New Experience Ch. 1

Sure, I've heard all the stories guys tell about meeting a sexy woman and hopping into bed with her in the first three hours. It's just empty talk, locker room stories or barroom bragging, trying to impress each other with their male prowess. It never actually happens.

Until last Friday.

I had stopped at the local supermarket on my way home from work. I've found that if I get there during late afternoon I miss a lot of the crowd, an overload of people stocking up on groceries for the weekend and dragging three or four whining ill-behaved kids around.

When you enter the main door the carts are lined up for easy grabbing. The first area is fruit and vegetables. I got a few potatoes and some oranges, then rolled around the separating wall to the bakery department. Just as I rounded the end of the wall I plowed slam into another cart somebody had parked right in the traffic lane, almost tipping it over.

At the noise a blonde woman spun around, eyes wide. I was very embarrassed and apologized immediately. She smiled and told me not to worry, it was at least partially her fault for leaving it there. "At least the insurance people don't have to be informed," she said brightly. I thanked her for being understanding and went on my way.

The way the store is laid out you pretty much follow a pattern in the aisles from one area to another. Because we had started at about the same time we more or less paralleled each other through the place. I enjoyed part of the time admiring the blonde I had almost run down. I guessed her at about 35, pretty young for me (I'm 55), but there's never been any law against admiring nice scenery.

She was maybe 5-5, and I estimated perhaps 120 nicely-distributed pounds. She was wearing extremely snug denim short-shorts that displayed superb legs, as the old saying goes, all the way to her ass, beautifully shaped, silky smooth and flawless. The taut round bottom was certainly worth inspecting as well, filling the snug shorts in a very pleasant manner indeed. She also wore a loose denim shirt, unbuttoned, with a white cotton pullover under it. From the way the outer shirt swung, it was hard to tell what her breasts might look like, but she had good shoulders and a tidy way of moving that I found very pleasant.

As we moved through the store I kept stealing glances when I could. Fairly short hair, just touching her collar, swung slightly across her cheek when she bent to look at something. When I got a chance I peeked at the front of the shorts. There was a prominent bulge in the blue fabric, a full mound that puffed out exquisitely between the velvety thighs.

As we kept meeting we exchanged short comments on prices and brands, and sometimes even conferred on the best bargains. In addition to the other attributes she had a lovely smile and vivid dark blue eyes.

When I had the things I wanted I picked a checkout and moved my cart into the lane. I prefer to stand at the bottom of the cart and take the things out. I'm not really all that tall so it's difficult to reach over the handle end for the things that are in the deepest part. I was taking things out and putting them on the conveyer when something slammed into my cart, knocking me backward a bit. I glanced up and there was my blonde, looking extremely flustered.

"Paybacks?" I grinned.

"No, my fault," she said, flushing. She gestured at the magazine rack. "Looking at the scandal sheets and not paying attention. I'm really sorry."

"That's okay. I promise not to cite you for hit and run. Anyway, you can't run very far with me in the way."

"That's true," she agreed cheerfully.

Each checkout at the store has a sort of double conveyor. When one person's groceries have been rung up, the clerk can swing a sort of gate thing across and run another customer's things down the opposite side of a little divider. Empty bags are kept at the bottom end where you can pack your things in bags and put them back in the cart. Thus it turned out that the blonde lady and I were putting our things in sacks, facing each other across the conveyor just a couple of feet apart.

"Used to be they had high school guys doing this," she commented.

"Not any more," I said. "They have to pay them too much so we get to do it ourselves. But a long time ago I used to make a reasonable amount of money after school and on weekends."

"Enough to take your girl out anyway?" she grinned teasingly.

"That, and enough to keep an old clunker of a car running so I could do it," I agreed. "I haunted a lot of wrecking yards in my day, trying to get used parts as cheaply as I could."

"My son is in the same kind of situation," she commented. "He's always looking for ways to make money to pour into a car that should have been scrapped long ago."

I was a bit surprised. I had noted the large diamond on her left hand, but really didn't figure her to be old enough to have a son who could buy his own car. Without thinking, I said so.

