May to December Ch. 05

Author's Note:

All characters in this story are eighteen years of age or older. All characters and events are most likely fictional. Any similarities between actual persons, living or dead, and events is probably coincidental.

"Mom! Just go back without me and go through his checkout. I'm telling you, he was flirting with you, not me!" Becca screamed at her mom's closed bedroom door.

"Jeez. It's not gonna kill you to buy some stupid groceries to see!"

Becca turned and stomped loudly to her room and slammed the door behind her.

"OK, Mom isn't young anymore, but fifty-five isn't like ancient, or anything. She's got a few pounds extra on her, but she's tall. It just means that she has nice big boobs and a little extra meat on her ass. Most old guys like that. Maybe, probably. And she's not taller than Kevin, which isn't impossible to find, but it's not like six footers are falling out of trees."

Becca paced the floor in her room, mumbling to herself. It had been over a year since her dad had a massive heart attack at work and died. He was fat. Really fat. And Kevin was pretty hot, in Becca's eyes anyway.

"Even for somebody that old," her thoughts spilled out through her mouth into the room.

She sat down on her bed, and pushed her long, straight reddish blonde hair behind her ears, and thought about Kevin. He always had a nice smile for her and used her name when she intentionally went through his line to buy anything. He even commented on her hiding her hair when she had her hoodie pulled over her head to see if he still recognized her. She wasn't working that day, but went in to buy a soft drink anyway.

A few times at work she had eaves dropped when he was talking to one of the managers. They had been talking about math and probabilities one time, physics another time, and cosmology or astronomy, or something like that, another time. She was going to be a freshman in college in the fall, majoring in math. She had taken all the possible math and science courses in high school, and maintained a solid 3.6 GPA, yet the conversations she overheard were over her head.

A smart guy always made her panties a little moist. She wondered why a man like him was running a cash register at a grocery store.

Her mom had sold their three bedroom, two bath house after her dad passed away. She said they didn't need all that room, or the big yard to keep up. Now they lived in a two bedroom, one bath cottage on a postage stamp lot. This meant that Becca had to be careful, and only take care of herself when her mom wasn't around. Their bedrooms shared a common, paper thin wall. Her mom wasn't so careful, and Becca listened to her mom's vibrator through the wall on a regular basis.

She needed an outlet. Her super genius boyfriend had yet to even try to hold her hand, and they had been 'dating' for over six months. "A girl gets horny, ya know?" seemed to be her mantra for justification of her self-gratification.

And listening to her mom through the wall at night didn't help any. She always imagined there was a man with her, eliciting her moans. At first, she had pictured her dad, then random strangers she saw at work. Recently, however, it had been Kevin that she watched pleasuring her mom in her imagination.

She was starting to get the idea that maybe she wasn't your typical eighteen year old girl. Her best masturbatory inspirations were imagining watching other people fuck.

Porn wasn't useful either. At least not the visual porn. It seemed so stupid. She did love to read, and had found a website recently that published porn literature. The authors were amateurs, so sometimes the writing was horrible, but some of it was decent. The website was free, and the good stories really made her hot. She particularly liked the stories about brothers and sisters getting it on. She was an only child, so maybe that made those stories even more tantalizing to her.

"Mom, I'm sorry about yelling at you last night."

"It's fine sweetheart. I know you just want me to be happy, but I'm just not ready for dating. And I have you to worry about. You're all I need right now to be happy. I need to go to work now, so have a good day."

"I'm working today. Can you pick me up at 8:00?"

"Sure, honey. See you then."

Becca didn't really need a ride home from work. She usually walked the little over a mile distance, and could easily make it home before dark. She was hoping her mom would need something from the store and could then be steered through Kevin's checkout again.

She already had his schedule memorized, and knew he would be working.

Becca was a bagger at the grocery store. That meant she floated to different checkouts and bagged the groceries for whichever line seemed longest, ran errands for the checkers and managers, cleaned, and brought empty carts in from outside. Her favorite part was bagging though.

