Night shift at the Sexshop

Give bitcoind 12 - Night shift at the SexshopI don’t like late shifts… and I don’t like a night shift. But what else can I do if the customers insist. There are department stores where I can’t deliver decent work in the hustle and bustle of the walk-in customers. I have to work late at night, and that can take half the night. I was already known as a good decorator. And I prefer to design such a sex shop alone rather than under the eyes of the mostly male clientele.

The atmosphere in these abandoned, semi-dark rooms excited me. Not that I am prudish or even uptight, I knew one or the other erotic market already from the inside as a curious customer, but here in this quiet, empty exhibition space of human desire the offered sex toys and lingerie had a different effect on me.

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Sex Shop Saleswoman

The more I worked with the accessories, the more I felt like trying them out or putting them on. But when I wanted to finish, I had to hurry. All too well I could imagine what was going on in the closed video booths or behind the curtains of the peep shows. My fantasy was somersaulting and my little head cinema turned everything into moving, lively pictures. How can you work sensibly?

The sales rooms were finished quickly than I had planned, and so I set to work on the heart of my job: the large shop window. The client had designed an illustrative decoration to boost his sales of dildos, plugs and above all strap-ons.

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In the middle of the shop window, which fortunately was covered from the inside with an opaque cloth against onlookers, stood a large bed with a heavy cast iron frame. The dainty girl doll in her almost transparent lingerie was quickly retired and pushed into the right position so that I could get to the mannequin standing in front of the bed.

Here I could leave for the first time with this order a fantasy free run. Since the dolly was blond in the crib, I used here a black wig. I wanted to give her at least a somewhat masculine touch. Whereby the Highheels, the elegantly graceful figure and her breasts shimmering out under the lingerie let her immediately recognize as a female model doll.

Then only the most important thing for the design was missing: the strap-on.

Carefully I lifted up the packaging and started to unpack. I don’t want to say that I had pre-Christmas feelings, but there wasn’t much missing. My heart was beating up to my neck. After all, I had already seen it on the picture of the packaging. “Didi, the little helper” – stood there in colourful letters. But what then lay there in the box open in front of me let me hold my breath. – not of small.

A splendid piece of a male member lay there bedded in the soft fleece. Not such a frightening monster as the dildos on the shelves, but not as small as some I knew. Hold such a real handful, or even almost two handfuls. So one behind the other I mean, two hand wide, where the acorn still looks cheeky and cheeky out in front. Almost reverently I reached into the box and took it out.

Not only did the lout look almost deceptively real, he even felt that way. Wonderfully velvety soft, extremely warm for a foamy plastic, yet very soft and supple. The Lümmel comes very close to the human skin in softness and elasticity. I know what I am talking about.

Fine, curved veins stretched over the entire length of the shaft and the bright glans, completely exposed by the artificial foreskin, shimmered almost wet in the pale light of my assembly headlights. Almost as wet as I felt.

The phallus tip jutted out and pointed promisingly directly at me.

In admiration I turned it in my hand and marvelled at the individual contours of the glans and the shaft. There was a true master at work, it went immediately through my head. It wasn’t just a lifeless straight plastic dildo, it was a masterpiece of the art of craftsmanship, which I knew only from the richly facetted porcelain masterpieces of the past centuries with their filigree nuances.

Three finely curved veins were slightly spiralling along the entire length, giving it a larger diameter not only optically. In addition there was a muscle strand on the underside, how should I describe it correctly. Yes, I think this is the right expression for it. A muscle strand which, like the blood vessels, stretched from the base of the scrotum to the bulge of the glans on the uvula. His diameter alone made me shudder, but with these veins at the top and sides of the shaft and the mighty muscle strand below, he seemed quite powerful in the right light.

In addition, these elaborately made depressions on the veins and the slightly thicker muscle gave him a human-looking charisma. Michelangelo could not have done better with his statues in his best years. He had managed to breathe life into his works of art, but this part lived. Because these depressions were not firmly cast on the shaft, they were movable.

Yes, they moved when I drove my flat hand over the shaft. Lightly in time always with back and forth, as in real life. What a feeling must it be to be delighted by such a masterpiece of erotic art?

The church tower clock tore my mind off that. Already midnight, I thought at the 12th chime. But now let’s go. With two or three hand movements I put the strap-on on the mannequin in front of me and strapped it tight. Then I kneeled down in front of it to adjust it a bit.

Only now I noticed that HE was also slightly bent upwards. This immediately reminded me of my last friend, as well as the kneeling position I had just taken. He loved it when I kneeled in front of him, stroked him and he almost begged him to finally put it in his mouth… laugh.

Carefully I took the didi in my hand and let her glide up and down evenly. Shit, that felt awesome. With me only the lips were dry and so I moistened them again and again with the tip of the tongue. I feel the bumps on the shaft and imagine me again what they probably everything deep in me to be able to release during.

With pleasure I let my hand glide up and down, press the glans together tenderly, as I had always done with my friend, and then let them slowly slide out between thumb and index finger. When I Paul the first time so spoiled inject me his little friend but the same time cheeky over the fingers … grins.

Then my fingers glide slowly to the bottom, look for the suppository and glide then only with a fingertip over the bulge of the muscle strand slowly up to the scrotum. Surprised, I held it in my hand and closed my eyes. I still think how deceptively real it feels. If he wasn’t now hanging on a female mannequin, but on a male one – I wouldn’t guarantee anything. But I could paint the doll a moustache, then bend me slowly before….. should I? ….. Should I really?

Warm and soft, it slides into my mouth while I play with one hand on the balls, which slide back and forth as if deceptively real in the small scrotum. What a feeling…. oh, how I missed that.

