Buying fruit was never so sexy!

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Slow burner—real-life seductions are sometimes slow.

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My Dutch parents still lived in Spain, as I came back from California. In Spain, as a 19-year-old, I had to make a decision: either stay and get the Spanish nationality so I could work there or go back to Holland. In both cases I ran the risk of having to serve the compulsory military service, but in Holland it was only 14 months, compared to the 24 months in Spain. Plus, the Spanish military service was way harder compared to the long-haired, pot-smoking Dutch service. So, my parents gave me some starter money, and off I was, back to Holland, after so many years had been spent abroad.

The first week was all paperwork; thank God my dad had organized a student room for me. So, I came back to my home country, but as a stranger, because I had been away for almost 10 years of the 19 years I existed. But, as I was buying some groceries at the local Spar supermarket, I saw a job possibility posted there, and I was able to talk to the manager. I got the job, and I would start this coming Tuesday! Maybe it sounds like a small event, but for me it was a big step!

Tuesday because the supermarket was small, so they closed on Mondays, saving costs on staff. We worked five days, Tuesdays–Saturdays.

I would be in charge of the fruits and fresh vegetables. On day one they showed me how to have color contrasts to properly display the fruit and what vegetables had to be next to each other. On day two I slowly got “into it," understanding how to do things, and on day three I felt good about myself and the job. Some folks will remember that I played college basketball in San Diego and that we all were big, well-trained muscular beasts. I guess that is how I looked, standing there behind the fruit in my white, tight t-shirt and my Levi's 517. I did wear a green Spar apron, so my look was a bit like those advertisements of car tires.

And suddenly, she was standing in front of me, on the other side of the large fruit display.

A beautiful customer.

A tall, slender, very dark-haired brunette with large breasts (80E, 36D) and a pear-shaped ass to die for. She was carefully looking at the fruit selection, partially ignoring me. She was wearing a one-piece long summer dress and brown sandals. I could not see if he was wearing a bra, because just as I wanted to glance again at her breasts, she was looking with her beautiful brown eyes straight at me.

“Hi, can I help you?” I said, as trained, smiling. I guess I stared too long at her body, because she countered, asking, “Can you?”

“I am sure I can.” I replied with a bit too much confidence.

“Where do you have the avocados? She asked, searching them.

“Down there, at the bottom, right in front of you.”

She bent over, looking at them and touching the ones on top, checking their ripeness. Staying like that, she looks up at me and asks, “If they were good?” in a flirty way, knowing very well I could see the upper part of her beautiful breasts.

“A little bit deeper are better ones.” I had the balls to blurt out.

She gave me that seductive smile again, and seeing my bulge in my tight jeans from my fully erect cock, she bent over even more, still looking up at me, asking, “Like this?”

“Much better!” escaped from my mouth as I saw her beautiful breasts desperately trying to escape those tight confinements.

“Should I take two?” She teased, keeping eye contact.

“I like two myself.” I blurted out again.

“I bet you do.” She teased, standing upright again, placing the avocados in her supermarket basket.

“Would you like anything else?” I asked, trying desperately to keep her with me by asking things.

“Not today.” She smiled and added, “See you," as she walked away, giving my crotch a quick glance.

Women always know when you have a hard-on.

I stood there still for minutes, my brain overwhelmed, not knowing what to do. Suddenly I had an idea! I quickly walked to the left of the aisle where I could see the cash registers. As soon as she would have paid, I would quickly offer to carry the groceries to her car. I still was allowed to have one break, so I would be safe.

Some time passed, and I got nervous. Did she already leave the supermarket? I pretended to look at the fruit’s presentation from the customer’s point of view, often turning around to look at the registers again. As I was about to give up, I saw her waiting in the checkout line! The moment it was almost her turn to pay, I quickly walked to the supermarket's exit, having donned my apron. Before she could place her purchases in her own wicker basket, I was already standing there.

“May I help you stow your purchases?” I politely asked (supermarket rules), smiling at her.

She smiled and nodded, "Yes, please. Could you also carry it to my car?” She softly asked.

“Yes, ma'am." I replied, already stowing 4 or 5 things.

The cute blonde cashier Anita looked at me, and she knew right away something was going on but didn’t say anything. But helping to carry six small items to her car? Sure…

As I followed the customer outside, walking behind her, I had no idea how to proceed. Being 19 doesn’t give you all the flirting knowledge of the world, you know?

It was a sunny August day, and my mind was distracted, almost panicking, since I didn’t know what to do next, as she suddenly stopped walking and quickly backed up until she bumped into me.

“Oh.” She softly said, looking over her shoulder. “Do you always bump into women?” She asked in a sexy way.

“Only the pretty ones.” I was able to mutter.

“You think I am pretty?” As she turned around, facing me.

“Very.”

“Maybe you should explain to me some other day what you find pretty on me?”

“I sure will.”

“Do you have days off during the week?”

“Mondays.”

“Excellent.” She replied. “Here is my card,” as she handed it over. “I want you to call me this coming Monday at eleven o’clock in the morning, and I will give you my address.”

“I will.”

“Remember to bring some groceries in a Spar paper bag so you will be my delivery boy.”

I frowned at her, not understanding.

