Speaker 1: My name is Clara. I work at a generic home
goods store. Its soul crushingly dull tonight. My shift was
ending the last customer, a guy named Leo. I'd learned
that when I processed his card for a set of towels,
was lingering by the lighting fixtures. He was tall, built
like he didn't just sit at a desk with eyes
that held a tired, amused spark. The final sweep announcement
had echoed through the empty aisles. He didn't move. I
walked over. We're closed, I said, But my tone wasn't managerial.
It was a question. He looked at me, a slow
smile forming, sorry, just browsing. There's nothing to browse. Everything
thing was priced and boring. I stepped closer. The air
between us changed. You should leave, I should, he agreed,
but he didn't. My heart hammered. A reckless, hungry idea
bloomed in my mind, fed by months of sterile routine. Or,
I said, my voice dropping, you could stay. That's how
we got to the stockroom, a concrete floored, dimly lit
space of industrial shelving and stacked inventory. The door clicked
shut behind us, the world outside vanished. I didn't wait.
I pushed him against a metal shelf, my hands already
at his belt. His breath hitched, The buckle came undone,
the button popped. I yanked his jeans and boxers down together.
His cock sprang free, already hard, thick, and eager. I
wanted it. I wanted the taste, the weight, the submission
of it. I knelt on the cold floor, no ceremony.
I took him in my mouth, deep and immediate, my
lips ceiling around his shaft. My tongue pressed flat against
the underside, then swirled around the head. I sucked with
a wet, noisy intensity, my cheeks hollowing, salty skin, heat
the pulse of him. I worked him my head, bobbing,
my hands, gripping his thighs to steady myself. I went lower,
taking him until my nose pressed into the coarse hair
at his base. I gagged slightly, deliberately, letting the sound
vibrate through him. Like that, you filthy fuck, I coughed out. Yeah.
He groaned, his hands, finding my head, not guiding, just feeling.
I pulled back, saliva stringing from my lips to his cock.
Lift your legs, I ordered, my voice, husky. He obeyed,
hooking his feet onto a lower shelf bar, exposing himself completely.
I dove back in my mouth found his balls, first,
sucking one, then the other into the wet warmth. I
licked the sensitive skin, trace the ridge, then moved lower.
My tongue pressed against his asshole, a firm circling probe.
The taste was dirty, intimate. He shuddered, a full body
tremor of surprise and pleasure. Christ Clara, I came up
for air, grinning, now you, I said, standing and turning.
I bent over, my hands on another shelf, my ass
presented to him. I like playing with asses, I said.
My skirt was already up. Eat me clean. He didn't hesitate.
His hands were on my hips, pulling my panties aside.
His face pressed into me. His tongue was broad, exploring,
licking me from clit core straight up my shit pipe.
He tasted me deeply, his moans muffled by my flesh.
I arched, pushing back against his mouth, guiding him, use
your teeth a little, I gasped. He did a gentle
scrape that sent a bolt of lightning up my spine.
I was wet, dripping, ready, When I was satisfied, I
turned the boxes, I said, pointing to a palette of
flattened cardboard. I lay down on them. The surface surprisingly firm.
I spread my legs wide, hooked my knees over the edges.
Fill me, balls deep, don't hold back. He was over me,
his cock glistening from my mouth. He positioned himself, the
tip pressing at my entrance. Then he pushed. It was
a single, devastating invasion. He buried himself completely, his pelvis
grinding against mine. The stretch was exquisite, burning fullness that
unlocked a deep, primal ache. I cried out, a raw,
unfiltered sound. Fuck me, I screamed, not caring about echo
in the empty store. Harder. You're not fucking your wife,
You're fucking me, a dirty, kinky cum slut. His rhythm
was punishing, each withdrawal, followed by a slam that drove
the air from my lungs. The cardboard creaked and complained
beneath us. I reached up, tangled my fingers in his hair,
and yanked, pulling his head down. I spat in his face.
A glob of saliva landed on his cheek. You like that,
I snarled, you like my filth, you cunt. He didn't answer.
He fucked me with a renewed animal fury, his eyes
locked on mine. I licked his face where I'd spat,
tasting my own defiance. His thrusts became shorter, deeper, frantic piston,
driving into my core. I felt his body tighten, the
telltale coil of his orgasm fill my cunt deep. I commanded,
my voice, a guttural whisper. I want it all. He obeyed.
His final thrusts were shallow, urgent grinding. He held himself there,
buried as he came. I felt the hot spill inside me,
the pulsing release. His body slumped, his weight, pressing me
into the cardboard. For a moment, there was only panting,
the smell of sex and dust, and the profound stillness
of the after hour store. I lay back, glowing, the
satisfaction of physical warmth radiating from my center. I looked
at him, a lazy, victorious smile on my lips. The
store is closed, I said, want to clean up the
downstairs department before you leave? He smiled and ate my
fucked cunt. Sometimes retail is the best job in the world.
I hoped you enjoyed today's Sexy Story. If you love
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you want to hear. Maybe we can make your dirty
dreams come true. See you soon,