Now on Offer!! (Revised)

There’s this girl in a local shop I frequent. She’s not conventionally pretty; rather, she’s this slight, awkward thing with a constantly worn, if not exhausted, air about her. I guess her employers keep her busy. She has dark circles under her eyes, and her work attire is this rather perfunctory black number, which swamps her small frame and renders her anonymous.

Despite this, I find myself drawn to her, inexplicably so. Knowing full-well of the supposed predisposition for men to assume attraction from indifferent women, I nonetheless believe her to harbour some level of genuine attraction.
Her demeanour undergoes a change when I roll up to her till and goods are processed. She’s flirty… Nervous with it, in the way that someone might be if unused to exercising such abilities.

At times it’s so subtle I search her with a wanton gaze, coaxing her towards revelation. I delight in upping the anté each time, reliably informed by her ever-so-tangible arousal. The sweet aroma of her undeclared craving seem to permeate and hang about her mingled with a pleasant fruity perfume, and inviting to us both explicit flashes of what could be.

At such suggestion I feel my length unfurl against my leg inside my trousers. I am sure my protusion is writ large for all to see, and indeed she openly casts an involuntary glance down. I don’t think she was consciously aware of biting her bottom lip for that brief assessment, but, catching herself, she blushed in acknowledgement and continued scanning groceries.

I consider myself average in terms of looks, yet she was evidently flustered, and the shy smile spreading across her lips contagious. I imagine fucking her…bending her over the counter in front of all and sundry, and giving her a firsthand account of the wares she window-shopped.

The till scanner beeps with each item.

We both brave eye contact.

I can see her similarly undressing me with her gaze. She looks revitalised- eyes sparkling with devious intent, and it is my turn to feel a creeping warmth about my features.
Our hands brush delicately against one another, and linger slightly too long as money exchanges hands.

The shop is busy, so, with a pleasant &#034thank you&#034, I head for the exit; but not before sneaking a look back one last time.
Dutifully serving an elderly woman in a gey mac, she momentarily returns my look, somewhat laciviously, and, embarrassed by realizing she is doing so openly, she strives with only partial success to busy herself once more in her duties.

I pocket my change and, as is my habit, I check my receipt. Some foreign ink bleeding through the paper makes a check of the other side all but inevitable and, to my surprise and delight, a series of handwritten digits is laid down in her small, neat cursive. That she thought to do so, and was able to stealthily mark the receipt, even in the midst of all the chaos, made me bristle with excitement.

I resolved to have her thighs parted by week’s end.

To that end, a series of illuminating, but ultimately expositional, phonecall exchanges took place. Though present, romance was not the overriding motivation behind what was to follow, and it became quickly clear that, although outwardly shy, she was not nearly so shy as would initially appear, nor as exhausted. Those loose-fitting work clothes hid a body that could wriggle and excite a man to his full length and eruption, and a mind that took great delight in so doing.

That warm, nervousness translated into an abundance of affection and sexual guile, not to mention an obvious and commendable appreciation of fucking. That she was so barely-contained during her work, belied the fact that the same was vastly untrue during her leisure pursuits.

Her precision command of her hips meant that every slip, every slide; each swivel and bounce conspired to milk the thick vein-laced shaft she so expertly choked with her well-developed kegal musclature. The vice-like grip her dripping-wet pussy assumed upon my erection was the kind so often desired yet seldom experienced.

For my part, varied strokes of resistance undid her as often as she did me. Her soft, yielding cavity positively clamoured at every inch I repeated fed her. No part of her went unexplored. Deceptively ample breasts found their way into hands and mouth alike. The methodical sweeps and swirls of my warm, moist tongue about her nipples and areola melted her and rendered her ripe for consumption.

Whether beneath or atop me, we fucked each other savagely. Every conceivable angle profered new and exciting vistas for our conquest of each other. Her shapely buttocks slammed with each impalement, meeting each thrust with an eagerness of indescribable lust for being filled with cock. Gthering her glossy brown tresses, in this position, offered the irresistable delight of her head rolled back in submission, exposing her throat to the grip of my other hand. Her unabashed moans stay with me even to this day.

Other positions resulted in her becoming intimately acquainted with her own ankles. Her lithe flexibility was put to frequent use.
It quickly became clear that the more contorted her body, the weaker her will. She beamed with ardour when, hanging over her, I deliberated over which of her bodily cavities to insert myself. At times I put the decision (literally) into her hands, the result being that she would greedily stuff me into her hole of choice.

With no intention of being disrespectful, her moans would not be out of place slipping from out of the mouths of the most seasoned of whores. She relished grinding out her relief and was undetered by disturbing neighbours, or even relatives of the the next room over. Whether dominating, or being dominated, we fucked each other senseless every chance we got, eavesdroppers be damned. I never ceased to be amazed by the free outpourings of &#034fucks&#034 &#034Oh God&#034, grunts and shrieks, as her form is bent such as whims dictate. The sounds bodies make when their flesh collides in carnal rhythms were a great source source of pleasure for us.