Chapter 1

I was walking around my local supermarket the other day and saw a gorgeous lady, a real Milf, she had an amazing bum that was beautifully shown off by tight faded jeans and a huge pair of tits that jiggled about as she walked around ... Her huge, freckled cleavage was drawing some serious attention from me and ladies alike.

Then when I went to pack the shopping in my car, she was parked a few spaces away and as I passed her, she smiled at me. She had the sweetest smile, she smiled with her lips and her eyes if that makes sense. I got thinking about the gorgeous ladies you see walking around doing their weekly shop.

It got me thinking about a series of supermarket stories. We all must have had an encounter in a shop or a supermarket at some time with someone we would have liked to have a bit of fun with. I have decided this will be a hexalogy as I already have some scenarios in mind and set my target at six.

Meeting a milf masseuse

It was midday. I had been working all morning, sitting at my desk, on some Excel spreadsheets.

I got up to make a coffee and found I was out of both milk and coffee. It was time for a trip to the supermarket. I grabbed a bag and my wallet, and as I reached down for my car keys, I felt a twinge in my lower back. It had been giving me gyp for a few days. I thought it was maybe an old rugby injury flaring up. I had tried painkillers and creams but to no avail.

I drove to the local supermarket and headed down the escalator. As I was going down, a cute-looking blonde was on the other side going up. She was a bit older than me but still a looker and smartly dressed. She had a tight fleece on that showed off an impressive rack and tight yoga pants that showed strong thighs; as she went past, I turned and scoped out her cute arse. She must have sensed I was looking as she glanced back and gave me a wry smile.

I collected a trolley. I started my normal shopping method, wandering up and down each aisle, looking for things I fancied.

I said hello to a few of the staff as I wandered around. I used the same shop week in and week out and had gotten to know a few of them quite well.

I picked up some milk, bread, and cheese. Then I got two types of coffee I like to swap and change. I was in the biscuit aisle, picking up a couple of packs, and then I saw some Tunnocks tea cakes on the bottom shelf.

As I bent down, the pain was like a bolt of lightning in my lower back.

I gasped and tried not to swear as two staff members I knew were in the aisle stocking the shelves.

One of the girls looked up and smiled. She was called Kathy and lived in the same village as me.

“Hello, Zak love, are you struggling?” she asked.

“Yes, I have an issue with my back. It’s killing me!” I replied.

The other lady, who was called Jo, came over.

“What’s up love?” she asked.

“I think I have pulled a muscle or something!” I said and rubbed the offending spot.

“Have you tried painkillers?” Jo asked.

“Yes, but they are only masking the pain!” I said.

“Or one of those gel rubs?” asked Kathy.

“Yes, they are just not helping!” I said, shaking my head.

“You should speak to Wendy!” Jo said and gave me a sympathetic smile.

“Oh yes, Wendy can sort that out!” Kathy said in agreement.

“Wendy?” I asked.

“Yes, Wendy has helped out a few of the girls with bad backs and stuff!” Jo said.

“Is she a doctor or something?” I asked and tried to move. Even a small step sent a wave of pain through my back.

“She is a masseur; she has done wonders for my shoulder”, Kathy said.

“Yes, and she sorted out my ankle!” Jo chipped in.

“Well, I guess there is no harm in giving her a call!” I said.

“Her number is on the notice board behind the tills,” Kathy said.

She pushed my trolly to the row of check-out tills and helped me put my stuff through the automated till.

Once all my stuff was packed into bags, I shuffled over to the notice board. There were the usual notices for flower shows, am-dram shows, and lost cats. Then I saw a notice for relaxing massage services. I snapped a picture of it on my mobile phone.

I drove home in pain and wondered if a massage would help.

Later that night, after several spasms of pain had washed over me, I decided anything was worth a go.

The following day, after it took me ten minutes just to get out of bed, I made the call.

The call went to the answering machine, and I left a message. I took a long, hot shower; it eased the pain a little bit, but I knew it was still there.

I made a coffee and had some toast before heading into my home office and starting work.

It was two hours later when the phone rang.

“Hello, this is Wendy; you called me?” the voice asked.

“Yes, my name is Zak; I heard you can do wonders with bad backs,” I said.

“Where did you get my number?” She asked, her voice sounding stern and more than a little put out.

