Making Ends Meet

by Thinking Horndog

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Coercion, Heterosexual, Fiction, White Male, Hispanic Female, Oral Sex, .

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Traditional approaches to dating didn't work for me -- but I had needs. I figured she did, too. Did she?

She was a somewhat chunky Puerto Rican chick with that bleach-streaked thing in her hair -- but her skin was a delightful light brown. The legs weren't great, but she had an ankle bracelet on her slightly thick right ankle and I'm a sucker for those. She had an ass on her, covered with a short skirt in leopard-spot stretch fabric that fit like skin and reported that there was a thong underneath. Up top was a red tube-top with a considerable amount of titty stuffed in it and a considerable amount of cleavage showing. She was bare-legged, wearing some kind of wedgie sandals, and that ass of hers rocked delightfully as she pushed her cart up the aisle at Wally-Mart. She had an attitude, too -- moxie. Her head was up and she wasn't avoiding anyone's eye.

All this caught my attention that Saturday afternoon, but it didn't clinch things. She had a little girl in the seat -- a two-year-old, and a cutie. No, I'm not a pedophile -- the kid just had that Shirley Temple look, as close as you can get when you're Blatino, anyway. Daddy was clearly black. Did I care? No -- but it helped the woman meet my criteria.

I watched her for a moment, slowly going up the medicine aisle. She stopped to get some of that purple stuff they feed kids for colds and such and went through the shelf looking for the generic store brand and put it in her cart. Then she dug among the few items already there and pulled out a package of hair dye and stuck it on the shelf.

THAT was the clincher. I whipped my cart around and took up a trail position a few feet back -- and tossed the dye in the cart.

The procedure repeated itself three or four times in the baby aisle, where those pull-up disposable baby pants replaced a tank top, wipes replaced a scarf and two or three other things replaced items she'd picked up for herself and the little girl in the clothing aisle. I collected the cast-offs as she dropped them in place.

She stopped to play in the DVDs for a while so I backtracked past the aisle where I'd picked her up and found several other items that shouldn't have been on the shelves in those aisles tucked in amongst items more important. It appeared that clothing had replaced housewares...

She didn't even bother with the electronics, but was headed down the shoe aisle and looking at a pair of shiny-strapped flip-flops that cost next to nothing when I caught up to her. I watched her sigh and put them back and then made my move.

"So where is the old man?" I asked her.

"What? Who are you?"

"Someone interested," I replied, looking confident. This was the next test...

"Gone," she snarled, "What does he owe you?"

"I don't suppose you know when he'll be back... ?"

"No. It has been three months -- I don't think he will be." She gathered herself. "Look, if you're looking to me to pay whatever it is, you can FORGET it! I got NOTHING!"

I nodded. "I figured." She'd passed the test -- I didn't want to waste my time with a woman whose husband or live-in boyfriend might show up any second. I'd never seen her before and I DAMN sure had never seen her old man -- and I didn't want to! "Let's talk about you. Things are tight, huh?"

"I'm doing okay," she declared.

"Is that why the number of items in that cart never increases?" I asked.

"Who are you? Are you with the store? I'm not stealing anything..."

"I know," I replied. "I just noticed that you have to be pretty choosy." I looked down at my cart.

Her gaze followed mine and her eyes widened. "You've been following me?"

"For a little while," I agreed.

"What do you want?"

"I want to help you make ends meet," I replied.

"Why would you... ?" She stopped. "Oh. If I knew where he was, I would tell you for free -- and hope you caught him! But I don't, so giving me money will get you nothing."

"This isn't about him, Honey. I don't even KNOW him, whoever he is."

"Then why did you ask... ?"

"I wanted to be sure that, whoever he is, he is gone."

She frowned. "You're weird. I don't understand -- and I don't want to. Go away!" She turned and made to leave.

"How much more stuff do you need to buy?"

She gave me a look of annoyance. "Groceries. Are you going to continue to follow me?"

"I guess that depends," I replied. "How would you like it if I bought you the things in your cart? How would you like it if I bought you the things in MY cart?"

She eyed me. "Why would you do that?"

"It would be a trade, sort of," I told her. "I take care of your problem, so you can save your money, and you take care of mine..."

She eyed me. "Which is... ?" I said nothing, and in a moment, she supplied her own answer. "Oh!" She took a swing at me. "I am NOT a whore!"

