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Sex Shop Bargain

Nicki negotiates a bargain at the sex shop.
Let me introduce myself. My name is Nicki—when I was younger I used to put a little heart instead of a dot over the first ‘I’. But I have kind of grown out of that now. I am about five feet six in stocking feet, and five nine most of the time—I love wearing heels. I have long wavy brown hair and a… curvaceous body; sometimes it’s hard for men to make eye contact with me—they prefer making eye contact with my boobs. But that’s OK.

I live in Brighton, and have since I graduated from university there. I am still just about as penniless as I was as a student; just picking up temp work here and there. My degree just wasn’t good enough to get me a proper graduate job. My own silly fault I suppose. Most of the time I spend horny as hell; I suppose I am obsessed with sex and can never quite get enough. And if this story’s going to start anywhere, I guess it makes sense for it to start there.

I had taken an office job for a couple of weeks in Lewes—just a short train journey from home. Each afternoon, to get home, I have to walk past the local sex shop. And there was this bloke at the office—I had started to get obsessed with him—know what I mean? Any time I let my mind wander I’d be fantasizing about him. You know, broad shouldered, mane of hair, sense of humour, eyes that sparkle and made my knees weaken as I passed his desk. Mmmm.

Anyway, I was thinking about Chris as I walked home from the station, and I was passing the sex shop. “What the hell,” I thought and stepped up to the door. Deep breath and I pushed open the door, my hear pounding. It had one of those electronic buzzer things that goes off when you open a shop door, but this one was mega-loud. It made me jump. Anyway, then I walked on in. I had never been in one of these places before so I had no idea what to expect. I think it was a little more… squalid than I would have liked, and quite in-your-face. I think you know what I mean if you’ve ever been into one.

So part of me is fascinated at everything that was ‘on display.’ Pictures of people doing private things to each other. And… ‘objects’ which might be hidden in your knicker drawer. My eyes flitted from one thing to the next, each one setting my heart beating faster. I don’t know how I looked to the old guy behind the counter, but I must have been a sight.

“All right love?” he asked me, with a smile. At least I think that’s what he said. I think it was only the second time he spoke that it registered.

“Mmmm? Oh! Yes. Fine thanks.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

“Just looking for the moment, thanks.” I glanced over at him and smiled, his eyes were on my chest; then looking down at my legs, undressing me mentally.

“All right love. Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” I realised that I was the only customer and started to look around. Looking across rows of naked copulating bodies on the cover of magazines: oral, anal… all sorts. But the cocks. My goodness, the cocks were big. Much bigger than the ones I’d experienced in real life. I could feel the colour rising in my cheeks, and came to the end of the magazine shelf; round the corner were the DVDs, and they were just as bad. Girls with their faces covered in cum—I mean literally covered in cum. Girls in uniforms, in latex, indoors, outdoors. Row upon row of images, seared into my mind as I looked along the shelves, my heart pounding, my knees feeling weak.

When I turned the corner from the DVDs, I got to the toys section of the shop. Instead of pussies now, it was row upon row of cocks. Such a variety of size and every colour; natural tans and blacks; pinks, silvers, smooth, ribbed, veined. I kept walking along, scanning the shelves my eyes getting wider, my heart thumping in my chest. At some point I must have reached out, in a haze, to touch one of the dildos. It was absolutely enormous, but quite life-like—I mean I guess it was; I had never seen a cock like that in real life. It was maybe a foot long and as thick as my arm; veined and black, with a pair of balls and everything. Anyway, I reached out and touched it in some kind of reverie, not even realising what I was doing. Then he spoke and that broke the spell. “Interesting choice.” he said.

I pulled back my hand like I had been electrocuted, and my face burned red as I blushed. I glanced over at him, and saw him grinning back at me. A real lecher’s grin.

“Are you still just looking?” he asked. I was tongue-tied; embarrassed, I just stood there. But he must have thought I was thinking about his question. I was just about ready to bolt for the door, never to return. “£19.95,” he said.


“That’s how much it is--£19.95.”

“Oh.” I managed, as I realised what he was talking about.

But I guess he thought I was disappointed, or something, because then he said, “But we may be able to do some kind of a… deal,” he gave me his best lecher’s smile. I was still in some kind of out of body state—I had never been in a place like that before, and certainly never seen a cock the size of that one, plastic or flesh; my heart was hammering in my chest and my cheeks burning. At the time I swear I didn’t catch the innuendo implied in his offer of a ‘deal.’

“A deal?” I replied. I smiled--it was supposed to just be a smile, but it came out wrong. I think it must have seemed like a come on to him—it must have done. Because he… well he didn’t suggest any kind of discount. At least not in the… conventional sense.

