So I entered the shop and she locked the door behind us as I mumbled that all I required was a bottle of aspirin tablets for my friend who was feeling unwell. Mrs. Roberston said: 'Ah! We've just taken delivery of a box of Professor Anthony Mulliken's Aspirins. These are a little more expensive, but they're supposed to be the best in the trade. Just a moment and I'll see if I can find them.'
She knelt down and searched through some half-opened boxes. When she triumphantly brought out the bottle she had been looking for, her face was level with the bulge in my crotch. I noticed her eyes widen and felt my cheeks begin to bum as I blushed with embarrassment. I cleared my throat and thanked her as Mrs. Robertson rose and pressed the bottle into my hand.
'It's very thoughtful of you to take such trouble for a friend,' she said. Now I was certain that I could smell alcohol when she breathed deeply and added: 'I wish there was somebody who cared enough about me to go out on my behalf if I fell ill. But my sister has moved down to Maidstone and Mr. Robertson has been away since April-he won't be back till next February at the earliest'
I wondered what circumstances had forced her husband to leave the matrimonial home for such a length of time. But I thought it impolite to ask, so I simply nodded my head sympathetically and enquired whether I might also purchase half a dozen fourpenny tubes of Vaseline.
'Yes, of course you can,' replied the buxom lady, giving me a grandstand view of the swell of her ample breasts as she bent down again to open another box. 'Six tubes, did you say? Who's the lucky girl, then?'
And then before I could make any rejoinder to this impertinent question, Mrs. Robertson's face crumpled up and her eyes filled with tears as she sobbed: 'Oh, Mr. Scott, I'm so sorry, please forgive me, that was the gin speaking. Please don't report me to Mr. Home or I'll get the sack. The fact is that since Herbert, my husband, has been away I've been so lonely and I won't deny that this isn't the first time I've popped a pocket flask into my handbag before leaving the house.'
So she had been drinking, after all! I felt I had to speak out and I said: 'Mrs. Robertson, forgive me saying so but in a responsible job like yours, that's really most unwise. Suppose you made a mistake and gave a customer the wrong medicine whilst you were under the influence of alcohol? The consequences could be tragic'
To my discomfiture, she continued crying so bitterly that I moved round behind the counter and put my arms around her shoulders to comfort her, saying: 'There, there, Mrs. Robertson, I didn't mean to upset you, though I hope you will consider what I said. But what is troubling you so much? Would you like to tell me why you need to drown your sorrows with drink before you go to work?'
She looked up at me and wiped her eyes, 'I can see that Hettie Pelgram was right when she told me that you were a very kind-hearted gentleman,' she said in a low voice. 'So don't you know what happened to my husband? I thought it was common knowledge in West London as the court case was in all the newspapers. Well, not to beat about the bush, poor Herbert's doing twelve months in Wormwood Scrubs. Oh, he's not a real criminal, sir, but the silly fool fell in with a fast crowd and he tried to pay off his gambling debts by letting himself get involved in some City swindle.
'So, I've been on my own since April and I do miss him, Mr. Scott,' she sighed, putting her head against my chest as she continued: 'And I'll be frank with you, I'm a hot-blooded woman and I haven't had a good night's sleep since the day Herbert was arrested and taken to Paddington Green police station.'
Now what was I to do? It was quite obvious that the poor lady was extremely distressed, and I felt it incumbent on me to provide such comfort as I could.
It was difficult to realize what Mrs. Robertson wanted. Happily, she made it crystal clear when she whispered: 'The truth is that when I saw you standing outside the shop with a big hard-on between your legs, it brought back memories of how, when Mr. Home asked me to work late, Herbert used to come here at closing time and we would have a lovely little quickie in the stockroom before we went home. Oh, I can hardly tell you how frustrated it made me feel!'
'Well, if there is any way I can help ease this feeling,' I murmured softly. Her eyes lit up as she instantly replied: 'Oh yes, you certainly can, young man. Go into the back of the shop whilst I switch off all these lights.'
The thought of fucking this pretty lady had made my cock swell up to bursting point and I unbuttoned my flies in anticipation whilst I walked through into the stockroom. Seconds later I was standing against the wall with Mrs. Robertson's warm body pressed against me. As our lips met, she stuck her tongue deep into my mouth and ground her pussey against my stiff shaft.
We exchanged a passionate kiss. Then she muttered fiercely: 'Ahhh! How exciting to feel a thick prick rubbing against me again! Oooh, Mr. Scott, the very idea of having your cock slide into my cunt had made me all wet. Feel my quim and see for yourself.'
I ran my hand up her dress and found out that, after turning off the electric lights, Mrs. Robertson had also taken off her knickers because there was no impediment to my fingers slithering into her damp pussey bush. Her body trembled when I began to toy with her clitty and she moaned: 'Oh! Oh! Oh! Quickly now, take off your clothes and fuck me, you dear boy!'
Who could resist such a sweet command? Whilst I tore off my trousers, she too undressed swiftly and in no time at all we were locked in a naked embrace. The underside of my stiff shaft throbbed against her belly as our mouths meshed together and I fondled her large, pendulous breasts.
She reached out, grabbed my palpitating prick and guided me gently inside her. My knob sank between her cunney lips and into the welcoming love channel beyond, the walls of which closed deliciously over my cock, pulling me in deeper and deeper until my chopper was completely engulfed in her squelchy cunt. I drew back and she squealed with joy as I thrust myself into her again. I leaned back against the wall when the happy lady threw her arms around my neck and, with surprising dexterity, wrapped her legs around my waist, locking them behind me so that my prick was fully ensconced inside her sopping cunt.
However, I found the position a trifle uncomfortable and I slid slowly down the wall as she released me from the scissor-like hold in which she had held my frame between her legs. By chance there happened to be a pile of huckaback towels on the floor and I pulled one out to slip under my bottom as Mrs. Robertson straddled me and lowered herself onto me, holding my straining shaft lightly in her hand as it slowly disappeared into her dripping shaft.
The raunchy lady settled herself and then, sitting bolt upright, arched her back so that her big jouncy titties jutted out proudly. She purred with pleasure as I reached up and squeezed them in my hands. Then, putting both hands behind her neck, she shook her head, tossing free her dark mane of hair before taking her weight on her hands. She kissed me wetly on the lips, moving her body upwards so that she was almost clear of my glistening cock.
However, she soon lowered herself again onto my throbbing tool. Now it was my turn to gasp with delight when her puffy pussey lips brushed the mushroom dome of my helmet as she slipped her luscious love funnel down the stiffstanding length of my shaft.
'Oh yes!' I panted as the slick, warm walls of her cunney closed tightly around my swollen lust truncheon. I quickly shunted my shaft up and down in swift, short jabs which brought us both to the very brink of ecstasy as I increased the pace to a near-frenzied speed. At every thrust downwards, Mrs. Robertson's plump backside smacked against the top of my thighs and her juicy quim seemed to tighten its fleshy grip all the more, as if a suction pump had been applied to the bell-end of my rampant todger.
Suddenly the massaging muscles of her juicy cunney tightened about me in a long, rippling seizure which ran from the base of my cock to the very tip of my knob. This clutching spasm sent me to lust's Elysium: a torrent of spunk burst out of my cockend and creamed the inner crannies of her emit. Gush after gush of milky jism jetted out of my knob, spurting deep up inside her. She cried out in joy as she achieved a glorious climax.