Getting It On . . . Organically

She was there, at the register, ringing up a customer. God, she was hot. Young, shapely—slim but not skinny—and she had an amazing butt. It was sometimes hard to tell, the way she often wore those flower-print skirts that draped over her, concealing her shape. But every now and then, when Chuck shopped here, she had on a tight pair of jeans. The first time he had seen her in those jeans, he was sure he drooled. When she rang him up that day, she had a little twinkle in her eye. She knew what effect she had on guys, that much was clear.

This evening, she was wearing another of her knee-length flower-print skirts, full of yellows and greens and sky-blues and hot-pinks. Her shirt was also bright, full of sassy, clashing colors. And, as usual, she had her light-brown hair mostly concealed under the red and green checkered kerchief she liked to wear. She kind of reminded him of a new-age hippie chick. Something about her, her style, struck him as downright earthy. Like the wooden hoop earrings she wore, the wooden bracelets, the wooden, beaded necklace. The only thing metallic were the nose rings, which he had never seen her without.

The customer in line ahead of him—an attractive middle-aged woman who you could just tell performed daily Pilates and probably held a meditation session each morning at sunrise—picked up her bag of organic groceries and recycled paper products and left. Now it was his turn. He was the last customer left in the store—just as he'd planned it. The doors would close in three minutes.

"Hey, how are you?" the cashier asked. Since he shopped here often—not because he was a lover of natural foods, but because he enjoyed ogling her—she recognized him instantly. "Find what you were lookin' for?"

He'd found it all right. Standing right there, in front of him, ringing him up. "Um, sure," he said. He had purchased only a handful of items—a small bag of jalapeno-flavored organic chips, a small container of goat's-milk yogurt, a vegetarian simulation of boloney (he figured, why the hell not, let's give it a try), and a small bag of organic crinkle-cut fries. If you were going to eat fries, you might as well eat the healthiest ones available.

"Hey, I've tried this," she said, holding up the fake baloney, her wooden bracelets jangling with a dull, hollow sound. "It's not bad. Ever had it?"

"No. But now that I know you like it, I know I can trust it to be good."

She gave a half-smile, and he could almost hear her thoughts. "Please. Spare me." Oh well. It had been worth a shot anyway. But then he figured he'd get right to the point. He had been coming here for weeks, building up his courage, waiting for the right moment. Now was the time. He'd either strike out or hit a home run, though, come to think of it, he'd gladly settle for a double. Even a single wouldn't be all bad. But whatever happened, he needed to take his swing right now, give a good, hard cut at the ball. No more hesitating. No more backing down.

"You close up in a minute, right?" he asked her.

She glanced up from the merchandise, meeting his eyes for a brief moment. Her eyes were a soft, light shade of green. You could get lost in those eyes. Oh yes, you could. "Yup," she said. "Soon as you leave, I gotta close up. Why? You wanna camp out here tonight or something? I wouldn't recommend it. Believe me, I'm here forty hours a week, and when it's time to close, I can't wait to get home."

Shit. Not the path he was hoping to traverse. The last thing he wanted was for her to leave.

"That's nineteen-seventy-one," she said, and he swiped his debit card, punched in his PIN, and then waited as she completed the transaction. When she handed him the slip, she smiled, and said, "Finally. Time to close up shop and get the hell out of here."

"Umm . . ."

"Oh, sorry. Did you forget something? If you need to go back and pick up something else, that's cool. I didn't mean to rush you or anything. Been on my feet all day, that's all. So, y'know, the thought of hopping in the bath sounds kinda inviting."

That was a pleasant visual. It sounded inviting to him, too. But back on task. He couldn't blow this. He needed to be direct.

"Look," he said. "You know I've been coming here a lot these past few weeks. I think the store's okay, but the real reason I like to come here is . . ." (don't chicken out, say it, say it!) ". . . well, because of you."

Her eyebrows rose, then settled back again. He noticed, though, that she didn't seem surprised.

"Does that . . . you know, piss you off or anything?" he asked.

She laughed. "Hey, you seem cool. You seem like a decent enough guy. Why would I mind? Shit, I'm flattered!"

"Really?" For some reason he was sure she'd be livid. But she was just standing there, looking at him, smiling, not a hint of unease. What's more, she no longer seemed in a hurry to leave.

"So," she said, "you wanna have some fun, is that it? Maybe get together sometime? Just kind of, you know, fuck each other's brains out?"