"Flatterer," she smiled brightly. "My son is 20, my daughter is married, and I'm a grandma for the third time four months ago."

"I'm impressed," I told her. "You must have gotten married when you were, what? Twelve?"

"You really are a dangerously sweet talker," she grinned. "I bet you still have plenty of ladies to take around in your car." I figured she had scoped me out and spotted the military ring I wear where most men have a wedding band and deduced I was not married. I had been once, but that was quite a while ago.

I ducked my head and put some more things in a sack. "Not really. I'm willing, just can't find any women who are. Guess I'm just past that stage."

She paused, a can of soup in her hand. "Now shame on you!" she admonished. "A

courteous, unattached nice fellow is fair game for more women than you might realize."

"You're right, I don't realize," I said with real regret. "Although I admit I don't look very hard. As the old saying goes, been there done that. I don't make much effort any more."

"Well, you should." She still hadn't moved. "Do you have anything that has to be kept cold?"

The abrupt change confused me for a moment. I looked at my purchases. Dry goods, canned things. "No, I guess I don't. Why?"

"Ernie's is just up the street," she said, mentioning a local pub that also has good food. "Would you like to stop for a drink and maybe something to eat that you don't have to cook yourself?"

I stared at her in astonishment. Lovely blondes simply do not hit on me, in

supermarkets or anyplace else. My surprise must have been evident, and she looked a bit

surprised herself. Obviously she didn't normally go around asking total strangers if they

wanted to have an evening date. Nonetheless she nodded. "Yes, I'm serious."

Okay, some days I'm a bit slow on the uptake but this was an opportunity even I can recognize as a good thing. "Sure. Fifteen minutes?"

I trundled my cart out and threw my groceries behind the seat of the truck. I considered the possibility of rushing home for a quick shower, or at least putting on a clean shirt. Second thoughts made me decide that this was a chance I did not want to miss, however ephemeral it might be. I still had some reservations about whether she would really show up. Finally I shrugged and drove up the street to Ernie's.

The parking area wasn't too full yet. Usually the after work crowd fills the place up pretty quickly, especially on a Friday. It's mostly yuppie types, playing the he-she games to see what might develop. Fortunately it was still early enough that the place wasn't too crowded.

I asked the receptionist for a table for two, specifying that I'd like it as private as

possible, which in that place really isn't very secluded at all. I explained I was waiting for a lady who should be there shortly. She did have a small booth available in a back corner and put a Reserved sign on it for me.

My blonde evidently was eager too because I only had to wait three or four minutes. I was right by the door when she came in and escorted her to our table. We ordered some drinks and perused the menu, exchanging ideas on what to order. Conversation was fairly safe and neutral, mostly local politics and school issues, shopping and the foods we liked at other restaurants.

Eventually we got into an exercise I truly enjoy, typecasting the others in the place. She was really good at it, too. She instantly nailed the loud, overly-vivacious ex-cheerleader type who insists on being the center of attention and is utterly loathed by every other woman in the place; the boisterous fat-ridden insurance salesman who likes to think he knows everything there is to know about sports; and several others.

As we ate and had several more drinks she got increasingly bawdy in her evaluations of the other people in the place. She speculated about an implant-laden redhead springing a leak if she rubbed her fake chest any harder against a fellow who looked rather alarmed at her extremely close proximity. The mental image cracked me up, imagining one boob suddenly deflating like a punctured dirigible.

We did talk about some more personal things as time progressed. Among other tidbits she revealed was that she was married, but rather unhappily. She lived with her husband for convenience, but any real marriage was effectively dead. That gave me a bit of encouragement. I'm a healthy male and was wondering about my chances of getting her out of there and someplace more private.

Quite truthfully I figured she would eventually look at her watch, exclaim about the late hour, and make her escape, mumbling platitudes about "Maybe we'll see each other again." I've found to my sorrow that the more mature members of the tender gender can be every bit as much the tease as their younger sisters. It's damned frustrating for men.

When she excused herself to go to the rest room, carrying her purse, I figured that was about the end of it. She'd come back and thank me for a pleasant evening and bolt out the door. To my surprise, instead of leaving, or taking the seat across the table where she had been, she slid in alongside me. "Easier to talk privately this way," she explained.