“Yea,” he said, “Something like that, well, you know, I’d want to know it was going to a good home.” If I thought his smiles had been lecherous, then this one was a doozie. A broad grin that any Cheshire cat would have been proud of. “You know, somewhere it would be… loved.”

I raised my eyebrows—I was trying to fathom, in my addled brain, what on earth he meant. But it dawned on me too late. By the time I realised what he had said, my eyebrows had said to him, ‘tell me baby, tell me what you mean about giving that dildo a good home.’

“So…” he went on. ”Do you think you could?”

“Could…” I managed.

“Could give that big black plastic cock a good home?”

I felt like my knees were about to buckle. Looking back, I can’t decide whether I was already so far gone I didn’t realise what he was implying, or whether I realised, but was too embarrassed to reply. Eventually, I replied, “I… I don’t really know.”

“Mmm.” he replied. “Because, you know.”


“If you were going to give it a good home, I could give you a discount.”

“I see.”

“But you’d have to prove it to me.”

“Prove it?”

He nodded. “Yea. Prove you were going to give it a good home.”

If I had had any sense at all. Any. At all. I would have just left. Just walked out, and down the street and home. But no. No, not me. Oh no, I opened my big mouth: “How would I do that?”

Almost as soon as I said it I started to realise I’d made a mistake. I don’t know if that was the point of no return, or whether it was the moment I entered the shop, or maybe even later…

“It would get lonely if it wasn’t used… So, you show me that you’ll use it, and you can have it… cheap.”


“Well… free, if the proof’s good enough.”

“Free?” I raised my eyebrows again, this time in surprise, but then, as he started talking, I remembered the old adage, ‘There’s no such thing as a free lunch.’ Well, three’s no such thing as a free dildo either.

“Let me watch,” he said. “Let me watch you use that thing, and you can keep it.”

There. There it was. No more innuendo, no more hints, or implications, he had said it. My mouth dropped open, and if I thought my heart was pounding already, it went into overdrive.

I was rooted to the spot, and he started to walk over to me from behind the counter. He glanced down at my boobs again, and smiled. I realised that he must have seen my nipples pushing against the knitted lamb's wool dress I was wearing. I was turned on; turned on by the squalidness, the nastiness of the shop, and the bloke and that gorgeous foot-long black plastic cock. Just as he got to me he reached up to the shelf and took down the dildo; he handed it to me and like an idiot, I took it.

My hands didn’t know what to do; I wanted to drop it and caress it at the same time; my fingertips explored, it, almost like it was a hot potato. What the hell was I going to do now? What the hell?

The loud two-tone blast of sound made me jump—literally. I dropped the dildo and crouched down to find it; and realised that someone else had entered the shop. This was too much—just too much. I found the dildo, thrust it into the hands of the shop assistant, turned on my heel and headed for the exit. “Wait a minute,” called the assistant, but I ignored him. I brushed passed the middle-aged bloke in a classic dirty-old-man overcoat, opened the door and shot out into the sunlight.

I headed for home, still flushed, heart still pounding and, I have to admit, the gusset of my knickers soaking. I was so definitely turned on, but also glad to be out of there. Did that make me a tease? A slut? Both?

It only took me ten minutes to get home—much faster than usual—and my head was full of images. Images of me ‘earning’ that dildo, fantasies of me, seducing Chris at work, my libido working overtime as I tried to think through what had just happened, and what had almost happened. Had it almost happened? Was I just about to slap that guy across the face for his lewd suggestion, or was I just about to earn myself a long black dildo? Would I ever know?

When I got home to my flat, I dropped my coat and bag in one chair and collapsed into the other. I just sat there stunned for a little while as my heart slowed back to a near normal pace. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been quite so turned on, quite so aroused. Eventually, when I had calmed down, I poured myself a glass of wine, turned on the telly and gave myself a quiet moment. The wine relaxed me and, an hour after the whole thing seemed like a bit of a dream.

I called the local Indian and ordered a takeaway; after a second glass of wine I walked over to the Tandoori and collected my dinner. Just as I was leaving, who should be going in, than the guy from the sex shop. I don’t know who was more surprised—him or me. My eyes widened in recognition, and his did the same as he held the door open for me. My heart in my throat, I beat a hasty retreat, walking quickly back to my flat; this time I didn’t hear anything from behind me and ten minutes later I was back in my flat, feet up, shoes off, with a glass of wine in my hand and my dinner on my lap.

The next morning was cold, bright and sunny. A perfect autumn day. When I walked past the shop on my way to the station it was still hours before it would open. I kept my head down and walked quickly past. I caught the train to Lewes and was met at the office by the manager, who seemed surprised to see me. “Oh! Hello Nicki, what are you doing here?”


“Well… I mean… Didn’t you get the message?”

