My Math Problem

"I'm sorry, miss—"

"Melanie," she said, extending a hand. I took it, shook it, and, feeling as if it belonged in mine, didn't let go for a few seconds longer than I should have. Melanie didn't seem to mind, though, as she smiled and said, "You're Clark? It's very nice to meet you, Clark."

"You, too, Melanie. I'm really sorry, but we're completely out of molasses at the moment. There's a chance we might get some in on the truck tomorrow if you'd like to check back."

"Oh, that's too bad. I have to work again tomorrow and, even though I won't be this late, it would be long gone before I could get here. I guess I'll just skip—"

I'm not sure what it was about her because I wouldn't have done this just seconds earlier. She was way too young for my little black book project but I suddenly wanted to help her so I made a snap decision. "Tell you what, give me your name and number and if any arrives, I'll be sure to save you a jar and will give you a call."

"Thank you so much, Clark! You're such a sweetheart!" She surprised me even more when she hooked her arm in mine and we walked toward the front of the store together. When we got to the front, she gave my arm a squeeze before letting go and telling me goodnight. "And if I don't hear from you, Clark, I hope you have a very merry Christmas and happy holidays."

That smile and those eyes did a number on me again, causing my toes to curl, before she turned and went to pay for a couple of other items she'd had in her basket that I hadn't even noticed. From wondering why I was doing it to being really glad I'd asked for her number had taken less than a minute.

"Whoa, Clark! Got a hot date?" asked Keith, the evening manager, coming up behind me.

"Oh, no, sir. I tried to help her find molasses, but no luck."

"Got it," he replied with a laugh. "Mr. Manetti's Major Molasses Mess; I'm guessing corporate will demote or maybe even fire him over this." Whispering, he added, "I've heard they've received a number of phone calls from disgruntled shoppers."

With his laugh and his smirk, it appeared to me that the rumors of his designs on Mr. Manetti's position were true. I even guessed that some of those calls of complaint might have originated from him. Keith drew a deep breath and looked over what he was hoping would soon be his domain. He added, "Yeah, Manetti's hoping to get some in tomorrow...but I'm not holding my breath."

I laughed as I nodded, for a lot more reasons than he thought. "Yeah, hopefully."

***

December 23rd arrived, crisp and cold, but the molasses didn't. Three more names and numbers went in my wallet, but I'd begun to give up hope that I'd be able to help any of them or myself. The clock seemed to crawl toward our midnight closing, and I dreaded getting up early the next morning for one last effort before Christmas.

When I got home late that night, it was a mixture of all the disappointments of recent months and the lack of companionship that had been brought front and center with my molasses experience. It was ridiculous to think that someone like Madeline would actually go through with her playful suggestiveness, but it gave me some sense of hope that my sexual drought wouldn't last forever.

As I showered just minutes later, these thoughts continued and I found myself hardening and becoming aroused at the thought of Madeline, her breasts with large pink areolas and those hard, prominent nipples pressed against me and then enveloping my hardness as I slid up and down within their fullness.

I rinsed my hair as the hot water sprayed over me and I could almost feel Madeline wrapping her long, strong legs around me, taking me deep within her velvety tunnel before we rocked together for ages.

Turning with my eyes still closed, the scene changed as I found myself increasing my stroke, full and long. I could see Madeline's breasts swaying magnificently below her as she was on all fours slamming that incredible ass back against me, her lucious softness engulfing me and working me with well-toned muscles that Greta had forgotten as soon as Andrea, our younger child, was born. Or maybe it was Chad, our elder? Whichever, my hands gripped Madeline's unnaturally tiny waist in my mind as I continued to pound against her big, warm behind, my desire and the fire within me building as I did, as my balls slapped against her smooth, well-padded labia.

The buildup reached the tipping point and I groaned lightly as I opened my eyes with the water streaming over me. I fired off one, two, three ropes as I continued pumping my member, the vision of Madeline now gone. Small spurts followed as the last of the spasms ended.

After cleaning myself and the shower, I went to bed in the pleasant, light cloud of what might have been post-coital bliss but was actually the only stress relief I was likely to get for quite some time. It was almost sad when I laughed that I'd allowed myself, for whatever brief period, to imagine that there might be something between Madeline and me.

