Grocery shopping …

Having only picked at the breakfast Mom had prepared, my stomach reminds me of the need for food. Mom had promised me her card and her car. I intend to capitalize on both. Even though her car is a typical SUV, designed for family and comfort, it’s a nice change from my cramped coupe. Of course, I would prefer a convertible, but it’ll do for now. More importantly is that she’s giving me access to her card! She rarely hands that over, preferring to be the family accountant, stringent with every penny.

I head downstairs and meet mom while she is cleaning the kitchen and prepping for dinner. Catching Mom’s attention, she turns to face me, putting her tasks aside. I can tell by her eyes that she’s appraising my choice of wardrobe without making a comment. A slight smile grows on her face, assuming she approves.

Mom informs me that she’s preparing dinner and has added some items she needs, to a list that is next to the keys and credit card, on the table. Looking over the list and what she has prepped so far, it doesn’t look like it will be enough for the family. “Are you sure that’s going to be enough for everybody?”

Mom chuckles lightly and informs me that Lloyd, my older brother, is still wrapping up at college, and won’t be back for another week. As for Aiden, my younger brother, he headed to the beach with friends to celebrate Senior graduation. “It’s just the three of us for the week! It’ll give us some quiet time until everyone is back home.” Mom returns to the counter, marinating the chicken she had prepared.

Alone time? Time alone with Dad, without the nuisance of the boys? I need to capitalize on this opportunity, otherwise, who knows if I’ll ever have another chance?

I grab the keys, pocket the card, and add the list of items to my phone, rather than carry a piece of paper with me. Mom needs to get with the times and use her phone to its fullest potential. Mom yells out something that I don’t quite hear fully as the door closes. I jump in her car, start it up and pull out of the driveway. Before I get too far, the urge to splurge takes over, so I stop by the local coffee shop drive thru. “A grande strawberry funnel cake creme Frappuccino with almond milk, a shot of espresso, extra strawberry, and a banana, double blended, with extra whipped cream.” What the fuck? That rolled off my tongue too easily, like I’ve ordered it a hundred times! I don’t even know what I just ordered! I hand the teller mom’s card and retrieve the pinkest, coolest looking concoction imaginable. I’m **** to sip and lick the extra whipped cream as it spills from the top, onto my hand and fingers. My tongue laves along the sides of the cup, slurping the white substance as it clings to the shaft. Next, I suckle the remnants that had collected on my palm and fingers, gently sucking each digit, curling my tongue around it, drawing the delicious cream towards the back of my throat. One by one, I suck each finger like … a miniature cock! … until each one is absolutely clean. I turn back to the teller to retrieve the card, when I spot him looking at me incredulously. My cheeks flush and I’m filled with embarrassing heat as the realization of what I must look like, suddenly hits me. “Ummm, yeah … thank you” I manage to stutter before taking off.

I continue to drive towards the store, absentmindedly sucking on the straw, drawing in the sweet concoction as it slides down my throat, coating my insides with its sticky substance. My mind conjures up images of the barista at the drive thru, his cock swelling to hardness as he watches me sucking … sucking … until the noisy slurping from the bottom of the empty container breaks me from my trance. God! That was soooo good! It went down so smoothly! I could drink … suck … this every day!

Suddenly, a dinging from the car alerted me that the tank was running low. Better to fuel up now, rather than on the way home with a load of groceries. I pull into the nearest station and park the car. I exit the car, swipe the card, and begin refueling. As I stand patiently waiting, the feeling of a full bladder takes hold. I shift from foot to foot, swaying my hips as I try to stave off the need. I nervously watch the digits on the pump scroll by, seemingly taking forever to fill the reservoir. Damn! I gotta go real bad! I probably shouldn’t have had that drink. I look around nervously, searching for a toilet. The run down building, doesn’t look very promising, and under any normal circumstance, I would never enter. Nature will not grant me that privilege and I’m **** to enter the cramped confines, in search of a toilet.

Once inside, it is much as I had expected. A refrigerator with sodas and waters, and some cups of ice cream. Next to that was a coffee station with a blackened pot sitting atop a burner, with some styrofoam cups, sugars, and stirrers to the side. A kiosk had some maps. Another kiosk had car chargers and air fresheners for sale. Along the walls were cardboard boxes with oil, windshield fluid, and radiator fluid stacked upon them. The clerk was hidden behind a wall of magazines for sale. Behind him was a wall of smoking products.

A quick glance at the magazines confirmed that this was not a place where a young woman should be. Porn magazines of all types were there for the picking. I may be more curious if I didn’t have to pee so badly, and I’m sure the clerk can see my discomfort as I continue my little dance of need. “Is there a bathroom around here that I can use?” I clench my thighs together praying for a quick reply.

“Around back …” His Hindi accent is thick, but I scramble in haste, not bothering to engage in conversation.

True to his word, nestled between two walls of concrete bricks is a wooden door that looks like it’s about to fall off its hinges. Beggars can’t be choosers … I tug and the door creaks open revealing the dirty, crusty interior. Not much of anything in this tiny room is truly clean, except for the toilet seat, which looks like it was recently replaced. There’s no time to contemplate any alternatives, so I scramble, close the door, pull my jeans down and squat on the seat. The cool air hits my loins and the waterfall erupts just in time. Relief, finally comes in the form of an empty bladder, my audible sigh echoes off the walls.

As I sit and relish in the relief, curiosity takes over as I begin surveying the artwork, and crude limericks scattered about the cubicle. As my head turns to the left side, I spot a crudely carved hole in the wall. I’ve heard stories, but have never a actually seen one before. I draw only a fraction closer when suddenly a semi-flaccid cock is pushed through for my inspection!