Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.
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Holly Frentz casually pushed the tiny buggy through the aisles of Natural Peak Grocers, a trendy vegan grocery store in a ‘Mixed-Use’ building in Oakleaf, Texas. The red headed beauty was not a vegan and actually found the whole idea of veganism to be a bit absurd. She kept that opinion to herself; a few of her coworkers at Prescott Conglomerates were vegan. In fact, it had been Michael Peterson, a vegan coworker that had told Holly about the small grocery store located on the ground floor of Oakleaf Towers.
Her first time shopping in the trendy, somewhat high-priced store had almost been Holly’s last time shopping in the store. At the produce section, Holly admired the oversized cucumbers and the deep rich green coloring of the cucumber. Her aunt had grown her own cucumbers and her aunt’s cucumbers had paled in comparison; both in size and in coloring. So, pointing to the sticker that announced that these cucumbers were 100% organically grown, with no herbicides or pesticides, Holly asked a store employee if they were sure they could make that claim.
“We wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true,” the girl had snapped, angered that anyone would dare question their integrity.
“Are you sure?” Holly pressed. “You’ve seen this farm? You’ve seen how they grow their produce?”
“There a problem?” an older woman demanded, glaring at Holly with undisguised contempt.
“I’m simply asking how y’all are sure these cucumbers are herbicide and pesticide free,” Holly said. “You’re asking a pretty good chunk of money for them; I think I’m allowed to ask questions.”
The explanation the store manager offered did not instill any confidence in Holly, so she left the overpriced cucumbers alone. She did grab a bunch of still slightly green bananas and a nice sized pineapple. The Fuji apples looked pretty good, so she grabbed five of the better looking apples out of the bin.
And at the back of the store, in the corner, Holly Frentz found a reason to frequent Natural Peak Grocers. One hundred percent organically grown wheat and oats and rice and barley and rye sat in huge bins. An attractive blonde stood and smiled a warm welcoming smile as Holly gaped at the grains available.
“And we stone grind them for you,” the girl said in a honey sweet voice.
“Ten pounds of the whole wheat would be how much?” Holly asked and read the price out loud.
“Now, ma’am, there’s no preservatives with this,” the girl cautioned. “Ten pounds might go bad before you eat it all, you know.”
“Five pounds,” Holly amended. “I need more, I know where you are.”
Trish smiled happily and explained, step by step what she was doing as she scooped the wheat into the scale, then dumped the five pounds onto the table’s surface. The large stone was taller than Trish but the girl did not seem bothered by the large disk’s weight as she rotated the millstone by hand over the wheat kernels. One hand moved the stone, the other hand swept the wheat kernels into the path of the stone.
“And there you go. Anything else, ma’am?” Trish smiled as she swept the coarsely ground wheat into a burlap bag.
Holly was hooked the first time she made banana bread with 100% stone ground wheat. Pancakes made with 100% stone ground wheat and hand-picked blueberries made Holly a devotee. Since then, she’d tried variations, mixing rye, or barley, or oats. Showing up at work with a ham and provolone cheese sandwich on homemade bread had a coworker asking Holly to bake her a loaf. Now, Holly took orders from her coworkers; Mondays and Thursdays were her delivery days. Holly would give a coworker the benefit of a doubt; if the coworker found themselves without the funds for the ordered loaf; they could pay her the next day. If a coworker went two days without payment, Holly would not take any more orders from that coworker. Bread making took careful work, time-consuming work. It was not a charity.
The bulbs of garlic looked good; Holly thought maybe a loaf of Italian style bread, made with olive oil and garlic and some fresh oregano might be a good seller. So she put four bulbs of garlic into her buggy as she proceeded to the grains area of the store.
Rounding the corner, Holly saw there was already a customer waiting for Trish to finish her order. Holly admired the Latina girl’s full rounded buttocks in her low-rider jean shorts, goodly expanse of the girl’s rear end very visible. The girl wore a short crop top, exposing her lightly tanned back, showing an ample expanse of soft, smooth flesh.
Overhead, the store’s PA system played piped in music. ‘Kiss Them For Me’ by Siouxsie & The Banshees played at a comfortable level. The girl absently wiggled her buttocks and shuffled her sleek legs in time to the music.
Amber Mancuso had been a caramel skinned beauty, with deliciously rounded buttocks and full, firm breasts. The nineteen year old student had approached eighteen year old Holly Frentz as Holly sat in Connelly College’s library, struggling to make sense of Biology 112.
“I had that last semester,” Amber said, placing a warm hand on Holly’s upper thigh. “Think I still got the notes.”
They left the library and went to Amber’s dorm room. In the cramped room, Holly sat on the vacated bed; Amber said her assigned roommate had not shown up for the semester. Amber did locate her notebook and helped Holly decipher the class curriculum.
Then, Amber had leaned over at kissed Holly. The stunned Holly opened her mouth to protest and Amber had stuffed her tongue into Holly’s mouth.
That night, Holly learned about lesbianism from Amber Mancuso. She also learned the joys of anal sex from Amber Mancuso. Placing Holly on hands and knees on the abandoned cot, Amber had tongued and fingered Holly’s rectum. Then, fingering Holly’s dripping pussy, Amber had thrust a flared dildo deep into Holly’s bowels.
“God, you got the perfect fucking ass, bitch,” Amber had declared, raking her fingernails over Holly’s pale, shaking buttocks before bringing her mouth to Holly’s gaping anus to start the anal play all over again.
That experience had opened Holly’s eyes to her own bisexuality. And, in truth, for a man to bed Holly, he really had to have something special going for him.
That experience had also turned Holly into an anal sex addict. She loved pleasuring her lover’s ass and loved when her lovers would pleasure her ass.
She’d not seen Amber in a few years; the caramel skinned beauty had simply vanished. On occasion, Holly did wonder what had become of the woman. Now, standing in the Natural Peak Grocers, Holly stared at the Latina girl’s sweetly rounded buttocks.
“They played that song at my prom,” the young girl smiled an embarrassed smile over her shoulder at Holly.
“Hmm? It’s one of my favorites; almost as good as her ‘Silver Waterfalls,'” Holly smiled, tearing her eyes from the beauty’s exposed buttocks.