0 comments/ 21242 views/ 2 favorites Store Dick By: Hubee I am slouching near the front of the store when the radio earphone crackles into life, making me jump. I hear the store manager's voice announce, 'It's "them"!'. Then the radio clicks off I shake my head, as if to get her voice out of my head. After 3 years working with her I still find myself amazed at how much that woman winds me up, how much I dislike her. By now even her voice can annoy me, grating on my nerves. Not as much as she does in person but at the moment, thank the Lord for small mercies, she is up in the office. Obviously watching the security camera screens - and not down on the shop floor with me. But I've got to earn a wage, which means doing what the boss says and putting up with 'Hitler in a Skirt' as most of the staff call her - behind her back, obviously. It isn't her moustache that earns her the nickname – what she has on her upper lips is more 'walrus' than 'toothbrush'. It is her tyrannical micro-management style that gets everyone's backs up. 'I'm on it Boss', I mutter to myself wearily as I straighten up and head for the front of the store. Today I've been ordered to 'blend in', so I am wearing 'plain clothes' instead of my usual cheap, blue, scratchy, nylon uniform. (I remember my employers trying to tell me at the interview that the free uniform was a job benefit. I almost believed them - until I put it on for the first time.) So today I am in jeans and a polo shirt. The couple we are after have made their two previous visits on a Friday and we had been hoping they'd come back this Friday - hence my 'disguise'. I don't normally work Fridays, so I had missed them before. Now it looks like our planning is going to pay off. As I walk I consciously try to change my pace, attempting to look like I am shopping, trying not to look like a store detective. Then I spot them over a rack of sale merchandise. My heart bumps and my pulse rate shoots up. They are not hard to recognise, considering how long I'd spent pouring over the tapes from the security cameras. Especially considering what the tapes had shown them doing in the store on their previous visits. I stop to examine some clothing on a table, fingering the price tag, pretending I am interested. If someone had asked me afterwards I doubt I could have told them what I looked at, not even if it was clothing for men or women. All I am focused on is 'them'. OK, if you pressed me, I would confess that all I am really interested in is her. I look up and see they are walking straight towards me. Watching the tapes I had been struck by several things about these two. Now, in person as it were, I notice again many of the big 'give-aways' that tell me they aren't really here for the sale. For a start the couple are much better dressed than our average customers. I give the woman a quick glance up and down as she walks towards me. Experience has given me the ability to take the measure of a suspect in a second - from just a glance I take in the black shoes, obviously good quality. Shiny, flesh coloured tights or stockings - on great legs. (I am pretty sure that they aren't tights, based on the evidence from the tapes, but I play my guessing game through to the end, the way I usually do) The denim skirt is not too short – a couple of inches above the knees; but a can tell it is a designer brand. A black silk scarf is draped over her shoulders, covering a shimmery black blouse. In summary they look like 'class', which I am unaccustomed to in this store They are also slimmer, taller – generally just much better looking than our normal clientele - if I am honest. This store is a 'pile it high and sell it cheap' sort of place and these two look out of place. Everything about them makes them stand out amongst our target demographic, good skin, good clothes. So why are they here if they aren't shopping? I know why - and I have been ordered to stop them. The two of them draw closer to me, walking up the aisle I am in. I am still staring, taking in all the details. She must have noticed me looking, perhaps misinterpreting my interest. (or perhaps she doesn't misinterpret it?) Whatever the case, she smiles directly at me. I feel dazzled, but make a note to myself to add 'good teeth' to my mental list of 'differences'. Then, as she holds my gaze, casually, acting as if it is accidental, she twitches aside the scarf. This reveals a prefect view of a perfect, braless breast, topped by a hard nipple - poking through the flimsy material of her blouse. Then she drops her gaze and no doubt notices that I have noticed. The tent in my trousers is a bit of a give - help by a tent pole of cock. She brushes past me, followed by her husband. I inhale and catch a hint of a luscious perfume. After a moment - which seems like 15 minutes - I exhale. I try to get my mind back on the job, but I can't help turning to get a rear view. Her arse is wiggling deliciously, as if she expects me (everyone?) to be looking. There is deep slit in the back of her skirt and as she walks I catch a flash of lacy stocking top. It is now going to take longer than I thought to regain my composure and focus on the job in hand. I wait till my erection becomes