Sinking down on my bed, I arranged my pillows just so and put Madeline out of my mind. As I did, a vision of Melanie briefly passed before my eyes; unlike Madeline, who I could imagine nude in such exquisite detail, all I could see of Melanie was her pretty young face with that beautiful smile and those pretty blue eyes...

***

The store was closing at 4 PM on Christmas Eve, so my usual 3 to midnight shift became a 7 to 4. That was a good thing since I was there at 8 AM when the truck pulled in from the warehouse. Pallets came off and the other stockers and I immediately started breaking down those directed to our assigned aisles, sending what we could to the shelves and the rest for restocking over the next few days after Christmas.

With the last minute cooking and baking rush before the holiday, my pallet was jam-packed with things that needed to go on the shelves. For the next three hours, I worked it down, with frequent breaks needed to help customers find uncommon Christmas needs, from meringue powder to chocolate bark, from cooking twine to the right decorative sugar crystals. I was down to the last few boxes on the bottom layer of my pallet when I found it: a whole case of Noughton & Galdoff's Unsulfured Molasses!

My heart raced as I slit the tape and pulled open the top flaps. Inside, separated by a cardboard grid, were twelve 16-fluid ounce jars of tart, ooey, gooey, heavenly sweetness. Two cups each, 1/3rd more than the other leading brand (at least according to the note that N&G had emblazoned across the label).

I looked at the jar I was holding, making sure it was unbroken, before sliding it back down into its slot. Seconds later, I'd confirmed that they were all safe. Trying to calm my breathing, I folded the top flaps to close it, and then moved that oh-so valuable box to my aisle cart before dealing with the last few items on my pallet.

The lunch crowd arrived and I spent most of the next hour helping customers find more of the usual, the unusual, and the downright obscure. It was almost 1 PM when I got back to the stockroom and pulled out my wallet. My initial excitement had waned as I worked, realizing that my plan would likely result in me not getting sex but getting fired instead.

I counted out ten slips of paper and Madeline's card. Pulling one of the slips from the stack, I dialed the number.

"Hello, this is Clark Delahoya at the grocery store. May I speak to Amy Sedecker?"

It was Amy and she immediately knew the exact reason for my call. "Clark! You got the molasses?"

"Yes, ma'am! We got a shipment a little while ago. I'll be glad to hold the jar for you if you still want—"

"Yes! Yes! Please do! I've always said you folks have the best customer service in the business and now you've proven it today! My husband will be there in a little while! What time do you close today?"

Mrs. Sedecker and one other married lady promised to send their husbands to the store to pick up the molasses. I tossed their names and numbers in the trash after learning of their marital state. I might be horny and need sex terribly, but if anything were to happen, it definitely wouldn't be with a married woman.

A couple of the women promised to come personally to receive their prizes; their slips went back in my wallet.

One lady had found a jar at another store, so, not remembering who she was, I tossed her paper as well.

Another woman, Renee, had tried substituting dark corn syrup with mixed results; she went on about the lack of tartness and how she couldn't believe we didn't have molasses at Christmas time. With her voice and attitude grating at me, her paper went in the trash, too, and I deleted the call, being sure I wouldn't accidentally ring her in the future.

I don't remember the rest of the details, but at least one other had decided to skip gingerbread cookies in favor of making something else, and I left messages for the rest. When I came to Melanie's number, that call went to voicemail, too, but unlike the others, I hesitated and hung up, deciding to try her again in a little while.

When all the calls were made except Melanie and Madeline, I tried Melanie again, saving Madeline until last. Melanie's phone kicked over to voicemail again, so, disappointed, I almost sighed when the little beep told me to start.

"Hello, Melanie? This is Clark, Clark Delahoya, from the grocery store. We met the other night when you were looking for molasses. Well, we received a case of them on the truck this morning so I'm holding a jar for you in case you still want it. If you do, we're open until 4 today, so give me a call on this number or just come on by as soon as you can. I'll be on Aisle 9 or you can have me paged at the service counter. I hope to see you this afternoon, but if not, have a really wonderful Christmas and I hope that I'll see you again in the New Year."

I only realized what I said about hoping to see her again as I hung up. I'd be leaving the store about three weeks after the start of the new year. "Maybe she'll come in before then," I grumbled to myself before pulling out Madeline's card.

