Author: Landon Dixon
I pulled up to the curb in front of the lingerie store, turned off the car, and took a deep breath. It was only a routine sales stop – to drop off the latest line of lingerie my company was peddling – but this time I’d resolved to finally make a play for Gillian, the busty babe who ran the small store. I’d tried to strike up a rapport with her in the past, but had always gotten the cold shoulder instead of the hot breast.
I got out of the car, pulled an assortment of thongs, push-up bras, teddies, and other erotic bedroom garments out of the trunk, and determinedly pushed the door to the store open. A bell rang overhead, announcing my arrival, and the start, and end, of my mission. Gillian wasn’t there!
“Hi,” I said dejectedly, to the young woman at the cash register. I knew that Gillian’s store wasn’t big enough for two people to ever be working there at once.
“Hi back at you,” the girl said, smiling.
The store was empty of customers, which wasn’t unusual for a Monday morning. I walked up to the girl and was about to enquire about my over-ripe Gillian when it finally hit me that the young woman was also gorgeous. It usually took me less than a tenth of a second to pick up on that sort of thing. Thoughts of Gillian faded away like the morning mist – replaced by the soft, hot reality of the sales clerk.
She was maybe twenty. Maybe. And she had long, brown, silky hair that shone under the fluorescent lights. Her eyes were brown, as well, while her lips were red and full and wet-looking. Her skin was the color of creamed coffee, and she looked like she had some Spanish blood in her. But what really put the wind back in my sails was her burgeoning bosom. If I knew my bra sizes – and being in the women’s frilly underwear business, I knew my bra sizes – she was a 38 DD, at least. But she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her huge tits were loosely and barely covered by a light green halter top that spelled cleavage with capital letters and a couple of exclamation points.
She looked at the stuff I’d forgot I was carrying and asked, “Are you Mark Hull, by any chance?”
I stared at her overfull, brown tits and nodded vaguely. “Uh, yeah. That’s me. How’d you know?”
She laughed. “Gillian told me that you’d be stopping by this morning. I’m Francesca.”
I gave my head a shake and reluctantly raised my eyes to hers. “Oh, hi, Francesca,” I mumbled. “Um, should I just leave this stuff with you, then?” I held up the lingerie and shrugged.
“Aren’t you supposed to gimme a sales pitch or something?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess so. Sure.” I cleared my throat. “Well, we’ve got some new-“
“Not here,” she interrupted. “In back. You can set all of that junk down in the storage room and give your arms a rest. Okay? I’ll show you.” She bounded out from behind the cash register and bounced off towards the rear of the store.
It wasn’t the store’s rear that interested me at that moment, however, it was Francesca’s. Her big, round butt cheeks jiggled playfully within the thin, tan confines of her stretch pants. The girl was an absolute knock-out coming and going. I kept my astonished eyes glued to her trembling ass as I stumbled after her.
We ended up together in a tiny storage room that was the conclusion to a short hallway which veered off to the right at the back of the store.
“Just put your stuff on the counter,” Francesca said, indicating with her small hand about a square foot of space that wasn’t cluttered with sexy underwear and sales slips, on the counter that ran the length of one side of the narrow room. Lingerie on hangars formed the opposite side of the room. It was a tight squeeze – like the golden space between Francesca’s dewy, young breasts where my cock would just barely fit.
I felt the blood flowing from my head to my crotch as my thoughts turned decidedly un-business-like. I set the articles of unclothing down and turned around to find myself bumper to bumper with Francesca. She had the clear advantage in size. “Not much room in here, is there?” I said softly, again ogling the girl’s burnished breasts.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she mused, coyly placing a finger against her pouty lips. “I think the room is just about right.”
I smiled uncertainly, then sighed and mentally squared everything away for my sales pitch. But before I could bore her with that, she stood up on her tip-toes and kissed me on the mouth.
