CUMSLOPPY STORY || Grocery Bag Boy

The girl at the check-out counter didn’t even look at me as I unloaded my groceries onto the conveyer. I moved down to the little touch-screen affixed to the counter, swiped my Visa, and scanned it as she finished running the last few bottles of wine.

Treasure Island Media, Park and Ride

The bag boy began to work. I’d noticed him from across the store; he was why I’d chosen this line. Hot as hell. He looked young. A high-school or college student, doing shit work for some extra money. His eyes were dark beneath his curled hair. The name on his tag just said “Rake.” Rake? As Rake reached for the first groceries to bag, I admired his biceps. His smooth arms swelled the elastic bands of his green Food Mart polo. Most kids looked like sticks in their outfits, but he really filled his out. For all his bulk, his shoulders seemed not quite full-grown to their promised width.

“Paper or plastic, sir?” he said again, looking me right in the eyes.

I realized I must have zoned out while staring at him. “Oh, uh, whatever is convenient? Paper, I guess.” He dutifully hefted the items into my cart, but he kept staring at me the while.

“Sign, please,” said counter girl. She pointed at the screen. I fumbled for the pen and scrawled my name.

I turned back to Rake, watching as his arms tensed as he loaded the cart. He stood behind the counter, so I caught only a glimpse of his khaki-clad waist.

Rake said, “Do you need any help out to your vehicle, sir?” I flushed. It looked like my little diversion was over. “Oh, uh, no thanks. I can get it.”

Rake hefted another bag into the cart. He asked again, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” His big, smooth hand brushed mine, lingered there.

Shit! I thought. Was the kid playing with me? “Yeah, uh,” I said. “On second thought, help me out.” Rake gripped the cart’s push-bar. I followed him through the automatic glass doors. As he walked, I got a great view of his cheeks tensing and flexing under the fabric of his pants.

Holy shit, I thought.

I trailed after him into the parking lot, mesmerized. He looked back at me and half-smirked. He knew I was watching.

“Which one?” he asked.

“That one,” I said, pointing to where it lay, surrounded by a big white pickup on one side and a compact on the other on the other. I hit my clicker, and the trunk popped open. Rake began to unload the bags into the trunk. His arms flexed as he leaned over. I moved to help him and thrilled as my hip grazed his.

When the last groceries were in the trunk, Rake slammed the lid closed.

I put my hand on the cart, “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll go put this away.” I half-hoped he’d still be there when I got back, but I really doubted it. Just a tease, I thought. Some flirtation. “Who cares about that?” Rake exclaimed. He shoved the cart away. It banged against a car or maybe the guardrail. I didn’t see, because I was looking at it. I was looking at Rake smirk and run his hand slowly over his crotch.

He said, “You want this, don’t you?”

My heart began thumping in my chest. I swallowed hard. I did want this kid. I looked at the tips of his fingers as they teased the folds of cloth around his fly. The bulge there was visible now, and the swell of it only complemented the curves of his chest and his thighs.


I nodded. “Yes,” I said. I fumbled for my keys. “We can go .. uh-“

Rake shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Here and now.” He pointed into the space between my Honda and the big white truck. I looked around panicked. The truck would shield us a little, but anyone could walk along and see. Rake leaned back against the passenger door of my car. He stretched, luxuriating as he touched himself. His gaze scanned the parking-lot, as if defying anyone to come and see. To try to stop him from taking his pleasure. His breathing was faster now, and he looked at me with a glance that showed he knew I’d do whatever he wanted. I knelt before him on the asphalt. It hurt a little, but I didn’t care. He loomed over me, and I saw him looking down over the line of his chest. From this close, his knuckles brushed my face as the fingers on his big hands stroked his cock. His nails were pink; the back of his fist nearly hairless. He might have hands bigger than most men, but they were still a teenager’s smooth hands.