“Sorry, what message?”

“The agency left a message on your answerphone yesterday evening. We’re over budget. We can’t afford to keep you on any longer. I am really sorry.”

The real problem with agency work is that you just don’t know how long it will last. But this was the least notice I had ever had. Problem is, if you want to stay sweet with the agency, you can’t afford to get stroppy.

“Oh,” I said, trying to stay under control. “That’s a shame. I hope this isn’t a reflection on the quality of my work.”

“Not at all. I’d be happy to give you a reference. It’s just… It’s just the money.”

“I see.” The conversation stammered on for a minute, and then there I was, back on the street in Lewes after a wasted journey. I went to a coffee shop to gather my thoughts. Texted the woman at the agency to let her know I had now got the message, and wondered if she had anything else she could offer me. By the time I had finished my coffee, I still hadn’t had anything back from her. I sighed, stood up and made my way back to the station. It was still only 10:30. Days without work drag. They always drag.

There wasn’t a train for ages—apparently, I’d just missed one; It was after 11 before I was coming out of Brighton station, and the wind was picking up. Clouds scudding across the sky. Head down, collar up, I headed for home. Tap tap, tap tap, my heels ticked along the pavement. Only when I was a few feet from the door did I realise I was back outside the shop. The shop. Anyone watching would have seen a hesitation in my walk; but only momentary, until I was well passed the shop. Then I stopped.

I can’t explain why I stopped, but I did. I looked back up the road behind me, back passed the shop; there was no one around. I took a few hesitant steps back, and my heart began to beat faster. Almost like a magnetic affect on my heart as I got closer and closer to the door. Still no one around. What on earth did I expect? What the fuck was I doing? But something, perhaps some unfinished business, was drawing me back to the shop. I stood there with my hand on the door knob, and seconds went by before I finally willed myself to open the door.

Nothing had really changed since the previous day. The same magazines and DVDs staring back at me from the shelves. The same toys, the same dildos; and, when I glanced over to the till, the same shop assistant. And he was smiling over at me. “Hello again," he said.

I gulped, my throat dry, “Hello.”

“Can I help?” I bit my lower lip. I could still go, still run from the shop—although the way my knees were feeling, I might just fall in a heap. “Are you still interested in that… item you were looking at yesterday?”

“I think so… yes.”

He grinned, such a lecherous grin. “Cool. Want to discuss… payment options?”


He chuckled. “I suppose I should take that as a ‘Yes.’”

I didn’t know what I was doing. Stone cold sober, in a sex shop, apparently agreeing to give a sex show to a stranger in exchange for a dildo. Absolutely fucking crazy. ‘Muh Lud, we’d like to enter a plea of temporary insanity. The young lady didn’t know what she was doing.’ Too right I didn’t.

“There’s a room in the back of the shop, with a sofa. Want to take a look?”

My face was blushing crimson, but I managed a single nod. He smiled, and went to the front door, turned a key and then led me into the back room. It was even more squalid than the shop—and that’s saying something. A very old, purple two seater sofa was in the back and had a coat draped over one arm. A couple of dog-eared magazines (you can guess what kind) were lying on the arm.

“We don’t have visitors very often, and the cleaner hasn’t been in a while," he chuckled. “If you were to… you know… with that dildo and let me watch you get yourself off, you’d be welcome to keep it. What do you say?”

I tried to speak, but nothing came out. My cheeks were burning, my knees wobbling and my heart was seriously trying to escape my chest; but most important of all, I could feel my pussy tingling, and there was definitely moisture down there. I was so turned on, I could hardly believe it. “Okay.” I finally managed.

He smiled and nodded--then left the room, went back into the shop and returned with the dildo; it really was as big as I remembered it. He handed it to me; I took it from him while still wearing my coat, and still with my bag over my shoulder. I shrugged my bag off my, and put it on the floor, then juggled the dildo from one hand t the other as I took off my coat. I was wearing the same knitted wool dress as I had the previous day. With my coat off, I held the dildo in one hand and explored it length with my fingertips. I could feel the contours of the veins that ran along its length, the shape of the balls at the base of the shaft, the curve of the exposed helmet.

I was only vaguely aware that shop guy was in the room, standing a few paces from the sofa as I sat down on its arm. In for a penny, in for a pound. I lifted the tip of the dildo to my lips and kissed it. Then let the tip of my tongue slide down its length. I could feel the wetness of my own panties and the throbbing of my clit; I could only imagine how pointy my nipples were through the lamb's wool. I slide the tip of the dildo down over my chin, my throat and onto my chest, pressing it against my breasts, letting it find the deep valley between them, pushing against the wool of my dress, stretching it.