She always liked bagging on Kevin's lane. He seemed to always be able to engage the customers in a conversation. He commented on something they were buying, gaziantep evi olan escort bayan or some detail he picked up on their person, like interesting tee shirts, or fingernail polish, drivers licenses from other states for those buying alcohol. Almost everyone he helped left with a smile on their faces. Even the ones who had to wait in line and were already frustrated because it's still grocery shopping.

"Do you need anything from the store?" Becca asked her mom as she climbed into the car that evening.

"Not really. I just want to get home and relax."

"Nothing? Surely there's something we need. There's a really good special on Coke right now."

"Becca, I don't need anything. Including a date."

"But Mom, he's good looking, he's taller than you, he's even taller than me, and I'm five eleven. He's smart and funny. I heard you laugh at a few things he said last time. You should give him a chance before somebody else does."

Becca's mom just shook her head and started the car. She hoped her daughter couldn't see her blushing.

The moans coming though the wall seemed to be louder and longer than usual that night as Becca lay in her bed. She smiled as she listened, imagining her mom thinking about Kevin inside her, fucking her.

She bit her lip and tried not to let herself touch the moisture she could feel gathering in her crotch. She lost the battle as she pictured the muscles of his butt tighten as he thrust himself between her mom's ample thighs.

She always pictured herself watching from above, a bird's eye view, as someone fucked the woman who bore her.

Two fingers slid inside her as she raised her hips off the bed. The pain in the fingers of her other hand throttled the moans struggling to escape from her throat as she bit into them. She knew this was going to be a good one.

Becca squeezed her eyes closed as she teetered on the edge, her imagination focused on Kevin's ass clenching as he came inside the woman beneath him. The focus of her imagination moved up his back to the face looking back at her from beneath him. Her body toppled over the precipice as her legs clenched around her hand.

"Kevin..." escaped from between her lips as she looked into the face looking back at her in her mind.

It was her own face.

Becca sat up quickly. She was right, it had been an exceptionally good orgasm, but that wasn't the main reason she was finding it hard to breath.

She had imagined Kevin was fucking her.

Her hair flopped around her head as she tried to shake what she had just seen out of her mind. It didn't work.

She flopped back on her bed and focused her eyes on the ceiling of her bedroom. She had been kind of stalking him lately. She knew his work schedule. She went to the store, no, walked to the store, a two mile round trip, when her only reason was to go through his checkout line.

Was she crushing on him, pretending her intention was to get her mom laid, when it was really her that wanted to get laid?

"Fuck."

The next few days, Becca tried to concentrate on other things, any other things, and not think about Kevin. She failed miserably. Every morning her brain told her if he would be at work that day, and what times. She tried to not look at him when they were in the store together, and yet caught herself stealing looks at him as he worked.

The memory of her imagination of him thrusting between her legs haunted her, making her wet each time it crept into her head.

Becca sat cross legged on her bed and opened her laptop in front of her. She navigated to the porn literature site quickly and clicked on the link to her profile and list of her favorite authors.

She had several favorites, but had just recently discovered one who had published a story she really liked. The stars were a girl and her brother who secretly fucked each other. That was typical for these stories, but the girl had given her brother the gift of her virginity, and the fact it happened in the same room with their parents as they slept wasn't so typical, and was a huge turn on for Becca.

She looked forward to seeing what else happened with the duo, and what other twisted scenarios this particular author imagined.

Most of her favorite authors had published parts of stories that were linked together. The list she looked at for this author had several stories that seemed to be related, the titles or descriptions indicated recurring female roles, but weren't linked. She spotted others with the name of the girl from the one she liked, and others with a different girl's name.

There was a listing of a linked story though. Instead of Incest, the category was listed as Mature. She wondered what kind of twisted, perverse story old people would star in, and clicked on the first chapter.

She quickly skipped the first few italicized lines. She had seem similar lines on other stories, including the one other story she had read by this author. Boring stuff about gaziantep fetiş escort bayan it not being a true story.

Her lungs refused to work. Nothing in her body worked, except her eyes, when she read the first word.

"Kevin"

She was reading a pornographic story to try to get that word out of her head. And out of her crotch. It was there though, and seemed to be flashing at her.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself as she stared at the letters on the screen.

She struggled, but soon tore her eyes away from the first word of the story and scanned the italicized portion. She found what she was looking for and her body relaxed as she read that comforting word: coincidental.

"It's a common name," she spoke out loud. She felt better, and continued to read, but froze again as the writer put this Kevin in a grocery store, as a cashier.

"Fuck?"

She glanced again at the word 'coincidental' near the top of the page, then continued to read.

Soon enough, the heroine of the story showed up. Krystin was her name.

"Thank god," Becca mumbled.

Krystin's introduction, her crossing the parking lot toward Kevin, pushing a bicycle, was followed quickly with the description of the girl. Becca was relieved. She had to dispose of her old bike when they moved to their new house.

Krystin was a bagger, the same position that Becca held.

Krystin wore a baggy shirt and cargo pants to work. Becca felt some tension build in the back of her neck. Her uniform shirt was a man's shirt. It hung loosely on her torso, and she loved the baggy cargo pants she wore for work.

Becca read the description of Krystin's face several times, each time her eyes moved slower through the words. Except for the freckles, which Becca had pretty much none of, it was a description of her.

"Double... triple fuck. What the fuck, Kevin? Are you writing about me?" she growled against the walls of her bedroom.

"About us?"

Becca closed here eyes tightly as she dug her fingernails into the skin of her thigh. The pain took her concentration away from the picture in her mind of Kevin between her legs.

The lid of her laptop snapped as she closed it. She was glad she was naked. She needed another shower now.

She had tried to stop reading, but just couldn't. After she got past the description of her doppelganger in the story, Becca really wasn't that similar to Krystin, from the perspective of personalities. Krystin was much more outgoing than Becca could ever be. Becca couldn't imagine herself changing clothes in front of someone she barely knew, in their car.

One similarity was particularly troubling to her though.

Krystin likes to watch.

Becca had given herself a mind-numbing orgasm near the end of the last installment of the story of Kevin and Krystin. Her hair was matted to her face and neck, and she was certain, if left to dry, her pussy would smell like sex.

She didn't need that at work. Kevin, her Kevin, would be there.

She couldn't stop herself. She had put herself in the place of the assertive, outgoing version of herself named Krystin.

She knew she had no desire left for her mom to have him.

The store wasn't very busy as Becca clocked in, and she noticed Kevin leaned lazily on the short wall behind the register at an express line. She wouldn't be bagging for him this shift.

Her best route to the bagging stations was directly in front of him though. As she approached, she watched his eyes as they surveyed her, from her feet, up her baggy cargo pants and shirt to finally meet her gaze.

She smiled.

"Hi, Kevin," she greeted him, more cheerfully than was her norm.

"Hi, Krys... Becca."

She maintained her pace and, she hoped, her expression, but she felt her cheeks flush as she walked away from him toward a checkout that needed a bagger.

"What the fucking hell, Kevin," she thought to herself. She wasn't really thinking the words though. Her mind was screaming them inside her head.

"He almost called me Krystin! Fucking Krystin!"

She felt dizzy as she began throwing groceries into plastic bags. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she felt like she was on the edge of hyperventilating. Her wet panties didn't help her feel better.

She looked up at Kevin, but his back was turned as he was ringing up a customer's groceries. She didn't want him to look at her, not in the state she was in right now.

Becca concentrated on the groceries at hand, and her breathing and heart rate returned to normal, eventually.

"Becca?"

She recognized Kevin's voice behind her, speaking her name. She felt her heart race as she turned her face to look at him.

She couldn't stop the smile from forming on her lips.

"Sorry I almost called you the wrong name. I'm still learning names here."

"It's OK, Kevin," she said, but her mind was saying "Nice try, mister. There are no Krystins here, or anybody even close to bayan gaziantep escort Krystin."

She tried to concentrate on bagging again, but watched him as he went to a register a couple of lanes down from where she stood, and opened it. He must have been relieving somebody at the express lane while they had a break, and she could now bag for him the rest of his shift.