My last boyfriend loves it when I kneel before him stark naked. He prefers to sit in the corner of the sofa or a wide armchair and spread his thighs. So I kneel between his legs and prepare the staff a little with my warm hands. I stroke the sack with my thumbs every now and then, stimulating the blood circulation a little – as if it wasn’t already stimulated enough.

Afterwards I should stroke only with the tongue, or even better only with the tip of the tongue, over his ribbon below the small head – only always with the tip of the tongue. Then slowly put your mouth over your little head.

No more touching…., he always begs. He prefers it freehand. Do not press down the hard shaft, but leave it in the freestanding position and then take your hands away. He just wants to concentrate on my mouth and my tongue, all other side effects bring him out, he always said – but I won’t let him out anymore…grin.

Now only with slightly tight lips slowly up and down, in addition play with the tongue on the ribbon in the closed mouth….. you can’t believe how fast he stretches out, stiffens his thighs and almost slips off the chair.

Now I have it – now I have it where I wanted it to be….lol

Wax in my hands isn’t shit against it. Now it’s up to me how long I torture him, let him fidget before I allow him the sweetest redemption. All I have to do is look him in the eye – he loves it when I dreamily look him in the eye during the blowjob. And in spite of all the threads here in the forum, he doesn’t care where he can squirt and whether I swallow or not, he just wants to squirt…….. only spray.

Frightened I read Didi glide out of my mouth. What am I doing here? When I jump up, I almost re-stimulate the doll, adjust it again so that the sweet strap-on points exactly to the bed with the blonde, half-naked doll. Now her lingerie pulled a little higher, so that her tiny panties look out and then nothing like home – cold showers… or something.

Carefully I bend over the bed and graze with my hips against “Didi, the little helper”. As if electrified, I automatically reach back and have the magnificent piece in my hand immediately to fit. Also so, without seeing him he felt real……. but so something from REAL.

I don’t remember how I got out of the slobbering dungarees, at any rate it hung on my knees a short time later and I squatted on all fours on the bed and held on to the cast iron lattice frame. It did not bother me also in the least that I lay half on the blonde doll, but differently I did not come with my meanwhile naked, far to the back stretched out bottom to the beautiful Strap-on. Fortunately the doll standing behind me had a very firm stand.

The height fitted exactly, and so the deceptively real touching acorn tip pressed against my wet love lips. With closed eyes I enjoyed the light pressure as I glide him over the whole length between my slightly spread thighs read and almost rode on it without him to introduce equal.

With my right hand gripped from below through my thighs, which were now trembling more and more, I then directed him directly into the centre. A shiver shook my young body as the thick glans touched my bare column. With closed eyes and held breath. Yes also with some panic, I enjoyed the gentle pull as the thick penis slowly split my lips. My twitching pussy let his cock penetrate.

Now I had my hand freely, he had found his place, and could worry me additionally about my itchy pearl. I love to play my pearl while a tight phallus fills me with delight – or is it more like: filled? – no matter, I enjoyed it. Now only with the index finger of the other hand from above around and then up to the first fingertip in my bottom.

Too hastily my finger looked for the back entrance, and even more hastily I pushed it in. Shocked, I jerked together and opened my eyes, and the blow almost hit me: the cloth in front of the big shop window, which the curious glances of the onlookers who were still walking in the lively downtown area at that time, had slowly loosened and threatened to fall down at any moment.

One side was hanging from the famous “silk thread” and was slowly descending, so that the street lighting was already shining into the farthest corner of the shop window. Now it was only a matter of seconds, but what else was left to me: two fingers at the back entrance, hope that the mannequin had a very firm sand and then faster and faster back and forth.

I don’t know what excited me more at that moment, the big Didi in my angel’s gate, the fingers on my bottom or the almost panic fear of being caught so close to the climax. The cold sweat of fear ran down my forehead. Soon – soon…….

Please curtain – hold still. I do not need more long, I did not break much more……….. But he fell – the curtain. Immediately it became really bright in the shop window. I cursed the people of the city who let the street lights burn through the whole night. Anyway, carefully I continued, now only slowly…. very slowly. Always back and forth as if HE would impale me with long, slow bumps. Always a view of the street and the sidewalk.

That was even hornier! Nice and slow he penetrated deep into me, pushed me far apart and almost split me up until his testicles struck me. Then very slowly before, the shaft slipped slowly out of me until only Didi’s little head stuck in me. Now back again, and already he pushed himself between me again and pushed me elastically apart. And always the fear to be caught. Almost like before…laugh. With the boys behind the bushes … laugh.

Now, now…. equal. I am coming…. but wait, someone is coming. A long shadow on the sidewalk fortunately announces the pedestrians beforehand. Motionless I freeze, avoid any movement and become one with the mannequin. Don’t stand still, I thought, my fingers on the pearl must not have noticed that somehow and continued to play cheerfully.

Look only the dolls pop now also already in the shop window display of the sex shop…. <<, I heard only weakly through the window and then they also stopped. >>…. looks really real <<, one of them was babbling and then they went on.

Now everything was all the same to me. With strong shocks I always bounced back and forth. The fear in my neck, always looking for the shadows on the sidewalk. No shadows, I was able to pick up the pace, accelerate the rhythm and finally come to the end I had been waiting for for so long.

Didi deep inside me, one finger on the pearl and one on the back gate.

Deeply relaxed I opened my eyes and I noticed that no long shadows decorated the sidewalk. If I had just missed being caught, I just thought and enjoyed the silence before a thunderous applause broke out. With minutes of standing ovation, the passengers of a Japanese coach celebrated my involuntary performance. They had crept up secretly from the other side of the street – .