The waitress came by and my blonde ordered another bottle of wine. "I'm having too much fun to go home yet, and there's no special reason to rush there anyway," she explained. "Besides, this is the first time I've had nerve enough to find myself a blind date on my own. I think I should take advantage of it, don't you?" Certainly I was not going to disagree.

I declined to drink much of the wine, although she wasn't bashful about pouring her own glass full. I'm not much for wine in any case, and besides I didn't want to get too smashed. As we talked I realized she had buttoned her denim shirt partway up the front, leaving a delightful view of her cleavage. With even more interest I noticed that she had removed the white cotton pullover she had worn before. If she had been wearing a bra she had apparently gotten rid of that as well.

Her breasts weren't massive, but were smooth and firm, what I judged to be just about a nice handful for me, or mouthful if I got stupendously lucky. That's fine with me, I'm not that big a fan of monstrous tits in any case. I figure whatever I can't cup in my hand is a waste anyway. When she moved around or leaned toward me to make one of her increasingly lewd remarks about the other people in the restaurant I got a dazzling view of her creamy chest equipment, all the way to the pink circles around her nipples.

As we talked, she got increasingly frank about her home life. She clearly carried a lot of resentment toward her husband. "Oh sure, he makes lots of money, and I don't have to worry about the things I want, at least as far as cost is concerned," she told me. "But I am really getting tired of being the dutiful little company wife, keeping a perfect house and smiling blankly at all the dull business associates he drags home. And I am really fed up with being left alone at night while he's out at the country club trying to impress his buddies and chasing cheap little waitresses half his age," she added bitterly.

"Makes him feel like a man to poke it into some dim slut with an IQ that's about two numbers above her age. Do you know we don't even sleep in the same bed? He hasn't touched me in three years. Not that I give a shit. I'd probably end up with some disease he picked up from one of his bimbos anyway."

I realized she was getting a bit drunk but from my viewpoint that couldn't be altogether bad. I'm as lecherous as the next guy. If she wanted to get a tad swozzled and was feeling dangerously enough resentful of her husband to pick up a guy at a grocery store, maybe I could get her someplace I could get a lot better view of her chest than a few quick glimpses. Angry ladies can do some unexpected things when they start to vent their ire toward a philandering husband.

"Then it's his loss," I said. "You're a very sexy woman, you have a great personality, and you're intelligent and bright. If he can't appreciate it he has a very real problem."

She looked down at the table, picking at the edge of her glass with a thumbnail. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do," I assured her. "He needs his thinking adjusted. I really enjoy being with you. You're a nice person." By this time I was feeling the drinks a bit myself.

Her voice was soft. "That isn't exactly what I meant. Do you really think I'm sexy?"

"Damn straight. And if he can't see it he's an idiot."

She seemed to make up her mind about something, then astonished me by grabbing my hand and yanking it under the table. Shifting forward, she spread her legs and shoved my hand down into her crotch. The heat from the softly padded bulge of her vulva seemed to burn my palm. Silky thighs clamped down on my trapped fingers.

Her breath tickled my ear. "Get me out of this place and into a bed before I rape you right here on this table," she demanded.

Now, ordinarily I would be extremely hesitant about suggesting anything a lady might find offensive, but even I can understand a statement that clear. I hastily tossed a couple of twenties on top of the check and hustled her out of there before she had a chance to change her mind.

Her car was parked only a couple of spaces up from mine. I asked if she wanted to ride with me or follow me home. She opted to drive her own car. Since I live only about three blocks from the restaurant it didn't take long to get to my house. I hit the button to open the garage door as I swung into the driveway. She pulled in alongside and we both piled out of our cars.

Even as the door was going back down she lunged and locked warm soft lips on mine, slender arms latching around my neck as she ground her loins against me. I slid my hands down to cup the ripe round ass so firmly packed in the tight denim. She moaned into my mouth and drove her crotch against me. Her lips pulled away only long enough to mutter, "I am so goddam horny I can't believe it. I want you inside me right now."

