"Well, you seem to have catered for the heat wave!"

The petite supermarket checkout girl nimbly slid my eight items across her scanner. A litre bottle of vodka, two giant tonics, three lemons, a packet of crisps and a bottle of Prosecco. "You forgot the sun oil."

"I'm going for an all-over tan this summer."

"Nice." She gave a playful grin as I handed her my credit card. "Wifey away, by any chance?"

"However did you come to that conclusion?"

She glanced down at my finger ring. "When married men buy items like these, it's pretty obvious they're not doing the household shopping for the week." She stroked the back of the card against her green uniform and slid it into the card reader.  "Pop your code number in for me?" It sounded so sexy.

After keying in my code, I hastily packed my items into a carrier bag. Fortunately, there was no shopper waiting, so our flirtatious badinage could go on for a little longer.

"I'm Mandy." She gave a subtle upward hand movement to the name badge displayed above her right breast. I wasn't sure whether she was showing me her badge or drawing attention to her ample bosom.

"So I see. May I say how striking your hair-do is?"

"Why thank you. I did it myself last night."

Mandy's eye-catching coiffeur was in vivid magenta, stretched diagonally across her forehead, with purple and green highlights. I surmised from her pale wispy eyebrows that under all that bottled dye she was probably a blonde.

"Are you a natural blonde?"

She pulled my card from the reader and with an angelic expression handed it back to me. "Maybe you'll find out later."

Fuck! This young woman could flirt like Lauren Bacall.

An old biddy had shuffled up and begun to laboriously unload a trolley-fulf of items onto the conveyor belt. I figured that Mandy and I had about another minute-and-a-half to complete our delicate sexual negotiations.

Mandy lowered her head (probably to avoid detection by overhead CCTV cameras) and began polishing the glass of her item scanner. "I think the next line is usually: 'What time do you finish?'" she mumbled.

Now I was really flustered. Sliding my credit card into my wallet I stuttered: "Erm, yes, I suppose so."

Dropping her disposable cleaning cloth into a small bin, the girl idly drummed one hand on the stainless steel chute. As the drumming stopped, four elegantly manicured fingers were outstretched. Talking to herself, the old lady continued her unpacking.

"Great! I'll have time to get the Prosecco chilled." I raised my eyebrows. "Where shall I pick you up?"

"Don't come into the car park. Too risky. Wait for me outside the Post Office opposite." She turned to her next customer and called out: "Hello, Edna! And how are you coping in this hot weather, my lovely?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mandy appeared a few minutes after our 4.00pm deadline, striding confidently across the supermarket's car park, wearing orange flip-flops, a microscopically brief pair of frayed denim shorts, and a tightly-fitting T-shirt. It's message read: YOUNG BROKE AND FABULOUS. Beneath it, her breasts looked even more voluptuous. She had a small duffle bag slung over one shoulder.

She slipped effortlessly into the semi-reclined passenger seat of my convertible, slung her bag into the back and gave an extra-long glance down at my semi-tented slacks. Resting one hand lightly on my thigh she murmured: "Mmmm. I don't need to ask if you're pleased to see me!" Now this 20-year-old was quoting Mae West.

We drove in silence to my house, while her right hand, performing subtle massaging movements, inched up my thigh. By the time we has parked, Mandy's hand had arrived at my crotch.

I parked up and closed the automatic gates. "Now do me a favour before we go inside, young lady?"

"What's that?"

"Text your mother or father and give them this address. It's 99 Elm Tree Drive."

"I've only got a mum. Dad walked out when I was a toddler."

"Okay. Well, just text Mum that you're visiting a friend. It's safer and I'll feel happier."

Without demurring, she fished her phone from her back pocket and sent the text. "Done. Now can I ask a favour?"

"Sure."

"Can I call you Daddy?"

"I'd love it."

"Great! Let's get stuck into those vodka and tonics, shall we?"

"Why not. We'll go round to the back. There's a small walled garden where we can sunbathe. What will you wear?"

She giggled as she retrieved her bag from the car's back seat. "I pinched a bikini bottom from the clothing aisle. But I forgot to take the top."

"What a shame. Does that mean that I'll get to see your lovely titties?"

"I'm afraid so."

Already half-way through her second coaster of vodka and tonic, Mandy was now languidly reclining on a sun bed in the seclusion of the walled garden. Her breasts were indeed magnificent, with huge, dark-brown areoles and pert nipples, which she was idly stoking to hardness.

"Want me to take my bikini bottom off?"

"Not just yet. I'm still feasting on the sight of your lovely titties."

"And what would Daddy like to do to them, I wonder?"

"I'm too shy to say."

"Spoil sport! Well come and whisper in Mandy's ear. And I won't be shocked if it's filthy." She cocked her head on one side provocatively as I knelt down beside her.

"With your permission, I'd like to cum all over them."

She grinnied impishly and slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. "Can we have a little more detail please?" I couldn't fail to notice that her free hand was now inside her bikini.

"Well... I could stand naked astride you as you lay there. Start slowly masturbating my stiff cock in front of you. Watch you fondling your cunnie beneath that bikini bottom - which already looks rather damp!"

Her eyelids slowly closed and she smiled, signalling her first minor orgasm.

I resumed my erotic narrative. "Then, as I felt my semen rushing to the surface, eager to be ejaculated, I'd point my cockhead at your gorgeous globes and flood them with warm, creamy spunk."

The damp patch in Mandy's bikini grew bigger. Wide-eyed and angelic she enquired: "And then?"

"Than I'd watch you smear my spunk all over those lovely dark nipples, before I leaned down to lick them clean and then snowball you!"

She slowly undid the side ties of the costume, folding it open to reveal her beautiful shaved cunnie, glistening with her love honey. "Oh, Daddy. I think I've just had a naughty accident.