“It was on the notice board in the supermarket!” I replied. I didn’t want to bother Jo or Kathy with her.

“Yes, but I am afraid I only see women; I should have made that clear,” she told me.

“Oh, okay, no worries. So, I apologise for bothering you, “I said and ended the call.

Three days later, I had to go back to the supermarket. I was limping, as the pain in my back had not improved.

I got a trolley and went shopping; as I reached for some milk, I winced as a wave of pain shot up my back.

In the next aisle, I dropped to one knee as I picked some packets of biscuits off the shelf.

As I tried to get up, I knew I was going to struggle.

“Here, let me help you out!” I heard a voice say, and when I looked around, I saw Kathy coming toward me.

She helped me to my feet and smiled at me.

“You really need to go and see Wendy. She will sort that back out,” Kathy said.

“I called her, but she only sees ladies!” I replied.

“That’s mad. She is around somewhere. Let me find her. Stay put, okay?” Kathy smiled.

I stood there for two minutes, waiting for the pain to ease off. Jo and Kathy came down the aisle with a lady I sort of recognised. It was the lady I had seen going up the escalator the other day. She was dressed in a similar outfit: yoga pants and a fleece.

Kathy did the introductions. Wendy was a good-looking lady, maybe five years older than me, and she had a cute smile.

“Hello, love, so tell me what is hurting,” Wendy said.

“It’s like I have a ball of pain in my lower back!” I said and pressed the area that was hurting.

“Well, as I said on the phone, I normally only see ladies, but Jo and Kathy have both vouched for you!” she said and looked at the two ladies; they both nodded in agreement.

“So, will you see me?” I asked, eager to get some relief.

“Yes, but please don’t mention it to any other blokes. I prefer to see just female customers.” She said, and her voice told me she was not messing around.

“You have my word!” I said.

“Right, if you are free this afternoon, let’s see if we can ease that pain.” She smiled and dug into her handbag before handing me a card.

“What time are you free?” I asked as I looked at the address on the card.

“Shall we say three o’clock?” Wendy said after glancing at her Apple watch.

“That sounds good to me!”

She bid me goodbye, and I did the rest of my shopping with the help of the trolly and Kathy.

I drove home and gingerly got out of the car. It took me three slow trips to the car and back to pack the shopping away. I checked my wallet to make sure I had plenty of cash. I had not asked how much the treatment would be, but I had two hundred quid in cash, so I would be covered.

I had a coffee and then glanced at the clock. I had an hour to get to Wendy’s place.

I had another shower and put on some gym kit before shuffling back to my car.

I put the address in my sat nav and headed off to find Wendy’s house. She had a big detached house on a quiet side street. She had a well-tended garden, and an almost new electric car was plugged in in front of a double garage.

I got out of the car slowly, waves of pain washing over me. I shuffled to the door; it opened before I got it. Wendy smiled at me.

“That looks sore!” she said.

She was dressed in a white smock and had her hair pulled back into a ponytail. The smock did little to hide the fact that she had an impressive pair of tits.

She ushered me in.

“It’s getting worse. I have tried painkillers and gels as well as hot showers, but it’s not easing up!” I said as she led me down a hallway.

She led me into her massage room. It was cosy; a plush massage table covered with a fresh white sheet stood in the centre. A soft instrumental melody hummed in the background, and a small candle flickered on a shelf. The smell of lavender and eucalyptus filled my nose.

There were two chairs next to a small table; they looked like garden furniture. To the right was a door that maybe led to a cupboard or something.

Wendy and I chatted about where the pain was. She told me she charged thirty quid for the hour. I handed her the cash.

“Right, if you go into the dressing room and strip to your...” She paused and smiled at me,” Boxers and then lie face down on the bed, please, put a towel over your waist and give me a ring,”

As she said it, she pointed to the door and to a bell on the table.

I followed her instructions and stepped through what I had thought would be a cupboard to find a nicely laid-out dressing or maybe an undressing room.

There was a toilet and sink, a shower cubicle, and a bench with a pile of clean, fluffy towels.

I did as I was told, feeling both awkward and eager. I stripped down to my boxers and went back into the massage room; I rang the bell and got onto the massage table with the towel over me.

Moments later, a soft knock on the door signalled her return.