I pushed the door into the house open. As she ascended the steps in front of me my eyes were dazzled by the firm round ass cheeks superbly displayed in the skin-tight blue fabric. Trim solid hips swayed gently in front of my face, a focal point that led me onward like a leash around my neck. I could hardly believe she was really serious but my swiftly growing pecker told me to follow.

She easily found my bedroom and spun in front of me. Looking straight into my eyes she grasped the front of her shirt with both hands and yanked savagely. Buttons popped and flew, bouncing and clattering off the walls. She dropped it to the floor. Solid breasts quivered a moment and settled, the dark pink centers pointing toward me like twin arrows of lust. The firm round cones supported nipples that extended proudly from circles of crimson that puffed out slightly from the bulk of her tits. The rubbery stubs were so fiercely erect the skin around them looked shiny.

"Do the rest?" Her voice was a soft plea. I unsnapped her shorts and slid the zipper down. She wiggled her hips to let the garment glide down her legs and kicked them aside.The peach-colored panties had tiny bows on the sides, tied against the lush curves of her hips. I tugged at the laces. She parted her legs slightly and let the scrap of cloth fall to her feet.

Her fleecy triangle nested between the succulent roundness of velvety thighs. The soft curls highlighted rather than hid the bulging vulva and the shadowy slot between. A heady odor of stimulated pussy assailed my nostrils. I inhaled deeply, savoring the knowledge that it was caused by her eagerness to take me inside her body.

"You are so beautiful," I breathed. I sank to my knees, her furry delta only inches from my face. Thick golden curls sprung out in front of my nose. The lady was seriously hairy, far more than any other blonde I've ever seen. That's okay with me - I like pussy fur.

"Oh shit, I kinda forgot," she said. "I never trim any more. I figure who's going to see? I hope you don't mind too much."

In answer I leaned forward and pressed my mouth against the soft thatch, feeling her meaty pubic mound against my lips. My tongue slipped between the swollen labia, tasting the tang of her juices. I lapped at her gash, nearly going mad from the spicy taste and odor of her secretions. She seized my head and drove it into her loins. Her belly rippled in response to my attentions. I reached between her legs and let a finger glide upward into her seething pecker pocket. While I drank her juices I caressed the slippery, silky depths, reveling in the feel of her internal tissues grasping and clutching at my welcome probe.

When my tongue wandered over the protruding bump of her clit she hissed and drove her hips forward, letting me feast on her delectable treasures until her knees began to tremble. After a few moments she gripped my shoulders and pulled upward. "Too much! Come up here," she gasped.

I watched as her slender fingers undid the buttons of my shirt. When it was open she stepped closer, peeling it back off my shoulders and at the same time pressing her rubbery tits with their rigid nipples against my chest. I put my arms around her, pulling her closely against me. Our lips met in a fevered kiss, tongues dueling and thrusting. Her nude pelvis rotated against my hips, urging my prick to an even greater degree of hardness.

She fumbled with the snap and zipper of my trousers until they opened, then pushed them down over my hips. My incredibly hard tool sprang outward and nudged the fur at the base of her belly. She ground her loins against it, rejoicing in the feel of a stiff dick pressed against her. Her lust seemed to build swiftly, knowing that in just a very short time that hard shaft would be buried in the welcoming burrow of her sex.

Without breaking her mouth free, she backed slowly toward the wide plain of the bed. When her legs touched it she eased backward, pulling me down with her. As we reclined she squirmed around and adjusted her body so I came to rest between her legs. Her thighs parted, hips jamming solidly against me, pulling me against the superb pillows of her tits.

"You are so lovely," I whispered. I slid a finger into the boiling tube of her sex. She whined and thrust her loins upward to the probing. I added a second finger, gathering a liberal amount of her honey. She groaned in frustration when I pulled them out. I licked her taste from my fingers. Delicious, too."

I looked down into the vivid blue eyes pleading with me to give her relief. A last shred of conscience drove through me. This woman was a total stranger, and married as well. I feared that she might be taking me to bed only out of an alcoholic impulse, fueled by desire for vengeance against her roving husband. "Listen, are you sure about this?"