Confessions

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 eye I was naked with him and we were both alone and savouring the satisfying tease of my fingers on my cunt. I moved the finger away. I beckoned him to approach. And then I licked my pussy juices from the knuckle.

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.