'Insufficient Funds, please take your card.'

Sandra bit her bottom lip and tried not to swear in front of the queue that was building behind her at the cash machine. Now what was she going to do?

She was supposed to be meeting her friend Julie for a drink in town, but she only just about had enough money for the bus back home. She texted Julie to let her know she couldn't make it and why, and headed despondently back to the bus station.

About halfway home she rang Julie’s phone, "Hi Julie," she began, "Really sorry about earlier. I thought I had some money in the bank, but--"

"I would have bought you a drink, you silly cow," she cut in.

"I know, but I don't like sponging," she sighed. "You haven't seen any jobs going anywhere have you?"

"Don't you get your allowance still?" she asked.

"No, Dad stopped it when I left school in June. He said he couldn't afford to pay my allowance and pay for my college course."

"Too busy spending money on his new girlfriend, I expect," she quipped, and they both laughed. "Well...there's a job going in town, but I don't know if you'll want it."

"I'd do anything at the moment," Sandra sighed. "I'm skint and my mum's broke as usual."

"Well if your mum would stop drinking for five minutes she might have a few quid," Julie replied angrily, then immediately apologised. 

"I'm sorry, Sandra," she continued more softly, "I know it's not your fault. Look, there's a job going in the newsagents on Filkins Lane, in town, but, be warned, the owner's a right old pervert."

"What do you mean?" Sandra asked. 

"Well, you know Tracey Jones? She was working there until last week, but she left ‘cause he couldn't keep his hands to himself apparently. That's how I know about the job."

Sandra hesitated for a moment. "Well it's still a job. How much was he paying her?"

"I think the money was okay; it's just him that’s the problem. Apparently he's in his sixties and creepy looking, and he wouldn't leave Tracey's bum alone."

Sandra imagined herself in a seedy little shop with an old man groping her bottom while she served leering customers, and squirmed in her seat, rubbing her thighs together as she felt her teenage pussy getting damp.

"Well, if all he's going to do is squeeze my bum every now and again, it doesn't sound too bad." Sandra tried to keep her breathing even as she spoke, but Julie knew her all too well.

"You dirty cow!" she laughed. "You're getting turned on thinking about some old bloke feeling your arse, aren't you? I forget you haven't had a shag in bloody ages. Well just don't let him stick it up you; you don’t want some old codger getting you pregnant. Anyway, I've got to go. The number should be in the phone book. Let me know how you get on."

Sandra put her phone back in her bag and squirmed in her seat some more as she imagined some fat, dirty old man running his pudgy hands over her young bottom. Smiling to herself, she decided to call him as soon as she got home.

*

The minute Sandra arrived back home she rifled through the phone book, found the shop’s contact info and dialled the number.

"Hello, Jackson's," a whiny old voice answered.

"Erm, hi, my name's Sandra. A friend told me you had a job going in your shop?"

"Yes, yes, I have, love. Have you done this sort of work before?" the old man asked.

"Well, no, I've only just left school actually. I’m only sixteen. But I'll work hard."

"I'm sure you will, darling," he chuckled. "I was looking for someone with experience, though. Tell me, how did you hear about the vacancy? I haven't actually advertised it yet."

"Erm, well, my friend told me that someone left last week and that you might be looking for a replacement."

"Oh...right...I see, well, what did she say exactly?" He sounded a little bit nervous, and Sandra smiled to herself.

"Nothing, just that there might be a job going," she lied.

"Ok then...well come tomorrow morning at nine and we'll see how you go, give you a trial for a few days. If I like you, I'll start you on five pounds an hour. How does that sound?”
She told him it sounded great and thanked him before putting the phone down. 

Sandra rubbed her thighs together and imagined his whiny little voice in her ear as his hands roamed across her bum. She decided to dress as sexy as she could for her first day at work and headed upstairs to sort through her wardrobe. It meant she could stay out of her mother's way as well – her mother was already drunk and it was only five o'clock in the afternoon.