My cock made a frantic jump to fullness inside of my pants, helped in no small measure by Francesca’s warm hand pressing against it. I gulped in surprise. Everything seemed to suddenly get hot and heavy and humid, and time slowed down to a crawl, and the world shrunk down to just me and the Latina hottie in the storage room in the rear of the empty lingerie store. I squeezed her body against mine, ground my lips into hers, and thanked my lucky stars that had aligned in such a way as to keep Gillian away from work and put me on a collision course with the hot-blooded Francesca.
She broke the vacuum seal on our mouths and I was left gasping. “Let’s make some more room for ourselves,” she said matter-of-factly. Drop-dead fuckable, and practical to boot. What a girl!
She reached past me and brushed aside the seduction-wear and the sales receipts that littered the counter and jumped aboard. She perched on the edge and held out her arms. I hastily and happily re-entered her airspace and felt her tongue lick my lips, then plunge into my open mouth. I met its wet-lightning heat with my own nipple-licker, and our tongues fought a ferocious battle that seemed to go on forever, ending in a win-win situation for everyone.
“Stick out your tongue,” she said, her breath hot against my face, her body even hotter in my arms.
I stuck out my tongue.
She latched onto my slimy pleasure tool with her ruby lips and frantically sucked up and down its slippery length – like it was a cock just pulled dripping out of her steaming pussy. The heat and perfume from her body clogged my mental gears, and her passionate tongue-sucking snapped the tendons that held my body together and left me limp – in all but one important area. She might be young, but she sure as salsa knew what she was doing.
I gathered my strength and my hands sprang into action and found her tits. I began squeezing and kneading those luscious, shirt-splitting melons; gently at first, then more and more roughly. She liked it rough. I stuck my hands inside of her top and felt the hot, over-full nakedness of her brown bosom. She moaned into my mouth when I tweaked her engorged nipples, and her moan traveled down my spine like an electric shock and set my cock on fire.
“suck my tits, big man!” she hissed into my open mouth. Her eyes blazed, her nostrils flared, and her chest heaved with uncontrolled lust. She was a girl who knew how to handle her tits, and, in turn, demanded that they be handled. She shoved aside the thin cords that held her top aloft, exposing her overflowing treasure chest, and then placed her hands behind her, leaned back, and arched her back and offered up her big, bronze tits to the fiery sacrifice of my hungry mouth.
Had my mouth not been sucked dry, I would’ve drooled. Her breasts were even better out of the package – impossibly full and heavy, her nipples long and thick and chocolate-brown, her aureoles a good two inches in diameter. I swallowed hard and my throat clicked, and then I bent my head down and stuck out my tongue in prelude to licking her-
“What’s going on here!?”
I almost swallowed my tongue in my haste to suck it back into my mouth. I jerked my tit-bound head to the left and there stood Gillian. She was staring angrily at us.
“Get back to the cash register, Francesca!” she ordered.
Francesca pushed me aside, refastened her top on the fly, and ran out of the storeroom, leaving me to face the wrath of Gillian alone.
“I don’t think that our marketing agreement includes anything about you fondling my staff, does it Mr. Hull!?” she demanded.
My tongue was a slab of wood in my mouth.
She advanced into the room and said, “I always test out any new products before my staff does, anyway.”
I stared at her, disbelieving, when she looked me square in the eye and began to slowly unbutton her stretched-to-the-max silvery, silk blouse. “I-I-I …” I stammered.
“You’ve sampled one of my store’s products, Mark,” she said. “Now let’s see what you think about a slightly different model.”
I nodded dumbly as she finished with the buttons and pulled her blouse open and pushed it off her shoulders. It swished to the floor, forgotten. Her enormous tits were cupped by a black lace bra similar to the ones I had brought to her earlier in the year. Her skin was ivory in contrast to the heavy-duty tit-holder, and her massive chest was heaving up and down with excitement. Her fingers shook as she unhooked her short, black skirt, wiggled her hips, and let the hanky-sized garment puddle at her feet. She was wearing a black thong over her nether regions. She lifted her stiletto heels out of the inert skirt and stood proudly in front of me like a statue of Venus come to life.
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