Shopping For Sex

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By Lauren McAllister

It was a slow, slow Thursday afternoon.  Hypnotically slow.  Abysmally, stultifying and suffocatingly slow.  And things had picked up a little, since the morning.  Oh why, oh why did I ever decide to do something as unutterably stupid as to open a store?  I’ll be my own boss, I thought.  I didn’t realize that I’d also be practically my only customer. 

It turns out, 45 year old women should’t spend every nickel of their divorce settlement following their dream.  Dreams are for young girls with gravity-defying tits and 3 inch waistlines.  Women my age are lucky to find a guy with a three inch penis.  What a dipshit I was! 

So, I’m standing behind the counter, trying to decide which of my two good dresses I’ll wear to bankruptcy court when the doorbell rings.  A customer???  Could it be?

A young boy – 18 or 19 years old, ambles up to the counter. 

“How may I help you, today?” I say with a hopeful smile. 

He took a quick gander around the store and then he turned to me.  “I’ll give you 500 dollars if you take off all your clothes and let me feel your tits for one minute.”

“What?”

Before I can tell him to get the fuck out of my store or I’ll scream, he puts a big pile of bills and a stopwatch on the counter in front of me.

“One minute.  You can time it yourself.”

Now normally, I would have kicked him in the nuts or threatened to call the cops but this had been a realllllly slow patch.  The rats in my storeroom were applying for food stamps.  I hadn’t made 500 dollars all week and here was this kid offering to give it to me for one minute’s work.  True, a thoroughly debasing and humiliating 60 seconds but… what work that pays actual money isn’t thoroughly debasing and humiliating? 

“I think you should leave,” I heard myself say as I glanced down at all those twenties.

Josh pushed to pile towards me.  “One minute of your time and it’s all yours and I leave.”

“How do I know you won’t try anything?”  Shit, now he knew I was interested.

Mr. 500 dollars picks up my phone off the counter, does a selfie and then hands it back to me.  “Shall we go in the back, or do your want to do it out here?”

I can’t tell you how awful it was to stand there and strip in front of some strange teenage boy as his eyes bored into me.  It was like he was memorizing every square nanometer of my exposed skin as I removed my dress and underwear.  What the hell was I doing?  

“I guess you can start now,” I said, blushing crimson. 

Josh pushed start on the stopwatch and handed it to me.  I stuck my chest out and gave him full access.  A deal is a deal.  I figured he’d just grab a hold of my chest muffins and roughly wugga-wugga them the entire time, but no.  He put all his fingers on my stomach, just below my breasts and slowly slid them up until his hands were full of my ripe womanhood.  I closed my eyes.  This was like getting a mammogram from the paperboy.  He gently scraped his fingernails across the underside of my goose-bumped goodie-bags.  Yikes!  This kid knew what he was doing.  I got tingles on top of tingles.  By the time he reached my nipples, they were the size and consistency of breadsticks.  He circled my areolas one at a time with the very tip of his finger.  I involuntarily sucked in a deep breath.  Shit that felt good!  And I was trying so hard to be the horrified victim.  Before I knew it, I felt him kiss my forehead. 

“My minute is up,” he announced.

I opened my eyes.  Now, I really was embarrassed.  Though, quite impressed with his honesty.

“Can I put my clothes back on, now?”  I tried to sound annoyed.

“I’ll give you another two hundred dollars, if you let me put my hand between your legs.”

“Not up inside me.”

“Nope. Just 15 seconds.”

Well shit, I was already naked and thoroughly molested, I might as well put up with another couple of moments of abject shame and take the much needed cash.  “Okay.”  I stood with my legs slightly apart and closed my eyes again.  It was only when I felt his finger penetrate below by outer lips and slip between my labia that I realized how wet I was.  And now he knew how wet I was.  Oh lord, the ignominy!

I was very fortunate that it was only fifteen seconds, any more of him sliding that damn finger back and forth over my lap bickie and I might have begged him to keep going.  My knees were just about to start trembling, when he stopped.  I opened my eyes and he smiled at me. 

“Thanks so much.  I’ll let myself out.”

That night I felt ashamed and disgusted and… I paid my utility bill. 

When I got into bed, I replaced that young man’s finger with my own and this time, the rubbing didn’t stop after 15 seconds.  It built and built and built till I came so hard I practically poked out my eyes with my kneecaps. 

Four very quiet days passed, almost completely undisturbed by customers.  On Tuesday, I was just finishing up my lavish feast of ramen noodles and tap water when the door tingled once again.  I nearly farted, I was so startled when I saw him walking towards the counter.  Was this going to be a repeat of last week?  Would I let him do that to me again?  How much was that bill I just got for my vender’s license?

