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butterflyWe pulled up to the yuppie grocery store, the one with the parking lot full of SUVs and high-end imported cars, and I cut the engine. After Moriah’s bone-splitting, anus-clutching, blockbuster orgasm in the shower, we had determined that it was my turn. But I was nervous.

“Shouldn’t we have a safe word or something? You know, just in case I’m starting to come when I’m paying the cashier?”

Moriah’s eyes lit up. “How about, ‘I’m cooommming!’?”

I shot her a sour look. “That’s what I’m trying to avoid. Maybe I should carry the remote.”

“Oh, no. That takes the fun out of it. Okay, how about this. If you want me to flick it off, put your hand to the back of your neck, like you got an itch.”

That made me feel better.

In the store, Moriah walked a few feet behind me while I pushed a cart. The store, located in a rehabbed turn-of-the-twentieth-century factory, was the nicest in town. Its rustic brick walls, warm lighting, and a well-heeled professional clientele made for a nice shopping experience.

I stopped to check out the arugula and a jolt hit my crotch. I took a deep breath, put a bunch of the greens in my cart, and moved on. As I reached for a bunch of grapes, the throbbing stopped. The vibrations felt good, but not so good that I was revealing our little game to the other shoppers.

I looked down to see if my nipples were behaving. The bra I had slipped on was working. So far, at least, I wasn’t making a public spectacle of myself. I wanted to have fun, I wanted to be teased, but I didn’t want to draw attention.

I glanced back at Moriah, who was inspecting a head of Romaine lettuce. She pretended to ignore me. So I did the same, pushing on to the gourmet cheese counter.

Just as I picked up a wedge of Italian truffle cheese, the throbbing resumed. I pulled my knees together to concentrate the vibrations, taking the chance that Moriah would only be delivering a short, tantalizing jolt. I was right. A few seconds later, the vibrations stopped.

On to the dairy section, farther back in the store, and I grabbed a carton of eggs and some milk. Pushing the cart to the back of the store to the bakery section, I leaned over to inspect some delectable looking croissants in the case. My pussy was pinged again.

It didn’t stop.

The clerk came up, smiling. “Two chocolate and two almond croissants,” I said, sounding remarkably cool as the vibrations pulsed up my abdomen to my breasts. I took a deep breath and spread my feet in an attempt to diffuse the sensations.

It didn’t work.

I felt a touch and warmth on my arm. Moriah was next to me, leaning in, her hands gently folded on my upper arm.

“You okay?” Her look of concern overlaid a faintly concealed wicked grin.

“For maybe a few more seconds,” I muttered under my breath. She released my arm as I reached for the box of French pastries.

As I placed them in my cart, Moriah flicked the switch and just in time. I was sure my clit was swelling, and I could sense moisture between my legs. My pussy was slick. But no liquid was dribbling from my cunt, at least not yet.

I was hot, I was bothered, but I wasn’t close to coming. I looked down at Moriah, easily a head shorter than me, and smiled.

“This is fun. You should try it.”

“I intend to.”

As we walked up the aisle toward the line of cashiers, two women stepped in front of us, hand in hand. Lesbians!

Moriah’s hand found mine on the handle of the cart and we pushed it together, our hips touching. She smiled sweetly to me. Gosh, grocery shopping had never been so much fun!

“I’m going to see what’s at the salad bar,” Moriah said.

“I’ll catch up. I need shampoo and conditioner.”

She walked away, and I turned down the aisle with the hair supplies. I leaned over to pick up a bottle of conditioner, and my crotch lit up.

I kept browsing, the throbbing in my pussy increasing in intensity. A pool of moisture gathered at my spine. I knew that feeling. That’s my orgasm forming.

Okay, Moriah, I thought to myself, time to let up.

The buzzing didn’t stop. My nipples, now hard, pushed against the fabric of my bra. A little longer and juices would be dripping down my leg.

C’mon, Moriah. Cut me some slack here.

The buzzing continued. I was moments away from blowing. Red alert: Where are the goddam rest rooms in this place? I looked around frantically, feverishly resisting the urge to either hike up my skirt and pull the vibrator off my clit, or just…

The aisle emptied out of other shoppers, and I grabbed my crotch through my skirt. I was able to move the little finger of the vibrator an inch or so and off my clit. But the damn thing kept buzzing.

For a few more moments, at least, I wasn’t in danger of an orgasm. Suddenly, the buzzer stopped.

Where was …?

Moriah scurried around the corner, three containers clutched in her arms. “Alison, you okay? I’m so sorry. You won’t believe what happened.”

“I’m okay, but just barely. What’s that?”

“I sure hope you like chicken rice soup,” she said. She leaned in close to me, whispering. “I took the lid off this giant container of soup to smell it, and I dropped the remote! I had to scoop three quarts of the stuff into containers before I found it. Did it stop?”

“Yeah, but just a moment ago.”

“Wow, it’s waterproof. Or soup-proof.” My girlfriend squeezed my arm. “I can be such a klutz sometimes. I’m sorry.”

“Good thing for you, I like chicken rice.”

We unloaded our cart and checked out. In the car, after I rearranged the vibrator back over my pussy folds, we planned our next move.

“You still haven’t come, Allie. I want to see you orgasm in public.”

“How about the mall? All those people. Lots of noise …”

wickedwednesday