(This story was inspired by and is a tribute to “Grocery Boy’s Helping Hand” by Omega Prime, one of my favorite erotic stories.)
Marc’s story began with an unexpected shift at work. He had gotten a call from his manager at the store asking if he could fill in after school. Marc agreed, having nothing else planned and wanting the extra spending money. At 15 the after-school job suited him well.
His shift had ended and he was ready to go home. Unfortunately his mother wasn’t answering her phone. He had tried calling three times but to no avail. He sighed deeply. Apparently he would be walking home, a fairly long walk from the store. And to make matters worse it had been raining heavily all day. As he stood there contemplating this frustrating turn of events, he heard a voice behind him.
“Well, hello, Marcus,” said the female voice. Marc recognized it. It was Mrs. Thompson, his best friend’s mother.
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Thompson,” he responded as he turned around.
“You don’t look happy, young man. Is everything all right?” she asked with a gentle smile.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m done with my shift but my mom isn’t answering, is all.”
“Well, if you need a ride home, I’ll be happy to give you one,” Mrs. Thompson replied.
“That would be great,” he smiled. “Otherwise I’ll be walking home in the rain.”
“We wouldn’t want that, would we? You’d catch your death of cold,” she said smiling. “I have to pick up a few things before I leave. Where should I meet you?”
Marc thought for a moment. “I’ll be in the employee lounge over there.” He pointed to the far side of the store, to a hallway past the pharmacy counter.
“Okay. I’ll see you shortly, Marc.” And with that she walked off toward the grocery area. Marc headed for the lounge.
He walked through the personal care products and past the pharmacy counter to the hallway which led to the employee lounge and public restrooms. He entered the lounge and found no one there. That wasn’t uncommon at this time of the afternoon, he thought. Shifts were changing and people weren’t on break yet. Finding no one to hang out with, Marc instead walked across the hall to the restrooms.
The store’s restrooms were unisex and small, having only a toilet and sink. Marc went in and closed the door behind him. He smirked to himself in the mirror. He didn’t have to pee, he needed to jerk off. Like most boys his age Marc jerked off at least once a day. He hadn’t gotten around to it yet, so this down time provided a perfect opportunity for some alone time.
He unbutton and unzipped his pants and pulled them down to his knees, as well as his boxer shorts, and watched as his erect penis popped out and bobbed in the air. Taking it in his hand, he began vigorously stroking it. As his hand worked his stiff pole, he closed his eyes and drifted off to a favorite fantasy, his mind totally lost in time. But suddenly he was interrupted – and in the worst way possible.
“Marc!” It was Mrs. Thompson! The poor boy nearly soiled himself at the sound of her voice. But there was her reflection in the mirror, standing just inside the restroom, her eyes looking in the mirror at Marc’s erection.
He fumbled desperately to pull his shorts up and cover himself but was doing a poor job of it. Mrs. Thompson came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, stabilizing him.
“Marc, honey, it’s all right,” she said in a soothing voice. “It’s all right. It’s perfectly natural for a boy your age to do this. There’s nothing wrong with it. However, in the future you should make sure the door is locked.” Marc groaned inwardly at making such a stupid mistake.
“I-I’m sorry, Mrs. T-Thompson,” he sputtered, covering himself with his boxers.
“It’s okay, Marc, really,” she responded in that same soothing voice. “I finished my shopping and came looking for you. So do you need some, uh, time to finish?”
Marc closed his eyes and turned three shades of red. Mrs. Thompson was known for her pointed comments as he had learned from years of friendship with her son. “Uh, no, Mrs. Thompson, I don’t.”
“All right then. Why don’t we head out,” she said as she turned and walked out.
Marc followed her out after putting himself back together in a vain attempt to salvage his dignity. They walked out the front doors and headed to Mrs. Thompson’s SUV. Marc noted that she was parked quite a way out, which was typical for her. He remembered that she liked to get her steps in every day. They arrived at the vehicle and got in, his friend’s mother putting her purchases on the back floor.
As they closed the doors, Mrs. Thompson turned to him with a wry smile. “We’re going to play a little game, Marc, a game I think you’ll like.” His ears perked up. What was she getting at? he wondered. “In fact, I know you will. First, hand me your belt.”
The boy looked at her perplexed. Why would she want is belt? “E-excuse me?” he asked.
“This,” she said, pointing to and touching his belt with her index finger. “I’ll need it for our little game.”
Marc was never one to argue with authority, so he reluctantly unbuckled his belt and slid it out of his pants, handing it to the woman.
“There we go. Now let’s put this back around you,” she said as she leaned over and looped the belt over his head and around his back. She lowered it to his sides and rebuckled it around his arms and across his stomach, effectively strapping his hands to his sides. What was she doing? he wondered with a growing sense of alarm.
He didn’t have to wait long to find out. She then reached for the button on his pants and opened it, followed by a quick unzipping of his jeans. “Mrs. Thompson! W-what are you d-doing?” he sputtered.
