Giving my number to the DILF at the grocery store only to get my pussy eaten by him later that night [MF][F21]

*“…twenty eight…cents…place your…Roma tomatoes in the bagging area”* the robotic self checkout chanted. My eyes were immediately affixed to the bright red spheres I’d so eagerly bite into on this hot summer day*.*

A gruff hand reached down to bag the fruit and caught my attention. A late forties-salt-and-pepper haired DILF. Well, I didn’t actually know if he had a child, but it didn’t matter. It was the aesthetic that took me in. Wearing a black flat top, a flannel, and olive Levi’s, I knew this was just the type of trouble I wanted to get myself into. His beard was clearly not an intentional one, but was rather the type that emerges from an overgrown, under kempt

five o’ clock shadow. Maybe he was busy with work and didn’t have time. Maybe he wasn’t partnered and didn’t have anyone to impress. Maybe he thought it was a good look. Regardless, it was a beard that said “I don’t give a fuck, ” and when paired with a body that screamed “suck me off and call me daddy,” it was irresistible. *Yes, daddy.*

He picked up his bag and I panicked. Fuck! The real world does not move at the pace of my perverted nympho brain. I didn’t have much, if any, time to do anything. For fucks sake, I had a basketful of moscato and tortilla chips for girl’s night. What was I gonna do, just leave it? And say what? *Um, hi, I saw how you handled those plump, round tomatoes, and was hoping I could be your next victim?!?* I literally had nothing. His meaty forearm strained as he picked up the bag and headed toward the automatic sliding doors at the front of the store. He walked away with purpose, as if he had another task to attend to and just needed to get this grocery run over with. He didn’t take his receipt. *He didn’t take his receipt.*

I rushed over to what was his checkout stand and put down my basket of shitty, overly-sweet wine and rancid-tasting clearance chips.

“Excuse me, I just have to grab this,” I said to the next customer at the checkstand. I ripped the receipt off the till and scrambled through my purse for a pen. *He’s probably already gone*, I thought as I scribbled my name and number so quickly it was hardly legible. I was just shooting my shot. Pristine penmanship was less than an afterthought.

I ran to the sliding automatic doors, leaving my basket next to the customer service kiosk at the head of the self checkout stands. They opened with a speed comparable to that of the gates of heaven, revealing a half-empty parking lot and one hunkalicious DILF.

He had just closed the back hatch of his Volkswagen Golf GTI, which could not have been more fitting. I definitely had to act quickly, but this was doable.

“Excuse me, sir! I think you forgot something.”

He looked back as if he needed to track down the source of the voice, but not to be the receiver of its message. As he saw me run toward him, he shot me an incredulous, brow-furrowing look that I probably would have found insulting under any other circumstance.

“You forgot this…I think there might be something important on the back,” I said sheepishly.

He smirked, looked up, and folded it in half.

“Well you certainly made my day, but something tells me that you’re a little too young for me.”

“Thank you for this though,” he said, without giving me a chance to let out so much as a sigh.

“Shit like this doesn’t happen much when you’re my age,” he said, raising the receipt while looking back over his shoulder as he got into the driver’s seat.

The engine started and red back-up lights glowed. *Fuck. This is what I get for putting myself ‘out there.’*

I was filled with humiliation more so than defeat. If he had rejected me, I would have at least felt like it was worth a shot. But his response made he feel like I was stupid to have even asked. Also, he had no idea how old I was. Maybe I looked especially young that day. Maybe he looked especially young and was actually a lot older than I had thought? He was totally fuckable, but at this point, it didn’t even matter. I walked out of the parking lot to turn left onto the next street and head home. Here I thought I’d have this great story to tell my roommates, but now I was far too embarrassed to even think about mentioning it to them.

I had thought about going back to grab my groceries, but I was too prideful. As I walked home, I felt sexually frustrated. I thought about all the things I might do to myself to ease the dissatisfaction that was walking away from the situation empty-handed. Maybe I’d watch some hardcore lesbian porn and bust out the hitachi, or just fuck myself silly with the biggest dildo I had. I needed something to get me out of my head.

I was embarrassed, but I realized that no one had to know. The roommates and I could just go about our regular girls’ night watching old episodes of The Bachelor on Hulu. I had an hour before they got home, so I could run to a *different* grocery store to stock up on the sweet wine and snacks I had left behind earlier without having to show my rejected face again.

I got halfway home from Safeway when my phone dinged, interrupting the Nine Inch Nails song I was listening to (fittingly, it was Closer).

A text from an unknown number popped up.

“Hi, Sasha. It’s Daniel, the parking lot oldie :)

My apologies for being so curt; would you care to join me for a drink sometime?”

*Well, he got your name wrong, but that’s what you get for having the penmanship of a Ritalin-addicted third grader, ace.*

But I didn’t even care. Sasha was close enough to Sarah, and quite frankly, he could call me anything he wanted as long as I could moan Daddy when he was inside of me.

I crafted a response that was tasteful but forward; I wanted him to know what I was interested in. I only wanted his cock, not his company.

“Hey, stranger! Glad I didn’t scare you off.

I’m free tonight, your place or mine?”

It was bold, but I didn’t want to plague him with the ambiguity of being italic or regular.

“How does 9 work for you at my place?”