a little less noticeable and continue towards the front doors. Then I double back, not wanting to look as if I am following them. I want to take up my position by the dressing rooms. The evidence of the security camera tapes showed that this was where the action would take place. As far as the store manager was concerned this is where the 'crime' would occur. I approach the dressing rooms and can't stop the professional part of my mind reviewing the arrangements. This shop has a seemingly cheap arrangement - in keeping with its stock (and its customers) Cubicles with curtains on rings and rails line the back of the store. A junior member of staff sits at a table and checks how many items the customers takes into the 'dressing room', writes down the number and issues a tag. When they come out, the girl makes sure the same number of items comes out with them. We don't want anyone wearing our stock home without paying for it. Changing areas are the worst areas for stock loss and this system is meant to cut it down. It might look like a simple system to a shop-lifter, but we have a couple of surprises for those who are after 'five finger discounts'. Each cubicle has a well hidden camera and shoppers can be watched on screens in the upstairs office – something the store manager seems to spend way too much time doing. Outside the dressing rooms is the area I call 'Sad City', because it is where the husbands and boyfriends wait whilst their partners try on the clothes. I've read that some up-market stores have couches, magazines and even coffee machines in these areas - but not this place. Just a couple of hard plastic chairs that are quickly occupied, leaving the other men to wander around with hang-dog, faintly embarrassed expressions – waiting for the wife to come out and say, 'what do you think? How do I look?' I don't know why they ask. Every man answers as enthusiastically as if Keira Knightley was asking him how she looks in stockings and a basque - when in fact all he wants to do is get out of this female created Hell as soon as possible. But outside the changing rooms is also a great place to get an overall view of the store. I take up my usual position - beside the entrance to the stockroom - and try to look like a husband waiting for his wife - but watching the 'targets' at the same time. I see them wander into the shoe section and start studying the stock. I watch her brush off the attentions of one female member of staff, before smiling at Danny. I know that Danny is about 18, working in the store during the summer before going off to study medicine and that he is quite shy. Shy, despite being a good looking lad who gets the Saturday girls all in a lather with his tall, broad-shouldered frame and fashionable floppy haircut. She points out several shoes she wants to try on. Something tells me Danny Boy is about to get a head start on his gynaecological studies. From where I am standing I see her sit down, with her back to me. The husband is hovering in front of her when Danny returns, laden with shoeboxes. I watch him kneel and take the lid off the first box, offering the shoe to his 'customer'. I can't see her lift her leg but I know exactly when she does - because Danny's jaw drops and his mouth opens into a perfect 'O' of astonishment. Even though I have been expecting it I can barely stop myself from laughing. His mouth is so wide open I am fairly confident I could lob a tennis ball in without difficulty, even from 20 feet away. Danny looks as if he is frozen, so she takes the shoe from his unresponsive hand and slips it on. She shakes her head and passes it back, pointing at another box. Danny finally manages to regain some degree of control, shaking his head as if he has been stunned by a blow. He even gets his mouth half-way closed before she extends a long leg for the next shoe - and gets pole-axed all over again. Then he suddenly stands up, grabs some of the shoes and starts shuffling towards the stock room, clutching one of the boxes in front of his groin. From behind I can see the woman's shoulders shaking with laughter An unhappily familiar voice in my ear makes me jump. 'I have seen what they are up to!' It is the store manager. She must have been watching the video screens upstairs. Before I can answer Danny tries to get past me into the stockroom - still holding one of the shoe boxes in front of him. I grab his arm to ask him a question, but it causes him to drop the box. The store manager looks down at the boy's stained trouser front and pulls a face of disgust. I hate her even more now than I did before. It's not like the lad had much control over his response. He sees her expression and it makes him even more agitated. Barely able to draw breath he starts to babble. 'She...., she isn't...she show....I saw...........' I cut him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 'I know son, I know all about it. Don't worry about it. You take an early lunch and clean yourself up.' Looking grateful he shoulders open the stockroom door and disappears. The manager is in my face again 'That is disgusting,' she says, but I am not sure if she is referring to the state of Danny's trousers - or what caused them to get like that. 