ON TO Supermarket ASS! (Wild G. Tony Shows Them How It Is)

Yoga-butt was peeking outta the aisle when, suddenly:

"YOU! YOUR AAASSSSSSS!!!"

Felicity instantly flinched, her fingers scrambling against her cart handle.

"YES, BITCH! YE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HE-FUCKING-YES, YOU!"

At first, she nearly thought it was in her head. But after a sharp turn of the neck, she saw him. There, down at the sponges.

Oh, not the sponges.

Yet there he stood. Bow-legged, and priming for a sprint, by the sponges.

Sprint?

squeak, squeak

"I'M COMMMMMIN' BABY!"

And the next thing she knew, this 'man', lanky but tall-looking for a stranger, adorned in a plain button shirt and trousers, bolted towards her.

The hanging teapots clanked as he passed. A forgotten ball ricocheted off a pot lid.

And this guy. This wild, unhinged guy, was jaguar-ing his way to her. He seemed to take one split-second to inhale a gratuitous amount of air, and then...

"DIVING IN, BIAATCH!"

Any question of what that was supposed to mean was instantly alleviated as he slid down to his knees, slung his head back, then, without any 'proper' warning or preface, plunged it face-first into butterfly-textured yoga pants. Up and in his nose drove, a hot warm sliver of butt-crack land engulfing him. He smothered himself and wriggled and splattered spit all across the tight butt-pronouncing fabric, then slapped the two thighs at his side and rubbed and pinched them like they were thick pool noodles.

"OH, MY GOD," cried Felicity, then quickly relegated to a whisper after catching another patron's eye, "what are you doing back there?!"

The stranger responded by pulling her yoga pants down, then removing his cock from his damn pants, and slapping her butt cheeks, one at a time. "FUCKIN' YA. Enjoy!"

As he slid his dick into her pussy, Felicity's eye darted across the store, looking for any segue out. Finally, she saw a floor associate meander by. Hastily, she flagged her down. The staff member noticed her and walked over, a look of curiosity plastered over her cute brow.

"Hello, m'am, anything I can help you with today?"

"Y-yes, please," panted a pummeled Felicity, as she clung to the rack in front of her to keep anchored in the barrage of this random troublemaker's fuck-thrusts up her mommy chute, "I was wondering where the j-j-ELLYbeans are, and a-also if youeeurghmpf, if you can d-do something about this situation--I'm in."

"Sure thing," chimed the young staff member. "The jellybeans should be in the snack section which is on the other side of the store, by the front bathrooms. And let me see if I can get this 'ol guy off your back, ok?"

Felicity's original answer was probably intelligible, before her local and half-naked supermarket rapist started shoving a slim cucumber in and out of her ass after taking it from who knew where, anyway. The floor associate understood completely. Turning her attention to said fucker of this woman, she was about to request him to stop ravaging their customer's pussy with his hairy dick when he suddenly reached out and pinched her lower lip, causing it to protrude outward and converge together.

Blinking, the girl spoke, "Uvh," her voice instantly sounding like a Darth Vader impression pitch, "excuse zee sirv buh could you let go of vye vouth?"

"What was that?" the man pulled her closer through his laughs.

"Could you let go of vye--ow!" The girl rubbed her harshly freed mouth as the unruly patron only remained amused at the scenario. As if he was winning the jackpot or something.

"That was fun," the man pulled something out from under his quietly cursing fuck partner, and wiggled it in front of 'Heather'. (What the name tag said anyway.) "Now eat this juicily marinated cucumber."

"Wait," the team member wrinkled her brow, the cute one, "wasn't that just in her... you know..." Whisper voice. "Butt?"

"Why, do you want it up yours?"

Despite trying to hide as much of her discomfort as possible, a frozen halt very hastily overcame her body."I never said..."

"You know. You are a genius! Let's get both your juices on this thing. Come on, sit on it."

"But I..."

"Do it." The man suddenly took on a very stern tone, and look. Who'd he think he was, her dad?

Sheesh.

Nonetheless, with a sigh, Heather eventually unzipped her pants, eyes rolling from periphery to periphery in a potent dosage of self-consciousness, then turned to direct her ass towards the vegetable. Or fruit. Oh, screw it. THIS BEAUTIFUL PHALLIC PLACEHOLDER, which, in turn, gave the man one hell of a fleshy, smooth-skinned view of the fruits our beautiful race can indeed reap as she slung her tight pants and slim panties down her two groomed legs and then bent forward and crouched down to position herself -- and her ass-hole, in particular -- over this green and notably glossy-looking cucumber with the help of a guiding hand stretched over to keep the green appendage upright and directed towards the right hole.

"BY HEAVEN ALMIGHTY your butt's also a fine slap-meat face hugger slob-throb!" Her very interested audience, being that of one in number in this case, appeared to grind and circle against Felicity's own jiggling firm RUMP with fiercer, thirstier, more salacious aplomb. "Awww-ha-ha damn damn damn," meanwhile, such words and their ilk left the woman's lips as he squeezed the ass before him hard and with an indiscriminate hunger. His hand leaped into the air and smacked and groped the other cheek and stroked it lovingly while he thrust his dick into her cervix, the loud smock-smock! of his balls banging against her ass-underside practically echoing down the aisle. He then relayed a loud, inexplicable hand-smooch from his lips back to Felicity's ass with a smack!, considerately rubbing and smearing his invisible romance projectile all over her very white and pleasant-to-the-percussive-palm globes while 'Heather' winced at the foreign object's entry into her ass's tight orifice. The man scoffed. He did pick out one of the more manageable-looking ones of the bunch, jeez.

