Paper or Plastic?

This is a work of fiction. All persons are intended to be age 18 and above.

PAPER OR PLASTIC?

By anonymous.a

I spotted him the first time I shopped the new grocery store down the road from my place.

He was young back then, no more than 17 or 18, a bit chubby with a large, peach-shaped ass, short brown hair, freckles, and tiny feet (which I have since learned has nothing to do with the size of a man’s penis).

He started as the kid who went into the parking lot to fetch the carts from the corral. Later, he graduated to manning the cash register. Then, he was stocking shelves and doing other things until finally, one day, I walked into the store and there he was, wearing a long-sleeved dress shirt and smart slacks and loafers, a tie cinched around his neck, a more important-looking name tag pinned to his chest. He was an assistant manager.

And he had grown into a sharp-looking young man.

What attracted me to him was his smile. How can I describe it? The word “radiant” springs to mind. When he cranked those ruby red lips into a grin his entire face bloomed into a portrait of happiness, his cheeks flushing red and his eyes widening in wonder. It didn’t hurt that he had slimmed down, shedding all that baby fat, until his ass became a pinchable bundle of tight-fitting muscle. I wanted to grab that ass with both hands and squeeze it, like a melon.

I tried to learn everything about him.      I knew he lived in a town about two miles north of the grocery store. He drove a 10-year-old Caddy he had dressed up with chrome accents, flashy new wheels and dark window tint. His name was Rick. That was about it.

I fantasized about following him home from work and flinging myself at him. Or bumping into him at the gym and having a tryst in the shower. In the end, it was a conversation in the store that set events in motion.

I was there one day and actually grocery shopping, not ogling Rick. I was looking for chiabatta rolls, which they usually keep in the bread section of the deli, but today I couldn’t find any. As I wandered the aisles looking confused, somebody finally said, “Excuse me.” When I turned around there was Rick, smiling sweetly. “Can I help you find something?” he asked.

“Sure thing, Rick,” I said. “Chiabatta rolls. Where did you hide them?”

He motioned for me to follow and led me in the direction of a shelf filled with loaves. Along the way I got to take in his pert little butt as it wiggled back and forth. In my mind’s eye I saw what awaited me beneath the tight slacks and, from the look of it, boxer briefs. A tight crack, dry and fresh-smelling, tufted with short hairs that thickened into curlies as you get toward his moist, warm love socket. I pictured my tongue piercing that wrinkled aperture, drilling into the heat of his body, his muscles relaxing as my tongue –

“Sir?”

I snapped back to reality. He was smiling at me, a plastic bag of chiabatta rolls in his hand. His lips were so juicy red I barely suppressed an urge to gather his cheeks into my hands, pull him into an embrace and kiss him.

I thanked him and as I walked away he said, “Excuse me sir.” I stopped and looked back. Again, he was smiling. Always smiling. “How did you know my name is Rick?”

“Your name tag. It says ‘Rick.’ ’’

His smile never dimmed. “But I’m not wearing a nametag. I forgot and left it home.”

I looked and sure enough, no nametag. Busted. So I decided to be bold – you know, damn the torpedoes and all that. I took a deep breath and said, “I make a point of learning the names of all the really cute guys.” And with that I smiled, winked, and made my way toward the cash registers.

I didn’t go back to the store for a couple of weeks. I figured if he were in a snit, I would give him time to get over it. The day I did pull into the parking lot, I spotted his black Caddy parked at the back of the lot, under a tree. I guess he didn’t want people dinging his doors. And the tree would shade the interior so it wouldn’t get too hot. For the hell of it, I pulled into the space to the right of his car. I got out.

Suddenly, the passenger window went down.

“Can you help me with something?” a voice asked from inside. I bent and looked through the window. Rick was sitting in the driver’s seat, his trademark tight slacks, long-sleeved shirt and loafers in place. He was even wearing his name tag.

The passenger door lock knob popped up. “You’ll have to get inside,” he said brightly. “Don’t worry; it’ll only take a minute.”

I got in and shut the door. The lock popped into place and the window whirred up.

He was struggling with a windshield sunshade, one of those accordion-like cardboard thingies you stretch across the front dash and tuck under the visors to keep the sun from shining into the car.

“I can never get this thing in by myself.”

I took one end and working together, we managed to get it positioned correctly. When he was done, he said, “There! Now there’s one other thing.”

He unzipped those tight slacks, fished around inside and drew out the most perfectly formed penis I’ve ever seen.

He gave me that radiant smile and said, “I could use a little help with this.”

He did not have to ask twice.

The shaft was neither thick nor thin, and the head was only slightly wider than the shaft. The tip glistened with prostate fluid, what the pornos call pre-cum. At the base of the shaft a few pubes, decidedly not curly, poked from the opening of his pants.