'And another thing' she huffs, 'you don't have the authority to give the staff early lunches.' I bite my tongue and say nothing. 'All I want you to concentrate on is stopping THEM. If you don't - I will!' Then she turns on her heel and disappears. (What a bitch.) Seething with anger I turn to look for the couple and notice they aren't in the shoe department any more. I see that they are wandering through the lingerie department, picking only the flimsiest and sexiest items. Then some blouses and a couple of mini-skirts. I watch them take their choices to the desk outside the changing room. The girl stationed there makes a note of the number of items and gives them a tag. Then begins a display that the guys in 'Sad City' will remember for the rest of their lives. The woman is trying on the blouses and skirts, making only a token attempt to close the curtain. Every guy is watching with his tongue hanging out as she sashays out to look in the big mirror outside the cubicles. She doesn't bother to fully button up the blouses she is trying on, revealing that lovely set of boobs at every opportunity. Back in the cubicle, the curtain still open, she bends to get something from her handbag on the floor. At that point I swear I can hear an audible groan from those men who are getting the full benefit of the view. I do nothing, partially because I am enjoying the show myself and because I am still not sure exactly what I would say to them to make them stop. They could argue that they aren't really doing anything wrong. The cubicles aren't really designed with total privacy in mind and a lot of our younger, female clients aren't shy. Getting the occasional flash of tit or arse are (is?) one of the perks of my job. But this couple are a lot more flagrant – and maybe is what has got so far up the manager's nose. Although secretly I am suspicious it is because the manageress is so damn ugly and this woman is so damn sexy ............... My reverie is interrupted when I start to notice a couple of things. First, the wives in the dressing room areas have caught on to what is going on and discovered that their husbands have actually started to enjoy their shopping trips. 'This has to stop!' they seem to agree simultaneously. One by one they turn up their noses, drop the clothes they have been trying on at the desk, and head for the door - husbands firmly in tow. And heaven help them if they risk a look back over their shoulders. Maybe now I can see why the manager is pissed off - this is hurting trade. The other thing I notice is that, as if my thoughts about her have summoned her like a demon from the underworld; the manager is hulking towards the dressing rooms. With her are the two other store guards, in uniform - Barry and Gari. 'Bazza' and 'Gazza' as they apparently like to be called. Or Tweddledum and Tweddledummer as I think of them. Barry is a tall, thin, middle aged man with thinning hair – which is why he always keeps his guard's hat on. Gari's name is actually something difficult to pronounce in Nigerian. He is a huge slab of man. The result of the hours he spends on the weight machines at the gym are easy to see. His uniform, the largest standard size available, strains across his muscles so much that I swear I hear it creaking sometimes. If we have any trouble in the store then the sight of Gari is always enough to make it go away. These two are not employed for their brains. They know only enough to do exactly what they are told - especially when they told by the manageress. Without even glancing at me the lady in question pushes aside our still half-naked 'target', leans into her cubicle and begins to rummage in her large handbag. Then she stands up and triumphantly brandishes a velour track-suit top. 'What is this?' she hisses at the woman. ('A fit up', I think to myself, but keep quiet.) The woman seems shocked into immobility. In the background I see her husband is in much the same state. The manager shouts at the girl on the desk, 'How many items have you got them down for?' She responds to the question by holding up 4 fingers. Finally the manager turns her baleful gaze on me. 'Come here...Bell.' There is nothing I can do but comply. Outside the cubicle she asks me with a sneer, 'how many items are there in this dressing room?' I glance around slowly, and then say what she wants to hear. 'Five. If you count..............that,' nodding at the top the manager is holding. I never saw the woman pick it up and know that she would never even try on something so ugly, let alone buy it. So it doesn't make any sense that she would steal it. 'That's right, five.' she says with glee. 'I believe these two are shoplifters and I want you to take them away, question them, and then call the police.' She thrusts a video tape into my hand. 'This is all the evidence they will need to convict them of....of.....public indecency.' She flourishes the track-suit top. 