating the idea that you are sucking his pee hole.

The stranger realizes that you are not a great cocksucker, and decides to take the matter, literally, in his hands.

He pushes your head against his penis, back and forth. He pushes so deeply that you feel gagged, ready to throw up.

Under his powerful grip you struggle, but can't resist.

Slowly you start to feel more comfortable, you realize that the ordeal will be over when he will cum, and try to do your best.

Half-naked, kneeling in a men's toilet cubicle, sucking a stranger's cock, trying hard to make him cum in your mouth, you feel like a cheap slut and the shame is mixed with a strange excitement that makes you blush.

Finally you feel a twist of the shaft, coated in your saliva, and a thick stream of whitish seed lands on your tongue.

You would like to breathe, but he is staying in your mouth, waiting for the whole load to be discharged, enjoying every moment of his release.

After a long while he takes the cock out and puts it back.

"Don't spit it and don't swallow it! Open your mouth!"

Once again you obey, and he grins as he looks at the foamy mix of saliva and sperm in your mouth.

"Keep it in your mouth while you shop, I'll tell you when you can swallow, do you understand?"

He is back to his stern look, and you nod.

He pulls you up and holding you by an arm, pushes you out of the cubicle.

You look at the bra and panties you have left there, and wonder at what the next man who'll visit it will think seeing them. Probably he will masturbate himself thinking of the horny woman who has been fucked there.

As you leave the toilet room, trying to button up your shirt, you meet the eye of a man entering it.

If he will enter the cubicle, he'll know you are that horny woman, you think.

Finally he releases you and you are back in the supermarket's aisles, alone.

All that happened seems to have been only a fantasy, but then you feel the acid taste of the cum in your mouth, and then you feel the nipples brushing against the shirt, and the bare pussy available below the skirt.

The man is nowhere to be seen, and you wonder if you should really obey to that final, bizarre order.

But you made it this far, why should you stop now?

You continue shopping, like any other day, and eventually you go to the counter.

The cashier asks you the usual questions, the fidelity card, the bags, cash or credit card, and you answer nodding or shaking your hand. Of course you can't open your mouth and speak, showing your mouth full of a stranger's seed.

Now you are ready to leave. He is nowhere to be seen.

You think that maybe you can go to the women's toilet and spit the cum, he has probably left by now and will have no way to know.

You feel almost angry that you let him force you to hold his seed so long, the disgusting acrid taste in your mouth, by playing with your fear.

However, as you head toward the toilet, you feel a hand grabbing your arm.

"Do you think it's over?"

You turn, of course it's him, you lower your head, guilty.

"Do you need to piss?"

You shake your head.

"Where were you going then?"

You point with your eyes to the elevator leading to the parking lot, across the hall.

"You are a liar..."

You shake again your head, afraid of what could mean displeasing the stranger.

"Let's go then," he says, pushing you toward the elevator.

As you walk in, he stays behind you, unbuttons a couple of buttons of your shirt, slides the hand below it, and starts playing with your hard nipples. Holding the shopping bags, you can't oppose any resistance.

You can't help feeling excited, even if you are afraid that somebody else could get in, and that maybe there is a TV camera in some corner of the lift and some security officer is enjoying the show.

You shake your body, in a futile attempt to release the tension through it.

You reach the parking lot.

You look at him, he asks you to go toward your car.

Is he going to come with you home? Are you going to keep his filthy seed in your mouth that long?

You open the booth and load the car. Maybe he'll let you go.

"Kneel and spread your legs," he orders instead.

"Open your mouth, and show me."

He looks at you, kneeling with your legs opened, your pussy exposed, as you show him your mouth coated in his seed.

You are afraid that someone can see you, but every time you try to close your legs he opens them with his feet.

"Swallow now."

You obey once more, and you feel the white substance going through your throat.

"You like this, isn't it? How many years you have been waiting to become the slut you are? Touch your pussy and cum for me."

No! You are no slut! You won't touch yourself in a parking lot!

You have rarely touched yourself before, how much you desired it, it felt like stealing something from your husband...

You look at him, he is not going to give in and then you start thinking that it is comforting to obey simply, alienating your freedom of choice. Your fingers slowly move to the puffy, swollen pussy lips, and you start to circle the clit.

You are so wet, you realize you are truly a slut, you understand that you have truly waited for this all your life.

"Look at me!"

He takes your chin with his hand, so he can look into your eyes.

You hope he can't read how helpless you feel, enslaved to pleasure, enslaved to him, who awakened it.

"Touch your nipples."

"Yes, Sir..." you answer, and suddenly you realize that with that simple answer you have submitted to him.

You squeeze your boobs, you squeeze the nipple between index and thumb. You moan, unable to control yourself.

But now he pulls you up, he pushes you against the car.

One of his hands holds yours, above your head, the other is in zipping his trousers.

Soon you feel his warm cock pushing against your buttocks, and immediately after he is penetrating your drenched pussy.

The feeling is overwhelming, you breathe heavily - you have forgotten where you are.

You can't shut up as you cum, unashamedly.

"I am cumming!I am cumming!" you repeat out of control, while you are fucked against your car's back, your bared boobs squeezed against the window, in the parking lot.

You feel his thrusts continuing, stronger, soon it will be his time to cum.

He will unload his seed inside your womb . in the back of your mind you are afraid yet you want it, you just care about the pleasure you are getting, forgetful of the consequences.

You feel his breath on your neck, and you are so happy he is enjoying your body.

Just a moment before cumming, he extracts his cock from your pussy and his white cream falls on your ass.

He makes you turn and slides his cock in your mouth again.

"Clean it!"

You lose no time; you are learning fast how to serve him.

You move your tongue all over the shaft, on the glans, and when you think you have done a good job you show your open mouth to the man.

He smiles and pats your head; you are not sure, but searching for approval with your eyes you swallow.

You have done the right thing because he pats your head again.

"I think you are forgiven." He says zipping back his trousers and looking at you sternly.

"Thank you Sir!" you say and then you see him leaving.

You board on your car; as you sit, you feel the sticky spots on your ass, you imagine the stains on your skirt.

While you are driving, you make a detour and head for the shopping mall.

Suddenly you have felt the need to take a nice, slow walk through it, looking at the shops.

Maybe someone will notice that you are going around pantiless, and braless, in a skirt with large whitish spots, and will take on himself to correct this unforgivable sluttish behavior.