The Parking Lot


Did you know I saw you watching me?

That night, at the grocery store. I saw you there first. Did you know that I didn’t really need those olives on the top shelf?

I stretched, on purpose, so you could see the muscles of my legs stretched smooth and taut from standing on tiptoes…my running shorts pulling ever so slightly into the crack of my ass. So that if you were observant, and at a lucky angle, you could see my breasts, my hard nipples against the thin cotton of my tee shirt.

Or maybe you didn’t need my little display. Maybe it was just my ponytail, or the soft locks of hair that slipped out to curl on the base of my neck. Maybe you noticed the swell of my lips, the curve of my collarbone.

I knew you wanted to fuck me right there in the aisle. It was late – you might even have gotten away with it. You could at least have tried to help me reach the olives, gone for a cheap feel.

You didn’t. Were you a gentleman, or just shy? Married? I didn’t notice a ring. Maybe you were afraid that you’d frighten me. It was late, and I was alone.

I wanted you to approach me from behind. I wasn’t afraid. I wanted your hands to graze my breasts, accidentally or not, as you reached up to help me. I wanted to push my ass back, accidentally or not, and feel your cock hardening in your jeans.

I wanted you close enough to smell me – my combination of deodorant and the light, sweet sweat of my recent workout, the heat and musk of my arousal. I wanted my ponytail to brush ever so softly against your face.

But you didn’t come closer, and one can only stretch for a jar of olives for so long without looking utterly ridiculous. So I put them in my cart, and when I looked up, you’d gone away.

I wanted your cock inside me. I had to find you. I cruised the aisles, glancing down each one for a glimpse of your broad shoulders, your shock of dark hair. I finally saw you in the express lane, checking out.

I looked in my cart. More than fifteen items. Shit. I removed items from the cart at random, stacking them on a nearby shelf (the stock boys must hate me) until I had exactly fifteen. And got in line behind you.

We were probably the only customers at this illegal bahis time of night. The acne-stricken teenager ringed up your purchase, bored. You barely glanced at me behind you, and left the store with your bags of groceries.

I paid. Exact change, faster that way. I was nearly stalking you, frantic as I looked out through the plate glass windows to see which car was yours. I was so wet I knew I must be staining my shorts. I pushed my cart out through the automatic doors, into the parking lot, and directly into the side of your car.

On purpose.

You looked up with a start from putting your bags in the trunk, eyes wide in surprise when you realized it was me.

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry,” I lied badly, breathlessly. The flush on my cheeks was real, but from lust rather than embarrassment. “Did I dent your car?”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you said. Cautious. Shy? I couldn’t tell.

“I feel terrible,” I lied again, rushing to the car to check for scratches. “Let me check.” I bent over, looking closely at the paint, arching my back just a little bit, pushing my ass out for you. God, I was so obvious.

You took the bait.

You leaned over behind me, your breath warm on my ear as you spoke.

“Don’t worry,” you said softly, as your right hand slid over my hip, towards my breast. As if you were calming me – as if I were the shy one. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Maybe I was the shy one, for a moment. I tensed. Your left hand glided ever so slowly along my side, skimming my ass, following the inward curve of my waist, upward along my ribs until your thumb pressed down on my nipple at the same time you kissed my neck, behind my ear.

I sucked in my breath, pushed my ass back against your cock the way I’d wanted to in the store. Reached up with my hands to feel your arms, your hair. You were pinching my nipples, kissing and biting the back of my neck, grinding the hard heat of your cock into me through our clothes.

Your right hand drifted down and slipped under the waistband of my shorts, down into my panties, until your fingers slid through the slick wetness of my pussy. You held me motionless, one hand on my pussy, the other on my breasts, illegal bahis siteleri and leaned forward to my ear again.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since I first saw you in the store.”

“I know,” I whispered. My panties were drenched.

“Do you want it?” you asked, tracing slow circles on my clit.

“Yes,” I gasped, moaning, trying to push back against you harder. You held me fast.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want you to fuck me.”


“I don’t care. Anywhere.”

“Right here in the parking lot?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I moaned, in agony. “Please, just fuck me. I want to feel your cock.”

You laughed softly. “You’re so horny you would let me fuck you right here in the parking lot? You’re certainly wet enough,” you added as you suddenly pushed a finger inside me. I nearly screamed.


You were such a tease, slowly fucking me with your finger as you went on. “You really want me to fuck you here? You want me to pull down those little shorts and bend you over the trunk of my car and fuck your wet little pussy?”

I was in agony. “Yes, God, please, please, fuck me. Bend me over. However you want. Pleeease.”

“I won’t be gentle,” you warned, pushing a second finger into my pussy. I jerked so suddenly that you nearly lost your grip on me. I could feel my wetness running down my legs. My nipples could have cut glass.

“Good,” I nearly cried. “Just FUCK me, dammit. Please.”

Your fingers slipped from my pussy. With your left arm still pressing me tight against you, you closed the trunk. Then, before I realized what was happening, you wrenched me around and bent me over the trunk, just as you’d suggested, pressing my cheek against the metal. You held my arms behind me with one hand, while the other hooked into my shorts and panties and yanked them down to my knees. I was immobilized.

My pussy was suddenly bared to the night air, and the rush of breeze made me shudder. It wasn’t cold, though. In the dead middle of summer it was still warm, even this late at night. I heard you pull at your jeans, heard the buttons release in a row, like little gunshots.

I felt the head of your cock nudge canlı bahis siteleri at me just an instant before you slammed it home. I cried out at the shock and pain and pleasure. Your cock felt huge in my tight, swollen pussy. It clutched at you as you pulled back, slowly, as I moaned. Then you slammed it in again, as far as you could go. I felt you bottom out inside me, felt my pussy stretch to accommodate you.

It hurt. It burned. It was soooo good.

You built up a rhythm of hard, deep thrusts – some agonizingly slow and some so fast they took my breath away. I was whimpering, pushing back against you, crying out softly at each inward thrust. You were quiet, fucking me savagely, holding my arms with one hand while the other used my hip for leverage.

I lost track of time, moaning and gasping endlessly as you slammed into my pussy again and again and again. All of a sudden my hands were free. I braced them against the car when suddenly my head snapped backwards.

With your hand now twined in my ponytail, you pulled, making me arch my back more violently as you thrust harder and harder. Your balls slapped my ass and you drove my pelvis into the back of the car with every push.

My moans increased in pitch until they were nearly screams. I was so close to coming. My pussy tightened around you and I begged you to fuck me harder, harder, harder. With a power I didn’t expect, you ruthlessly pounded your cock into me even harder and faster than before. I could hear my hips hit the car with every thrust. I heard screaming…I only knew it was mine when your hand clamped over my mouth.

I came harder than I’ve ever come before or since. My pussy squeezed you like a vice, milking you for every drop of your come as I screamed into your hand. You thrust hard a few more times and then were still, moaning softly as your come spurted liquid fire into my pussy.

I may have passed out. I don’t remember your cock sliding out of me – I just remember pulling my panties and shorts up in a daze over my dripping pussy. I straightened up dizzily. You were cleaned up, tucked in, and viewing me with a look of amusement.

“Do you make a habit of picking up strangers at grocery stores in the middle of the night?” you asked. I smiled.

“Nope. You’re the first,” I replied, back to my old flippant self.

I found my groceries, took them to my car two rows away, and drove home. I don’t think I ever got your name.

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