*

Sandra woke up next morning, smiling to herself as she recalled the sexy dream she'd had about a group of old men looking up her skirt. Then leapt up out of bed when she remembered where she was supposed to be in about an hour's time.

Diving in and out of the shower as quickly as possible, she put on her sexiest black lacy bra and knickers, then pulled on the short navy blue mini skirt and tight white blouse that she'd picked out the night before. Thinking she'd probably be on her feet all day, she decided to wear trainers, as they'd be more comfortable than heels, which would have probably been too dressy anyway.

She put on a little bit of makeup around the eyes so it wasn't too obvious, and tied her long blonde hair up in pigtails.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she thought she looked quite sexy, but still young and innocent at the same time -- just the sort of look she was after. The blouse was very tight around her boobs. 

"I certainly wasn't a 36DD the last time I wore this," she mumbled to herself then giggled.

Bending forward and looking over her shoulder in the mirror, she could see her skirt ride up just enough to show the bottom half of her bum cheeks and black lacy knickers.

"If I don't get groped today, it will be a fucking miracle," she murmured to herself and smiled, while making a few last minute adjustments.

Grabbing her bag, she ran for the bus and got there just in time. The driver looked straight at her tits when she got on and paid her fare, so she pushed her chest out slightly to give him a bit of a thrill. He went bright red with embarrassment. Stifling a giggle, she moved towards the back of bus and sat down.

At the next stop there was a huge queue of pensioners waiting to get on. She remembered it was market day today and guessed this was their day out for the week. She felt quite sorry for them, and got up to give her seat to an old woman who looked unsteady on her feet. She thanked her and Sandra smiled, reaching for the bar above her head to steady herself when the bus moved off.

The bus was pretty packed now with quite a few people standing. Sandra noticed that she was surrounded by old folk, all in close proximity to her. So when she felt something brush across her taut bottom a few minutes later, she thought nothing of it. But when it happened for a second time, and then a third, a smile spread across her lips. She hadn't seen anyone younger than sixty get on the bus, so it must be some old codger trying to feel her up!

She didn't move, just acted normal, waiting to see what would happen next. A few moments later the hand returned to her bottom, but this time it stayed and moulded itself to the shape of her round buttocks.

The hand was still for a minute or two and it was nice just feeling it there, knowing some old bloke was touching her like that. But then, seeing as she hadn't moved to stop him, the hand began to squeeze and caress her arse. She decided to give him some encouragement. They were nearly in town and would have to get off soon, so she pushed her bum back into his hand, letting him know she liked what he was doing to her.

As soon as she moved, the hand dropped and her heart sank, but then leapt, as she felt it return to cup her buttocks once more. This time though it was underneath her skirt and she stifled a gasp as he groped and squeezed her arse. Trying not to draw attention to herself, she opened her legs slightly when he pushed against her inner thighs. But Sandra couldn't help but gasp and had to pretend she had a cough when his fingers slipped under the elastic of her panties and rubbed along the crease of her young cunt before slipping easily into her wet hole.

Sandra could feel the tingle building in her stomach and wasn't sure if she could stay quiet if she climaxed. Her knees were starting to give already as she felt his bony old fingers sliding in and out of her wet hole and rubbing across her engorged clit. Her hips began to gyrate gently of their own accord, and she pushed herself back onto his fingers as he slipped another one inside her. 

"Oh, God, yes," she sighed to herself.

Just then the bus stopped and people started to move towards the doors. The hand was instantly withdrawn from her knickers and she felt and heard the snap of the elastic as the waistband fell back into place.

Sandra held onto the bar above her as people pushed past to get off, her legs trembling. He was so close to bloody finishing her off, but now she'd been left frustrated.

She glanced out of the window and saw a little old man giving her a toothless grin. He held his fingers to his nose and made a show of sniffing them; Sandra gave him a rueful smile as the bus moved off.

*

The next stop was Filkins Road; Sandra got off and walked the short distance to the shop. It was five to nine, so she had just five minutes to check her clothes and hair before she went in. Pulling her compact from her bag, she gave herself a once over and decided to undo a few buttons on her blouse, just enough so that the old pervert would get a good look at her cleavage and see the edge of her bra.