I heard a groan, then realised it was me. I bit my lower lip again, and closed my eyes, sliding the dildo’s head up and down between my breasts. It felt so fucking good, I hardly cared where I was; I could ignore the musky damp smell of the room around me, and focus on the biggest hardest cock I’d ever seen.

One hand still grasped the base of the cock, and thrust it between my aching, tingling tits, the other hand started to slide up and down my leg, feeling the smoothness of my stockings and the softness of my dress. I could feel myself getting hotter and hotter, almost light headed. The hand on my leg slipped under the hem of my dress, slowly lifting it up, letting me touch my thigh higher and higher. I groaned again as my fingertips touched the damp gusset of my knickers; then my nails raked back down my thigh, teasing myself felt so good.

One hand rubbed at my pussy through my knickers, the other now teased at my thigh with the dildo. Letting its tip slow slide up my leg. I started whimpering, eyes still closed. I slid off the arm of the chair and onto the sofa itself, parting my legs, my skirt lifted to my waist. Fingertips pulled my knickers aside and let the dildo brush against my labia, “Oh fuck," I whispered.

I slide the cock head up and down along my slit; no need for any lube, I was so wet… dripping wet. Just a little extra pressure of cock head against pussy and I felt my lips starting to part. I gasped and bit my lip again, slowly sinking the tip of that enormous cock into my dripping cunt. It stretched me so, but I couldn’t have stopped, not if I wanted to. I slid the head back out and in again, gasping again as I felt it slip slightly further inside this time. Out, and in again, now maybe four inches of the fattest cock in the world was stretching my cunny. “Oh Jesus,” I whispered and finally opened my eyes.

I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised my, but, there he was standing with his trousers round his ankles and a hard-on in his hands. Not nearly as big as mine, but sizable and real all the same. Pink glistening and twitching. My eyes went wide and I pushed that dildo deeper into my pussy; but now, I had locked my eyes on his as I started to fuck myself in earnest. With every thrust, I pushed more of that enormous dildo into my dripping snatch. Inch after blessed inch entering me, making me feel as I never have before—wanton, ecstatic, electric.

His eyes were on me as I fucked myself, and his hand started moving up and down his cock faster and faster, “Oh God,” he said, “Oh God!” I think he must have been light-headed too, or maybe just off balance with his trousers round his ankles, but he stumbled and stepped forward, only a foot or so away from my now. One hand was now pushing that dildo’s full length inside me, the plastic balls against my ass cheeks; the other mauling my own breast through my dress; grabbing, teasing, pinching.

His hand was going so fast now, he wasn’t going to last much longer, and the way I was feeling, I didn’t think I could last much longer either. With one final thrust, I felt my world explode, with the room spinning around me as I squealed, screamed and came. Then I felt something splatter against my face and looked over at him to see cum spurting from his cock and hitting my face, my hair my dress. “Fuck!” was all he said as he ejaculated, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I flopped back onto the sofa and licked my lips, tasting the saltiness of his cum; then slowly I withdrew my dildo, feeling a sudden sense of emptiness as my pussy closed behind it. I moaned softly, and lay there for a minute, before slowly coming to my senses. What the hell had I just done? Masturbated in front of a complete stranger in the back room of a sex shop, while he wanked over me. I sat up, and pulled down my skirt, rearranging myself. I reached for my handbag and found a tissue, and cleaned my face up as best I could. I needed a vanity mirror to get at the stuff in my hair, but I even managed that. I dabbed at the stains on my dress, so that at least they just looked like damp patches, not ejaculate.

Meanwhile, he (I still didn’t now his name) had slipped his wet dick back into his trousers and watched me as I tidied up. “That was fucking amazing," he said. “Well worth it.”

I smiled up at him, “I got a little more than we bargained for, you dirty bugger. I don’t know if the stains will ever come out of this dress…”

“Mmmm. Sorry about that. Maybe…” he paused, then smiled. “Hold on a minute.” He went over to a cupboard in a corner and started rummaging through a cardboard box. A few seconds later he returned with an armful of lingerie. “Here. Take these.”

I looked through them—a latex corset, latex stockings and a G-string. “Mmmm. Thanks—but I can hardly wear these for work, can I?”

“I just thought…” he began.

“Well… it’s a nice thought—thanks.” I put the things into my bag, along with the dildo, stood up and smoothed my dress straight. Then I put on my coat and shouldered my bag. “I had better be going.”

“Oh. OK.” I don’t know what he had been expecting, and I suppose, I didn’t know either, but I was feeling pretty awkward now, so I headed for the door, followed by him. I walked through the shop and tried the door, realising that it was still locked.

I unlocked it, turned and smiled, “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye. Hey—I don’t even know your name.” he said.

“I don’t know yours either.” I laughed as the door closed behind me.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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