It was just a quick errand. I threw on light gray sweatpants—no underwear—and a tight tee that clung to my chest and abs. I knew what I looked like. And so did she.

She was standing near the produce section, pretending to browse, but I caught her staring the second I turned down the aisle.

Short. Thick in all the right places.

Her bell-bottoms hugged her legs and shapely hips like a sleeve, the soft fabric pressing against her thighs, riding up just enough to outline the shape of her pussy print. With no panty lies, so no panties. Her legs were toned, her ass round and soft, shifting with every little movement.

I saw the way her eyes skipped a beat when her gaze dropped down and she noticed my tool. In fact, her pretty blue eyes locked onto the print in my sweats before she even noticed me looking at her. When she finally noticed me noticing her, she didn’t look away. If anything, she stared harder.

And then I noticed—her nipples. Hard as two bullets.

Small tits, but plump, ripe nipples pushing through the thin fabric of her faded MTV tee. She crossed her arms like she was trying to hide it, but it was too late. I love me a redhead, the only thing I like more, is a hot one, wearing a vintage Tee. 

I smirked. Adjusted myself slightly, so she could get a better view as I smiled, letting her know that I knew exactly what had flustered her.

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. She bit her lip, and kept it moving down the aisle. 

I grabbed what I needed and walked past her, slow, close enough for her to catch my scent, for her to feel the heat between us.

I turned down another aisle, and seconds later, she followed.

This was about to get interesting.

I turned down the next aisle, not even looking back. I didn’t have to—I already knew she was following me.

Her small footsteps were light, hesitant at first, but then she picked up pace, closing the space between us. I grabbed something off the shelf, pretending not to notice as she walked past me, stopping just a few feet ahead.

She reached up for an item on the top shelf, her back arching slightly, bell-bottoms pulling tighter, riding up just enough to tease me with another perfect outline of what I already knew was bare underneath and this time the wedgie was up her ass. 

She wasn’t even trying to hide it.

I stepped closer, just enough for her to feel me behind her. She inhaled sharply but didn’t turn. Instead, she shifted her weight, her ass pressing back slightly, just enough to graze me.

She let the moment sit. Let the air between us thicken. Then she turned her head slightly, smirking.

“You always shop like this?” she murmured, eyes flicking down to the thick imprint straining against my sweats.

I chuckled. “You always follow strangers down aisles?”

She just smiled, biting her lip. “Only when I see something I like.”

She grabbed a random item and walked off.

I followed.

Out in the parking lot, she headed straight for her car, tossing her bag into the passenger seat. She turned back, waiting. Testing me. I could tell by her eyes, she wasn’t playing. I leaned against the hood of my car, watching her, my smirk deepening.

“You gonna keep staring,” I murmured, “or you gonna do something about it?”

She took a step closer, her fingers tracing along the waistband of my sweats.

“Let’s find out.”

She glanced around—empty rows, barely anyone in sight. She wasted no time.

Her hand slipped inside my sweatpants, warm fingers wrapping around my cock, stroking slow, teasing. She worked me, then she added a second hand and started working me like she was churning butter, her soft hands had a hard grip sliding up and down, squeezing just right  with each stroke. This girls was a certified pro. 

She looked up at me, her blue eyes dark with heat, her breath coming quicker as she watched me react to her touch.

She sped up, her grip tightening, the sound of slick skin filling the quiet space between us. My muscles tensed, abs tightening beneath my shirt.

Then, she whispered, “Give it to me.”

And I did.

My breath hitched as I came, thick ropes spilling over her hand, coating both of her hands. Before I could even catch my breath, she brought them to head to her lips and sucked it clean, moaning softly as she did it. 

She didn’t waste a thing. 

She loved every second of it, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before pulling out her phone, handing it to me.

“Put your number in,” she murmured. “I might need another taste of that later.”

I did as she asked. Then she hopped into her car and pulled away, leaving me sitting there like a mesmerized fool, trying to catch my breath. 

It feels good to be blessed.