[MF] Bagging the Bag Boy, Part 1 [car sex][older woman younger man][random hookup]

It’s another hot and humid day in Charleston, South Carolina, and I’m making this grocery store trip last as long as possible to enjoy the air conditioning. I’m a management consultant from New York and have been down here for 2 weeks on a project, slated to go for 2 months, with option to extend.

At first, I was thrilled to travel down to historic Charleston for a spell. Seems like everybody has a hard-on for the South these days, judging from all the travel mags and blogs. No one warned me about the weather being already so hot in late Spring, though. It’s not even Memorial Day yet, and I’m already melting. Take the worst summer day in NYC and multiply that by 5 months. I hate being hot, so basically, I spend my time in the office, in my car, in my executive apartment, or at the store. In air conditioning.

The other thing is this assignment has been very time-consuming. Way more than usual. We’re talking 70-hour weeks. So, except for some office outings where I have to behave, I haven’t been able go out and assess the local “talent.” I was so looking forward to hooking up with some good ole boys and showing them how a New York woman does things. Yep, so far, it’s me, the A/C, and my toys. Oh, well…

“Finding everything you need, ma’am?”

I turn towards the source of the drawly voice and am presented with the cutest young man this 32-yr-old has laid eyes on in an age. Tall, maybe 6’2″. In great shape, in that way only a college boy can be. He’s wearing chinos and a short-sleeved button-up shirt with a clip-on tie – adorable. He looks clean-cut except for his ponytail of dark blond hair and a tiny piercing in his brow. Seemingly college-kid experimental subversive, but those WASPy good looks are right out of *Town & Country*. Pulling a day shift, though, which I appreciate from a work-ethic POV.

But let me tell you more about how cute he is. Sculpted cheekbones, cornflower blue eyes rimmed with dark blond lashes and corresponding brows, a well-defined mouth. He would be just a little too pretty except for his aquiline nose, which I always associate with a big dick since every guy I’ve ever known with a nose like that has been well hung. That’s just empirical evidence from my personal sample size, of course.

I feel my pussy creaming ever so slightly. It doesn’t help that I don’t have any underwear on since it’s hot as fuck out. And I just got waxed yesterday so, to paraphrase Carrie Bradshaw, I feel like walking sex.

“Uh, yes, I’m finding everything OK, thank you.”

“I can bring you a cart if you want. That basket will get heavy after a while.”

I don’t need a cart because truthfully, I’m just enjoying walking around in the A/C, since Lord knows, I can’t walk outside without melting. I’m working from home today and needed to get out while staying inside.

I start to say no, but impulsively say instead, “Oh sure, thanks! I always think I’m coming in for a few things then end up with a bunch of stuff.” I giggle like a dumb ass. Really, I kinda just want to see him again, and hey, chivalry is dead in New York. It’s nice to get waited on, especially when you didn’t even ask for it.

“I know how that goes. If you can wait in this aisle, I won’t be a minute.” The way he draws out “minute” is just too much. It sounds like “mihnnnit”. Holy shit, this kid probably isn’t even old enough to drink. I feel like a pervy old lady, but what the hell, I’m getting my free kicks, at the grocery store in the deep South. This is what it has come down to for this single Ivy League consultant, folks.

So, I stand there and wait and pretend to study the cold cereals even though I have plenty at home. I’m definitely getting a wee bit horny, here in my light camisole dress and no panties on. And while it’s hot out, it’s good and chilly in here, and my barely-there bra is not suppressing any nipple activity at all. I am slightly mortified to notice that my nips are very perky and pressing forward into my dress like pencil erasers. Thankfully the fabric of my dress is dark with a small floral print so somewhat camouflaged.

I hear the rattle of shopping cart wheels and turn to face my knight in shining armor with a bright smile. Eyes up here, buddy. He approaches me with his long-limbed easy gait and stop about three feet away.

“Here you go, ma’am. I can put those things in the cart for you and put your basket back, if you’d like.” I am liking this Southern gallantry!

He proceeds to take my basket out of my hands, his eyes lingering for a couple of seconds on my hard nipples as he bends down. I watch him move my measly half dozen items over to the housewife-sized cart, admiring his big, strong hands, sturdy bony wrists, and lightly muscled forearms. In another time, he could be a farm hand. You know, the type that would bend you over and fuck you hard in the hay stacks back in the barn. I laugh a little to myself. I’m thinking like such a snotty Yankee bitch. Blame it on the heat.

“Somethin’ funny, ma’am?” He asks innocently, looking up at me with those big blue eyes. I idly wonder if he’s working hard not to sneak another look at my nipples.

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking this level of service would never happen where I’m from.” I answer, trying to keep a straight face.

“Where’s that, ma’am?” OK, that’s like the 4th time he said “ma’am” to me. I’m not that fuckin’ old.