I reached up for his belt. He slapped my hands away and unfastened the buckle himself. Then he slowly, teasingly, undid his zipper. He shuffled the khakis down his hips. The smell of his crotch assaulted my face – musky, sweaty, the tang of cum. His cock strained against the nearly-translucent fabric of his sweat-soaked briefs. The darker thatch of his pubes showed above the line of his shaft. There, about the tip, his briefs seemed thin as gauze where his precum soaked it. His hands ran up and down the shaft and pulled at the head.

I breathed deep and leaned in. Putting my palms flat against the side of the car, I stretched out my tongue and tasted the dampness over his slit. Salty, pungent. His hands found the back of my head and ground my open mouth into his package. The ridge of his jockey-flap brushed under my tongue.

“Suck me, whore,” he said.

He gripped the band of his briefs and shoved them down over his knees. His cock popped out and bounced against my face. I tried to catch it in my waiting mouth, but he pushed me down rubbing his balls into my mouth. The taste of them flooded my tongue, and the stiff hairs of his pubes contrasted with the soft folds of his scrotum.

“There,” he said, “Lick my bag! My grocery bag!” He laughed. I worked my way up, to where his scrotum met his shaft, and licked and chewed. Unable to take the tease any more, Rake grabbed me by the ears, shoved his cock-head into my mouth and began to thrust. His flesh felt incredible as it flexed and stroked. I wrapped my lips around him and reached up behind him, cupping his ass. His cheeks contracted and flexed as he worked. Then, suddenly, he pulled out with a pop. He prized my hands away from his ass.

“I want to see you touch yourself,” he commanded. Fumbling, I undid my pants and pulled out my own leaking cock. I began to fist it with my left hand. Rake brought my right hand back to rest on the car beside his hip. I felt him quiver as he guided his cock-head over my lips.

He said, “No coming until I do. I want to know that sucking me gets you off.” He lifted his shirt up with one hand, rubbing his own chest under it. The motion lifted the hem. His belly was flat, and hard, and nearly hairless. His abs weren’t huge, but there was enough ripple that the line of them seemed to swallow his navel.

I almost came right then. I had to slow down on my own fisting. Rake slowed down in my mouth. Clearly, he wanted to savor the moment. “Look at me,” he said. “I want to see it in your eyes.” I stared up at him, using my tongue and lips to caress him and to suck him. He began to increase tempo as he did. I had less and less control. He braced the back of my skull as the tip of his cock rammed the back of my throat and then sank inside.

I felt my own orgasm building almost uncontrollably. Rake gave a huge moan. He ripped his cock away from my face as it began to shoot. Cum flew everywhere. Into my still-open mouth. Into my hair. Against my cheeks. I was too startled even to blink, but fortunately no cum landed in my open eyes. The spasm of his orgasm rippled through his legs, up his belly, and to his thrown-back neck. My fingers flew over the end of my own cock, and I began to shoot. Ropes of cum splattered against Rake’s pants legs and shoes and the asphalt. I sat back, panting. A woman pushed her cart down the main aisle. She glanced our way and then looked away. I wasn’t sure she knew what she’d seen.

I ran my fingers over my face, scraping Rake’s cum onto my fingers and into my mouth. He stood over me and buckled up. “Better get that too,” he said, pointing to his trousers and shoes. I leaned in and licked the drops of cum away from the khaki and the leather.


Then I closed my own fly and stood.

I looked Rake in the face. “Uh, thanks,” I said, lamely. He stuck out one hand. “A tip is customary,” he said. “Especially if you want the same service again.”

I pulled out my wallet and withdrew a twenty. “There’s still more in there,” he observed. “Empty it.” I gave him all my cash. Another twenty, a five, and several ones. Rake looked at them disapprovingly. “Next time, bring a hundred. Look for my line.” He turned back towards the Food Mart. “I think I want this.” He slapped my ass.

I thought about him fucking me up the ass in the parking lot where anyone could see. “Oh, shit, yes!” I declared.

“It’s not like you can say no,” he laughed. He strode back inside, like a lion on the savannah, and the automatic doors swished shut on his outline.

Story via Nifty


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