I dialed the number and Madeline picked up on the second ring. "Hello, this is Madeline. Who's this?"

"Hi, Madeline, this is Clark Dela—"

"Clark! You have my molasses!"

"Yes, ma'am—"

"Clark, if you don't stop calling me ma'am, I'm going to spank you until you scream. Or maybe let you spank me until we both do?"'

My voice hung and I wasn't able to say anything as I thought of the possibilities. I'd never been into spanking with Greta beyond the occasional love swat, but I could imagine doing some barehanded spanking across Madeline's behind, feeling the firm flesh of her buttocks, the soft sponginess of her sweet, delicious peach, and watching them quiver—

"Clark? Clark! Are you still there? Do you have a pen?"

"Ahem...ah, yeah, Madeline. Go ahead."

She gave me an address. "Bring them and be here at 6 PM sharp. Don't be late!"

She rang off before I could say anything.

***

I left the store at closing time with two jars of N&G molasses and a bottle of good cabernet sauvignon that was on sale for Christmas. Sandie, the cashier, frowned at me for making her keep her register open until 4:02 PM, but since one last customer came running up behind me with a cart that would take at least five minutes to ring up, I gave her a wry smile with a cock of my head in reply, but relented and wished her "Merry Christmas" as I went on my way.

Back at the little apartment, I shaved, manscaped, showered, and dressed before spending too much of the next half hour pacing nervously. Even if it was a prank on Madeline's part, it was the most excited, both physically and emotionally, that I'd been in ages. If anything were to happen between us, I was concerned about my body's reaction after such a long period without feminine attention or sexual intimacy.

"Stay calm, Clark," I said to myself. "Relax and it will be fine."

I don't know how many times I repeated that on the drive to Madeline's house. Dark clouds were rolling in, promising rain, when I pulled into an upscale, gated community. I scrolled through the list of names on the screen and hit the buzzer.

"Who is it?"

"Clark Delahoya."

"Clark! Come on in! First street on the right, first on the left after that, eighth house down on the right. Looks like it's going to rain so pull right on up in the garage; the door is open. See you in a couple!"

With the clouds continuing to roll in and with the probability of rain arriving shortly, I appreciated the offer on the garage. However, it also struck me that a simple delivery wouldn't take more than a minute or two; perhaps she really had something more in mind as she'd playfully suggested.

The first raindrops hit my windshield as I turned onto Madeline's street. Being too warm, we'd be having a soggy-rather-than-white Christmas. On turning into the driveway, I pulled to the side of the house and backed up to line up to enter the garage. The light was on inside and the garage door started closing as soon as I stopped the car. If Madeline was a serial killer....

Serial killer or not, she was dressed to kill as she stood by the door into the house in a long, Christmas-green dress with a deep cut at both the neckline and bottom. "Clark, dear! Come in! Did you bring it?"

I pulled a Christmas gift bag out of the car and handed it to her as she ushered me into the house. "Merry Christmas, Madeline."

She bit her lower lip in anticipation as she peeked into the bag. There was a squeal as she pulled the molasses out and kissed them. "Excellent! And you brought a bottle of wine! Aren't you just the sweetest thing?"

To have cared so much about the molasses, she rather unceremoniously placed them and the bag on the counter before stepping into my arms. "Wine can wait; I can't."

Evidently, some type of wine hadn't waited for I could taste it on her lips as they pressed against mine. She was a tiger, kissing me furiously, making my heart race and head spin after so many years of Greta's chaste little pecks that she erroneously called kisses. Her breasts pressed against me, soft pillows that plumped and pressed firmly against each other, promising great delights if things continued on the current track.

I felt an instant response downstairs in response to Madeline's attentions, and she must have felt it, too, as she started a little dance, rubbing her pelvis against me, rocking to one side and then the other over my hardness. Her entire body joined in with those fabulous boobs really pushing my buttons, sending me a stronger signal than an SOS.

"Madeline, I want you," I breathed, a barely audible gasp that was cut off when her lips recaptured my own. She did respond, though, by sliding her fingers inside my waistband.

Finding what she was seeking, she rubbed me over my briefs as her tongue invaded my mouth, tangling with my own before withdrawing just as suddenly. "Upstairs! Hurry!"