'This, along with the testimony of three store detectives, will prove they are shop-lifters as well.' I look of twisted pleasure is spread across her ugly face. I see that Barry and Gari have the unresisting husband by the elbows and will follow her orders. So I shrug, pick up the woman's handbag and gently take her by the arm and lead her towards the stock-room, with my two colleagues and her husband following. As the door of the stock-room clanks shut and I turn the lock, it seems to break the spell of silence. The guy starts to try explaining. 'This isn't right. We didn't take......' I put my finger to my lips and he falls silent. Voice raised, enforcing my authority, I tell him. 'Right or wrong I'm in charge here. If you don't speak unless I ask you a question this will go quicker.' The woman puts her hand up, 'I need to go to....go to the toi...........the bathroom.' 'You can wait.' I tell her, like she is some sort of schoolgirl. Then I look at their pale, shocked faces and feel a surge of pity. 'I will also try and make this as painless as possible - under the circumstances.' I see them glance around the stock room and the full enormity of the 'circumstances' seem to fall open them. The stock-room is hardly an appropriate name. It is a multi-purpose space. It is used for staff training so it has a TV and video player, as well as a flip chart (with a wonky leg, propped up on a telephone book.) The floor is vinyl and, because the room is also used to store the cleaner's gear, it has a vinyl floor, with a drain in the middle. It is also used on occasions like this – to hold suspected shop-lifters till the police arrive. Boxes of clothes are stacked around the walls and Barry and Gari stack themselves either side of the door. The only furniture is a metal table with a telephone on it and a few rickety chairs. I gesture at them and the pair almost gratefully collapse into the chairs on the side of the table facing the door, heads down. I turn on the TV and pop the tape in. Straight away we are seeing the antics of the couple in the changing room from the hidden camera. They stare at the screen, unable to tear their eyes away. I eject the tape and switch off the machine without saying a word. Sometimes silence is more menacing than words. And I really want them to feel well and truly menaced. I drop the tape on the table and I take the chair opposite them. Putting the woman's handbag on the table I open it. 'Let's start with the easy ones - names?' I ask them as I empty the contents of the bag on the table. I hear the guy mumble, 'G' and after a long pause the woman whispers 'DJ'. I find the woman's drivers licence and make a note of the address. 'You live together?' I ask. I look up and stare until G nods. Then the woman starts to protest. 'You understand that we weren't doing anything illegal and we certainly weren't steal..........' I hold up her ID card from work and she falls silent, looking even paler, if that were possible. 'I might understand DJ, but will your employers?' I ask. 'If this went to court, even if you won, do you think you could still go back to work? They are bit old fashioned in the medical profession, or so I understand.' They both sink lower in their chairs. They look even more shamed when I find a fat vibrator in the bag and wave it at them, again without saying a word. I continue to search the woman's bag and find a digital camera – a model similar to the one I own. I turn it on to check what is on the memory card. After seeing the first picture I smile – and glance up at the couple across the table. The look of shock on their faces is so total that it is almost comical. The first picture shows the woman I now know as DJ, apparently on a train, spreading her legs and showing her shaven and very wet pussy to the camera. I click the dial to check the other pictures, glancing up at the two of them between each shot – enjoying equally the pictures and the look of consternation on their faces. The camera is full of pictures of the woman in front of me flashing in the shopping precinct outside the store. In these shots she is wearing the clothes she has on now, so I assume they were taken today. Then, as I dial through the pics, the date stamp shows that I am looking at some older pictures. There are more pictures of the woman exposing herself in public. I feel my cock start to harden as I trawl through this lovely catalogue of perversion. A few pictures of her wearing stockings that are splattered with sperm catch my attention. Moving on, I enjoy some others showing the woman squatting and pissing outdoors. Then some real attention grabbers! Taken indoors they appear to show G pissing on DJ's pussy whilst she holds a vibrator hard against her clit. Store Dick I switch off the camera and look up at them, the vague plan I had been thinking about before firming up in my mind – an evil plan. 'You are kinky buggers aren't you?' I suggest without smiling. I get no answer, but I didn't really expect one. 'Are you in any doubt about how much trouble you are in?' I ask, holding up the offending clothing, the camera and nodding towards the video tape. Both of them shake their heads without looking at me. Then I continue. 'Would you like to get out of this trouble?' I wait till they look up at me with expressions that show a mixture of suspicion and hope. It is time to elaborate, to explain my plan. 'I don't think you stole anything.' I tell them, and see them sit a little straighter; as if a physical pressure has been taken off their shoulders. 