“I told you, we’re going to play a game,” she said matter of factly. “On our way home I’m going to work that teenage cock of yours while you sit there and enjoy it, okay?” The boy’s eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open. Did she just say what he thought she said?
Mrs. Thompson put her SUV into gear and headed for the exit. Then she reached over and began gently stroking Marc’s exposed erection. The poor boy almost spurt right then and there. Her hand was soft and delicate, and her touch was light and gentle. She squeezed and tugged on his shaft for a moment before sliding her palm up and over his sensitive head. Marc gasped in response, a quiet whimper escaping his lips.
The woman smiled. “It sounds like you’re enjoying this, Marcus.” she said naughtily. “I told you you would.” She turned out the exit and headed down the road. As they drove along his friend’s mother continued her skilled manipulation of his adolescent cock, continually sliding up and down his length, always gliding her palm over his tender head. Marc was embarrassed to notice that his glasses were beginning to fog up.
“That’s quite a shlong you’ve got there, young man.” Marc blushed and cringed at the language coming from this middle-aged woman. “Don’t be shy about it,” she continued. “I used to be married, you know, and I’ve got two teenage boys myself.” Marc’s eyes shot open. Did she just say what he thought she did?!
As they drove down the streets, Mrs. Thompson continued her wicked game of stroking and tweaking his young cock, through red lights, stop signs, whatever – she never eased up. But she never sped up either. She was working his rod at a maddeningly slow pace, he noted, suspecting it was purposeful.
As they drove along Marc realized that they were heading toward the east side of town, whereas his home was in a western neighborhood. “Mrs. Thompson, where are you going?” he asked in surprise.
“I have to pick up Aimee from soccer practice,” she said calmly. Aimee was her 13-year-old daughter. Marc had met her on numerous occasions at the family’s home. She seemed intellectually mature for her age.
“But – but –” he sputtered.
“Don’t worry, honey,” she assured him. “She’ll be in the back seat. She won’t see anything.” Mrs. Thompson drove along the road, finally arriving at the community’s indoor soccer fields. She pulled into the driveway and pulled up towards the front entrance. She then reached over and pulled Marc’s jacket front out, tucking his erect penis under it. “There, that should do,” she smiled. “I wouldn’t want my little girl getting scarred for life, now would I?”
They sat there quietly for several minutes until Aimee arrived. She approached the vehicle from the passenger side and hopped in the back seat as predicted.
“Hi, mom,” she piped up upon entry.
“Hello, dear. Did you have a good practice?” her mother asked.
“Yeah. I think we’re ready for this weekend,” the girl responded.
“Sweetheart, you remember Marc, don’t you?” the woman nodded her head toward the passenger seat.
“Oh, yeah. Hi, Marc,” she said enthusiastically.
“We’re going to give him a ride home, if that’s okay,” Mrs. Thompson continued.
“Sure,” Aimee said. Marc noted from his peripheral vision that she was now focused on her phone. Thank God for technology, he thought to himself.
Mrs. Thompson began driving again, heading back along the road they had just driven down. In a totally unexpected move she put her hand across the seat and began slowly rubbing the front of his jacket! Marc swallowed hard. Apparently this little game wasn’t over yet. And worse yet, she was seductively stroking the area that covered his glans – the most sensitive part!
Marc tried not to squirm too much in his seat, ever fearful that the girl in the back seat would notice something was up. Fortunately she still appeared to be immersed in her phone. It was then that Mrs. Thompson made an abrupt turn into a fast-food parking lot! Now what?! thought Marc.
He looked helplessly at the woman in the driver’s seat. “Um, what are we doing, Mrs. Thompson?” he asked in a quivering voice.
“I always get Aimee some supper on our way home,” she smiled. “I won’t be long.” She looked in the mirror at Aimee’s reflection. “Honey, what would you like?”
Aimee thought for a moment. “How about some chicken nuggets with sweet and sour sauce and a Coke?” she said.
“All right. I’ll be right back. Marc, honey, would like anything?” she asked with wicked grin.
“Uh, no – thank you,” he responded. And with that Mrs. Thompson exited the vehicle, leaving the two teenagers alone.
“So how did you end up getting a ride?” the girl asked from the back seat.
“Oh, I, uh, got off work at the store and didn’t have a way home. Your mom just happened to be there and offered me a ride,” he answered, trying to keep his voice even.
“Ohh,” she answered slowly. Suddenly Aimee leaned forward to the front seat, leaning over the arm rests that were separating the seats. “Looks like there’s a long line in there. She might be awhile.” Marc couldn’t help but notice that the 13-year-old had a smile on her face, a particularly devious smile.
Without warning she reached over and grasped the front of his jacket. Pulling it up before he could respond, she exposed the boy’s still-turgid rod to the open air – and her observation. Marc’s face contorted into a look of sheer horror.
“I know what you’re doing,” Aimee said, grinning broadly. “You’re playing the handjob game, aren’t you?” Marc looked over at the girl, his mouth open but no words coming out. “Oh, I know all about it. Mom gives a guy like you a ride somewhere and spends the whole trip rubbing his dick!”