I leaned over the center console and thrust my face into his crotch. His cock found its way into my mouth and I took it down all the way to the base, my nose buried in a forest of pubes. His cock was scalding hot and slid down my tongue to jam against the back of my mouth. I allowed my tongue to explore the shaft, then pulled back and licked the underside of the glans, coming up until my tongue probed his piss hole. Than it was back down for a second deep dive.

The odor emanating from his crotch was incredibly strong, suggestive of a much larger and powerful man, and his dick tasted a little like that smell.

His hands ran through my hair as I began bobbing up and down on his shaft. He began whispering, “Nobody can see us. The tint is too dark and the sunscreen blocks the windshield. You can suck it all day if you want.”

I began working at his belt and then the clasp of his pants, because I wanted them down so I could explore his balls and his crotch. Now that I had this hot little number in my clutches I would not let him go without a proper tongue bath, to be finished with an injection of semen into my hungry, sucking mouth.

He pulled me off. “In the back,” he whispered hoarsely, nodding toward the back seat. I crawled through the gap in the front buckets and he followed, his pants starting to come down as he scrambled into position. He yanked at the bottom of my cargoes and said, “Get those off. I need to be inside you.”

My God, I couldn’t believe my luck. This little fucker was one hot son-of-a-bitch. I didn’t bother unbuttoning my shorts or undoing the belt; I simply yanked them down, wriggled out of one leg, then the other. I leaned against the far corner as took my left ankle and propped my leg on the driver’s seatback, then spread the other leg so that my foot rested on the back seat. My ass was totally exposed. I felt cool air on my butthole.

But not for long.

He yanked his pants lower and took that tasty cock and aimed it at my hole. I felt the knob, slick with my own spit, press against the lips of my boy pussy, forcing them apart. It was so hot it seemed to melt its way into my ass. I felt it going inside me, a presence of firmness slowly sliding into my colon. As he entered me he closed his eyes as if to focus on the sensation, and that smile was replaced with a look of innocence suffused with anguish, as if this were his first experience with sexual bliss, a feeling so utterly amazing that it was instantly addictive. I have to admit, when I saw his look of urgent need I spread my legs as wide as they would go and let him push inside until his cock had been swallowed by my hole.

“Oh God yes,” he whispered shakily and began to rock back and forth, into and out of my steamy hole, his eyes still closed and his nostrils flaring. My hands found their way to those tight butt cheeks and I pulled him into me, forcing his dick to go deeper, then deeper. The car was filled with a slapping sound as his flesh banged against mine, his penis, so recently in my mouth, now plunging the depths of my most inner reaches. And the smell – sweat and ass funk and something else, the smell of a male in full fuck mode, pounding away.

He gave me mighty spearings, this way and that, and at one point I simply relaxed, spread as wide as I could and allowed this beautiful boy man to enjoy my body for his sexual release.

He was driving into me with such force he pushed me against the far corner of the back seat. All the while, little puppy-like whining sounds slipped past his lips as he drove into me, finally with such desperation that I thought his balls must have slipped into my asshole.

Suddenly he raised his head, opened his eyes and stared at the Caddy’s headliner – letting out a snarled “Oooooh!” and I felt his essence flooding into my ass, jet after jet of cum, more than I thought those tight little balls could hold. It was too much for me and I shot a cannon blast of jizz myself, striking my lips, chin, and then all over my T-shirt. I licked my lips and savored the gooey, sticky goodness of my seed as I wondered what his would taste like.

He relaxed back into me, his cock remaining in place, a few aftershocks releasing tiny twitches of semen. His expression had changed to dreamy relief. I took the opportunity to snatch a quick kiss, and cherished the almost fruity taste of those brilliant lips. He eased his cock from my hole, and I did not let him take it away without grabbing it first, squeezing a dollop of juice from the tip, and running it over my tongue. Creamy. Wonderfully thick and creamy. That one little taste seemed to coat the entire surface area of my mouth.

Then he was pulling up his pants and tucking in his shirttails. “I’ve got to go.”

I too got dressed, struggling to hold his cum in my ass. I needed to get home. I had plans for that cum that did not involve letting it leak out into my boxers.

“We’re having a special today,” he said as he opened the driver’s side door and I, the passenger side.”

“Rump roast.”

But then I already knew that.

Check out Part 1 of my erotic novel “One Day in the Life of Josh” at Amazon. It’s only 99 cents, but I guarantee you’ll get more than a dollar’s worth of hot action. Follow this link: http://www.amazon.com/ONE-DAY-LIFE-JOSH-PART-ebook/dp/B014ORH9YE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1450023605&sr=8-1&keywords=one+day+in+the+life+of+josh

I’ve collected all my daddy-son stories into a single volume, “Daddy’s Boys,” on Kindle. Take a look at it here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01CC7PZO4 A companion book, containing most of the stories from “Daddy’s Boys,” is titled “ANAL-ogy” and is also available on Kindle at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01D6IRQH2

Let’s hook up on twitter. I’m at @anonymous_sexie . Shhhh! Don’t tell anyone.

I’m on tumblr at theanonymousa.tumblr.com .

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