Working in the supermarket was not exactly my dream job. But it was better than being bored at home. And it helped bring in some extra income to supplement Dean’s wages as a builder.
Most of the staff were OK and the store manager wasn’t a total dick. But it was Eric, the warehouseman, that I got on with best. In his forties, well-built and not bad looking, Eric was a good laugh and flirted with me outrageously. As time went on, I found reasons to spend more and more time in the stockroom, blatantly flaunting myself in front of him.
As workwear, I deliberately had selected a blue cotton uniform polo shirt that was a size too small, so that it clung tight over my well-endowed chest. And, in line with company policy that mandated black trousers, I had chosen high-stretch cargo pocket skinny leggings, which were taut across my peachy bum. The combination meant I held the older man’s attention as I bent over to collect items of stock from lower shelves, wiggled my bum as I walked, or flirted with my boobs pushed out and fluttering my long false eyelashes.
On my second visit to the warehouse that morning, I heard Eric and one of the other men laughing and chatting away. It soon became apparent I was the topic of conversation. Staying hidden behind some shelving, a thrill of excitement ran through me whilst I listened to Eric describe me as “fit.” When his friend intimated that I was, “definitely up for it,” Eric confirmed that he, “would give her one.” The sense of arousal was immediate. My attraction to Eric had been growing with the increasingly open flirting. Whilst it might have been wrong for a newly married woman to be quite so ready to shag another bloke, the reality is I just love sex. Always have, as lots of blokes around here know from personal experience. And with Dean having been away on a job for a couple of weeks, I was getting more and more horny and frustrated.
Later that day, the store manager asked me to work an evening shift, restocking the shelves. When he explained that someone had gone off sick and he needed a replacement at short notice, I immediately agreed. Staying to work this extra shift meant Eric and I would be the only two in the store once the others had left.
When the store had closed and the rest of the staff had departed, I took myself to the toilets. Removing my knickers, I hitched up the leggings so that my labia were visibly outlined against the stretchy material of the crotch. Reapplying make-up and smoothing down the tight-fitting t-shirt, I made my way to the warehouse. My heart was thudding, and I could feel the rush of sexual tension coursing through me.
Eric nodded and smiled when he saw me enter the warehouse. His eyes mentally undressed me, and I flirted with him whilst collecting boxes of stock. Deliberately positioning myself in full view, I slowly bent over to pick up something from a low shelf under a packing bench; my pert bum and prominent vulva outlined against the taut material of the leggings. I held the pose for far longer than necessary, conscious of his slow, heavy breathing in the silence of the cavernous space.
“I think this box is wedged in, Eric,” I sighed, looking over my shoulder at the older man, whose attention was firmly fixed on my shapely arse and obvious camel toe. I smiled inwardly, seeing the lustful expression on his face and a slight stirring in his groin.
“Is that so?” Eric murmured, clearing his throat and moving towards me. “Seems it’s not the only box that’s wedged in tight,” he continued in a tight voice, standing close behind me and cupping my mound in one large hand.
“I think we might need a special tool to help with that,” I whispered, turning and sinking onto my knees. “Have you got a special tool, Eric?” I continued, looking up with a plucked eyebrow raised and running a fake nail over the growing tent in his trousers.
“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Eric growled, unbuckling his belt and indicating for me to get to work. Biting my lip, I undid the button on the waistband, unzipped the trousers, and tugged them down. The warehouseman groaned softly as I raked false nails back up the flesh of his thighs and over his pelvis, before taking hold of the waistband of his briefs and peeling them down. Freed from the confines of the tight-fitting cotton, his angry-looking cock sprang free in front of my face.
“Looks about the right size for the job,” I winked, eyes alight with delight at the size and weight of his member, “just need to get it ready, don’t we?” I smiled, closing fingers around the veiny girth. Dropping my head, I took a hairy ball into the nest of my warm mouth, whilst beginning to slowly but firmly tug his throbbing cock.
“Fuck me, you really are a filthy slag like everyone says you are,” the older man moaned, watching me take each of his heavy balls between my plump red lips and roll them around in my mouth, whilst working his rock-hard shaft with my fist.
Releasing his ball with a satisfying plop, I continued to masturbate the warehouseman. “Why don’t you fuck me like one, old man?” I pouted, running my fake nails over his hairy sack and along the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. His cock twitched, its heat and pulse radiating through the palm of my small hand.
