Getting In Line Ch. 1byImaginator©
Do you know the first time I saw you? It was in my check-out lane at Food World.
"Lane 6 is open with no one in line," I had just finished broadcasting over the speaker system, when you came forward and laid your items on the conveyor. Man, you were so beautiful and sexy, with your long wavy red hair that framed your lightly tanned face. Your tank-top and mini-shorts revealed your toned arms and long slender legs. Your thick-lashed eyelids were drooped and your full red lips were parted, as you dug into your purse for your bill-fold. Did you notice me staring at you with my mouth hanging open?
"I'm kind of in a hurry," you said with a soft sleepy voice. "Could you ring these up for me, please?"
Oh, your wish was my command, my goddess. I quickly dragged your carefully chosen items over the scanner: a six-pack of beer, a liter of diet soda, a package of hot dogs and a magazine. The glossy cover of the magazine had caught my eyes like fly-paper. It displayed some fashion model wearing nothing but a large men's dress shirt with a tie draped over her shoulders; the shirt was half unbuttoned, revealing her naked cleavage, while her thick parted lips and doe-like eyes gave that seductive "come hither" look. I tried acting like I hadn't seen it, especially with you standing there watching my every move. Did you notice the embarrassed look on my face? Could you see the hard-on forming in my pants?
"$16.25," I tried to say. Then I cleared my throat and repeated the total.
"Oh, I'm out of cash," you said. "Would you take a check?"
I'd take anything from you, my mistress. I wanted to say that, but all my sex-addled brain would allow was, "O.K."
As you leaned over the counter and filled in the blanks of the check, my blank stare was filled with the wonders contained within of your tank-top: the deepness of your cleavage, the fullness of your breasts and the sharpness of your nipples protruding through the stretchy fabric. Your nipples? Oh, wow! They were poking so many holes in my brain, that I almost didn't see your hand holding out the check to me. You were grinning at me, as my nervous hand took the check. Did you know how much agony you were causing me with your nipples? Was that why you were grinning at me?
Somehow, I managed to correctly swipe the check through the reader and accurately punch in your license number. Meanwhile, my eyes scavenged as much information from it as my riddled brain could take. But after closing the check in the cash drawer, all that was retained was your first name, Anna, and your street address, 1735 Robinson Drive. I repeated these over and over in my head, as I waited for the receipt to print out.
"Here you go," I said, my trembling hand extending the curled strip of paper to you. "Thank you for shopping at Food World," I droned the line that they made us remember to say.
"Thank you," you said with a smile, stuffing the receipt into your purse. Couldn't you have just stuffed it down my pants, instead? I held out your bags, hoping to feel your hands brush mine as you took them. But you just scooped them up with your arms and quickly walked away. I watched as you headed for the automatic doors, your hot muffins jiggling and twitching from side to side as you went. The tightness of your shorts was pulling the thin material up into the crack between your cheeks. For a few seconds, I imagined my fingers chuffing the material deeper into that crevice.
"Hey, kid! You gonna check me out, or what?" some old guy's voice spoke to me from across the counter, snapping me back to reality.
Later, after work, I was driving my usual route toward home. I hope your don't think I'm a wimp for staying with my parents during summer break from college. I can't afford an apartment yet. But I fantasized about having one then, just so I could imagine myself asking you over. We could put that diet soda in my fridge and share a couple of those beers, until we were both feeling the buzz. I'd be frying up those weeners, while you took a cold one from the package and placed it into your mouth. You'd lean against the fridge, sliding the weener in and out between your red lips, all the while peering at me through those drooping eye-lids. Then you'd say, "Mm, that was tasty, but I'd much prefer something a little longer and thicker." Then, you'd squat down and unzip my pants, reach in and pull out my warm and stiff weener, and run it between your fiery lips, until it plumped up and oozed its sizzling juices. Those juices would trickle down your chin and drip into the bottomless well between your breasts.
My heart was pounding at the thoughts that were swirling in my head, and I squirmed to adjust my swollen cock to a more comfortable position within my pants. I came to the intersection that I usually cross over. But after the light changed to green, I had a sudden impulse to turn right. It was as though some other force was controlling the car, and I was succumbing to its will. It was leading me down one street, then another, until I came to the intersection of 4th and Robinson. I looked for the house numbers to tell which way to turn. Then I counted them one by one, as I drove slowly down your street: 1725, 1727, 1729. Then the next block: 1731, 1733, . . . and there it was. A sporty SUV was parked in its garage; that must be what you were driving. Then, I saw a man in T-shirt and shorts come out of the back door and climb into the SUV.