'But the manager will swear you did. And Barry and Gari over there, (pointing behind them) will do the same, if she tells them to.' They slump down again. I smile at them. 'But I think those two (gesturing again at the two guards by the door,) could be convinced that they didn't see you steal anything. But it won't be an intellectual argument that convinces them. No; an eloquent pleading will not do the trick. What motivates them are baser instincts. But I am sure we can come to an.........arrangement to.......ah.....get you off, if you'll pardon the expression, if you are prepared to work with me, with us?' I can see from the looks they are giving me that they haven't caught my drift. It is time to stop teasing and hinting. I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table, pausing till I have their full attention. 'I am going to ask you two a series of questions.' I begin. 'Then I am going to give you some instructions. If you give the right answers and follow my instructions exactly, without quibbling or hesitation, you might not have to walk out of here handcuffed and escorted by the "boys in blue". Would you like that?' They nod cautiously, uncertainty etched on their faces. 'Then let's begin.' I tell them. 'Remember that one lie, or one refusal to do what I tell you - and I pick up this phone' I lift the handset for added emphasis, 'and the police will be her (here) for you in less than 5 minutes.' I shift my gaze and stare at DJ. 'Do you want to go to the police station and have some dull dyke WPC give you a full body cavity search?' The look of revulsion on her face tells me that this would seem to be about her worst nightmare. I switch my gaze to him 'You want to lose your job and, what I have no doubt, is a very nice house?' He shakes his head and manages to mutter, 'No'. I look back at her and ask. 'Do you still need to go to the toi........to take a piss?' I can see that they are both thrown by this change of tack, but she nods slowly. 'Then go!' I order, making my voice as authoritative as I can. I see her shift in her chair, as if about to stand up. 'Were do you think you are going?' I shout. 'If you need to piss you do it right here. You seem to like doing it in public so don't feel shy now.' This is the initial test. Will they refuse at the first fence? I see their shock at my order, and then they look at each other. G's face shows so many different thought and feelings that I can't read it. After a long, shared look I see her shrug, and know I have won the first round. Her shrug seems to say, 'what alternative do we have?' I see G's expression change and now I can recognise it. He is unmistakably excited. DJ turns to look at me and I can see that she is blushing with shame. Standing slightly she hitches up her skirt, stocking tops appearing – then pretty, shaved pussy. Barry and Gari are edging forward from their stations by the door, trying to peer over my shoulders to get a better look. G makes a movement as if to get off the chair and squat down. I shake my head. 'Sit back in that chair.' I tell her. 'Spread your legs and show us how you piss.' DJ does as she is told, opening her thighs and closing her eyes. She lets out the softest moan as she starts to gush – I can't tell if it is excitement, embarrassment or relief. A clear stream squirts from between her parted thighs and splashes on the lino floor, tricking away to the drain. G is leaning to closer to watch and the erection in his trousers tells me how much he is enjoying himself. When the flow diminishes DJ opens her eyes, looking suddenly shy at being the centre of attention. 'Does it make you horny to be watched DJ?' I ask. She blushes again and says 'Uh-huh'. 'Are you horny now DJ?' She nods 'Show us how horny you are sexy.' I rasp, my voice now hoarse with anticipation and lust. 'Play with your wet cunt DJ.' There is barely a moment of hesitation before she leans back in the chair, spreading her legs over the arms of the chair. Barry and Gari have edged further away from the door, standing now just behind me on either side. I don't think these two are going to make a run for it now and I want the guys to enjoy the view. They'll need lots of incentive to argue with the manageress' version of events. And what a view it is. As DJ's legs part her pussy lips spread like split halves of a ripe fruit. Her pussy is wet with a mixture of pee and her obvious excitement. With her eyes still shut we watch lustfully as her hand slides down between her thighs and she starts gently stroking her clit. I hear a sort of grunt beside me and look around - to see that Barry already has cock out and is stoking it – alarmingly close to my right shoulder. Becoming aware of my scrutiny he drags his eyes from DJ and glances down at me. He has the good grace to look a little sheepish as he edges further away, before going back to avidly watching the show. As I look back I see that G is leaning over and is whispering in DJ's ear, loud enough for us to hear: 'One of the guards has his cock in his hand and is wanking as he watches.' He tells her. This revelation obviously excites DJ. We hear a sharp intake of