“On your feet,” Eric growled, guiding me towards the metal packing bench. Yanking the stretchy leggings so violently that my peachy bum juddered, the warehouseman tugged them down around my ankles in one swift motion. Peeling my t-shirt up to expose my push-up bra, he pushed my trainers apart with his boots, and the leggings stretched like a bowstring across my ankles.
“Might have guessed you wouldn’t be wearing any knickers,” he grunted, running his fingers over my shaven mound. Then, placing the palm of his hand on the back of my head, he folded me forward and down onto the narrow packing bench. Legs spread wide, arse in the air, and balanced on my slip-resistant trainers, I felt Eric’s hands rest on my exposed buttocks and his breathing loud in my ear.
I let out a squeal of delighted shock when Eric’s hand suddenly came down hard on the soft flesh of my round bum. “Oh, you like that, do you?” the warehouseman chuckled, taking my reaction as licence to land a series of stinging smacks on my rippling buttocks. My nods and squeals encouraged him to continue the assault, until my bum was red and burning to his touch, and I was reduced to a horny, submissive mess.
“Little prick teasing tart,” Eric grunted, slowly running his glans up and down the puffy lips of my soaking labia; watching me almost beside myself in anticipation, letting out desperate whimpers and pressing myself back against his cock. “Just gagging for cock, aren’t you, Bianca,” he chuckled, teasing along my quim and making me bang my little fists on the metal workbench in frustration.
“That’s what I need,” I hissed when his helmet finally parted the folds of my puffy labia and plunged into my sopping fanny. “I love being stretched by an older bloke’s dick,” I moaned, feeling the muscles of my tunnel distend and shape around his cock as he bottomed out inside me. Fingers curled around the edge of the packing bench, I sobbed as Eric slowly drew back and then drove himself against my cervix.
“Oh, fuck, yes,” I whimpered, eyes widening and mouth open in shock when, cock buried to the hilt inside me, Eric plunged a thumb through my anal ring. I was completely at his mercy and loving it.
His heavy balls slapping the base of my mound, pelvis crashing loudly against the yielding flesh of my buttocks, and a thumb up my arse, Eric ploughed me. Pinned down and being used like a toy by the older man, I was letting out anguished cries in time with each thumping invasion of my womb.
“Cum on my cock, Bianca, you fucking slut,” the warehouseman grunted; thumb working my anus, and his other hand pressing my head hard against the cold metal of the packing bench, he plunged his cock deep inside me with each determined crash of his hips into my quivering backside. I was whimpering incoherently now, almost beside myself as the climax threatened to engulf me.
“I cumming, Eric; oh my God, Eric, I’m cumming,” I screamed in high-pitched release; losing myself, my juices releasing all over the thick muscle that was pounding my distended tunnel, I twitched and convulsed as the orgasm ripped through my body.
As the feeling subsided, Eric kept me pinned, spent and trembling, on the bench top. His chest heaving and his breath heavy, he slid out from my sopping labia and removed his thumb. Hand firm on my head, he nudged his cock between my pert cheeks, lubricating my anus with my own juices.
Fingers gripping the edge of the packing bench, I tensed, feeling the tip of his member press against my sphincter. “Good girl,” he acknowledged, hearing me wince as he punctured the seal of my anal ring with the domed helmet. The initial wince became an anguished wail when he plunged his rampant cock deep into my anus, stretching and filling my tight back passage with his throbbing meat.
“You like it up the arse, then,” Eric grunted, listening to me sob with painful pleasure; his fingers digging into the flesh of my round buttocks for purchase, whilst he drove his manhood repeatedly into my anal cavity.
“Fucking love it,” I hissed, feeling the burn as his thick girth distended and deformed the tight muscles of my anus.
“Do it - cum in my arse, old man,” I goaded, feeling his cock swelling inside me; my high voice carrying over his ragged breathing and the slap-slap-slap of his pelvis and balls against my buttocks.
“Nasty little cow,” he groaned, fingernails gouging the downy skin on my buttocks as he slammed hard into me and held himself there, unleashing ropes of his seed deep into my bowels. The warehouseman kept me pinned to the bench until he had completely unloaded himself inside me.
Finally, releasing my head, he slipped from my distended anus and wiped his cock across my buttocks. “Back to work; you don’t get paid to lounge around during work time, young lady.” He chuckled, pulling the skinny leggings back up and giving my arse a firm slap.
“No rest for the wicked,” I sighed, taking hold of a cage full of stock and pushing it towards the door. I could feel the sticky dampness soaking into the stretchy material of the leggings as I walked. “Mind you, I could get used to the fringe benefits of these night shifts.” I winked, blowing him a kiss and disappearing back onto the shop floor.
