Getting the Groceries SeXStoRY

She looked like she was in her late fifties, with a time worn face that had seen its share of heartache and failure, but she always wore something that showed three inches of the freshest, sexiest cleavage I have ever seen. I would wait any amount of time in her aisle just to hand her my money and perhaps feel the touch of her fingers in return. I always smiled and she would smile back, unable to keep myself from staring at her incredible bosom, heaving over the check-out conveyor. I memorized her schedule and changed my shopping habits daily visits. She wore a wedding ring, but I didn't care, I wanted her. I wanted to feel her full, supple body, to slowly remover her blouse and memorize the bounty of her breasts. Her eyes looking directly into mine as I took her missionary style. My obsession with her became uncontrollable. I composed a letter addressing all my feelings for her, begging her for a chance, offering her one thousand dollars in cash for one night with her. It was all the extra money that I could muster, and it took every ounce of courage to hand her the plain white envelope with note inside on another empty Friday night. She looked at me as if I were a crazy man. Please read the note inside, I whispered it, trying not to sound desperate,fawning over the trace of black lace showing from her bra. She didn't say a word and I left, red-faced, swearing never to return to her store, not able to face her certain rejection. I went back to my apartment and, once inside, immediately drew out my hard cock and stroked to the memory of her haggard face and sweet cleavage, perhaps it was the contrast between the two that made me want her so very badly, and now I was worried that she might even call the cops, accuse me of harassment, and thinking how fucking stupid it was to give her a handwritten note. The worry withered my cock and the phone rang to scare me even further, like it was going to be some detective, already pursuing me for assault, but my caller ID showed the name Jen, her name. My hand shook. Maybe she was going scream at me over the phone, stupid me I gave her my number in the note and my address, maybe she would even send her husband after me, Christ how could I have been so stupid? "I'm sorry," my first words, hoping to quell her anger, praying that I could escape the wrath of her husband. "For what?" "The letter, I shouldn't have..." "How old are you?" The question surprised me, no angry rant, no threatening husband, no I'm calling the cops. "I'm 29." "Do you realize that I'm old enough to be your mother? Is this some sort of joke?" "No, I'm deadly serious, I can't stop thinking about you, ever since I first came to the store..." "Shut-up and listen," she commanded, and I did, a chill running down my spine, a primeval ache twisting in my gut, an instant hardening of my cock,"Mommy wants you, mommy wants you in the worst way. You'll do exactly as mommy says!" I couldn't speak, it was like my throat was swollen shut, my mind racing at the thought of her commands. "Are you there? Answer me!" "Everything mommy says, yes." I whispered