Greetings from checkout #5 at my local supermarket. A more frenzied woman you will never meet. What began as simply checking an email led me here, dressed like a Goodwill Store supermodel in cutoff jeans and a Bengals tee. My plan was to get in then flee quickly like a slutty teen at Camp Crystal Lake. The email of note was from my online lover, Pussy4rent30 (if that is her real name!) who was feeling legendarily horny. Her vivid prose left my panties wet and bunched so tightly between my legs the jaws of life would be needed for extrication.

My need grew with each adjective and especially each powerful adverb until I knew my release was needed AND mandatory. She had my full attention, underlining and italicizing all forty-seven references of "cunt." Dashing to my toy chest,  unlocking the bulletproof Master lock and withdrawing my beloved crimson vibe. I twisted the control anxiously ... NOTHING. Fuckin' Dollar Tree batteries! While my fingers were still in working order I needed more tonight. Hence my need for my toy dubbed Sir Loin, the famed Explorer of the nether regions; an area south of the equator, infamously hot and humid, but its lush foliage now trimmed down to a small but accessible landing strip. A perfect tourist stop if not for the onslaught of mosquitoes. 

I drove from my stately home in Bedside Manor Trailer Park then maneuvered through the aisles, grabbing batteries and Hamburger Helper before steering my cart toward the checkout. The right wheel locked up causing me to go in circles for ten minutes, adding to my frustration and dizziness. Finally, in the narrow lane to the cash register, I gazed into my dented cart, surveying my wide variety of batteries from AA to D. Coincidentally,  the cup sizes of girlfriends throughout the years.

Hoping for quick service despite only one lane open, I clenched my thighs tightly together, moaned and looked about. This time of evening, the shoppers were all shuffling about like characters in a Romero movie; eyes down, looking furtively at the raw meat display, oblivious to the harmonica version of Layla piped throughout the store. My optimism for rapidity dissipated as I noticed the frumpy Fraulein in front of me had a fistful of coupons and was currently searching for five cents off on Kool-Aid (Oh Yeah! transformed to Oh Hell No!)

I stood there fidgeting and swearing to every deity, cursing my recently departed Everready. (Everready? The irony was not lost on me) She stopped mid-coupon shuffle and looked into my cart. Noticing my ample battery collection, the nosey bitch grinned, lifted an intimidating cucumber and stage-whispered, "honey, I save money on batteries with this." I was about to use it now to save her money on  Preparation H as well. Remind me not to eat salad at her home. Fate finally smirked at me as another register opened. 

Slamming my cart roughly into the opening, knocking a Don Knotts-looking fool flying into a Hostess display, crushing Ding Dong's  (Who names their cakes ...Ralph Wiggum?) Seeing light at the end of the tunnel, I handed a cute cashier my stash and began fantasizing anew. While waiting, feet moving nervously, I glanced at the horrendous tabloids. One headline did grab me; 'Taco Bell Mystery Meat Revealed!' (Spoiler alert...have you have seen Richard Simmons lately?)

Finally completing my transaction I ran to my SUV and drove home as recklessly as Herman Munster evading a torch-wielding mob. Then home, stripping immediately, my dog and ferrets playing tug-of-war with my very soiled panties, I printed the passionate email before climbing into my disheveled bed, legs splayed like a Thanksgiving turkey waiting to be stuffed. Reading each word carefully,  the newly powered, heat-seeking toy found its home between my legs and plunged tip first into the eagerly-awaiting promised land. I swear the  Hallelujah Chorus was even playing. I knew the outcome would be instantaneous yet powerful. Reading through happy-tear stained eyes I began fucking myself with a fervor normally reserved for a Van Halan groupie. Screams are commonplace in a trailer park so noise wasn't my concern.

My toes were curling but I wanted to wait, let it intensify like a hurricane bearing down on Cuba. Pausing to wring out my sheets in the sink, I then resumed my self-exploration, pumping myself like an oil well on Jed Clampett's farm until I hit another gusher, literally. Sweaty and breathless I clutched her message to my chest. My nipples so hard they poked holes in the paper. My clit still engorged and begging for attention which I was happy to provide. I began reading again.

Each phrase excited me but her final sentence was saved for my denouement. It simply read, "while I cannot physically make love to you I can LOVE you." My Heart both rejoiced and broke. I am the very emotional type, wearing my heart on my sleeve, which complicates laundry terribly. I was very shy about playing with her online because she became special to me so quickly. I didn't want her thinking I was just another cyber nympho who lays pussy traps hither and yon. She had plenty of those. I wanted to be different. But by being shy I lost the real me and became the most boring chatter ever. I offer transcripts of my three-hour weather text as Exhibit A. But now, before replying to her email, it's time for the grand finale of my personal fireworks before some Hamburger Helper, Spam style. Then I was prepared to eat more cyber pussy than a Korean deli owner.