I glanced towards the shop’s collection of vibrators with an avaricious eye.
It was the largest selection of dildos and plastic cocks that I had ever seen. I wasn’t even sure where my thoughts were going as I studied them, except for the fact that I was thinking about the perks of the job. I was close to doubling over with a violent sexual need.
I teased a hand against my bare thigh.
That was all that was needed to have me desperate for more.
Within a moment my hand had slipped beneath the hem of my skirt. I tugged the sopping crotch of my panties to one side. And then I was caressing the moist split of my sex and was only seconds away from climaxing.
Wearing a skirt made it easier to bring myself off.
I could draw slow and lazy circles against the thrust of my clitoris. I could slide one finger, and then two, in and out of the warm, syrupy heat of my pussy. Wearing a skirt made it simple for me to squeeze the bud of my clitoris and wring a searing climax from its centre.
I came with a growl of bitter satisfaction.
Maddeningly, after a week, I realised that I needed more.
I took a modest-sized vibrator from the shelves. By a stroke of unprecedented good fortune, I happened to have brought a pair of batteries into the shop with me that day. I think it was the same subconscious stroke of unprecedented good fortune that had me wearing skirts to work each morning. The batteries fitted into the vibrator. Within seconds it was buzzing brightly in my hands. I covered it with a condom and then slipped it inside my pussy.
I was so wet there was no resistance. The buzzing length of plastic simply pushed its way into my cunt.
I almost climaxed from the thrill of that sensation alone. And I held my breath for a moment, savouring the dizzying rush of pleasure that came from the throbbing and pulsing sensations that shot through my pussy.
By the end of that day, I was weak-kneed from suffering multiple climaxes. That was one hell of a perk.
By the end of the month, I had acquired a collection of different-sized vibrators and dildos and plugs from the shop’s shelves. Sometimes I would use two at the same time. I’d have a plug nestled inside my anus and a dithering vibrator throbbing through my pussy. I tried to imagine what it would be like to serve a customer while those delicious sensations were pounding through me. The idea was so exciting it always brought me to a shuddering explosion of pleasure. I could picture myself struggling to appear calm and unaffected on the exterior while creaming myself internally. The idea was so stimulating I would explode as soon as the image filled my thoughts.
And, when I first did manage to serve a customer while impaled on two plastic cocks, I only just managed to hold back my screams of euphoria.
It went on for a month before I got caught.
Richard paid an unexpected visit to the shop.
He came in while I was frigging myself to a slow climax over the pages of No Holes Barred. Fortunately I wasn’t using any of the plugs or dildos that day. I had only slipped my moist and eager fingers against the slippery folds of my sex. I tried to pretend I wasn’t doing anything. I tried to casually slip my hand away from beneath my skirt but he gave me an understanding wink.
‘This place gets everyone like that,’ he assured me. As an afterthought he added, ‘Just make sure you never have sex with a customer for money.’
I heard the words.
But this time they didn’t make me as angry as they had on that first day.
‘Do you really think I’m likely to do that?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘If one of the punters catches you wanking he’ll likely make an offer. And I realise that I’m only just paying minimum wage, so I don’t doubt you’ll be tempted. But I can’t let you carry on working here if I catch you doing that.’
He went on to explain that it could mean he’d lose his licence as an adult bookseller, and that a store clerk whoring herself to the punters was likely to cut into his profits. He went on to point out that there was a noticeboard of business cards behind the till, each one advertising the services of someone local who was willing to exchange sex for cash.
I’d seen the noticeboard on previous occasions and had marvelled at the number of exotic names on there, but I didn’t have time to discuss it with Richard. I was busy assuring him that I had no intention of fucking anyone for money. And I wanted him to hurry out of the shop so I could finish rubbing myself to climax.
He had an erection, I noticed.
It jutted at the front of his pants and I guessed it had come about because he had seen me rubbing myself off. He asked what magazine I’d been reading and, when I showed him No Holes Barred, I noticed his erection grew more pronounced. The temptation to reach out and stroke his hard-on was almost irresistible. He was standing so close I wouldn’t have had to stretch to touch the bulge at the front of his pants and slide my hand up and down him.
And, from what I could see, he looked to have a decent size on him. He wasn’t as well built as the men in the magazines I’d been reading, or the ones in the films that I’d been watching. But he looked to have large enough equipment to satisfy. And I was thinking about his equipment when he left the shop. As soon as he was out of the door I rubbed myself to a delicious climax.
And, in the embarrassed aftermath, I vowed that I wouldn’t get into the habit of wanking while I was at work. I should have been mortified that my boss had caught me with my fingers inside my own honey-pot. The fact that I was untroubled by the encounter made me wonder what sort of depraved slut I had become.
The next day I wore a shorter skirt.
I found myself a copy of Cock Addict.
And that was the day when I got caught wanking by one of the customers.
I was busy rubbing myself to a leisurely climax when the bell went. There was a butt-plug inside my anus but I hadn’t got round to pressing a vibrator into my cunt. After lubricating the butt-plug and easing it into place, I had only been able to slide my lube-smeared fingers against the greasy lips of my sex. And, when the bell over the door jangled to announce a customer, I figured it was time for me to have some proper fun.
At first I thought it would be Richard again.
I was curious to know how he would react to me wanking him to a climax while I rubbed myself off. Since he’d caught me the previous day, and raised no objections to my indiscretion, I thought I could carry on. I could maybe greet him with a cheeky opening like, ‘Thank God you’re here. I’ve been desperate for some cock all morning.’
But this customer was a stranger – someone I’d never seen before.
He cast a furtive glance towards me.
I stared boldly back at him. I was in a zone of arousal where nothing mattered other than my satisfaction. I raised a glistening finger to my lips and then licked it slowly. My tongue traced the tip of the nail. Then I enveloped the finger with my mouth, sucking it as though it was a cock.
Mesmerised, the customer simply stared.
I let the finger move from my mouth and then slipped it down between my legs. The customer couldn’t see what was going on. The counter spoiled his view. But I have no doubt his imagination was furnishing him with every horny detail of my finger stroking at the wet lips of my pussy.
I never broke eye contact with him. All the time that he stood in the doorway, I stared at him with a passion and intensity that left him in no doubt that I was enjoying a rush of personal pleasure.
In my mind’s