Emma under the registers [MF]

When I was younger I worked a few different retail jobs. I worked at a big brand store, then a clothing shop, then s bookstore and finally at an art supply shop. This last job was great, with decent pay, a good staff discount and very little pressure.

It opened early and closed late, and the customers were always interesting (and flirtatious). Most of the time I was on the shop by myself but there was usually a few hours where my shift would overlap with a co-worker. Most of them were decent enough but I had a soft spot for one, let’s call her Emma. Emma was an art student and a lot of fun to be around. She was quite short, with long brunette hair and big breasts that she was never afraid of showing off.

She’d often work in the shop without a bra, something which definitely attracted customers and I had no complaints about. She was still with her high school sweetheart and this was her first job, I was about 6 years older than her at the time, and she’d occasionally make comments about it: particularly about how she’d always found older men attractive.

We’d both flirt a lot but we were both attached. My girlfriend and her boyfriend were both okay with a bit of flirtation so no harm no foul. We worked together for a while, and became pretty close. I didn’t know the term at the time but she was basically a “work wife”.

Over that time the relationship I was in had collapsed into a cycle of break up and make up (unrelated to Emma).

One Tuesday my cross-over shift was with Emma, and it was a rainy day, and slow. We had maybe one customer every half an hour, and it was a big store. We were bored and as usual took to flirting to pass the time. She was wearing a low cut white top, with a (cliche) red necktie and a swishy black skirt that was long but not too long. She was joking, with me joking back, about the implications of her white shirt for her walk home in the rain when a customer came in.

For some reason, when she heard the telltale jingle of the door bell she ducked. The counter was high and crowded and so with a little stooping you were invisible to the customer. She was stifling giggles as I answered their questions, looking up at me from groin height where she crouched.

I struggled to maintain my composure, chiding her jokingly after the customer left and she rose to her full short height. After all, I asked, what was I to think about her on her knees at such a level? Her grin was mischievous.

The next customer arrived and she did the same thing, but began to raise the stakes. I struggled to answer brush questions as she immaturely mimed a cock pressing against her cheek and then looked up through her eyelashes as she licked her lips. She pressed her tits together, bulging them even further out of her shirt and biting her lip both in mimicry of seduction and to stop herself laughing.

I barely had a moment to recover as the rain eased and another few customers came through the door. To keep the “joke” she had to constantly raise the stakes, and as I sold some acrylics she followed one man into the back of the shop to talk about lino cuts and looked back over her shoulder at me to wink and lift her skirt, showing a magnificent ass in a red G-string.

In the next lull I complained that this was all very one-sided, because waving my dick at her would hardly have the same effect. Her reply: “sorry, all I heard was ‘hardly'” didn’t help matters.

I was having a ludicrous amount of guilty fun, and dreaded the impending end of her shift. We were both conscious of the time as the bell chimed and she dropped down again. By this point I’d been attempting (badly) to conceal an erection by leaning against the counter, but I now abandoned this entirely, turning slightly so she could get a full appreciation of the imprint. Her eyes widened in mock surprise. Then, with theatrical exaggeration, she made a visual inspection, looking me over with a hand on her chin like she was considering a maths problem.

One reason I liked the shop was because it felt like we were a bit more appreciated for our expertise, with a lot of customers wanting advice or bringing questions. This was the case now, but I struggled to answer as she shrugged and reached over to put her and fully on the bulge in my pants. I coughed to cover my shock as she rubbed me from shaft to tip and back her gaze directed straight at it with full concentration on her face. It was a struggle, made even more difficult as I reluctantly shifted to the computer, breaking off contact, trying to look up some book. It got worse when she followed me, crawling on the dusty floorboards, escalating to kissing along my cock with red lips leaving small wet marks on the fabric.

I mimed impatience to the customer over rows of journals and miscellany, now actually worried that I’d give the game up, trying to swat Emma away when the customer turned their head. This only increased her vigour as I could feel her saliva soaking through the cloth, mingling with my precum.

It felt like an age, but if the customer noticed they didn’t let on. I was so turned on my face was almost numb, but as the door jingled again and we were alone Emma let off abruptly and crawled out from under the desk. She straightened up, her face flushed and her skirt dusty, and then announced with a posh air that to her great dismay her shift was finished, and she had to be off. I was desperately trying to quell my erection and could respond only with “you’re so evil” as she got up on the tips of her toes, kissed me on the cheek (making sure I felt her stiff nipples through her top) and told me she’d had fun before leaving with a hip swaying walk to the back of the shop.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/q72jbv/emma_under_the_registers_mf