“Manhattan. Born and bred.”

“Oh, wow, that’s so cool.” Clear admiration in his eyes. “My buddies and I are thinking about going up to New York City at the end of the summer, before our last year of college. We need to earn some money first, though.”

“Ooh, end of summer is very hot in New York. The Fall is best.” I immediately say, being a New Yorker and all. Then I remember it’s hot as hell here, what’s the difference. Well, at least he’s a college junior, for Christ’s sake. I feel slightly less like a cradle robber.

“Oh, that’s OK, warm weather is not a problem for me.” He smiles.

“Right. Where do you go to school?”

“College of Charleston, ma’am.” He drawls out ‘Charleston,’ making it into four syllables. Again, adorbs.

“That’s a good school,” I say approvingly, sounding like a school marm. Not like he asked my opinion. “Well, good luck with it all. Thank you for the cart.” Shit, I gotta get out of here and go play with myself.

“No problem, ma’am. I’ll probably see you on the way out. I’m bagging groceries, too,” he says with a small smile before turning away and walking towards the registers. OK, I did not need to know that.

I walk up and down the aisles, throwing random stuff into my cart that I don’t really need. For some reason, I feel a little nervous to see him again. He’s just too darn cute! And sexy. Maybe it’s the heat, but I keep visualizing that beaked nose buried in my neck as he pounds me from behind, those big hands holding on to my ass flesh. And then maybe he’d pull out and rim me for a bit. And then start working his horndog college-boy cock inside my ass… are college students having anal sex nowadays? I know I didn’t until way after college. OK, horny lady in aisle 10, everyone!

Finally, my cart is respectably half full, although I have no idea what’s in it. It’s the middle of a weekday, and only one register is open. I make my way to it with a mix of excitement and slight dread. Where is the self-checkout when you need it?

The cashier is an older guy who could not be less interested in me, or anything else around him. He rings me up in full robot mode. The cute kid – well, young man – is at the other end of the bay, naturally, and gives me a polite nod and requisite automatic smile as I hand him my reusable bags, his fingers brushing mine lightly.

As he starts bagging, I realize I have a shit-ton of “groceries” but only 2 of my own bags since I wasn’t planning on a big shop, so I add 2 of the store’s recycled totes available for purchase to my pile. This whole shopping trip is starting to feel gratuitous and a bit out of hand. Again, I have to stifle the urge to giggle out loud.

Finally, all my silly snacks and drinks have been bagged and I settle up. I’m still not used to bag-boy service so am vaguely surprised when cutie pie turns the two-shelf trolley wheels forward and looks at me expectantly.

+ + +

I start walking out of the store, very aware that he might be checking out my ass. And also very aware that I have not a stitch of underwear on and that my pussy is totally wet.

We make our way to my rental SUV – for those beach trips that I have yet to take – which is parked on the far end, the shopping center being more crowded when I arrived an hour ago with moms shopping while their kids are in school. I press the key to open the trunk hatch, only to remember that the back is chock-a-block with beach gear (that I have yet to use) and some stuff from Home Depot. Usually when I grocery-shop, I just put the bags on the floorboard of the back seat.

“Oh, sorry. Let me organize this a bit.” I stand on tiptoe and lean in to push all the crap forward to make space. Well, I guess my short dress must have ridden up because when I lower my heels and turn back to face him, he’s staring at my ass, his pants tented by a hard-on. I’m realizing he must have seen the back of my naked cooch, in its full hairless glory.

He swallows hard and his cheeks look slightly flushed as he silently unloads my so-called groceries into the trunk. I’m not sure if I am more embarrassed or more turned on. I fumble in my pocket for some small bills for a tip (but what I’m thinking is I’d like a taste of *his* tip). Of course, I have no cash because I’m a millennial and use my card for everything.

“Hold on, I think I have something in the armrest compartment.” I tell him. My face feels hot, and I feel a little giddy.

“It’s fine, ma’am, we get the new minimum wage now.” He’s also red in the face and avoiding my eyes.

“No, no, I insist. I keep cash in there for bridge tolls.” I close the hatch then open the back door and step up, realizing a second too late that I’m likely flashing him again if he’s still behind me. Oy. Oh well, too late now.

As I press the button to open the console from the back, I feel a smooth warm hand behind my knee as another hand gently pushes my short dress up my ass, and last but definitely not least, a wet tongue licking up the back of one thigh, then the other. Oh my God, what the fuck. And no, I don’t mind at all…

[See link for Part 2/finale in Comments.]

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^(Note: This story was published earlier this year on) *^(Literotica)* ^(under my alt, POVscribe.)

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/d7rcz6/mf_bagging_the_bag_boy_part_1_car_sexolder_woman