breath from her and see her plunge two fingers into her wet pussy. This is all the encouragement Gari needs and I hear his zip go down and soon an obscenely large, black shaft is being stroked to my left. I am very tempted to join in the wank-fest, but can't help feeling it would diminish my authority with my subordinates. (Can you tell I have done management training course?) So I make do with stroking my throbbing hard cock through my trousers. G is continuing his running commentary, 'the other guard, the black one, has his cock out now. His cock is huge, and he obviously likes what he sees.' A sound which is half moan, half sob escapes from DJ's lips and she starts to frig her clit harder. I can see that it has already grown to an amazing size in her state of excitement. In a moment of inspiration I grab the camera, turn it on and focus on her fingers and cunt before taking a shot. The flash causes DJ to stop playing with herself and open her eyes for a second. There is just a suggestion in her expression that she is about to object. Perhaps I am the only person who realises how precarious this game is. Perhaps it is because I am the one making up the rules as I go along? I know that it would take just one participant to say, 'NO!' and everyone else would stop playing as well. I have to act quickly if this isn't to happen now. 'Did I say you could stop playing with yourself DJ?' I snap. 'Get on with it!' Then I relax as I see her eyes close and her fingers return to plundering the squelchy swamp her pussy has become. I turn my attention on G, to see if he has any ideas about getting 'bolshie'. Best to keep him busy. 'Unbutton her blouse G! We all want to see her tits.' I order. I see him comply; revealing an awesome pair of breasts and hard, crinkled nipples. This has the effect of increasing the stroking activity on either side of me. G's excitement is very visible and I decide to take pity on him. 'Get your cock out G, let DJ stroke it.' Once he has done this he has to guide DJ's hand to his shaft, as she keeps her eyes resolutely shut. But once she has his length clasped in her left hand, the other starts to move faster between her wet, swollen pussy lips. Her juices are starting to trickle from her slit and coat the insides of her thighs, soaking into her stocking tops. I take more pics of her shameless, horny display and then pass the vibrator to G. 'Get her to use this.' I tell him and he grabs it off me. Pressing it into her hand she moans as she thrusts it into wet, needy centre. As DJ starts to fuck herself, I give in to the inevitable and unzip my pants to extract my achingly hard cock. Watching this woman take care of her needs is the horniest thing I have seen in my life. In a couple of strokes the vibrator is buried deep in her pussy and she is moaning, her head rocking from side to side. As she pulls the plastic cock out I can see her excitement smeared up the length. The copious flow of pussy juice is quickly being whipped into a white froth by the fucking action of her vibrator. Barry and Gari have started to move, as if by drawn by DJ's sexual magnetism, working their way round either side of the desk to get a better look, cocks standing proud from their flies. The gravity generated by DJ's 'black hole of horniness' is pulling them in. It is getting crowded around DJ now and I can see a way to make some room. 'G! Get between DJ's legs and eat that pussy.' I order. He doesn't need any further encouragement and drops to his knees between his wife's wide stretched knees. Taking the dildo from her hand he buries his face between her thighs and gets to work. I can't see exactly what he is doing, with his back to me, but I can see the effect it has on DJ. After just a few seconds her face contorts and she starts to pant, then moan, as she cums – biting her lip in vain attempt to keep the noise down. Emboldened by this display Barry grabs one of DJ's hands and wraps it round his throbbing cock. Immediately she starts to stroke it, making drops of pre-cum splash on her wrist. Gari might be slow on the uptake in other circumstances - but not here. Soon her other hand is pumping his fat prick as well – her fingers barely able to stretch round its girth. DJ now has a cock in each hand and a tongue deep in her pussy and she is LOVING IT! Another noisy orgasm overwhelms here. After she has finished cumming DJ slumps back with her mouth open, panting. This is all the encouragement Gari needs. He disengages DJ's hand and shuffles closer to her, pressing his engorged glans between her lips. The head of his cock looks like a large purple/black plum. Again, without opening her eyes, without seemingly knowing or caring whose cock it is, she moans and allows him to thrust his length between her lips. Then her eyes blink open for a second as she begins to realise the enormity (literally) of what she has taken on, just exactly how much cock she is going to have to swallow. She stares lustfully up at Gari, towering above her, catches his gave and gives a shudder of obvious excitement – before closing her eyes again. As if this were a sign to carry on, Gari jabs his hips forward. At the first thrust DJ gags and Gari, seemingly a