A wave of dizziness hit him like a cyclone. Did she just say what he thought she did? Well, sure, of course! That's exactly what he wanted. Probably what every guy who shopped here wanted. But what was she doing? Actually opening a door for him? Or being sarcastic? He'd be damned if he could tell.

So he told himself to just be honest, take a chance, have some balls.

"Well, now that you mention it," he said, "yeah. That sounds awesome to me. I mean, you know, now that you brought it up." What in God's name was he doing? Who was he kidding? She was just egging him on. Probably nothing but a cock-tease. Here he was, thirty-nine years old, he'd turn forty in a month. He was in good shape, but still, his hairline was receding more each week, it seemed, and he had a stubborn bald spot forming on the top of his head. He'd tried Rogaine foam for a year, and nothing. No hair would grow back. Why would she go for him? She couldn't have been a day over twenty-five.

"Guess you caught me on the right night," she said. "'Cause, y'know, that doesn't sound too bad right now. In fact, it sounds pretty fucking good. Like I said, I've been on my feet all fuckin' day, dealt with some real assholes today, too. I need a release. What the hell, right? You mind if we fuck right in here?"

He swallowed, tried to speak. It was hard to get the words out. She was serious. Dead serious. He couldn't believe it. Here he'd been hemming and hawing for weeks, whether or not to bring this up, and as soon as he does, she's the one who gets right to the point! Unbelievable.

"Uh, sure," he said. "Staying here is fine."

She winked. "Be right back. Lemme just lock the door."

She trotted away, returned in less than a minute. "You must think I'm schizo or something," she said. "I mean, one minute I say I can't wait to leave. The next I ask you if you wanna stay."

"Oh no, no," he said. "Not at all."

She laughed. "Know something? You're kinda cute. What's yer name anyway?"

"Chuck," he said.

She extended her hand, and they shook. "Hey, Chuck. I'm Bethany. Now, that we've been properly introduced, you wanna head over to the produce section and strip for me? If we're gonna fuck, I gotta see you first."

He coughed. "Sure," he said.

She took his hand in hers, led him to the middle section of the store, a circular area lined with shelves of local organic produce, from carrots and potatoes to beets and things he had never heard of and surely would never eat.

"'K," she said. "Take it all off for me, Chuck. You look like you're in pretty good shape, but still, I need to see you. And hey, how big is your cock? Damn, I shoulda told you right up front. I don't do men under seven inches. So . . ."

He let out a sigh of relief. He was seven-and-a-half inches.

"Cool," she said. "I would've hated to send you away before we even got started."

He was stripped down to his briefs now, but before he even had a chance to lower them, she told him to stop.

"Chuck, I hate to say this, but it's not gonna work out."

What? Why? He said nothing, though. He just looked at her, dumbstruck.

"I mean, you're cute and everything. Definitely fuckable, I mean, you know, for an old guy. But there is one major problem." She paused for effect, glanced at the organic celery, and said, "You're hairy."

"Hairy?"

"Yeah. Your chest is a fucking jungle, Chuck. And you got hairy arms and legs. I can't deal with that. Body hair grosses me out. Sorry. But that's why I had to see you naked first."

His mind raced. She had said he was fuckable! Except for the body hair. He couldn't blame her. He'd never liked his hairiness. He'd thought about trimming for years, but never had. Now it was coming back to bite him in the ass. But still . . .

"What if I shaved it all off?" he blurted out. God, he wanted her. She was so young, and so damn pretty. He'd gladly give up his body hair to get a shot at her, to see her naked, smooth body gyrating on his dick as she rode him to orgasm. Hell, he'd give up more than just body hair to fuck this woman.

Her eyebrows arched again. Then she smiled. "Hmm. Now that's an idea. I like it. Tell you what. We sell shaving cream here—organic stuff, of course." She rolled her eyes. "If you buy a can of it, I have my razor in my purse. We can lather you up, and I'll shave you myself. Right now." She giggled. "Sounds kinda sexy if you ask me. You up for it?"

Was he up for it? "Where's the shaving cream?" he asked, and she gave him a big smile.

♣

She had him lie down on the floor, on his back, totally naked now, and she knelt down over him, still fully clothed. She squirted the shaving cream all over his chest, then grabbed hold of her razor.

"Careful," he said.

