Shopping for Pleasure

I pushed the shopping cart through the aisles, my mind still buzzing from our earlier escapades. I felt like a tourist in this new world, my eyes darting around, taking in the everyday yet extraordinary interactions. We passed by a section where a woman was casually stroking a man, her movements as natural as picking out fruit. The sight made me wonder if I could engage in such acts with any woman here, without even asking. It was a test, really, to see how far the norms of this SIM would stretch.

My train of thought was interrupted when I accidentally bumped the cart into Stacey.

"Oww! David!" she yelped, rubbing her backside where the cart had nudged her. "Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry, Stace," I chuckled, my gaze lingering on her form. My hands instinctively reached out, giving her a cheeky squeeze. She shot me a mock glare, but her lips curled into a smirk.

Then, my attention was caught by another scene unfolding nearby. There was this woman, maybe around 45, bending down to reach for something on a lower shelf. She had a curvaceous figure, fuller than most younger women but with all the right curves, her body a mature beauty. Her hair, a light brown in mid-length waves, framed her face perfectly, embodying the quintessential allure of a MILF. Her skirt fluttered around her thighs as she moved, creating an inviting silhouette.

I remembered the woman stroking the man in the other aisle, how seamless and accepted it was. This was my chance to test the waters of this world, to act without prior warnings, to see if the simulation's rules held true everywhere. Feeling the pull of this world's norms, I didn't hesitate. I approached from behind, my intentions clear. The woman, sensing my presence, glanced back, her eyes meeting mine with a knowing look. Her skirt was already hiked up slightly from her bending, offering easy access.

"Hon, do we need more of this?" her husband asked, holding up a jar of pickles, completely unperturbed by my approach.

She adjusted her stance, spreading her legs slightly to accommodate me, and I took the opportunity to hike up her skirt around her waist, revealing she wore nothing underneath.

My hands found her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh, guiding her back onto me. She let out a chuckle, knowing and amused, her body not yet betraying any sign of arousal, just a playful acceptance of the situation.

"Looks like we've got company, darling," she said to her husband, her voice laced with humor rather than arousal. As she spoke, I unzipped my jeans with a frantic urgency, my cock already hard, eager for release, the anticipation like a palpable **** around us.

Her husband, with a shrug that belied any concern, replied, "Well, if you're enjoying yourself, I'll just keep shopping." His acknowledgment was a polite nod, a silent permission in this world where boundaries were mere suggestions.

The woman leaned forward, her hands gripping the shelf, her breath steady, her initial reaction one of amusement rather than desire. I took the opportunity, aligning myself with her, the head of my cock pressing against her warm, inviting folds. With a slow, deliberate motion, I entered her, feeling her slick heat envelop me, her body welcoming me in. Her pussy was tight, yet accommodating, the sensation of sliding into her causing both of us to groan softly.

I began with slow thrusts, savoring every inch of her, feeling how she adjusted to my size. Her moans grew louder, a mix of pleasure and surprise at the suddenness of the act. "Oh, fuck," she groaned, her words mingling with the sound of our bodies meeting, the wet, rhythmic sounds of our sex filling the aisle. "You're--uh--you're quite--ah--thorough, aren't you?"

I chuckled, my thrusts becoming more rhythmic, the slap of skin against skin echoing softly in the aisle. "Just making sure you get the best service," I teased, my hands now roaming under her blouse, feeling the warmth of her skin, the weight of her breasts in my palms. I teased her nipples, feeling them harden under my touch, her body responding eagerly.

She pushed back against me, meeting my thrusts, her moans growing louder, her words punctuated by her husband's mundane questions about items on their list. "That's--ah--the one--oh god--yes," she managed to say, her voice thick with pleasure. I could feel her arousal, her body clenching around me with each stroke, the mixture of her laughter with her husband and the explicit sounds of our coupling creating an odd, surreal harmony.

Stacey, leaning against our cart, watched with a mix of amusement and appreciation. "Seems like you've found a fan," she said, her voice low and teasing, her eyes taking in the scene with a knowing smirk.

The woman's body tensed, her moans turning into a series of sharp cries as she neared her climax. "Oh, right there--don't stop," she gasped out, her nails scraping against the shelf, adding to the symphony of our encounter. Her pussy tightened around me, her orgasm hitting her in waves, her body shuddering with each one.

I felt the familiar build-up, my pace quickened, my breath heavy as I drove into her, the sensations overwhelming. Her body's convulsing around my cock was the final push, and I reached my own climax, my grip on her tightening, my body shuddering with the intensity of my release as I filled her, the pleasure magnified by the audacity and thrill of the act.

Afterward, we both straightened up, the woman adjusting her skirt, her face flushed but composed. "Thanks for the... unexpected help," she said to me, her voice now playful, sharing a conspiratorial smile before turning back to her husband. "Now, where were we?"

