Her images dripped erotic honey into Randy’s mind. She felt him shudder and tremble, signaling his end. He was coming. He puffed out hard gulps of breath.
What the male orgasm was like, she wondered. Was it like hers? Like every nerve in your body flaring to life at once and exploding in a supernova of ecstasy. Was it better? Not as good? She didn’t know.
Judging by Randy’s enthralled face, it must feel pretty goddamn nice.
Debbie used both hands on him now. One tugged the length of his cock, but her other massaged only the tip. Randy howled between his teeth as his orgasm erupted.
The tiny notch of Randy’s cock opened and a jet of shimmering white surged through. He came so fast and hard that she heard it splatter on the shopping cart.
Her hand stroked and swirled as thick waves of come spurted out, a decade’s worth of sexual torture and blue balls. Randy needed this liberation, and Debbie needed to give it to him and wouldn’t stop until he was empty.
Eventually he did. She reluctantly let go as he relaxed.
Debbie removed a packet of Handiwipes from her purse. Before she cleaned up, she lifted Randy’s chin until his dark eyes met hers.
Slowly, Debbie lifted her soiled hand and put the fingers in her mouth, sucking his spunk down greedily. She tasted the olive oil, but his tang, like clean pool water, was there too. Randy’s anticipating groan rewarded her.
He folded his cock into his pants then draped his shirt to cover his crotch. Debbie wiped her hands with a cool wipe and in seconds, they were pushing the cart again. But neither cared for dinner anymore. They weren’t hungry.
Not for food anyway.
“Thank you,” Randy said.
Thank you? Debbie frowned, feeling insulted. She hated being thanked after sex. Thanking her made her sound like a charitable hooker.
But his honest smile softened her. Randy didn’t know better. Even at forty, her scholarly brother-in-law seemed almost childish, no doubt an effect of his horrendous marriage. Her sister’s browbeating had dissolved his spine like acid. Also, Randy might just be a nice, honest guy and meant nothing by thanking her.
Either way, Debbie loved it.
“Don’t thank me,” she said. “You’re returning the favor the second we get out of here.”
“Really?” Randy said.
“Yes,” she said. “You’re going to be busy tonight.”
He smacked the shopping cart. “We don’t need all this shit, huh?”
Debbie looked at the cart. A loaf of bread, pasta sauce and a light smattering of his cum. Oops. She bent with another Handiwipe and cleaned the cart. Handiwipes were a girl’s best friend: essential for those errant money shots!
“We’ll order something,” she said. “Almonds and Gatorade. You’ll need the proteins and fluids.” She kissed his cheek.
Randy released the cart and clutched her elbow tightly. THAT, she liked. She hoped that a little liberation might push him in the right direction. She was right. Sexual frustration wasn’t the only thing his orgasm released. It also released the poison her sister had injected into him over the years.
Maybe that wimpy (but nice) Randy had only been renting space. Maybe the real Randy had emerged. Strong, decisive, passionate. The way he gripped her arm and dragged her down the aisle supported that. Her heels clattered quickly on the linoleum as he hurried her along.
Before they left the aisle, Randy froze. “Oh shit,” he said. “Forgot something.”
He sprinted down the aisle, reached over their cart–
–and grabbed another bottle of olive oil.
A BIG bottle.
He wobbled it at her, and she laughed louder.
When they checked out a minute later, the clerk wondered how two people could be excited just buying a bottle of olive oil.