gentleman, pulls back. On the next thrust she seems better able to cope. Her mouth stretches around his gargantuan black shaft and her cheeks bulge obscenely. A few more thrusts and the uniformed guard soon builds up a nice rhythm, fucking DJ's welcoming throat. Barry, feeling left out, starts to nudge his long, thin cock against DJ's cheek, smearing traces of his excitement across her skin. Releasing Gari's shaft from her mouth she turns her head and engulfs the new prick offered to her. Instead of thrusting Barry exerts a great degree of control and holds still. I watch in amazement as DJ bobs her head to swallow his entire, not inconsiderable length, in one gulp. I watch his hairy nuts bounce on her chin. Then she starts to alternate between each cock, paying equal attention to each one as her husband drives her to great heights of passion with his tongue. Her orgasms seem to be continuous now, as are her cries of pleasure – although they are usually muffled by one cock or the other. It looks to my like it is time to pick up the pace. 'G?' I say, and smile when he turns to look over his shoulder, seeing his chin smeared with DJ's juices. 'You like shagging you wife whilst people watch?' I ask him. I see him nod, his expression showing he is worried where this question is leading. I grin at him. 'Then why don't you fuck her whilst we watch?' I phrase the question like an order, guessing that he is more likely to object than his wanton wife. I see him hesitate for a second and I place my hand on the receiver of the phone. At that he slowly stands up and starts to unbuckle and unzip his trousers. I stand as well, but zip up my pants, carefully tucking away my achingly hard cock. Then I walk around the desk to get a closer look. G stands between DJ's legs with his trousers around his thighs. Despite the overwhelmingly horny atmosphere his cock is only half erect. 'Got a bit of stage fright all of sudden do you?' I ask, not unkindly. 'Not surprising really.' Without thinking about what I am doing I reach out and take G's half hard cock in my hand – the first time I have held any penis apart from my own. For a second I feel it pulsing in my hand and then look up to catch G's gave before I start to gently stroke his shaft. As a stare him in the eye I feel his hardness grow in my hand to a full erection. Whilst still holding his gaze, but releasing his cock I tell him. 'Fuck your wife, fuck her hard and spunk in her.' Stepping back I watch him eagerly respond, moving between her splayed legs and directing his cock head between her pussy lips. He jerks his hips forward and plunges balls deep into his wife's cunt. The effect on DJ wouldn't have been much different if she had been plugged into the electricity mains. She starts to tremble and shake, another, even bigger, orgasm begins immediately. She stops sucking Gari's huge cock and starts screaming. 'Oooohh G, that feels sooooo good! I love your gorgeous cock! Fill me up with your cock, pound meeeeeeeee!!!!!' He is not slow to respond, thrusting into her fiercely until we can all hear the wet slurping of her pussy as he slams his cock into her. I pick up the camera and start to record the sexy scene In the throes of her orgasm, mouth open, panting, moaning, screaming, DJ seemingly loses the ability to multi-task. She is no longer actively sucking Gari or Barry's cocks. But they don't care. They are just shoving their cocks into her open mouth whilst stroking and gently tweaking her bullet hard nipples as they do. All this stimulation is encouraging G. I can tell from the increased pace with which he is hammering his wife. He starts to groan and his fucking rhythm goes awry. Then from the expression on his face it is obvious that he is emptying a huge load of spunk deep inside his wife. It seems she must be able to feel his cum sluicing her pussy, because she comes again with a shriek. This tips Barry over the edge. He grabs his shaft and strokes, once, twice, before grunting an obscenity and jetting all over DJ's tits. Gari gives even less warning. I hear him suck in a deep breath and watch amazed as his huge cock swells to an even greater size. It is like a hose expanding and filling when the tap is turned on. I can almost 'see' the surge of jism travelling the length of his shaft before erupting from the tip. A shower, a flood, of hot cum rains down onto DJ's face (Unsurprisingly the noise seems to have attracted attention. I can hear fist hammering on the locked door. I know who it is, so I am not interested. Nobody and nothing can distract me from this scene) G withdraws from DJ, staggering slightly on legs made wobbly by the force of his orgasm. He makes it back to his chair and sits down. This gives me a clear view of the obscenely erotic sight of blobs of his cum leaking from her fresh fucked pussy and running down over her arse. There is only one thing to do when such a delicious cream pie is served up to you – eat it! I drop to my knees and hungrily go to work with a hearty appetite. I savour the delicious combination of DJ's sweet juice and G's salty jizz. I detour slightly to rasp my tongue over DJ's super-sensitive clit, making her twitch and cum again, squirting more of my favourite dessert into my eager mouth. After one more orgasm I stand up, licking my lips. My cock has never been harder but I look at G and say, 'Time to return the favour,' before glancing down at my cock. Taking the hint he reaches out to stroke my straining prick. It feels so good I have to strain not to cum immediately. I need restraint because I there is only one place I want to cum. DJ's cunt is open and available before me like a serve yourself banquet. I just want one last kinky garnish on this feast of the senses. 