“Can I help you?” I asked with a little nervous waver in my voice.

“I’ll give you 700 dollars, if you take off all your clothes and let me lick your asshole for one minute.”

“Couldn’t you just feel my tits?”  I couldn’t believe I’d even asked such a stupid question!

Josh shoved a wad of dough across the counter and another stopwatch.  “800 dollars.”

SHIT again!

Once my clothes were off – to tell the truth, it was a little less mortifying than the first time – he stared me up and down again.  It was 800 bucks, so I gave him a few seconds to take it all in.  God, he looked younger than my son!

“Bend over your desk,” he instructed, handing me the stopwatch.

And, like the silly broke bitch I am, I complied.  Josh spread my cheeks open and licked up from the very base of my vagina, all the way up to my pucker button.  I almost squealed.  I’d never had anyone – let alone a stranger – lick me there before…it was a bizarre, creepy feeling at first but then I kind of got into it.  His tongue swirled gloriously around the little bumps of my sphincter and occasionally the very tip explored “the opening”.  It was 800 bucks, so I gave him a few extra seconds…. maybe a little more.

Afterwards, I once again accepted the extra c-note for him to put his hand in my junction box.

“You’re wet,” the little shit informs me.

“It must be your saliva dripping down,” I boldface lied.

“That explains it,” he graciously conceded.  “I’ll let myself out.”

Who was this little boy that I was letting do these atrociously rude things to me?  Where was all his money coming from?  That night I tickled by butthole with my left hand while I bashed my nibble palace senseless with the other.  Once more, the convulsions from my climax nearly put me in traction.

Another week and a half went by and it was getting close to rent paying time.  Every once in a while I’d catch myself looking at the door, almost hoping he came back.  “Was I always a common prostitute impersonating a storekeep?” Deep, introspective thoughts like this crossed my mind as I stood there hoping to get my asshole licked for another 800 dollars and extra hun for a couple of quick laps around my longitudinal lips.  Had I fallen to this?  Judging by my excitement the next time he rang my little door bell (no this is not a euphemism), the answer was a definitive “yes”.

I braced myself.  What kind of lewd and obscene act would he demand of me this time… and how much would it pay?  I guess I felt I could trust him because he’d only performed the lewd and obscene acts that we’d agreed upon.  Weird, huh?

“Can I help you?” I asked, my knees practically buckling in anticipation of his answer.

“I will give you a thousand dollars.”

There was a pause as he shoved the money across the counter.

“For what?” I nervously asked.

“You tell me.”

Now I was confused.  I had the cash in my hand and he didn’t look like he was going to snatch it back.  What was I going to give him for an entire grand?  Should I stiff him?  Should I let him fuck me?  The thought of Josh on top of me with that young face peering down as he rammed his leaky chicken up into my fallopian tubes was just too unspeakably icky.  Should I just let him lick my ass again?  Alas, I was an honorable person.  Goddamnit!  I had to give him something of value for that kind of cash.

“I will take off my clothes.” I finally offered.

“I would like that,” he said kindly.

“And…I’ll suck your cock.”

“For a minute?” he enquired.

“No, for as long as it takes,” I blushed.

This was a major step for me but a thousand dollars was a good chunk of change and it was going to pay a lot of bills.  Stripping off my clothes was a cool balmy breeze compared to getting down on my knees and unzipping his pants.  I know guys like you to look up at them as you slide the monster into your mouth but I just couldn’t. 

Blow jobs aren’t really my thing but once you start one you have to give it your all or you’ll be down there all day.  I kept it sloppy and noisy and pushed it as far back in my throat as I could without having to throw up on his nuts.  Josh didn’t grab my head and fuck my epiglottis like some guys try to do.  He also didn’t call me indecent names or make me tell him how much I liked it.  He was patient and gentle and just let me go about my business.  Slurp, slurp, yank, yank. 

But then a request did come down from up on high.  “Look at me,” he sexily whispered.

Shit!  Oh well.  As I said, he’d been a good boy so I gazed up into his eyes despite my previous loathing of the prospect.  Yep, there he was “enjoying the visual” as I sucked on his big, purple-headed doowanger.  Luckily, I didn’t have to put up with this lingual ignominy for very long.  He let out a little grunt and my tongue was coated in a thick layer of his nut yogurt.  And then another plume splooshed out of his lap volcano.  After the third or fourth deposit sprang forth, I was running out of places to put the stuff while I waited for his eruptions to subside.  Finally, he slowed down to the point where I figured I had earned my thousand dollars.  I extracted his trouser troll, showed him his handiwork as it pooled on my outstretched tongue and then swallowed it.  He seemed pleased.

“I’ll give you two hundred dollars if I can put my hand between your legs.”

