She Groped Me by the Groceries

Never shop with headphones on is the rule, but today I broke it. Wanted to zone out. Then this brunette with small tits catches me by the dairy case—waving like she knows me, asking in broken English if I speak it. I point her to the eggs, help her weigh some veggies, get a sweet thank-you. Checkout line still drags when she spins around and flashes that cocky little grin, like she’s already got plans. I pay and head for the lot. Two steps past the corner and arms yank me sideways into a supply closet—brooms, steel shelves of detergent, door slamming shut. It’s her. Hands on my neck, tongue in my mouth, then she drops, eyes locked on mine while she works my belt. She licks the head once, twice, then swallows me whole, humming while she bobs. My fingers tangle in her dark hair, guiding every sloppy stroke. She pops off, spins, plants her palms on the wall, ass out. “In my ass—fill me,” she orders. I lift the hem, slide two fingers through her hairy slit for lube, then press against that tight ring. One slow push and I’m buried; her little gasps bounce off the metal shelves. I bite her shoulder, breathe in her ear, hips snapping until I unload deep. We stay locked, hearts hammering, her scent everywhere. She slips free, kisses me once more, and vanishes, leaving damp hairy panties on the floor. I pocket them with the milk and head out, still tasting her on my tongue.