'G, I think I am going to need a little help here.' I see him look blank. 'I want your help to stick my cock in your wife.' Realising what I want he keeps hold of my cock as I manoeuvre closer to my target. His hand guides my shaft until the head of my cock slips between DJ's red, swollen labia. His hand drops away as I slide deep in to her. An inarticulate moan is dragged from my lips as I am overwhelmed by the sensation of fucking DJ. Just fucked and full of cum she is still as tight as a teenager. It is like having my cock squeezed in a warm concoction of honey and butter. I look down at DJ, cum coating her tits, her face glazed like a donut with Gari's load. Then I see she is licking her lips, trying to get more cum into my mouth. That final sign of total horniness is all I need to see. I pull back and slam my cock into her wet, welcoming depths, again and again. It only takes moments before, almost sobbing with passion, I cum. So intense is my orgasm that my vision starts to grey out and I feel like my spinal column is melting and jetting out the end of my cock with my sperm. A part of me realises that I have caught DJ by surprise and cum before she did. But right now, I don't care – I have taken my pleasure. My cock slowly deflates and slips from DJ's gaping pussy. I watch with stunned amazement as my recently deposited seed slips from her. Slowly I return to my senses, helped by more hammering on the door. I look at Gari, who seems as dazed as me. 'D'you see these two stealing anything Gari?' I ask. He shakes his head, starting to smile. 'Not a thing Boss.' Barry is already grinning when I ask him, 'Barry, did you notice these people behaving lewdly in our changing rooms?' 'I most certainly did not your Honour.' He replies, laughing. I join in his laughter and add, 'It seems that no crimes have been committed here and G and DJ should be free to go.' I see the relief on their faces and feel good. I also feel something else. With my balls now empty my brain is now able to get the message through that my bladder is full My mouth curls in an evil grin as I have an evil thought. 'But we can't let poor DJ walk out covered in all that cum. We should clean her up.' Taking my cock in my hand I point it at her oozing pussy and relax my muscles. A stream of clear urine spurts on to her pussy in a hard gush. Caught again by surprise DJ gasps as the hot liquid splashes on her clit. Then it is my turn to be surprised when I see that this is enough to make her cum a final time – harder than any before. I tuck my cock away, zip up and walk towards the door. The banging on it is getting intolerable and there is no need to keep it locked anymore. I unlock it and fling it open to find the manageress, red faced and apparently on the verge of apoplexy. She is so out of breath that she can't start shouting before I do. Store Dick 'FUCK OFF YOU NASTY BITCH' I bellow. Her face is a picture. It has been worth saving up all my anger till this point. She looks over my shoulder and sees DJ and G getting ready to leave. 'Where are they going?' she splutters. 'I am letting them go.' I tell her with a sneer. 'I didn't see them do anything wrong and neither did Barry or Gari.' She starts to get up a head of steam for a tirade, but I'm not taking it anymore. 'If you let them go you are fired.' She says, thinking I will be cowed. It is an old line, but it worked a treat this time. I lean close to her ugly face and tell her, 'You can't fire me – I already quit.' She looks stunned, 'No you didn't' 'I think telling your boss "fuck off you nasty bitch" is as good a resignation letter in most work place.' I tell her with a happy smile. I realise that I feel free and almost relaxed for the first time in ages. The manageress turns on her heel and storms off. I look around and see G & DJ coming out of the room. He has his arm protectively around her shoulder. Despite her bedraggled appearance DJ has a big smile on her face, G is grinning as well. His smile broadens as he holds up the video tape from the security camera. 'Keep it.' I tell him. Then it is my turn to smile as a happy thought strikes me – I am out of a job. I don't have to stay in this shitty store a moment longer or see that witch of a manageress ever again. I look at DJ and G and another thought occurs to me. 'You can't go home on the train with DJ looking like that.' I tell them. 'My car is in parked out back, would you like a lift home? We can go out through the rear fire escape?' They both nod, looking relieved. Then G adds, 'we hope you'll come in for a drink when we get there?' How could I refuse an invitation like that, with all the boundless possibilities it may, or may not, imply?