Becca caught herself looking at him, several times, when she should have been bagging. He was obviously much older than her. She guessed late forties, early fifties. He could be the same age as the other Kevin, fifty-eight. He looked younger. His hair was cut short, and his sideburns up into the hair just above his ears were gray. The rest was light brown. He had a spot on the top of his head where his scalp showed through when you looked at him from behind.

He was just a shade taller than her, about six feet even, she guessed. She could see pecs under his shirt, and occasionally nipples pressed into the material. His waist wasn't thin, but he didn't have a belly pushing his shirt out.

Kevin's blue eyes twinkled behind his eye glasses when he engaged the customers, and his smile was quick and warm. He really did look good to Becca. He was old, but still very attractive. She thought so, anyway.

He looked over his shoulder and waved at Becca as he left the store after punching out, and she felt a tug at her heart like she would miss him.

She took another shower as soon as she got home that night. The almost ice cold water against her body calmed her ragged nerves, and chased away the demons telling her she was crazy. It was early, but she got into bed anyway.

Becca knew she couldn't be the Krystin in the stories. She didn't think she could even pretend to be that girl. She didn't really want to be anyway. She liked how she was. Her personality wasn't going to get her laid. That was obvious, since it had not accomplished it yet, but she liked herself anyway.

Even if she couldn't be Krystin, she could be close enough that he would understand. She had a plan. The details of that plan worked through her head as she drifted off to sleep.

Becca had to wait a few days before she could use her plan. This gave her plenty of time to consider any flaws it might contain, but the only one she could find was whether or not she could actually do the things she thought she needed to do.

Her plan hinged on how accurate Kevin had described his life in the story, and how much she needed to be Krystin instead of Becca.

She knew he wore no wedding band. She also knew he drove the same kind of car the other Kevin drove. She hoped everything else about him was accurate, and that he could be accommodating with how much she differed from Krystin.

At the end of her shift on Friday night, Becca's fingers were shaking as she clocked out. She hoped she had the courage to at least take the first step of her plan. If she could get past that first step, maybe she could play it by ear if it all fell apart, and either gracefully extricate herself, or, maybe, just maybe, accomplish her goal anyway.

She had fifteen minutes until it was time for Kevin to clock out.

She made her way to the break area at the end of the building, the smoker's lounge, so to speak, and sat on one of the benches there. Her backpack contained a change of clothes, a skirt and a tight tank top, and an old pair of sneakers she hadn't worn for a few years. She should have thrown them away, but was glad she hadn't.

She pulled the sneakers out of the pack, pulled her dad's old pocket knife from one of the pockets of her pants and plunged the blade through the canvas material where it met the worn rubber sole. She sawed a few times with the blade, until there was a slice long enough to accommodate four fingers, then closed the knife and put it back in her pocket.

She struggled a little as she pulled the material away from the rubber, but once the tearing began, she was able to easily pull the canvas away from the rubber. She had separated half the sole from the canvas, from one side of the shoe, around the toe end, and halfway back to the heal again. The sole flopped uselessly against the bottom of her foot as she slid it on her foot and tied the laces. She put the other sneaker on her other foot, and pushed her good Converse All Stars into her back pack.

Her injured shoe flopped loudly against the concrete walk as she made her way to a bench near the store exit.

When she sat down, she thought she would only need to wait about ten minutes for Kevin to come to her rescue. She checked her phone, again, and it was two minutes after nine. She had been waiting two hours. During those two hours, she had checked many times, and Kevin had still been at a register inside the store.

She knew she should have just put her other shoes on and walked home long ago. The sun was down now, and soon it would be dark. She really didn't want to walk home in the dark, so now she was more or less being forced into taking at least the first step of her plan. She had no choice. She had already texted her mom to tell her she was with a friend and would be home later.

Becca sat down quickly when she saw Kevin moving toward the exit door. She crossed her legs and tapped her toe again the air nervously. Though she hadn't planned it, her movement caused the sole of her shoe to pop loudly against the bottom of her foot. If nothing else, it would get his attention.