Supermarkets turn me on. They do it visually first of all, with their artistic arrangements of fresh fruit and vegetables. Those vivid colours, refreshing aromas and attractive shapes are more than enough to make me salivate and imagine their delicate flavours stimulating my eager tongue. Then, there’s the seductive sound of elevator-style muzak, blending in with the mesmerising ‘beeps’ produced by the barcode scanners attached to checkouts somewhere in the distance.
It’s not just any type of supermarket that will pass the test, of course. I’m very fussy. Discount supermarkets don’t do it for me, for example, no matter how good their bargains might be. The only food store that satisfies me is the kind that prides itself on the freshness of its produce and the refinement of its customer service. I’m not looking at the price; my tastebuds dictate where my foodie indulgences will be found.
Timing my grocery shopping is also very important to me. I find that there’s a big difference between a Saturday shopping experience and a midweek one. I despise crowds and queues so, for me, the optimum time for the supermarket experience would usually be Monday morning or the early afternoon. At those times, the shelves are stocked with fresh produce and the staff can give me all the attention I crave and deserve without making me wait.
Saturday afternoon peak shopping time is my idea of a living nightmare. It can be summed up by the trolley pushing, the bored cashiers and long queues. The well-pawed produce that remains, after the best has already been taken, looks unappetising to say the very least. I’m one of the most impatient people I know and all of these things combined aren’t easy for me to tolerate. Sometimes, however, I find my schedule a little less organised than usual. When I’m forced to face the prospect of a depleted fridge, bare cupboards and empty fruit bowls, a Saturday shopping spree is the only answer. In those rare cases, I decide to go to the supermarket with geisha balls inside me – the heaviest ones I have in my collection. I love the paranoia, of thinking when, or if, they might move suddenly or slip out. Saturday, or not, that arousing prospect always adds a spring to my step.
Another exciting way to deal with crowds, and cope with waiting in queues, is ‘phone sex. I utilised the services of my favourite sub to entertain me that way during a particularly long wait. I had kept him in a state of orgasm denial for weeks. So, when I saw the insane crowds, it seemed appropriate to put him out of his delicious misery. I took my ‘phone out of my pocket and called him. When he answered, I said ‘now, worm’.This was his instruction to begin pleasuring himself with no delay, wherever he was. He wasn’t permitted to come until I gave him permission. When I was about to pay for my shopping, I whispered ‘squirt’ into my handset. His frenzied moans were immediate and extremely loud. I giggled to myself and fake-coughed a few times just in case the cashier heard and realised what I was up to.
If someone offers to take me to the supermarket and carry my bags for me, they are guaranteed to get my attention – at least for a little while. I can, and do, make the most of their strong arms and have more bulk items taken home than usual. It makes a change for me to be able to share my personal sensual supermarket experience with someone else, even though they probably won’t quite understand the finer points. It makes me smile to have them play along.
I prefer to have an almost empty supermarket to myself because I’m guaranteed a better outcome. From time to time, when it’s busier, I find myself visually seduced by the occasional single shopper – if he’s fit, of course. I check him for a wedding ring and then I scrutinise the contents of his shopping cart. If I see that the majority of it is factory processed convenience food, desserts, chips, soda and other junk, then any basic attraction I may have felt goes right out of the supermarket window.
As I load up my trolley, I must admit that it’s hard not to get carried away with my purchases. I mustn’t buy more than I can reasonably carry because I don’t drive and my apartment is quite a distance. In a way, that’s ideal because it means I’ll be back in a couple of days to relive my sensual, and seductive, supermarket experience.