- Joined
- Nov 22, 2025
- Messages
- 298
Since my wife died, I am lumbered with it. To be honest the advent of online grocery shopping and home delivery has made things much better. I still have to go into town for other stuff, shoes, underpants if I want them to fit comfortably, you know, other stuff. So obviously I mitigate the horror of having to rub shoulders with strangers.
I like to do two things, well three actually when I go into town to shop. All three can be combined. Firstly, I try to buy nearly all my clothes in charity shops. Nothing is new and scratchy, it's all got the newness worn out of it, soft and comfortable, that's my thing. Like charity shop shoes, if I can ever get anything I like, they don't blister my feet. Pretty much the only clothing I don't get second-hand are underpants and socks. Jeans, I only wear Wrangler or Levis at a push. I have to pull my big boy pants up and go mix with Joe and Jolene public to get them. Wranglers last a good long time thank god. Obviously, bike clothing gets bought from specialists. In my case BBP. Birmingham Bikers Paradise. But they are bikers not Joe or Jolene.
Second on my list is people watching. Charity shops are just the best places to watch people. Some are completely absorbed in buying a bargain. Others are terrified an acquaintance is going to spot them buying something second hand. Some of these people think it's a crime not to be wearing half a dozen designer labels and being a clothes horse for a thousand pounds worth of clothing.
Finally you get the older people, seniors we call them these days. Trying to make a state pension stretch so they can eat all seven days of the week. Good luck with that!
On occasions in a good charity shop you get the item that has to be displayed in the little room at the back. All the good ones have this little room. Fetish clothing, usually a corset or extreme stiletto heeled shoes and boots that were bought on a whim. Maybe a bit of bondage equipment or furniture. Then it's brought in to the charity shop sometime later, after being worn once and discarded as hideous torture devices by women who don't realise the hoops a pervy bastard like me will jump through just to kiss her bottom while she is wearing them. Add a corset and I need someone to bring me a cup of tea every other hour. It's so big and messy, I didn't find the secret room in this one until my third visit.
Sometimes the treasure trove is much richer. Today was one of the best I have ever seen. This shop was my favourite, not a high-street shop, in-fact not even just off the high-street. Only ardent charity shoppers knew of its existence. I found it quite by accident, there were several motorcycle parking spaces just around the corner from the shop entrance. I park the bike there often, went in and was immediately enthralled. It's got a tiny frontage that opens out behind a double billboard, and it goes back further than anyone would think. It's huge, but it's a mess.
Sometimes I go there just to look at the hundreds and hundreds of compact discs, vinyl albums and singles they keep in stock. I fancy I know a bit about music, I spend hours sorting through the stuff they get. I find more than the occasional gems, buy them, then put them on eBay. If I'm right and I was right a lot more than I wasn't, I'd put another zero on the price they fetch. I bung the profit I make on these back to Maurine. Sometimes I time it to get there just before five thirty in the evening. I try to sneak in just before closing time. If I do I grab Maurine from behind, rip her clothes off and give her a good stiff rodgering. The shock only lasts her for a few seconds but if I get it right, she cums like the Hogwarts Express.
On this visit I had just finished my food shopping, entitled imbeciles were thick on the ground today, and acting worse than normal. I was at the end of my rope, it's emergency extension and stretching it a bit. I was so wound up, I nearly walked past the shop to go home but something called me in.
I bumped into a bag lady as I entered the shop, I hit her with the door and knocked the poor cow off her feet, my fault entirely, I wasn't watching where I was going. As you walk in, the show rack with the woman's footwear is directly in front of you. There was a single patent leather, over knee boot on the rack, the other one was in the bag lady's hands. the heel was 5 inch at least, they were lace up, no cheating zips, and it looked as sexy as hell. I noticed she had nice pins, they would look horny as fuck laced on those legs.
I regained a little composure and started to apologise, several things happened at once, as I realised the bag lady was actually a very pretty plus sized woman. That's the polite way to say big girl these days, isn't it? A very attractive thirty something lady. She had the most amazing grey green eyes and I could see whisps of frosted white blond hair breaking free of her headscarf.
The second thing was she dropped the other boot on the floor and the third she started to cry. She was obviously not English. Mid European, I wouldn't want to try and pin her origins closer than that.
There were four bored, very posh older women who ran this shop between them. Maureen, the manageress, due to me making a bit of money for her pet project, Maureen, was now a friend of mine. She wanted to live a bit, her hubby was a banker, his idea of living was work, then catch the 19.07 from Charing Cross, home for dinner. If he had his two games of golf at the weekend he was happy. His idea of heaven was a long weekend away golfing with three guys who were even more boring than him.
Poor Maureen, she was bored shitless. I think her last thrill was cutting the wedding cake. Her idea of Heaven was a nine-inch nob driven by a unquenchable energy supply. Just to fuck her tiny little pussy untill she walked bow-legged for a month. I sat her on the back of my Suzuki Hyabusa a few times, I broke every speed limit on the way to Brighton, just to buy her a coffee and a sticky bun. Then I brought her back. I did it just to put a smile on her face. I had done that a few times just lately, the smile just got bigger as she lost her speed fear. She was a good fifteen years older than me but she took all the pipe I could lay into her. I only had eight inch, but I was neigh on unquenchable. I made her walk bowlegged a few times.
More recently, when Tom her husband got on a plane to Spain to play golf for a week. Maureen invited herself to my flat to play a round or two with me. Tom didn't mind a bit. He was fifteen years older than Maureen and little Tom of the trouser department didn't appear to work anymore. If Maureen enjoyed anything more than a good stiff fucking it was a good stiff fucking after a sound spanking to get her minge dripping.
