Follow the store owner inside
From Create Your Own Story
You glance around, checking to see if anyone’s watching, before dipping around the stall and in after the girl. The space is tight, secluded, the scent of spice and bread lingering in the air. She catches you as you enter, hooking her fingers around your wrist and pulling you to the side. And then – her back is against the wall, and you’re there before her, caging her in with nothing but your presence.
Her breath catches. Her eyes flutter closed as your fingers skim down, ghosting over the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips beneath the thin fabric of her dress. She doesn’t stop you. Your pulse hammers in your chest, a heady rush of anticipation tightening your core as her breath hitches.
With a gentle tug, you ease the neckline of her dress downward, the material yielding to reveal the soft curve of her bare breasts. They rise and fall with her unsteady breathing, her skin warm beneath your fingertips. A shiver of exhilaration courses through you, your senses sharpening as you take in the sight – her vulnerability, igniting a fire in your loins.
You trace their contours, marvelling at their softness, and the stall owner lets out a quiet gasp, her cheeks flushing as a tremble runs through her. Her lips part slightly in awakening desire. Your thumbs brush over her nipples, teasing them to firmness, and she arches ever so slightly into your touch, sending a jolt through you – your own arousal builds in response. A soft whimper escapes the stall owner as your hands sink into her breasts, pressing, kneading – each squeeze an indulgent experience for both you and her. You lean in, exhaling slowly, watching the way she trembles with each shift of your hands.
And so, you draw out your erection, and remove what linen separates you from the stall owner’s pussy. At first, the girl merely watches, hands grasping the wall behind her. A quiet breath escapes her, barely more than a whisper, when her maidenhood is exposed.
The first thrust is slow, deliberate. A controlled stroke that sinks you deep into the stall owner’s innards. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, and her eyelids flutter, her lips parting on some half-formed word that never quite escapes. You withdraw, only to plunge your cock in again – faster, harder, more insistent.
Sound fills the space: a rhythmic, slapping press of flesh against flesh, a gasp of air with each forceful motion. Your heart pounds. Your breath quickens. The stall owner throws her arms around you, her fingers tightening on the threads of your clothes, her knuckles turning white. She exhales, slow and shuddering, her breath catching every time you withdraw and thrust again.
The rhythm builds. Each stroke of your penis against her soft mound sends another wave through her, until she’s gripping your body like it’s the only thing anchoring her to the earth. Her whole body tenses, her toes curling in her worn leather shoes, her thighs instinctively squeezing you.
And then – one final thrust. She gasps, her whole form shuddering as a wave of unbidden bliss crashes over her. It is too much, too good – your body trembles, the world seems to tilt around you, and you climax, spilling deep inside her as the moment consumes you both. By the time you regain yourself, the stall owner still lays slumped against the wall. A dreamy look softens her features. She is utterly spent. With nothing left to prove here, you turn and stride from the rations stall.
Do you:
