He walked closer to the counter.
I lowered the finger back to my wetness.
When he was close enough I pulled back the hem of my skirt so he could see what I was doing. The dark bush of my pubes devoured the tips of my fingers. The rich scent of my sex filled the shop. The squelch of two fingers sliding in and out of my sex was almost as loud as the background noise of porn-movie soundtrack.
The customer sighed.
I could see the thrust of the erection inside his pants. It was satisfying to think I had been the cause of his excitement. I began to rub myself with even more ferocity as I realised how much he wanted me.
He reached out a hand, as though he was going to caress my thigh.
And then he seemed to think better of it.
I came with a barely muted shriek of satisfaction. I clutched at the counter with my one free hand. My vision misted crimson as the rush of pleasure flooded through me.
The customer’s erection throbbed inside his pants.
Almost immediately a black patch of wetness stained the front of his jeans. His mouth fell open in a small O of surprise. And then it broke into a grin as he appraised me with a newfound respect.
‘That was one of the horniest things I’ve ever seen in my life,’ the customer told me. He slammed down two ten-pound notes on the counter and headed for the door.
‘What’s that for?’ I asked.
‘My way of saying thank you,’ he said. Then the bell was jangling behind him.
And, while I knew it couldn’t technically be described as exchanging sex for money, when I picked up the notes and stuffed them into my purse, I realised I was running the risk of breaking Richard’s one rule of employment.
The next day I didn’t bother wearing panties.
I didn’t even need a magazine, although I found a copy of Wet and began to work my way through the pages. When Richard came in and found me masturbating, I didn’t even bother stopping.
‘You’re enjoying your work here,’ he observed wryly.
‘Get over here. Get your cock out.’ I was at that delicious stage of arousal where I could only spit the words. The ferocity of my passion had transformed my speech into insistent grunts.
Obligingly, Richard walked over to the counter where I stood. He didn’t get his cock out but he made no objection when I tugged down the zip on his jeans and then extricated his length through the gaping hole of the fly.
His flesh was violently warm. When my fingers touched him I could feel the throbbing pulse of his excitement beneath the steely surface of his erection.
‘Jesus,’ Richard muttered. ‘I didn’t expect this.’
I said nothing. I squeezed my clit. I continued to rub the hyper-sensitive surface and then slip a finger in and out between my oily lips. And I rolled my other fist back and forth along the length of his cock.
It was as satisfying as I’d expected. His size was larger than average, but not as daunting as those featured in the magazines and DVDs I’d been watching. I could imagine him filling me easily and completely if he bent me over the counter and decided to ride me until I screamed through an orgasm.
That thought was pushing me towards the brink of a climax when the bell over the shop’s door rang.
The customer who had watched me the day before stood in the doorway. He saw that I was tugging at Richard’s cock and he smiled tightly.
I gave him a heavy wink and then blew him a kiss.
It was all that he needed.
He looked set to say something, and then he drew a deep breath. I saw him stare down at his pants as another dark stain began to spread across the front. He glanced up at me and shook his head in rueful disbelief.
As I continued to stroke my fist back and forth along Richard’s cock, the customer slammed two tens on the counter.
‘It’s worth coming in here just to see you,’ he told me.
And then the bell was jangling behind him.
‘I thought I told you not to have sex with the customers,’ Richard growled.
His cock remained rigid. The single eye stared at me with blind fury. I tightened my grip around him and continued to stroke slowly back and forth.
‘It’s not really having sex with customers if they just see me wanking, is it?’
Richard looked set to argue the point.
I moved my lips around his cock and sucked lightly on the end of his shaft. He tasted of sweet saltiness. The flavour made my cunt clutch greedily around my fingers. Eventually, I moved my lips away.
‘Give me a second chance,’ I urged. ‘And I’ll make sure you get greeted like this every day that I’m working here.’
He groaned. ‘You drive a hard bargain,’ he murmured. ‘But, under the arrangement you’ve just suggested, I’m prepared to overlook the matter this once.’
I took his cock into my mouth and nodded. And swallowed.
***
That was three years ago and I’ve been working here ever since.
As I say, the job has a lot of perks. Seeing Richard every other day is only one of them. Welcoming a steady clientele of customers who are happy to pay good money for the pleasure of watching me play with myself is another perk. Of course, I know I can’t stay in this job forever. But I’m determined to stay in this position until something better comes along. And, if anything better ever does come my way, you’ll be the first to find out.
Come In Handy
Heather Towne
I lusted after Carrie from the moment I set eyes on her. She was playing tennis by herself – smacking a fuzzy yellow ball against the side of the school building – dressed in a pair of white short-shorts and a white tank-top. Her limbs gleamed long and lean and smooth, sunbrowned, her yellow-blonde hair braided back in a ponytail, a white sun visor on her head. She had green eyes and a pretty oval face, with plush lips.
I was just walking past the school and the tennis courts on my way to the convenience store, when I saw the vision of loveliness, and I stopped in my tracks and stared. I’d just come off my first full-out lesbian experience with a cousin of mine, and I was hooked on girls, anxious to hook up again with a member of my own sexy sex. So I stood and watched Carrie whack the ball off the wall, marveling at the way the long muscles on her arms and legs rippled, the way her breasts bounced up and down.
‘Hey, do you play?’ she suddenly called out, catching the ball and looking my way.
I went on gaping.
‘Um, I was wondering if you –’
‘Sure! I play!’ I yelped, giving my head a shake. She wanted me to ‘play’ with her. I ran over as fast as my shapely little legs could carry me.
‘I’m Carrie,’ she said in a voice of milk and honey, sticking out a hand. ‘I guess my friend’s not showing up, so I have no one to play with. I have an extra racquet if you wouldn’t mind …’
I grabbed on to her slender brown hand and squeezed it. ‘I’d love to play with you!’ I gushed. Her hand was warm and soft. ‘I’m Tina!’
She bent down and plucked out the other tennis racquet from her bag. I was enthralled by the long sleek lines of the girl, the breathtaking glimpse of cleavage. She straightened up and handed me the racquet.
‘Shall we?’ she said, indicating with a sweep of her