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I canceled my apps and stopped going to bars. Now I only hook up with women shopping at Target🎯 [MF]

Mar 17, 2024

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Jordan Zhou

OK this is like 50% confession and 50% life pro tip. Seriously, guys and girls—Expect more, pay less when it comes to your love life.

Hear me out, ladies—

Mature, budget-conscious, attractive bachelors who have their shit together are shopping at Target.

Listen to me, guys—

Financially responsible, stylish, independent, hot women are shopping at Target.

What’s one thing all Target shoppers have in common? They always leave with several items they didn’t even know they wanted! Position yourself appropriately, and next time, YOU could be one of those items.

And…much like Nespresso and Peloton owners, Targeters feel way more secure associating with, and thus fucking, members of their own tribe.

Combine that with seductively low prices, soothing music, and spacious, tri-mirrored dressing rooms, and you’ve got a recipe for a retail rendezvous

You might think I’m joking. And the first time it happened, I thought it was a fluke; but I kid you not, of the 6 people I’ve slept with in 2021, 1 was from the gym, 1 was the PoDeg adventure with MAGA girl (but you can read about that elsewhere), and 4 of them I met inside the walls of that glorious red bullseye.

Here’s how it started.

Weekday afternoon. I had just picked up a bag of my favorite miniature mandarin summertime snack, Lil Cuties (on sale for $3.50), and tossed them into my cart. As I surveyed the remarkably well-stocked produce vista, I saw a gorgeous woman pulling away from the deli counter. She thanked Jim for his precision slicing of her locally sourced, incredibly fresh turkey and began to stride in my direction.

She had long dark hair, big beautiful eyes, and a tastefully sexy crop top that she filled out so well. She wore torn denim shorts that confirmed she rarely skips leg days and frequently browses the fantastic women’s summer collection just aisles away from us. As my eyes met hers, she quickly looked away with a hint of embarrassment in her smile.

I didn’t think much of it until I passed her again in the impeccably organized frozen food aisle. She already had one of the doors open and was bending down toward the bottom shelf. The fogged glass distorted the details, but that ass (and the discount denim that clung to it) was unmistakable. Damn. As she closed the door, a couple of her fingers sensually streaked down the glass, causing water droplets to flow downward. I quickly learned 3 things: 1) she was braless, 2) the cold from the freezer had excited her nipples beneath that thin white top, and 3) she, like many classy women, enjoys Amy’s frozen dinners.

When she looked up at me, she bit her lip, and just like earlier, looked back down with a coy smile as she walked past me. As I turned to watch her walk away, there was a sway in her hips that said she knew she had my attention. Target has those fancy freezers with motion sensors for the lights, so each step she took commanded the luminance from inside the glass. I watched as she moved down her runway, each new light paving her path as she glided away. She made one last glance over her shoulder pointed to my basket and said, “Dave’s Bread, huh? That’s hot. I like that.” Then she pushed her cart, which had 4 perfectly aligned and well-oiled wheels, silently around the corner.

This reminded me that Target was running a special on motor oil. I made a quick detour through the surprisingly well-appointed automotive section and quickly located my oil and snagged a great 3 for 1 deal on car air fresheners. This reminded me that I needed a bathroom candle, and I opted to get a new scent, Cashmere Plum. Which reminded me I needed a new pillow case. Done.

With these last few things, I started to make my way toward checkout. This brought me conveniently close to the women’s athleisure section. And I’ll bet you can guess who was browsing through the yoga shorts and bra tops. God bless you, Target.

She smiled again, this time holding her gaze to mine.

Shit I need to say something.

“Go with the red ones. They’ll look great on you,” I managed, as a the store’s delightful playlist transitioned from Sheryl Crow to Vanessa Carlton.

Without missing a beat, she said, “you think so?” Then a devilish smirk appeared as she added, “It says they’re half off, but I’ll take off more if you come help me try them on.”

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You know that moment we’re all familiar with when you think you’ve just been propositioned in Target and you kinda panic and start to wonder if there’s such a thing as secret shopper sex stings?

There was no way my brain could process that level of forwardness in this setting, so I just kinda laughed, assuming I misheard.

“Haha...I was just on my way to self checkout,” I stumbled.

“I was too,” she said pointing to the dressing room. “But don’t you agree it’s way better when someone else helps check you out?” She winked, turned, and walked toward the dressing room with that same hip swing I’d witnessed on aisle 14.

You gotta be fucking kidding me, right? Like…how many of those security cameras on the ceiling are being watched by Ashton Kutcher right now.

My rational brain succumbed to the part of my brain that enjoys tight butts in red yoga shorts, and I mindlessly followed her toward the empty dressing area.

I don’t know why this was the first thing I thought of, but as I reached the door, I said to myself, “Why the fuck am I paying for a Costco membership when I can come into Target as often as I want…FOR FREE!?”

I’d like to say the next few minutes were the most erotic, raw, and cinematic sex of my life.

They were not.

I can’t say for sure how long we were at it, but I know it was the approximate combined length of the 3 songs by Jason Mraz, Natasha Bedingfield, and Kelly Clarkson that serenaded our try-on tryst.

A picture of a cute white bull terrier with a large bullseye painted on his eye looked down upon us, as I bent her over the dressing room bench. She and I, and our infinite labyrinth of reflections, frantically fucked, seeing each other in a new light, as four overhead fluorescent bulbs illuminated every pore on our skin.

As she got close, we switched positions and I sat on the bench. She climbed on and started to ride me. Her pace was not too fast, not too slow, just perfectly synced with Jason’s words “it…can…not…wait…I’m… yooooours…oh oh oh….” His “ohs” became her “ohs,” and just as the song found its bridge, so too did her back, and she began quietly cumming and bucking hard.

I told her I was about to cum, and she quickly dismounted and kneeled between my knees onto the incredibly tidy dressing room floor. I’ll add that this floor had ZERO of those dangerous leftover pins from men’s dress shirts often found on the floors of less reputable clothing stores.

Her soft lips took me over the edge, and I gave in to her rhythmic sucking. As a conscientious Target customer, she ensured that no drop was left behind, and she took every last thrust between her lips until I was spent, leaving the floor in the pristine state in which we found it.

We both promptly got dressed, exchanged numbers and proceeded to the next available checkout line.

Seriously fuck Costco.

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