When she entered the shop, she noted that it was every bit as run down and seedy as how she had envisioned it. She took a deep breath and went in.

"Hello, Mr Jackson. I'm Sandra," she said, smiling at the old man behind the counter.

"Hello, sweetheart," he whined, his wide eyes darting between her tits and thighs, never once looking up at her face. "Call me Les," he beamed, showing two rows of nicotine-stained teeth.

He was every bit as old and pervy as she'd been led to believe. His enormously fat belly stretched his shirt -- which was so out of date it was back in fashion -- to the extreme. His thick glasses magnified his bulging eyes and made them look comically huge as he leered at Sandra’s body.

She shuddered in anticipation as she imagined his dirty hands on her.

"So, where do you want me to start, Les?" she asked sprightly.

He came round from behind the counter and she noticed that he was wearing tatty old carpet slippers and a pair of polyester trousers that were speckled with white stains.

"Come through to the back, Sandra, and I'll show you where everything is." Les shuffled through a grubby bead curtain and Sandra followed him.

"This is the store room, and there's a kitchen just off to the side for eating lunch and making tea." 

Sandra felt his hand on the small of her back as he guided her round. 

"You can put your bag in the cupboard over there, so no one will pinch it. And the toilet is behind that door there." 

His hand began rubbing her back gently and she involuntarily shuddered.

"Oh, I'm sorry, love. I'm a very touchy-feely person and I forget some people don't like it," he smiled nervously, adjusting his glasses and removing his hand from her back, misinterpreting her reaction.

"Oh, no, that's okay. I don't mind you touching me," she laughed equally nervously, her heart racing as she moved slightly closer to him, inviting him to touch her fit body with his gnarled hands.

Sandra smiled to herself as she felt his clammy hand return to her lower back.

"Good...good," he smiled, his face so close to hers she could smell his stale breath.

"I think we'll get on very well, you and I." His voice was oily now and slightly deeper, as Sandra felt his hand creeping slightly lower and resting on the top of her bum.

"What's up there?" she asked, leaning forward slightly as if looking up the dark staircase in the corner, making her skirt ride up her bottom.

"That's…erm, well, that's my flat. I live up there, you see," his breathing now a little ragged and wheezy.

They both stood motionless and silent, looking at each other, and Sandra felt the tension building as his pudgy old hand slipped lower still, almost to the point of cupping a firm globe of her arse cheeks, when the shop bell rang and the moment was lost.

"Bugger," Les muttered under his breath as he shuffled out to the shop.

Sandra breathed again, aware that her nipples were rock hard and visible through the front of her tight-fitting blouse, and that her knickers were now soaking wet. She placed her bag in the cupboard and, as a few more customers had now arrived, went out to the shop to see what needed to be done.

Les asked her to tidy up the magazine shelves on the far side of the shop. "Don't worry about the top shelf, love. They’re the...erm...adult magazines. I can do those if you're embarrassed," he added gallantly.

"It's okay. I don't mind," she smiled. 

He gasped and his glasses steamed up slightly.

The magazine shelves were a mess, so she started at the bottom and worked her way up to the top. Just as she was finishing off the shelf second from top, Les came over and asked if she'd like a cup of tea.

"Oh, yes please. Milk, no sugar, please, Les." She smiled at him again, and he seemed somewhat flattered. She presumed that not many people smiled at Les.

"Sweet enough, eh?" the old man laughed, then Sandra giggled back. "Listen, sweetheart, you don't have to do the top shelf if you don't want. I don't mind," he stressed again.

"Honestly, Les, it's fine," she smiled, picking up copies of Eighteen and Horny and Mature Milfs from the shelf and rearranging them neatly.

Les stood watching her silently, fixated, as she stretched up to reach the top shelf, rearranging the porn magazines with no more concern than if they were copies of Woman's Weekly. After a moment he seemed to remember himself and shuffled off to the back room. She felt her short skirt riding up over her bottom as she reached up to the magazines, and realised he must have had quite an eyeful when he was standing behind her.