Eagerly I bent down and began slurping up her juices, pressing my face into her folds. Tonguing her petals and inhaling their magic scent through my nostrils, I snorted it to the back of my throat and swallowed.

"Drink all the juices out of this slutty whore's cunt," she whispered.

Though I calculated that Mandy had already had several orgasms (one of which, directly into my mouth, was a real gusher) I had yet to ejaculate.

Slowly the young woman sat up on the lounger. She gave me a wicked look. "My, you are a dark horse, aren't you?"

"Me?"

"Si, senor. When you ambled up to my checkout this afternoon, I thought butter wouldn't melt in your mouth."

"Same here."

"Really? Didn't you have me sussed as a filthy-minded slattern?"

"No way. You looked positively demure."

She gave another of her delightful giggles. "Maybe I should have had a couple more buttons of my top undone..." Then she supported one of her breasats with the palm of her hand. "... so you could have got a good eyeful of this! So what's next on this afternoon's agenda, Daddy? Mandy's had a nice rest and wants to get back to work. A slattern's work is never done." She slid my foreskin slowly down my erect shaft and kissed my cockhead.

"Are you hungry?"

"Not really. I wouldn't mind a glass of that Prosecco, though. Shall I fetch it?"

Two minutes later my little naked waitress had returned, expertly carrying the opened bottle and two champagne flutes in one hand, and a banana in the other.

She poured our sparkling wine, then half-peeled the banana, placing it on the garden table on a napkin. "Cheers!"

"Cheers, Mandy. Aren't you going to eat that banana?"

"I didn't bring it out to eat - least not right away."

"What, then?"

She knocked back her drink and refilled our glasses. "Mandy's got a special surprise for Daddy. Something I guarantee you've never done before."

"Sounds intriguing. Tell me more."

"Got any lube?"

"There may be some upstairs in my wife's dressing table. Want me to go and check?"

"No need." She rummaged in her duffle bag, proudly producing a bottle of baby oil. "Ta-da! I liberated this from our Baby Ointments aisle this afternoon." She leaned forward and began oiling the peeled end of the banana. "Ever done any anal?"

"Nothing serious. Occassional finger-fucking with my wife. That's about it."

She screwed the top back on the bottle. "Wifey never fuck you with a strap-on?" The question was asked as matter-of-factly as if she'd been enquiring about the weather.

"Nope."

"Oh dear. Shame my supermarket doesn't sell strap-ons. I could have given you a lovely al fresco seeing-to. Still, we'll just have to make do with this banana. Come and lean over the garden table for me, will you?"

I was putty in this brazen minx's hands and moved to take up a prone position across the wooden table. "Grip the edge tight, for me? Now open your legs - wider - and poke your bum hole in the air. That's  it. Now keep very still. And relax."

The next few minutes were a blur of wild sensations. Mandy had her left hand planted firmly in the small of my back, whilst her right hand was oh-so-gently easing the tip of the banana past my sphincter and into my anus. "Relax those muscles, Daddy. Whatever you do, don't tense up. Can you take a bit more, perhaps?"

"Just a little."

"Brilliant! Now Mandy's going to find Daddy's G-spot. D'you know what that is?"

"I think so."

"Well, you will do any second now, big boy. If I can just tickle it a little..."

And of course the inevitable happened. Dextrous Mandy nudged my prostate with the tip of the banana and the flood gates opened, producing a veritable tsunmai of semen. She kept her hand firmly planted on my back, effectively 'locking' me to the table top. She kicked off her flip-flops and slid her right food under my gusher, so that her toes and ankles were generously coated with spunk. Then releasing her vice-like grip, she allowed me to slowly stand up.

She dragged an old iron garden chair across. "I think you'd better sit down for a couple of minutes."

"Yes, I think so too. Could you pour me another Presecco, please?"

"Sure". She emptied the bottle into our two flutes, then slid back to resume her posture on the sun bed. This time with her legs opened wide.

"Out of 10?"

I pretended to contemplate the mind-boggling sexual experience we'd just shared. "Of, I don't know: perhaps 37?"

She roared with laughter, spilling the rest of her drink over her tits. "Yeah, I'd probably give it 25 or even 30. It was certainly a unique experience for me, I can tell you."

"Amanda! Are you telling me you've never fucked a guy with a banana?"

"Nope. You're the first, Daddy. Promise. But it's not over yet!"

I dreaded to imagine what further depraved indignities this feisty young woman had planned. "It isn't?"

"I want you to come and kneel before me and suck the toes of my right foot, please? Clean me up and let me watch you swallow all that lovely jizz you just squirted. Then at the end you can give your Mandy a lovely spunky kiss!"

I was gratified to discover that, in fact, it was far from degrading. Knelt at the feet of a beautiful young woman, lying naked on her sun bed, eyes closed, stroking her slit and quietly groaning with sexual ecstacy at my tongue-flicking ministrations, was terribly arousing. And a glorious finale to our brief tryst.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Exactly seven days later I found myself once more shopping in my local supermarket. What had changed was that this time (my wife having returned from the coast) I was back to the routine of our regular weekly shop, with a trolley laden with boring domestic items. Mandy had changed too. In place of her magenta bouffant style, she now wore an elfin brunette cut, with chestnut highlights.

"Will you please charge me for a bikini bottom and a bottle of baby oil?" I asked at the end.

"Why so?"

"Because, young lady, I wouldn't wish your career here to be jeopardized by a charge of shoplifting."

She nodded assent and handed me the receipt. "Wifey back?"

"I'm afraid so."

She gave a subtle little Mae West shimmy of those glorious titties. "It was good though, wasn't it?"

Straight-faced and keeping my head bowed, I completed my packing. "You mean the heatwave?"

She snorted and blushed. "Yeah, that too!"