Fucking splendid. He likely lived alone, so I wouldn’t have to worry about being quiet or dodging question from my nosy roommates. And it would be late enough that it wouldn’t even unfeasible for me to purse my lips on a cocktail before wrapping them around his cock. I’d have to find a way to get out of girls’ night, but I figured the girls wouldn’t care, especially since I had bought wine and snacks.

I confirmed our plans and he sent his address, which happened to be quite close to me, only about five blocks total.

I had two hours to prepare, so I had a drink, smoked a bit, and got ready. I wanted to look young and put together, but ravenous for some high quality aged peppered sausage.

I Zillowed the address before leaving, mostly because I was pretty sure I knew which house it was, and also because I’m nosy. It was indeed the house I was thinking of, and was tasteful for the area. A modest $1.2 million, which in the neighborhood was actually pretty average.

I walked with confidence toward him wearing an outfit that would convey both my place in life and interest.

I wore tight wedgie fit jeans that hugged my shaved pussy and lifted my ass. Paired with a tucked-in button up with the first three buttons undone, I felt that I was conveying both my intentions and place in life. I wore a tasteful amount of makeup, mostly sticking to the essentials, topping the look off with lip gloss that made me look like the sluttiest 10th grader around. But I loved it. And I was ready to bend over for the teacher’s attention.

I approached the door and hesitated a minute before knocking. I briefly reflected on the fact that I was about to fuck yet another older man, and couldn’t decide whether I felt prideful or pathetic. Either way, here I was. And I was ready to fuck.

I did my standard three-beat knock, and the handsome daddy was stood before me. Now wearing wool socks, a pair of jeans, and a thermal shirt, he looked liked exactly the type of love blanket I wanted to be wrapped up in.

“Hello! You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, you look pretty good yourself.”

“Come in, come in. What can I get started for you to drink?”

“Gin and tonic, extra lime.”

“A gin girl…I like it,” he said, winking back at me

“I assume you live in the neighborhood?”

“I do. Just down on 11th. Not too far.”

“Oh, wow, so really close.”

We got to talking, and little to my surprise, he was almost exactly what I had expected. Single dad, recent (and ugly divorce), partial custody, with the kids spending most of their time with his ex. He worked in tech, and she started to feel unappreciated, so she left. His work doesn’t allow much time for dating, and after being married for almost two decades, he didn’t feel like he knew how to date anymore. He was down but hopeful. And I had the feeling I had exactly what it took to re-invigorate this layless lad.

An hour of chatting flew and we were both a few drinks in, sitting across from each other, on his couch. He had his legs separated so that one foot was resting on the ground and the other was facing me.

He thanked me again for having a drink with him, lamenting that he doesn’t often get the opportunity with work being so chaotic.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” I said, teasing.

“If you don’t, you won’t continue to age gracefully,” I said, winking.

“You’re sweet. It’s hard when you get older though, you just seem to never have time.”

I touched his leg and started to rub it.

“We have time…unless it’s past your old man bed time.”

“Clearly you haven’t spent much time around old men, they all go to bed late.”

“Music to my ears.”

I had him spin his legs around to face me, as I kneeled in front of him on the couch. I unbuttoned his pants and started to pull on his briefs, cueing him to raise his hips to slide them off.

He had a cock that was perfect for letting me show off. It was big enough to do the job, but wasn’t so big that I’d have a problem taking him to the back of my throat.

My lips had barely touched him before he started moaning. Poor single dad couldn’t catch a break, he needed a little college girl lovin’ in his life. I could sense that he was getting close from just the blowjob. He hadn’t been laid in a while, which was a damn shame. I began swirling my tongue and bobbing my head a little faster. He grabbed the back of my head and held me in as he came. He was breathing heavy and let out the grunt of a happy man. I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get to fuck him. He was old enough that I didn’t know if he would recover quickly, or if we’d have to wait until next time, if there was one.

“I’m so sorry, that was just…um…fuck.”

I began stroking his well-muscled thighs reassuringly. The last thing I wanted him to feel was guilty.

“Don’t you apologize. I’m just glad I got to take care of you,” I said, as I looked up at him with blowjob eyes.

“You’re so sweet. But I need to take care of you now. Switch me places.”

I sat on the edge of the couch where he had been and shimmied off my panties.

He proceeded to eat my pussy like he was licking the last Haagen Daz milk chocolate almond bar on the planet, savoring every square inch and engaging his entire mouth in the experience. My cum dripped down from the corners of his mouth, just like sweet vanilla ice cream. He licked the sides of my legs and inner thighs, making sure not to miss a single drop.

I honestly can’t even remember how long this went on, but I kept feeling like it would eventually come to a natural end. I couldn’t just keep coming and coming and coming, it had to stop at some point. But it wasn’t. My knuckles were sore from clenching the fabric of his couch cushions to brace myself with every toe-curling, exorcistic orgasm. Droplets of sweat covered my forehead, and I felt like I was about to go into shock.

“Daddy, stop. It’s too much. My little girl pussy can’t take it anymore.”

I didn’t know where that had come from. I hadn’t done daddy/little girl play in a while, but it was the only thing I could say in the moment. It was just too fitting.

“You’re such a good girl, letting daddy enjoy you for as long as you did.”

I couldn’t believe it. He was on board.

I couldn’t help but feel like a slutty Miss Rogers, filled with joy and song.

It was a wonderful day in the neighborhood indeed.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/dw53bx/giving_my_number_to_the_dilf_at_the_grocery_store