Caroline's secret - Sex Stories

Caroline's secret

... clouds formed as quickly as the old had departed. Her face darkened once more. Her lip quivered. So did mine. I stepped forwards and held her. We cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. 'Alice, it'll be okay. You won't be able to tell. Even close up. The things they can do these days!' She held out her cupped hand, turned it before our eyes, examined its invisible contents. 'I held one. An implant. Looked at photos. Videos...' There was still anger enough inside me, enough jealousy - even after twelve long and lonely years - to make me say just what the fuck I wanted. I'd always yearned to be more like her, now here was the moment: if my frivolous words hurt her, they hurt her. 'Fucking National Health Service! Here's me with the 34 B's and you with the best tits in town, yet it's you getting the free fucking boob job?' Though still crying, she somehow managed a simultaneously laugh. 'You cunt! Only you could say a heartless fucking thing like that. But yes, yer right! Free boob job! They are getting a bit saggy! In another five years they'll have completely gone to seed. Now they'll last longer than I will! Be sat there in my coffin long after the rest of me's turned to mush. Yes! Fuck me! I'll have the best tits in town till fucking judgment day!' * The conveyor was full. I'd run out of bags, had rung the bell, but - as usual - no-one had come to help. 'Sorry about this. Won't be a moment.' I shifted my eyes from the well-dressed middle-aged woman's disdainful glare ...

... and wagged my tongue at the snaking queue. 'If you'd like to use another till?' Resigned eyes averted. A few feet shuffled away. After slamming my till drawer, I slid back my stool and deserted my post, set off in search of the elusive carton of carriers. 'Here, Caz. I've got a few you can have.' Alice tossed a rolled bundle over, while seamlessly scanning a family-sized Corn Flakes, a jar of beef spread, and a tall tin of cat food, then spoke conspiratorially to the embarrassed elderly couple who, ostensibly obliviously, continued to refill their rusting trolley. 'Fucking useless, this place.' She pursed her full lips then shook and swept back her bleached blonde hair. Her regulation green blouse was open, her splendid new tits were almost out, and her smooth naked thighs - millimetres before they met in shameless glistening glory - were tightly bound by her indecently-short black skirt, a skirt so mythologically short that customers were often assailed by her skimpy white knickers as she sensuously slid off her stool. Yes, even at forty something, Alice still dressed like a whore and - despite her red-card mouth - the bosses simply adored her. And - despite everything that had happened - so did I. And I still do. Well-dressed woman stowed her bejewelled leather purse in her cashmere coat and strutted away, Gestapo-like, on clicking heels. I spoke instinctively. 'Mmmmorning.' A man's voice. 'Morning.' 'Need any help with your packing, love...' My wetted finger was rustling ...