"Good!" I retorted. "I don't like whores. I could probably get one, but she would have the wrong attitude -- it would be all about the money and nothing but the money. I'm looking for a woman I can spend the weekend with, comfortably. I'll take care of you and you'll take care of me."

"For THIS?" she sneered, waving at the carts. "This..."

" ... Isn't enough?" I finished for her. "Now that we've cleared the first hurdle, what IS enough?"

"What first hurdle?" she snapped.

"You CAN be bought -- you admitted it. We're talking price, now." I was careful to keep my face serious -- grinning would have REALLY offended her!

"YOU!!!" She took another swing at me -- and missed.

"I'll buy the groceries, too..."

"That's MEAN!"

"Maybe. How many months behind are you on the rent?"

The air all leaked out of her. "How did you know?"

"Things are VERY tight -- that's pretty clear," I told her. "Talk to me..."

"He didn't pay before he left," she said quietly. "I managed to pay the next month, but I couldn't catch up ... Then the car broke down and I have to have it or NOTHING comes in..."

"How bad?"

"Six-fifty a month."

"Times two?"


I whistled. "Big money! Are we negotiating, then?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know..."

"I'm guessing that you have two hundred dollars and need to spend one-fifty today so the two of you can eat. Has the landlord sent an eviction notice yet?" I asked.

"No, but he's called and made threats..." She bit her lip again. "What do you want?"

I looked around. There was at least one old buffalo listening too intently. "Let's move a bit. We got off to a rocky start and there is too much attention." I led her up the next aisle -- and then the next, glaring at Old Nosy until she backed off -- and then unloaded my cart into my new girlfriend's. She stood watching me and didn't say anything -- but we both knew I was committing her. The cart unloaded, I stepped up beside her and wrapped a hand around her bare midriff. "Let's go look at groceries, shall we? What's your name, Honey?"

"Alicia." We began moving. She put both hands on the cart handle and left my hand where it was. "What do you want?"

"You're my woman for a period to be negotiated. Full access. I don't treat you nasty and the subject of money is between you and me. As far as your friends and relatives are concerned, we're dating. I was going to shoot for the weekend, but you need more money than I can justify for just a weekend."

"What is full access?"

"Regular sex, when and how I want it. I don't embarrass you in public, but you don't say no in private. I buy food, but you feed me. You handle my action as if I am your live-in boyfriend -- laundry, and so on. I occupy your bed, whenever it is convenient for me. Do I need to duck a new boyfriend?"

"No." Alicia wouldn't look at me.

We were at the edge of the grocery section. There was a bench there, so I stopped her and said, "Let's sit and talk this out."

"Okay." She wouldn't look at me. We sat there in silence for a bit, but it appeared that I was going to have to open things.

"Do you understand what I'm asking for?" I asked.


"And it's how terrible, exactly? I'm ugly and I smell bad and you just can't see yourself doing it, right?"

"I'm not a whore..." She looked as if she was about to cry.

Arguing with her wasn't going to help. I took her hand and asked, "You've lived with guys, right? Were you married to the father of your little girl?"

"We were supposed to get married..."

"Were you? Or did he just tell you what you wanted to hear?" I asked. "Did you live with him or did he live with you?"

She blew off the first question -- no surprise. I was just using it to more or less gently reorient her. "He lived with me."

"You work, obviously. How much did he contribute? A set amount?" I asked.

"No. Sometimes he brought home money and sometimes he had other things..."

"But he lived with you and paid the bills sometimes."


"Okay. I'm your new boyfriend. I live with you and pay the bills sometimes."

"It's wrong. I don't love you."

"Did you love him -- the whole time?"

"Well, no, but..."

"You were committed," I finished for her. "Well, we're starting backwards. You're going to fall madly in love with me -- it just hasn't happened yet."

She pushed her hair back from her face. "I'm very confused."

"How awful am I?"

"Well, you say horrible things and you tricked me..."

"That was to get my foot in the door."

"You call me a whore to get your foot in the door?" She finally looked up at this.

"I NEVER called you a whore!" I insisted.

"You offered to pay for my stuff if we had sex..."

"How is this different than what you did before?" I asked.

"It is!" she insisted.

.... There is more of this story ...

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