Convenience Store... Very Convenient

by P. Ness Maximus

'That'll be four thirty-five...' and I hand the clerk, Somali, I guess, a five-dollar bill.

I hear the ching-ching of the change dropping out of the register but it’s my jaw dropping as she walks in that really gets me. She is spectacular, Puerto Rican, I guess, or maybe from Miami, or just tan, with blue highlights in her hair.

The room hisses as she strolls down the beverage isle. She is slim and sexy in a thin black skirt and halter top, yes I can see that, and suddenly no one else exists, the clerk disappears to the back room, the store is empty, except for her. Time stops, and the whole store breathes.

She catches my eye, peers into my gasping soul, and smiles. Oh how she smiles. Her hazel eyes and liquid smile seems to say, 'Take me over the produce!' and so, without thought, without hesitation, I lick my lips and suddenly find myself next to her as she stoops forward to inspect the bananas.

She doesn’t turn to look at me as my elbow brushes against her ribs. Her fingers inspect the hardness of Chiquita's long yellow fruit, pinching, teasing the skin. I find my hands on her waist, she gasps as her fingers crush the banana skin, releasing a soft white cream.

'Hurry, bitch,' she whispers, lifting her skirt to the thin black thong disappearing into her ass. She cocks her ass up, arches her back as she reaches out with a ripe banana in each hand, slowly crushing them as a mist of cool water sprays droplets across her face, now peering into the mirror to gaze at me from across the sea of bananas, papayas, mangoes, and honey-dew melons.

My banana is hard, very hard, yet ripe, ready to release the creamy inside at her command. I wipe the sweat dripping from my forehead, snap her thong up to her low back and slowly insert my throbbing cock deep into her produce isle. She lets out a sweet cry as the bananas in her trembling hands explode, my cock teasing the inside lip of her peaches, and I thrust quickly over and over as she grabs more fruit, grabbing anything to crush in her hands.

The sweet fruit frenzy fills our nostrils, her eyes peel back in the mirror, and colors collide furiously in moments. Then she demands, ‘Harder, you fucking fuck! I... I.... someone is coming!’

‘Yeah, baby, I dart back panting, it's me...’

Her hair is covered in vegetable mist as she tosses her head back, ‘No you idiot, in the parking lot, they just pulled up!’ I ignore her and pound furiously at her ass, my hands squeezing her hips as several nectarines, mashed, fall helplessly to the floor.

With a sudden lunge I feel myself reeling back as my cock penetrates deep inside, touching her core, the thick head of my dick planted so hard and deep within her I fear for a second that I will split her open like a hard mango shoved through ripe tomatoes.

Suddenly a fresh customer walks in, an old woman, Scandinavian I guess, and without noticing our frantic movements, encounters the clerk at the far end of the store, conversing about what I knew not.

The mess was incredible, dozens of maimed fruit spread their aroma and sweet insides all over the floor, on her hands and arms, even across her back into her ass and peaches.

As fast as it had started, it was over, for her anyway. She let out a hiss, a quiet moan of relief as she quickly adjusts her skirt and with mushy wet hands pulls my still throbbing cock out of her ass. ‘But, I’m not quite done…’ I plead but she turns away.

She turns back suddenly and scoops up a bunch of unmolested ripe bananas, smiling at me. Smiling but distant, she winks, and heads to the clerk. The clerk is now at the register looking at us, eyes wide, his tongue red like the nectarines sprawled across the isle, speechless.

I quickly insert my dick, covered in fruit cream, back into my pants as my produce girl pops up to the register.
‘I'll take these,’ she insists, as the clerk, now wiping his eyes in disbelief, stands like a witness to a crime at his post. He rings her up as I walk like on a cloud or dream towards my fruit princess.

‘Excuse me,’ The old woman is tugging at my shirt, distracting me momentarily. ‘Looks like somebody's a bit careless, here,’ says the geriatric and I nod in agreement.

‘Try the bananas and peaches, ma'am, they're excellent!’

I groan and then turn but she's gone, the clerk is shaking his head and muttering in Somali.

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