“Our story is that I forgot my groceries, and the Spar offered to bring them to me.”

I smiled; the dumb 19-year-old now understood she needed to have an excuse for me showing up.

She was married.

“Come, that’s my car,” pointing at a green Jaguar. She used the remote on her keys to open the trunk, and I stored her groceries there.

She softly touched my arm and whispered, "Call me.”

To be continued.

Perhaps Cindy was neglected too long?

I was the one who spoke to Cindy first.

The first time I saw Cindy, she was walking quickly through the Blue Parrot Bar (Playa del Carmen), a bit restless, walking around much more than other people, like she was nervous, perhaps searching for something, being in a hurry, or perhaps in heat.

A blonde friend always accompanied her, and she would be my ticket to Cindy. I knew right away that Cindy was married; you simply knew. But I like fucking married women best. Or girlfriends. Something about the excitement of having the woman of another man, who is already taken.

I never researched the why until today; back in Playa, I was simply amazed of how many women would cheat on their husband/boyfriend.

To make you really upset, I even fucked a fiancée who was about to get married in Playa a week later. No shit.

It seems that men often pursue married women due to the thrill of the "forbidden" taboo, the ego-boosting challenge of competition ("mate poaching"), and the desire to prove dominance over another man. It is viewed as a high-stakes game that provides validation, excitement, and a low-maintenance, emotionally detached intimacy.

Just like lions in the wild. The strongest one gets to breed the wifey.

The intimacy thing is really true; I am a much better fuck when I do not love a woman. I can stay hard much longer and more or less decide when I want to cum. Something about the coldness of the whole thing. And of course that moment when you slowly penetrate that cheating pussy boosts your ego sky high. That sweet victory over him, knowing that she is being unfaithful to him, is, besides fucking an unprotected slit bareback, one of the best pleasures you can experience. That's why I specialized in women being in a relationship.

In those five years, I only used a condom once in Playa, with another dive instructor. She knew all to well what we do. Those pro divers who fuck so many tourists are called "sharks." Some fuck whatever they find each night. I didn't; with the amount of tourist pussy being delivered each week, I only wanted the very best, the most beautiful, and the most challenging: the wives, the girlfriends, and even the fiancées.

I fucked every single one of them bareback.

And they never protested or said something about it. Or asked for protection. Not once.

I shared a place with two other dive instructors in the beginning, and one of them had a relationship with a PR (the girls behind the dive center counter), and he still fucked tourists at least a couple of times a week.

The other guy had a relationship as well and was being faithful. Not all pro divers fuck tourists. It can be a very lonely life, so at least 70% of male pro divers try to find a local girl for a steady relationship.

Not me.

And we all know it takes two to tango. At the end, it is the woman who decides if she cheats or not.

Of course, single female tourists too welcomed my cock into their warm, thirsty pussies, but if I had to guess, at least 50% of all those babes I had were in some kind of relationship. They were simply more attractive to me.

So yes, I was a shark.

And yes, women cheat a lot. This is the cold truth. You can be angry about it or be sad, but women are just like men, just better in keeping secrets.

Now I do believe Cindy had not cheated before, just like Elisabeth, because they told me their last names and where they lived. Other women were a closed book and only told me their first names. They did show in some way that we had to be careful, but that's all. So they must have cheated before. Quite the opposite of the single babes; they could be open to me, have nothing to hide, and I still know some of their last names and where they live.

Have fun with my Cindy stories; I will update one chapter each week. The reason is that those were the very first memories I put on paper, so they urgently needed an update. Most chapters are based on true events!

The story is based on true events.

The first time I saw Cindy, she was walking quickly through the Blue Parrot Bar (Playa del Carmen), a bit restless, walking around much more than other people, like she was nervous, perhaps searching for something, being in a hurry, or perhaps in heat.

About 1.70 m (5.6?), brunette, slender, with a very nice tan, perhaps 10% Creole blood (because of her brown hair); otherwise, it was hard to say what mixed races she had in her blood, but mainly Caucasian, I would say.

Same with her age, it was hard to tell how old she was, probably between 24 and 34? No facial wrinkles, very vibrant and supple skin, and her perky breasts were between a C and D cup, but I am not an expert on this. They were, however, proud, pointing forward and not hanging!

She was wearing a small top with thin straps (I did not see a bra) and a short skirt with a thong under it, matching the Caribbean environment: not too slutty but sexy.

It was somewhere around 11 PM, and as she walked by again, the girl behind her asked her something, using her first name, Cindy. So, a couple of minutes later, as she was standing alone, I decided to use some reverse psychology and spoke to her and asked, "Cindy, what is the name of your friend?"

She was surprised that I knew her name and asked me, "How do you know my name?"

I said that it was not so important, but that I liked her girlfriend, perhaps a little bit more than I liked her. This, of course, triggered her by asking me what I didn't like about her, so I said that she is very pretty, has a great body (she wore a flimsy top and a slightly tight skirt), has a great tan, but is a bit restless, as if she hasn't had a proper workout in bed lately... (me adding a nice flirting grin while saying this).

She enjoyed the compliment but didn't know how to react to the bed workout part. Yet.

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Read the Cindy M series - a beautiful and faithful wife on vacation in Playa del Carmen with her husband.