Two hundred?

“For fifteen seconds?” I asked.

“For as long as it takes.”

Josh grabbed my ass with one hand and struck two of his fingers into the heart of my skirt candy with the other.  He looked deep, deep into my eyes as he began to rub back and forth through my wetness.  Immediately, I started to feel the waves of pleasure rise up through my vagina, filling my abdomen and engorging my breasts and nipples.  My breath began to quicken and get very noisy.  I knew I was about to cum but, the way his eyes were boring into me, I felt shy about doing it.  Well, it turns out, I really didn’t have much choice.  The next thing I knew I was spasming like someone had stuffed an electric eel up my twat.  The only thing keeping me from crashing to the floor in my orgasmic gyrations was Josh’s hand holding on hard to the crack of my ass.  I felt ashamed as I moaned and screamed right into his ear but I couldn’t help it, the climax was that overwhelming. 

When I finally calmed down, he released me from my butt bondage and I stood in front of him on very unstready legs.  Again he kissed me on the forehead.  Then he zipped up his pants and said he’d let himself out.

I shut the shop for the rest of the day and had a little cry. 

The next week, I got this huge bill I wasn’t expecting.  As you have probably glommed by now, I’m not much of a business woman.  This was desperate.  I was going to lose the store and my life savings.  I was going to end up doing in bowery phone booths what I’d just been doing in my stockroom. 

Ding-A-Ling.  There he was.  Now I was even more nervous than usual as he approached the counter.

I dispensed with my usually greeting and got right to the point.  “I need 7,500 dollars.”

“That’s a lot of money.”

“I am totally aware of that.  You can do anything you want to me, short of sawing through my neck, for as long as you want.  Just name your terms.”

“I want you to talk off all your clothes.”

Baby, I couldn’t get them off fast enough.

“Bend over your desk.”

I was there and ready to cheerfully receive whatever came my way.

He placed a big wad of bills next to my squished up tits.  (Where did he get all this money from?)  “Now I’m going to fuck you up the ass and you’re going to answer any question I ask you with complete honesty.”

Yikes!  Actually the ass fucking sounded less challenging than answering questions.  What was he so curious about that it couldn’t wait till after he’d finished sodomizing me?  I held my butt cheeks open while he smeared my tiniest hole with about half a jar of K-Y.  When he’d finished administering the oils of easy entry, he told me he wanted to tie my hands behind my back.

“Sure,” I heard my self reply.  In for a penny, in for a pounding.

First one finger.  Sloop.  Then two.  Slooooop.  As uncomfortable as it is to get digitally violated “back there”, it’s a picnic with strawberries compared to accommodating “the guest of honor.”  To his credit, the pain was fairly minimal as the bulbous head of his trouser turnip finally slipped past my circular doorway and started making its way up the canal. 

Oof.  Oof.  He drove his family-sized pecker into me and it felt like I had a damn pirate cannon jammed up my rectum.

“Hold old are you?” he asked.

“45. Oof!”

“How much do you weigh?”

“115. Oof!”

He slapped my butt cheek really hard.

“How much do you weigh?”

“123.  Oof!  Oof!”

Then he got into all sorts of questions about men I’d slept with and my ex-husband and he just kept slamming away.

“How many children do you have?”

“One.”

Slaaap.

“Ow!  Two.  Oof.  Well, one really, oof! but I had to give one up for adoption.  Oof!  Oof!”

“Was his name Sam?”

“Oooof!!”  Man, he blasted it into me hard and deep.  “How did you know that?”

“Because my name is Sam.

WHATTTT!!!!????   I’m surprised the horrified tightening of my sphincter didn’t slice his dick off at the root.  That extra rectal snugness must have had an effect because ‘Sam” started making these unwell-alien noises and pumping his closely-related cum inside me like the BP oil spill.

This was a woman’s worst nightmare and yet my hands were tied so all I could do was anally swallow every last drop of his spunk gusher.  When my colon clobbering finally ceased and his incestuous instrument began to shrink, I didn’t move and I didn’t talk.  I just lay there with a giant load of my own son’s wham jam inside my throbbing asshole.

I heard him zip up his pants, behind me.  “I’ll let myself out.”

And then he was gone.

I had to sneak next door and ask the Notary Public, safety-deposit-box guy to untie me.  And that was only the second worst-most-embarrassing thing that had happened to me that afternoon!

So, I saved the store but committed an unspeakable societal abomination while I was doing it.   Every time I gingerly sat down for the next week, I was reminded of the foul act I had been apart of.  But then I would start to play with myself and wonder if Sam had any more money left and what he would want me to do for it.

Am I a bad mommy?

Copyright Lauren McAllister 2022

book number one

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