"Aw, is Chucky scared?" she teased, and brought the razor down. She slid it across his upper chest, going from left to right, and a hefty chunk of his chest hair came off. "I'm sure it's gonna itch like hell in a day or two," she said, as she dipped the razor into a bucket of water she had fetched from the storeroom in the back. "But don't worry. I promise, when I'm through with you, you'll know it was worth it."

It didn't take her long to finish his chest, and he had to admit, she had a soft hand. There was no pain, no carelessness of the razor slicing into his nipple. Just smooth, easy strokes. Without hesitating, she proceeded to his gut and arms. It felt weird, having his forearms shaved—very effeminate. But hey, if that's what it took, that's what it took.

"Much better," she said, observing her handiwork. She stroked his hairless chest, taking a moment to pinch his nipples. "But now, on to the lower extremities."

"Uhhh . . ."

"Don't worry, I'll start with your legs."

He never in his life imagined he'd have his legs shaved, but when she told him to spread them, he offered no resistance. He wondered how much time was passing, but then, who cared? What did he have to do? Go back to his apartment and watch DVDs of Gilligan's Island, wishing he could fuck Mary Ann? Mary Ann was awesome, but the woman shaving him was even sexier. Not to mention real. No. Mary Ann could wait.

He felt her fingers grab onto his deflated dick. She began to jack him off, and he quickly became erect.

"Mmmm, you weren't exaggerating," she said. "In fact, you might have been too conservative. I'd say you're eight inches, babe, not seven and a half."

His ego puffed up at the compliment. Still, why did she want him erect right now?

"It's easier to shave your pubes when you're stiff," she explained. "That way, your cock's standing up at attention, and it's not in the way. Y'know, not, like, flopped over, shriveled up, blocking my path?"

He felt her lather up his groin. "Uhh . . .you know, Bethany, you're about to shave a very sensitive area," he said.

She giggled, brought the razor down, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the pain. None came.

"There," she said. "Was that so bad?"

No, not at all. He wondered how many guys she had shaved. But before he could ask, he felt her free hand stroking him again, keeping him good and stiff. God, she had a good grip. She seemed to know just how much pressure to exert.

"'K, all set," she said. "No pain, right?"

He shook his head, wanting desperately for her to start disrobing. Instead she told him to flip over onto his stomach.

"Gotta make sure your ass is smooth, too," she informed. "I can't be reaching behind you and feeling hair on your ass. Instant turn-off."

He did as told, being careful not to pin his erect dick beneath his body weight.

"Well, at least you don't have any back hair," she said. "That'll make this go faster. Your ass is gross, though, Chuck. No offense."

"None taken."

But just minutes later she said, "Mmmm, now your ass is baby-smooth. Much better." She toweled him off, caressed his ass cheeks, squeezed them. "You've been a good boy, Chucky. Now it's time you got your reward."

He liked the sound of that. Still, he had to ask, as he turned over onto his back again, "You ever do this before? I mean, with any other guys?"

She reached down, gripped the bottom of her shirt, and pulled it over her head. D-cup breasts, encased in a hot-pink bra, stared him in the face. They were even better, and bigger, than he thought they'd be.

"You like?" she said, and stroked his dick again. She moved her hand up and down his throbbing shaft, milking him, teasing him. . .

"You are so damn sexy," he said.

She smiled. "To answer your question, I never did this before. I mean, not in the store. But hey, I mean, what's life if you don't live it, right? I like to try new things. And you know what else? I've never screwed an old guy before. How old are you, anyway?"

"Thirty-nine," he said. "I'll be forty next month." For a second, he worried she'd be shocked by his age, and decide to end it, before they began. Then again, he knew he didn't look like a kid. Why should she be shocked by his age?

She nodded. "Well, like I said, I love to experiment. Before now, the oldest guy I did was thirty."

"How old are you?" he asked.

She stood up, shimmied out of her hippie-style skirt, revealing a pink G-string. He nearly shot his load then and there. She was a goddess.

"Twenty-two," she said. Twenty-two! Jeez. Even younger than he'd thought. Evidently she must have noticed the surprise on his face. "No worries, though, babe. I mean, I think we're gonna have fun."

As if to prove her point, she got down on her hands and knees, leaned over him, and took his cock in her mouth. She sucked his cock-head, using her tongue like a master. He could hear her moaning, purring, with his dick in her mouth. She raised her head, looked him in the eye, said, "Any complaints?" He shook his head no. He couldn't speak, not with this young goddess in her underwear giving him a blowjob. Hell, he could barely think.