“Comfortable?” she asked softly. I murmured a yes, though my heart still thumped with anticipation.

“Yes, very,” I replied.

I heard her moving around, and then music filled the room; it was some sort of classic stuff. I felt her pouring oil onto my flesh.

The first touch of her hands was warm and deliberate. She smoothed oil across my back in slow, steady strokes. My muscles, tense from days of pain, started to ease and feel better. With each passing minute, the initial awkwardness melted away.

Wendy’s hands seemed to find every knot and ache, coaxing the tension out with practiced ease.

“How’s the pressure?” she asked midway through, her voice low and calming.

“Perfect,” I sighed, surprised by how much I meant it. My mind, usually buzzing with a million thoughts, grew quieter. I became acutely aware of the sensation—the warmth of the oil, the firm glide of her palms, the occasional stretch as she worked through stubborn spots.

She knew where the pain was emanating from, and she spent lots of time there.

“So, what does your other half do?” she asked as she worked with the balls of her hands on the offending area. The feeling was amazing; she was very talented.

“Oh, I am single, have been for a few years now,” I said.

“And what do you do for work?” she asked. At the same time, she left the offending spot on my lower back and started to work on my legs.

“Oh, I work in IT, it’s very boring,” I replied.

“Oh, my husband used to work in IT; he was a website developer,” she said as she poured more oil onto her hands.

“And has he retired?” I asked as Wendy started working on my calves.

“No. Well, not as far as I know!” she laughed, “he went to Florida on a lads’ golfing holiday, met a floozie and never came home.”

“I am sorry to hear that!” I said.

“Don’t be. He was a waste of space, and I did well out of the divorce!”

She spent a few minutes working on my thighs and lower legs.

“Right time to turn over, please,”

I shuffled around, making sure the towel didn’t slip off.

Wendy worked from my shoulders down, her fingers working their magic with all my muscle groups. I have to say I was so relaxed I nearly drifted off.

That seemed to end the massage; the hour had flown by.

“Right, that’s you done. I will leave you to get dressed. Ring the bell when you are ready,” she said.

“Take your time getting up,” she whispered before leaving the room.

I lay there for a moment, feeling on top of the world.

When I finally sat up and stretched, I felt lighter as if someone had lifted a weight from my back. I went into the changing room and got dressed. My back felt so much better.

Once I was dressed, I rang the bell, and seconds later, Wendy came in and smiled at me.

“How are you feeling?” she asked as she tidied up the room.

“Like a new person,” I replied truthfully, and I meant every word.

“Right, well, give it a few days and give me a call and let me know how it’s going,” she said with a smile and led me back to the front door.

“And please don’t tell anyone I massage guys; it’s not something I want to be known for!” she smiled.

“You have my word!” I replied.

I got into the car and gave her a wave as I drove off. That evening, I walked down to the village pub. There was still a bit of pain, but it was better than it had been.

I took the rest of the weekend to assess the issue, and on Monday afternoon, I called Wendy. I told her it was getting better, but I felt that another session might help.

She agreed, and we arranged to meet the following day at four o’clock.

I slept well that day, but when I woke up, I could feel a nagging ache in my lower back.

I took a shower and let the hot water spray over my back. I hoped it would ease the pain, but it didn’t, and as the hours went by, the pain got worse and worse.

I drove over to Wendy’s and parked up. Getting out of the car sent a wave of pain up my back. She opened the door before I got to it. She was dressed in her white smock again.

“Looks like you are in a bit of pain, Zak?” she said as she shut the door behind me and led me to the massage room.

“Right, you know the drill. Get undressed and comfortable, and then ring the bell,” she said with a wink and smile.

“Right, you are!” I said.

As she got to the door, she turned to face me.

“It might be worth losing the boxers; the main area of pain was below the waistband band,” she told me.

“Mmmm, okay, yes ... no worries!” I stuttered in reply.

She smiled and left the room. The smell of lavender and eucalyptus filled my nose, just as it had during my first visit.

I went into the little dressing room and stripped down to my boxers. I grabbed a towel from the pile and headed back into the main massage room. I rang the bells and got onto the bed.

I had just settled down and put the towel over my midriff when a soft knock on the door signalled her return.

I heard her walking across the room, and a radio was turned on, and the room was filled with classical music.