Her husband, still holding the jar of pickles, simply said, "Pasta sauce, I think," and they continued their shopping, leaving me to catch my breath.

Stacey approached, her eyes dancing with mischief. "I think you've made your mark here," she teased, nudging me towards our own shopping. "Now, can we get back to our list, or do you need another 'sample'?"

I laughed, my heart still racing. "No, no, let's get what we came for," I said, my mind buzzing with thoughts of what else this world could offer.

Stacey, without any prompting, crouched down in front of me, her eyes meeting mine with a mischievous glint before taking me into her mouth to clean me off. It was as if this were the most normal act in the world here—her tongue skillfully licking away any remnants of my escapade, her actions swift and efficient, leaving me with a mix of surprise and delight. She then got back up as quickly as she had crouched down. "There, squeaky clean!" she purred with a wink.

As we continued through the aisles, I couldn't resist giving her an occasional playful pinch or squeeze. She responded with a mix of playful annoyance and encouragement, her laughter light and infectious.

As we approached the checkout, we crossed paths with the alluring MILF and her husband again. I noticed a slight trail of moisture running down her leg, evidence of our recent interaction, her skirt not quite hiding the wet path it had taken. She gave me a knowing smile, her husband seemingly oblivious or perhaps just used to such occurrences, commenting on something mundane about their shopping.

The cashier was a cute young woman, her hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing a name tag that read 'Lana'. Her uniform clung to her in all the right places, emphasizing her perky breasts and slender waist. There was a playful spark in her eyes, suggesting she knew exactly what kind of world she was part of. She scanned our groceries with practiced ease, her lips curling into a slight smile as she caught my eye.

"Find everything you needed?" she asked, her voice smooth and inviting.

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice with a grin, "Actually, there's one more thing I need. How about you help me out with a... personal service?"

Lana's smile widened, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Sure thing," she said, her tone implying it was just another part of her job description in this world.

Without hesitation, she came around the counter, dropping to her knees right there at the checkout. The queue behind us halted, people glancing at their watches, some huffing in impatience but none protesting. It was as if they were waiting for the next act in some bizarre supermarket performance.

Stacey, meanwhile, was checking her phone, her impatience not with the scene but with the time. "Come on, David, I've got shit to do later," she said, tapping her foot, more concerned with her schedule than the public display.

Lana didn't waste a moment. She unzipped my jeans with a deft flick of her fingers, her eyes locked on mine with a challenge. She pulled me out, my cock already responding eagerly to the situation. "You're quite the handful," she teased, her breath warm against my skin before her mouth descended.

She took me in with a skill that was almost artistic, her tongue swirling around the head, tasting the remnants of my previous encounters. She bobbed her head in a rhythm that was both languid and precise, her lips forming a tight seal, creating a vacuum that felt like it was pulling out my soul. Each movement was calculated, her tongue flicking and teasing, making me groan in pleasure.

The sound of her mouth working me was like an obscene symphony in the otherwise quiet store, punctuated by the beeps of the cash registers and the occasional huff from the queue. "Jesus, Lana, you've got some talent," I managed to say between moans, the sensation of her deep-throating me, her throat muscles working, adding a layer of intensity that was almost too much.

Stacey, still looking at her phone, rolled her eyes. "Can we speed this up? I've got a life outside of this," she quipped, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.

Lana, perhaps spurred on by the audience or simply enjoying her work, increased her pace, her hand joining in to stroke what her mouth couldn't cover, her other hand cupping and playing with my balls. The sight of her, on her knees, servicing me in the middle of a grocery store, was absurdly funny and incredibly hot.

I could feel the climax building, the pressure becoming unbearable. "Lana, I'm gonna—" I started, but the warning was cut short as my orgasm hit me like a freight train. I gripped the counter for support, my legs nearly buckling as I exploded into her mouth. She didn't pull back; instead, she took it all, her eyes locked on mine, a look of triumph in them as she swallowed, her throat working with each pulse of my release. The sensation was magnified, my groans echoing in the checkout area, a stark contrast to the soft beeps of the scanner.

Finally, with a triumphant look, she pulled back, a string of saliva connecting her lips to my cock, which was now glistening with her efforts. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, standing up with a satisfied smile. "That'll be $45.75," she said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

I paid, still chuckling at the comic relief of the situation, the absurdity of it all. "Sorry for the hold-up, folks," I called back, half-joking, half-apologetic, as the line behind us resumed their shopping, their expressions ranging from bemusement to mild irritation.

Gathering our bags, we left the store, Stacey giving me a playful nudge. "Next time, let's try to keep the public displays to a minimum, huh?" she said with a smirk, her tone more teasing than scolding.

The cool air outside was a stark reminder of the reality we had left behind, but the memory of the grocery store would linger, a testament to the bizarre, kinky, and humorously liberating freedom of this world we were exploring.