You mean, you're married to him? The guy looks like a football coach. What do you see in him? As I passed and looked in the mirror, I saw him pull out of the driveway and head in the opposite direction. Oh right! Now you were alone. I circled the block and came back by, but even more slowly this time. You were walking out of the garage and headed for the curb with a small bag of garbage in your hand. Did you see me wave? First, you slowly waved back with a puzzled look on your face, then suddenly you grinned and waved faster. Did you recognize me? You dropped the bag into the garbage can and headed back to the house. I almost ran into somebody's mailbox, trying to steal one last look at your tight pink shorts.
Man, if only I had had the courage to stop and say something like, "hello, remember me?" or "hi, Anna, how're you doing?" Then, you'd invite me in for a beer, saying your husband wouldn't be back until late. I held that thought, until later that night.
Did you know that I was lying in my bed that night with the covers off and my shorts pulled down, thinking about you as I stroked my hard 6-inch dick? I ran my fingers over its head, imagining your lips sucking on it and your tongue flicking back and forth over and around it. Then, I bent my knees and played with my balls, imagining you licking and sucking them, too. Next, you climbed on top of me and laid your shapely, silky smooth body against mine. You wrapped your arms around my neck and played with my hair, as your lips and tongue danced over my mouth. I imagined running my hands over your plump rubbery ass, then spreading its cheeks apart and fingering your asshole. You were moaning and arching you head back.
"Oh, Allen," you sighed, "you are so good. I've got to have you inside of me."
You raised yourself up and reached under your belly to position my dick against your wet pussy. My hand closed around my cock and slowly slid down, then up, then down, making like your slippery hole. You supported yourself on my chest as you worked your hips up and down. I felt the squeezing of your insides, as my hand gripped tighter. My other hand rubbed the sides of my neck, like you were kissing it with your thick red lips, then working your way down to my chest, sucking and nibbling on my hardened nipples. The hand wrapped around my cock pumped faster, as you raised yourself up and started riding it harder. My other hand reached up into the air, and pretended to squeeze and stroke one of your firm and springy breasts, my fingers playing with your gumdrop-sized nipple.
I sat up, feeling my dick grow stiffer and become more sensitive to my touch. I twirled my tongue in the air, seeing your sweet candied nipple within its reach. I placed my other hand on my head, feeling you running your fingers through its hair and pulling my face deeper into your chest. I shook my dick faster, as you bounced and shook your body more vigorously. When I came, you came with me. I felt your juices flowing over my cock, mixing with mine.
"Oh, yes, oh Allen," you said with a quivering voice, "you really know how to fuck a woman. You were so much better than my husband."
I fell back onto the bed, exhausted from our lovemaking. You collapsed on top of me, and finished me off with passionate kisses. We lay there for several minutes, allowing our bodies to recuperate. Oh, my love goddess, you were so awesome.
The next day, I was looking all around the store for you, as I opened up my check-out lane. I picked up the phone to announce its readiness to receive you; but before I could speak, someone else's voice came over the speaker system.
"Lane 5 open with no one in line," said Leslie from the other check-out. Leslie had been in one of my classes at college. She's cute and pretty and has a nice ass, but she's just a child compared with you.
Then I saw you emerge from one of the aisles and head straight for Leslie's counter. You chatted with her, as she checked your items, both of you laughing the whole time. Do you know each other? I watched, as you both seemed to be getting along like old friends. So, Anna, what would you think about a threesome? Or maybe you'd let me watch, as you and Leslie explored each other's naked bodies. Leslie handed you your receipt, and you exchanged partings with her before walking toward the automatic doors, swaying your beautiful ass from side to side all the way out.
"Man," I said out loud, "what I wouldn't give to see you naked."
Then, I heard something plopped onto the counter: a six-pack of beer in the hand of the same old guy who had interrupted yesterday's fantasy. His fingers were moving in and out of the holes in the plastic holder, as his eyes followed you across the hot pavement. Then, he heaved a big sighed and smacked his lips.
"Get in line, kid," the old guy murmured. "Just get in line."
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