Tommy laughed about it. I'd send her home with a very sore fanny and an arse the colour of my old man's prize roses. He was happy, strange guy. Happy Wife, Happy Life he'd say. I took her to a Rock'n'Roll club once a week and danced her feet off, and then, take her back to mine for a night of fucking, licking and sucking. Tommy was even happier about that. He told me straight, as long as I didn't do the dirty deed in his bed, and as long as she didn't get hurt or pregnant and his dinner was on the table when he got home from the city, he was a happy camper. If he knew he was a dance widow for the night he'd slum it with a Chinese takeaway.
Maureen was the best, a nice sweet tight fanny, I'd stretched her brownie a bit and it was perfect for me now. Add to that, she sucked like an industrial vacuum cleaner. What's not to like. Sadly, today she was out at lunch. Annette, her number two, was on the till today. Annette, like Maureen is from the Surrey villages. Arbinger Hammer in their cases, the other two from Great Frencham I think. Annette is a fearful snob who does not approve of me, my bike, or my cock being in her boss a lot of the time. I think secretly She would like a portion for herself. She came rushing over complaining about ruining displays and showing maximum distain for my new friend Green-eyes.
The poor girl was terrified. Annette is a bully and was starting to revel in Green-eyes pain. I'm not what most people see in their minds eye when they think, perv, I'm six foot four, nearly sixteen stone. Very little of that is fat, I lift weights and compete on an over forties indoor rowing league. And I still play rugby at a good veteran's level. Annette doesn't scare me like she does most people.
"Just shut it, Annette," I barked, "leave the poor girl alone." I physically picked Green-eyes up off the floor." She was still crying, Annette was still wittering on about the boot on the floor. She was pissing me off,
"Shut the fuck up Annette, I'll pay if its damaged."
Annette carried on, "well! I've never been so insulted in my life."
Maureen, unnoticed by us all had slipped back in to the shop. Her comment "Stick around Annette, he can do much better than that", made me laugh if no one else.
"Are you going to buy those boots for Min. I know your trouser snake is doing its best to burst through your zip."
Maureen went on, "Kevin!" that's my name, "you need to take this one home with you and shag her untill her pussy is so sore she limps like you broke both her legs."
"Actually, first I need to make her look like something worthy of your rather excellent baby-maker. Go lock the door and put the closed sign in the window. The guy who brought the boots in, left allot of gear that even I won't put up for sale. He was a landlord who evicted a pro domme from one of his flats. You can have the lot for her for free, and I'll throw in a pair of the stockings I was keeping for myself. Don't worry, she scrubs up lovely, but you look after her, you hear me, and save some man meat for me."
This was all very well, yes with Maureen I would happily play the arrogant bastard and use my strength to hold her over the settee in the shop office and feed my bed snake up her brownie. But this girl? Yeh my bed snake would happily play his part invading her tight brown ring and easing it a little. Big brain however needed to know that the lady big brain, hopefully in control of the brownie in question wanted invading. The whole part of this game is the lady big brain in question is telling its mouth lies. So Green-eyes mouth says to me, oh, no oh no, I'm too delicate for that. Then bed snake says with a pirate accent, shut up bitch and take it. Green-eyes hoots and hollers a bit, maybe passes out when her pleasure receptors overload and she comes around sleepy and smiling.
I love to cuddle and kiss after sex. I know it sounds a bit girly for a six four, sixteen stone biker but I like to stroke a nice pair of titties, lick her face, suck her everlasting jelly babies, so she coos like a pidgin and falls asleep safe and unharmed in my arms. Alright safe, unharmed other than a tingling brownie, nipples and maybe a sore muff.
My problem is, I don't know this girl, how am I going to know what's going on in her head. How do I know that she is playing, if she isn't, it is rape and I'm not a predatory bastard, I like games, does she?
I was a bit surprised by Maurine's reaction to me telling her this.
"You're an idiot. Just take the girl on a date, take her somewhere for some good food, not a fucking curry. An Italian with clean tablecloths and cutlery. Feed her, get a bit of wine in her, make it last and tell her how beautiful she is, tell her at least a hundred times. When she is wined and dined properly, ask her if she wants you to take her to your place to see your etchings. If she says yes, and I'm ninety-nine point nine percent certain she will say yes, then, my boy, your off to the races.
If she says no, bring her home to me. Tom is away for the weekend golfing again, as long as you don't mark his bed you can fuck me, throat fuck me, bugger me and I'll give you tit wanks, all weekend long.
I've told Min about you, she wants you to take her home, she wants you to take all three of her holes and put a big fat sticky load between her tits. Now go, take her to my hairdresser first, you will like the hair-do, then to yours, let her have a good hot shower then dress her with the clothes and shoes in this rucksack and take her out in that sexy little car of yours, not the bike. We found an old cordura one piece bike suit that we could squeeze Green-eyes into, she is still Green-eyes to me today. That evening my new freshly scrubbed woman was introduced to my best mate, over the back of the sofa in my front room I also Introduced the palm of my hand to her bum cheeks and before we went to bed and at Green-eyes insistence I called Maureen. I woke up in the morning with Green-eyes sitting on my face and Maureen riding my cock. I thought for a little while, I'd died and gone to pussy heaven.
Oh yeh, the hairdo. It's apparently called, Looped Dutch Braids with knotted returns. It's plats, two, each side of her head, behind her ears. I can just get my hands in each loop and firmly hold her head at my waist height. Why ever would I want to do that? It's become her favourite hair style, especially when worn with a strict corset and matching arm-binder. I see a big future for Green-eyes in my bed.