Marc was aghast. Getting caught by Mrs. Thompson was the single most mortifying moment in his young life. Having her stroke him off slowly was totally unexpected, though undeniably pleasurable. But now here he was exposed to her young daughter! What more could happen? the boy wondered.
He shouldn’t have asked. Aimee took his cock in her young hand and began stroking it up and down at a fervent pace. A feeling of total helplessness filled the boy as he realized that he was closer to an orgasm than he had thought. He had been working his cock over pretty well on his own back at the store, and the continued teasing by Mrs. Thompson only increased his need to cum. Now this girl was tugging on his pole at a frantic pace. The poor kid knew he wouldn’t last much longer, and he suspected Aimee did too.
“Mom doesn’t think I know about her kinky games, but I do,” the girl said, her pace never slowing. “She still thinks I’m a kid, you know?”
Marc’s initial observations had been right; this kid was more mature than she appeared. He also realized that he wasn’t going to last much longer and had to put a stop to this.
“A-Aimee, p-please, stop!” he gasped.
“Why?” she asked innocently, her hand thrashing mercilessly at his teenage pole. Marc contemplated how to best answer her.
“Because I’m g-going to – to –”
“Going to what? Spurt?” she spit the last word out as though it disgusted her. “I know all about that, Marc. I have two brothers!” His eyes again shot open. Did she mean what he thought she meant? What kind of family was his friend a part of?!
“Hmm, it looks like there’s only two customers to go before mom orders. I don’t think you’re going to make it,” the kid said deviously. “Man, can you imagine how pissed mom’s going to be to see your goo all over her SUV?” The feeling of horror within the boy was growing deeper.
“I wonder what she’ll do when she gets out here and finds your white stuff all over her dashboard – and her little girl’s hand?!” Aimee threatened. Marc knew that she was right. While Mrs. Thompson was certainly a freak, she may not want her ‘innocent’ young daughter exposed to such things, though apparently it was already too late in her case.
“It looks like your nuts are pretty tight there, Marc. You won’t last much longer,” she teased. And she was right. Marc had been too far along to endure her unexpected stimulation. While Aimee wasn’t nearly as adept as her mother, her erratic, fast-paced jerking was enough to get the job done. He wouldn’t last much longer, and they both knew it.
“Well, she’s placing her order. It won’t be long now!” the girl said, a menacing tone to her voice. Marc fidgeted and squirmed on the seat, his teenage ass moving around desperately to avoid the girl’s frenetic jerking, but to no avail.
“I’ll make you a deal, Marc.” His ears perked up at this glimmer of hope. “I’ll hide the evidence so mom won’t see it, but in exchange you have to let me play with your dick the next time you’re at our house, okay?”
Marc’s mind, addled as it was by the intense stimulation he was receiving, struggled to process her words. “W-what do you m-mean?” he asked, his chest heaving with each breath.
Aimee sighed. “I mean I’ll suck your cock and swallow your sticky cum, but you have to let me play with it again sometime. Deal?” she asked. Marc didn’t know quite what to say. Sensing his apprehension, Aimee spoke up again in an effort to persuade him. “Look, mom’s placed her order and it won’t be long now. You can either take the deal or have her find your gooey spurts all over her car and my hand. Your choice!”
Shit! Marc thought to himself. He didn’t have a choice and they both knew it. “O-okay,” he said, a tone of resignation in his voice. “Do it! S-swallow it!” he moaned.
Aimee leaned over and put her mouth on Marc’s poor overworked rod, taking it into her mouth halfway down the shaft. She bobbed her head up and down, her ponytail bouncing all around. She kept her lips tight, providing constant friction. Then she started using her tongue! He yelped slightly as the young girl began swirling her tongue all around his head and over his hypersensitive glans. And that was all it took.
Marc tensed up, knowing his release was at hand. “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” he cried. “OHH!! OHH!! OHH!! AARRGGHH!!” he practically screamed as he unloaded shot after shot of what felt to be a massive ejaculation into the girl’s mouth. His eyes remained fixed on Aimee as she pumped him dry. Aimee took everything he gave, never slowing her pace or missing a drop.
Finally he was done – but Aimee wasn’t stopping! Marc gasped loudly as he felt the girl’s tongue wickedly stroking his now-unbearably sensitive head. He grunted loudly in response. “Ugh!! Ugh!! S-stop! S-stop! It’s t-too s-sensitive!” he cried in despair.
“All right, crybaby,” Aimee said as she pulled back off of his now-softening prick. “I like sucking boys off!” Apparently so, Marc thought as he struggled to recover.
“Here comes mom,” the girl said. “Better cover this up,” she said as she pulled his jacket back over his cock.
The driver’s door opened and Mrs. Thompson re-entered. “I wasn’t too long, was I?” she asked as she turned to hand her daughter the bag and drink.
“Nope,” said Aimee with a smile. “You were just right!”
Feedback is always welcomed and responded to. My email is [email protected]
Sat, 07 Apr 2018 14:31:05 UTC