Sandra stopped and waited for him to return, for she didn't want to finish off the job before he got back.

A few minutes later she heard his shuffling footsteps approaching and quickly got back to work, making sure she stretched as far as she could up on tiptoes to reach the magazines right at the back of the top shelf.

"I'll put it down here for you, love," Les' voice was a bit wobbly now, and she saw, out of the corner of her eye, that he was looking straight up her skirt as he bent down to place the cup of tea on the floor.

"Thanks, Les," she grunted, reaching further up than she needed to, her skirt now riding half way up her arse.

Then she felt him touch her again, and again she shuddered as she felt his hand gently stroking the small of her back.

"Careful you don't slip, darling," he breathed.

Sandra knelt down to get her tea, momentarily displacing his hand, and when she stood up he'd replaced it, but slightly lower this time.

"How do you like it here so far?" he asked her, his clammy hand moving in small circles at the top of her bum.

"Yeah, it's great," she smiled in between sips of hot tea.

"You think you'd like to stay on then? Do you like working with me?" Les asked, with his eyes fixed on her heaving cleavage.

She felt his hand move gradually lower and lower, across her bum, then she felt her stomach tighten as she gazed admiringly at the fat old man feeling her up.

"Yes, Les, I really like it here," she giggled. "As you said, I'm sure we'll get on well together."

"Oh yeah. Good...good girl," Les whispered as his hand moved down the back of her thigh and then back up and underneath her short skirt.

He squeezed and kneaded her buttocks, his breath quickening, wheezing, pulling her towards him gently, his eyes focused on her tits. Sandra felt the bulge of his enormous belly pressing into her side as he reeled her in, and his hand dropped further down her arse, pushing deeper between her thighs, making her part her legs to give him easier access.

"Oh, you naughty little minx," he whispered excitedly as she felt his fingers pressing the gusset of her knickers against her sopping-wet slit. His other hand shakily reached up and popped another button open on her blouse, revealing more of her soft warm flesh to his gaze, then he growled as he began squeezing and groping at her tits roughly.

"Are you a naughty little girl, Sandra?" the old man whispered.

"Yes, Les, I'm a naughty girl," she gasped, feeling him push her knickers to one side and slip first one chubby finger, then a second into her snug pussy. She arched her back slightly and pushed back onto them to try and entice the invading fingers deeper.

"That's right, sweetie pie. Now be a good girl and undo your bra for me," Les coaxed. 

Sandra put the cup down on the shelf in front of her and reached back to unclasp her bra for him, her hands shaking nervously.

"Oh yes!" he gasped as the bra loosened and she felt his hand move across her plump flesh before twiddling and pinching her nipples.

By now he was fingering Sandra hard and fast, her wet cunt making delicious squelching noises as his fat fingers pistoned in and out of her tight hole. She felt her young body responding and moaned as her knees began to buckle, her orgasm rising with an intensity that took her by surprise.

"That's it, sweetheart. That's right, love, cum for old Les. Come on, darling, let yourself go," Les whispered.

She felt his slimy tongue slither into her ear, smelt his stale breath, as he continued to pinch and tweak her nipples hard, and it pushed her over the edge.

"Oh Les!" Sandra gasped loudly, clinging onto him for dear life, his fingers frigging her cunt hard and fast.

"That's it, darling. Be a good girl. Let’s have a nice big orgasm," he whispered wetly in her ear, pushing his tongue even deeper.

Just then the shop bell rang as a customer came through the door. Luckily they were behind a rack, so he didn't see dirty old Les quickly pulling his hands out of his sixteen-year-old shop assistant's knickers and bra.

"I'll serve him. You go in the back room and wait for me," Les giggled, patting Sandra on the bum as she scurried off holding her blouse together to stop her plump tits falling out.

