My tale is one of arousal, shame, embarrassment, and lust. I dropped out of college to marry an awesome man. He didn't care that I couldn't have kids. We had twelve great years together, but then he died suddenly on the job. That left me with a nice amount of money but an empty bed. I had gained weight due to "grief eating", going from a size twelve to a size twenty and from a C-cup to a double or triple D. Luckily I am tall, my 5'10" frame carried the weight well and I am healthy. So as a woman in her mid-thirties, I came across as voluptuous or full-figured rather than plump. I waited a couple of years after my husband's death before dating again but it wasn't any good. Mentally I compared every guy with him and they all came up short. A girlfriend finally diagnosed the problem.
"The problem is that you're looking for Mr. Right instead of Mr. Right Now."
"Huh?"
"Don't look for a guy to replace Steve. Look for a guy you can fuck."
"Oh my god, Karen!"
"No, really." She said pressing on. "You need someone to fuck, not someone to live with. Don't get all high and noble girl. You need a good man with a good cock to give you a good orgasm whenever you want it. Plain and simple."
It was a week later that the arousal came out of the blue.
I was shopping for groceries when I saw him. His kilt was the first thing I noticed. One of those new modern canvas utility kilts. He was tall, slender and had a mane of long red hair. I admired both his looks and his attire. He stayed ahead of me, or perhaps I stayed behind him for quite a while. Soon I was remembering what Karen had said. Hell, maybe I did need a simple one night stand. Or an afternoon rendezvous. He moved with calm assurance and grace that seemed so arousing. I found myself fantasizing a little. I wondered if he wore anything under the kilt. I wondered what it would feel like to touch him and be touched again. I debated passing him and trying to catch his eye. Somehow I found the courage. Glancing around and seeing that no one was paying me any attention, I unzipped my hoodie until my bra barely showed. My cleavage on display. I wished I was dressed nicer but the jeans were tight and I knew my ass looked good in them. I passed him, forcing myself to not look and then stopped a little further on and bent over to get something from the bottom shelf. Then I crossed the aisle and repeated the maneuver, facing his direction this time. My hoodie hung open giving him a good look at my bra and tits. He stopped a couple of feet away and I could see his boots in my peripheral vision. He was facing me. Good. I grabbed a box of crackers and straightened up and froze.
He was a puppy! He couldn't be more than nineteen or twenty! Cute, yes. Adorable even. But too young! Way too young! Flustered I fumbled and dropped the box.
He picked it up and handed it back to me.
"Here ya go," he said, his voice far deeper and softer than you'd expect.
"T-Thank you," I mumbled.