She went back to work, and it felt out of this world. Had anything ever felt this good, in his entire life? But the problem was, he couldn't do the same to her. She was squatting by his side, nowhere near his face. He wanted to taste her.

He reached, gave her ass a little spank. She looked up at him, lust now burning brightly in her eyes.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just . . ."

"You wanna 69?" she said. His need must have been etched on his face. "You guys are all alike. You just want a little pussy. Are you any good, Chuck? Because, y'know, I have high standards."

"Try me," he said. The truth was, he hadn't licked a pussy in months. But he loved to please. That was one thing he always had going for him. Whenever he wanted to pleasure a woman, he usually made it feel good for her.

She maneuvered herself, and now her G-string covered crotch was staring him in the mouth. He couldn't resist a second. He grabbed the thin pink band and lowered it down her legs, allowing her to kick out of them. Her smooth-shaved pussy was right there, her vaginal lips full and thick, giving off the musky, heady scent of arousal.

He felt her going to town on his dick, could hear her purring again. She obviously loved giving head. It seemed like she was turning herself on, completely independent of anything he was doing. Now, if he could focus on something apart from the paradise-like sensations going on in his nether regions, maybe he could change that.

He flicked his tongue, licking her, tasting her moistness, and her hips squirmed, her moaning grew a little louder, and her sucking grew more animated, if such a thing were possible.

Now he inserted his tongue, as deep as he could. He loved the way a woman tasted. He probed, thrust, drew back, thrust again, feeling for the rough grooves of her G-spot. When he found it, he exerted as much tongue pressure as he could, and her hips did a little jig above his face.

"Mmmmmmmmm," he heard her cock-stuffed mouth say. He increased the pressure, then flicked his tongue, in and out, in and out, drinking her juices in, getting drunk on her lust.

He reached up, caressed the soft flesh of her ass cheeks. He squeezed, kneaded. She was perfect. Very curvy—her ass was big. Not fat, just shapely. Like the rest of her. She was only twenty-two, but every inch a woman.

He felt a hot stream of liquid begin to course through him, as he nibbled on her clit. He took it between his teeth, sucked on it, chewed it, and her hips bucked wildly. She was now sucking him like a woman possessed, thrashing and groaning and gasping, her mouth full of his eight inches. She deep-throated him with well-practiced skill, then sucked on his cock-head, driving him wild, wild. When she wrapped her lips around his shaft again, he exploded, his juices erupting out of him like lava from a mini Vesuvius. She drank in all of it, and when he was through she swallowed, and toppled off of him, onto the floor.

"Oh fuck, yeah," she said. She was still wearing her kerchief, but a few strands of her chestnut-brown hair had escaped from underneath, sticking to her sweat-soaked forehead. "Oh man, that was fuckin' hot."

He couldn't agree more. It had been an incredible experience. No one had ever sucked him like that, not even Tricia from his younger days, who used to boast she was the best cocksucker in the state. Still, this wasn't the end, was it? Had he misunderstood her? Was oral all she wanted to do?

She sat up, and his eyes were glued to her breasts. They were so full, so deliciously ripe. He wondered if they were natural. Hard to tell, constrained as they were, within her bra.

She reached up, undid the kerchief, removed the band in her hair, and let it fall, loose, over her shoulders. It was straight and long, reaching halfway down her back.

"You have beautiful hair," he said. "Why do you keep it hidden all the time? I mean, your kerchiefs are nice. It's just . . ."

She laughed, and he was glad she hadn't taken offense. "It's just easier, that's all," she said. "I mean, cooped up at the register, or out in the store, organizing the shit on the shelves. You know how it is. I don't wanna be brushing hair out of my face all fucking day. But thanks for the compliment."

She looked down at his cock, saw the drops of cum still on his tip.

"Hmm, looks like you need to be tidied up." And with that, she licked his tip clean, then took him in her mouth again, getting him hard. "I wasn't sure if you'd be able to spring back to life. Y'know, bein' forty an' all. Glad your hero still has some juice left in him. I mean, the blowjob was great. And you almost got me over the edge, too, y'know. You're pretty fuckin' good with your tongue, babe. But I mean, I don't know about you, but I, like, really wanna fuck, y'know? I am so fucking turned on right now."

She was incredible. Just incredible. He felt his erection firm up just a bit more at her words. Still, he was curious about something.

"There's no chance the lady who owns this place will stop by, is there?" he asked.