She tried pulling me by the waistband as we went, but she quickly saw the problems with that and switched to my hand. To her bedroom we flew, as fast as Santa's coursers over the new fallen snow in Moore's famous poem.

Madeline lost her dress in an instant, and my shirt and pants were only a couple of seconds behind. I was pushing down my undershorts as she released the front clasp on her bra, allowing her breasts to spring forth in all their magnificence. Her areolas were even larger than I'd imagined.

My dick pulsed, getting harder still, at the scene and Madeline must have liked it for she pushed me back where I sat on the very edge of the bed. She grabbed me with both hands and brought her mouth down, engulfing me.

Having been years since Greta had even considered doing anything of the sort, I almost came at once, but I made a face that would have put Popeye to shame as I fought off the urge.

Madeline's head was riding up and down on me as she shoved my shorts down the rest of the way with her hands. She had a great technique, alternating her motions, concentrating on the head and frenulum for a bit before going back full bore for a few strokes, with the tickle of her hair only stimulating me further.

My hands ran over her, caressing her hair, her shoulders, and finally her breasts while she continued her most pleasurable assault. Without the bra, they sagged a bit due to their size, but I was delighted to give them what help I could, gently squeezing her nipples between the bases of my fingers, using the tips below to massage and squeeze.

She surprised me a few seconds later when she left off my member and started rolling a condom down my shaft. I have no idea where she got it unless it was tucked in the waistband of her thong that dropped to her feet as she moved. She pushed me back and climbed atop, not even giving me a chance to enjoy the taste of her flower. Her sex practically danced over me as she held her hands on my chest to support part of her weight. After a few swipes, she let go with one hand, positioned me at her opening, and then sank down on me in one smooth, oh-so-delicious motion.

Beginning at my tip and running all the way to my toes, it was like a rolling wave of pure pleasure as she took me within herself, bottoming out against the base of my cock, her ass pressed against my balls. She rested her thighs atop me, still wearing her black high heels, as her pussy clenched and started to massage me, rocking forward and back before she raised up a bit and slammed back down on me.

Over and over she crashed against me as I matched and opposed her motions, bringing even more force to our coupling. Her moans were loud and nearly constant, while I could only hold on, trying to delay my inevitable release until she was ready. I held her breasts, supporting them from below, both for the pleasure and to keep them from smacking her due to her violent ride.

I gave a playful pinch to each nipple that caused her to almost roar, "Pinch harder. Squeeze them, damn you!"

She asked for it and she got it, with me pinching her nipples and squeezing her breasts as she continued slamming into me and drawing back, only to do it again, over and over. I saw movement in the background and realized there was a full-length mirror in view, so I enjoyed taking peeks at her well-defined ass doing its own up and down dance in time with her ride.

It was sudden when her head flew back and she cried out, a long wail of what I hoped was sheer pleasure rather than some type of horrible attack, but she collapsed on me then, kissing my neck and shoulders as I thrust into her a few more times before filling that condom practically to overflowing. Her sucking at my neck would probably leave a hickey, I realized, but there was no time to worry about that. I quickly pulled out, hoping that there hadn't been any leaks, for if she was fertile at the moment, I could see having the potential for fertilizing a whole carton of her eggs, if she chose to package them that way, from my part of the contribution.

"My God, Clark, that was like Superman," she gasped, still breathing hard. "Are you sure your last name's not Kent?"

I didn't laugh at her joke, considering that my grandmother, who's surname had been Clark before marrying my grandfather and after whom I was named, wouldn't have appreciated it, but I didn't let it bother me either, continuing to kiss her head. She'd had enough of that, though, rolling off and drawing her knees up high, spreading herself wide open.

"Now, eat me!" she demanded. "Do it!"

Not having had the chance to enjoy such a delicacy in many years, I jumped at the chance to sample her freshly fucked pussy, sinking my tongue into her depths to experience her aroma and taste before moving to her clit. It was a large dot, already well stimulated, and I started working it more, trying to give her at least one more orgasm in this round of our evening. Her climax was building and when I thought she was close, I slid two fingers into her to send her over the edge. Her hands, entwined in my hair, pulled me tight against her and held me there as even more of her delicious juices entered my mouth.