Sandra was still cumming as she ran across the shop and, by the time she'd reached the back room, she was breathless and trembling all over. She sat on the table in the kitchen, grasping its edge firmly with both hands, trying to calm herself down. She snorted with laughter when she looked down and saw that her tits were hanging out of her blouse, her large brown nipples still hard and distended, angry red marks showing where Les had mauled her tender flesh.

The sound of the bead curtain made her look up, and she smiled when she saw old Les shuffling towards her with a look of lust on his withered face.

"So I've got the job then?" Sandra asked cheekily.

"Oh, yes, love, you've got the job," Les sniggered as he reached down to pinch the zip on his filthy trousers. 

She watched lustfully, mouth watering, as he slowly unzipped himself and pulled out his gnarled old cock. By the time he reached her, he was tugging on it gently, and it was already stiffening.

"My turn now, sweetheart," he gasped.

Sandra reached down and took hold of his cock, dislodging his hand in the process, and began wanking him slowly, pulling the foreskin back tightly and delighting in the warm fishy aroma emanating from his dirty bell end. 

"What do you want, Les?" she breathed, looking him in the eye as his eager hands groped and mauled her naked tits again.

"I want to fuck you, baby," Les groaned. "Please, Sandra, let me fuck you."

Sandra felt so horny she was lost for words, so she just nodded, her breathing ragged, her hips pushing out towards him, inviting him to enter the dribbling crack between her legs. His cock was stiff and thick in her tiny hand, so she let it drop, moving to undo his pants instead. Her free hand roamed over his hairy chest, teasing him, caressing his nipples.

"Hold on," he quavered.

Les stuffed his cock back into his pants and shuffled out to the shop again. Sandra grinned when she saw him changing the sign on the door and locking it.

He came back in and started tugging down his pants. "We won't be disturbed now, Sandra, my love," he panted. "So get your knickers off and bend over the table. There's a good girl."

Shaking with excitement, she was so turned on at this point. Being told what to do by this dirty old pervert was so incredibly erotic. She slipped her knickers down over her thighs, dropped them to the floor and stepped out of them. Then, with a smile, she turned her back on Les and bent over the table top, gasping as her flushed tit flesh came into contact with the cold surface.

She heard the old man behind her, and then felt his hands on her thighs, lifting her skirt up over her hips. "Good girl. You just lie there and think of England. This shouldn’t take long," he panted as he moved closer. She felt his fat belly resting on her back as his hard cock poked and slipped around between her legs.

Then he was in her, grunting and squealing like a stuck pig as he thrust his nasty old cock balls deep into Sandra’s tight sixteen-year-old cunt. Rutting her as though she was a piece of meat, his thighs slapped against her arse, the sound resonating around the room like applause. 

Sandra was shocked by his vigor. Never before had she been fucked with such intensity, such power. Her eyes wide, mouth agape, an unremitting yelp came from her throat each time the old man thrust himself deep inside her snatch. Then the tip of his thumb slipped into her anus, and a shrill scream escaped her as he drove her to the brink once more. 

“That’s right, Sandra,” he panted wheezily. “Put some minge into it. I’m gonna chuck me muck in your fuck hole.” 

He groaned as he drove his cock deep inside her and held it there. She felt his cock pulsing, dribbling thick ejaculate into her young body. His pudgy fingers sank into the flesh of her thighs, his body rigid, his mouth wide open in a soundless gasp.

He collapsed on top of her, his flabby torso pinning her against the table as he panted and dribbled in her ear. Wheezily, he sighed, “That’s a good girl. I haven’t had a fuck like that for forty years, since my wedding night.”

Feeling semen trickling down her thigh, Sandra looked up, startled, as the back door to the shop opened, and in walked another old man, similar to Les but a fair bit older.

“Oh, hello, Derek,” Les said, taking some weight off Sandra’s back. “Sandra, meet Derek, my brother.” Then, turning to Derek, Les said, “Derek, meet Sandra, our new sixteen-year-old fuck toy.”

A dirty leer spread across Derek’s face, and his hand dropped to his zipper. Sandra smiled, eagerly anticipating tasting some geriatric sausage.