"God it's... tight, it feels tight." Heather was breathing uncertainly now.

"Keep it going."

"I know, but... it feels weird."

"Keep it going! You'll like it, trust me!" The man relinquished another hard thrust into Felicity's slopping cunt and flashed a smile at the girl. "After all, you can always trust Uncle G. Tony!"

Heather didn't know how to respond, and just continued shoving the cucumber in and out of her ass-hole; slowly, but steadily. In time, it beget smoothness -- and a strangely enigmatic yet tingly sensation, like with those foods that leave a roller-coaster ride of aftertastes on your buds. Whatever the case, she went with it, since this stranger ("G. Tony") was telling her to do it, and she didn't have any other pressing thing on her agenda to use as an excuse, anyway.

This went on for a while. Others came and went.

A passing family let the man borrow their newly purchased fly swatter to get a few spanks in (on Felicity and Heather).

One older woman scolded the man fucking the woman against the kitchen appliance section for his brutish and inconsiderate behavior. Plus, she needed to get to the frying pan.

Finally, a security guard or two dropped by to try to defuse the situation, but after showing them the truly stubborn mother-fucker he was, the man was deemed not worth the effort and left to his cunt-ravaging devices.

When it was, at last, time to blow, the tall-seeming man twitched his hips outward, jerked his cock out of her vag, and dumped all his junk into the girl's trunk -- the same one Heather's new friend had been in, earlier. Splutter splutter splutter was the word, white cream gushing out of Felicity's ass-hole.

With Heather fully acquainted with said cucumber, he beckoned her to remove it from her tight, fuckable ass and give it to him. He then brought it behind (an exhausted) Felicity's butt-hole and, like a connoisseur of cuisine, dipped and twisted the green protrusion into his ass-decorating spunk. And then one more 'slip-dip' for good measure. Even as the woman slumped and then fell to the floor, possibly in a subconscious attempt to simply catch her breath. Good timing.

"Now, Heather, I want you to eat a chunk of this, and then we could pretend this never happened."

Pulling up her pants (and slim fit panties) back into place, Heather's forehead tightened. "Hold on, sir, it was you that came in here causing a disturbance and fucking that woman there. Not that it matters anymore. But look, if you don't want there to be any more trouble, then feel free to leave properly and without raising any other ruckuses with the rest of our custom--"

Before she could finish, the man stuck the cum-dipped cucumber into her mouth, reached around to grope and slap her youthfully spankable ass cheeks, and found her wallet. He plucked a fifty dollar bill or two from one of its more confined compartments before sticking it back into her back pocket and gratefully patting it secure.

"BLAHBITY BLAH BLAH GAH!" After giving Felicity's own ass a (slightly harder, louder) pat he waved bye and pranced down the supermarket stretch of panel and to who knew where, and who knew... who. A still-conscious Felicity and cucumber-ingesting Heather gave half-hearted waves of goodbye of their own as the latter gave a sympathetic look to the former and, after an awkward stare, offered to help her up. And get her pants back on.

"Some people." After what seemed like a long, vast expanse of pleasantry, Heather blurted out what they were both thinking. "No difference between animal and man, sometimes."

"I know, right?" exhaled a head-shaking Felicity, whose breath was still catching up. "Unbelievable. I feel like... I feel like I just got raped. My... my vagina and my ass feel so full. Good grief."

"You're telling me," Heather chuckled sardonically, and, after one last pointer towards the location of the jellybeans, the two amicably and cheerfully parted ways.

Hey, at least she had one heck of a story to tell over dinner tonight.

"G. Tony! G. Tony!"

"Fletch, what are ya--" The man discarded it with a harried whish of the hand. "Never mind, what is it?"

"I've been looking into that handy lil' 'souvenir' your little tribe girl gave you a couple weeks ago, and, and, and..."

"Spit it out man!"

"It's both good news and bad news dude-io! Come to the lair when you're around and I'll tell ya all about it. Doing it over the phone is cooking chicken in no man's land, you know how it is!"

The other end of the line was shot. G. Tony rolled his eyes. The guy was a bit of a loon, but helpful. Plus, he paid him to be a loon. It had its dividends.

As the man started his car he set down the phone and pulled out his new and flashy flip phone, surfing through his contact list. He perused the wall of old and new names. Oren, Kaylee Swanson, Madonna (never met, but thanks to his new privileges, was able to glean a contact number), John Doe (good kid, if still a little too snub nosed for his own good), Jackie Briggs, an ex-boss or two. Some had a few messages for him. Some didn't.

He sat back in his seat.

It was odd, how priorities have subtly, yet irreversibly shifted in this man's life, now. How change had dawned from above and sunk its teeth into the coat of his previously insignificant, wandering excuse of a monomyth. How now, anything was no longer fantasy -- it was his, at just a flick of a finger, or leap of unadulterated, unfiltered, definitely foam-inducing, yoga-pants-smothering faith.

Loosely tremoring, pores oscillating, he gripped the steering wheel with a toothy grin and giggled to himself. His new little 'toy' dangled from his rearview mirror unassumingly. "Let's go. Let's go, and show the world how it is, baby!"