Prologue
Mavis Taylor was feeling bored.
She was also feeling her pussy.
The two feelings were interrelated, in fact, because Mavis always felt bored when she wasn't having sex and so the two things, boredom and sexual frustration, had become one and the same in her mind. Just as Pavlov's dog had learned to salivate at the sound of a bell, so had Mavis learned to start rubbing her twat at the first dull chimes of boredom. It was a nice sort of cunt, hairy and juicy, and she enjoyed playing with it. But at the moment it wasn't really convenient to give herself a proper finger-fucking, because Mavis was working.
It's a vicious circle, she thought.
Her work was boring; boredom made her horny; being at work, she had no privacy to enjoy a finger-fuck and had to remain frustrated-and the more frustrated she got, the more bored she became.
Mavis worked at the counter of the Rhode Island Lottery.
She sold tickets to hopeful gamblers and, less frequently, paid out on a winning ticket. When she had applied for the job, Mavis had thought it would be exciting. Perhaps she had even thought that she might meet some handsome, big-dicked gentleman who had just won the jackpot. But it hadn't worked out that way. Most of the time, she simply stood there behind the bars of the teller-type cage, waiting for customers and getting bored and, therefore, randy.
She had been at work several hours already today, and very few customers had come in. None of them was handsome and none had presented a winning lottery ticket so, presumably, none were rich, either.
Mavis yawned.
She was a tall girl with short curly hair. She had firm, thrusting tits and a pneumatic ass and lovely, long legs. Most of the time she was happy to have lengthy legs. She knew that men liked them and she liked to wrap them around men while they humped away on top of her; those gams seemed to have been designed with that in mind. But even those splendidly long legs confounded her when she was at work. Had she been a short girl with stubby limbs, she could have played with her pussy below the level of the counter and no one would be the wiser. Being long-legged, though, she found that her crotch was too high for such secret maneuvers and, were she to play with it, a customer would be likely to take notice.
She shifted her weight restlessly.
Her quim squished juicily as she moved.
She was tempted to go to the bathroom and do a job on herself, but the thought was not all that appealing. For one thing, she could not leave the counter unattended. If so, she would have to call the manager from the back office to take over while she was gone, and he wouldn't like that. And that meant she would have to hurry. Mavis was an expert fingerfucker, efficient and experienced. She was quite capable of giving herself an orgasm in a few frantic minutes, but she never really enjoyed those hasty digital diddlings. When she frigged off, Mavis liked to take her time and enjoy a long, leisurely rub before she creamed.
She decided to grit her teeth and wait for her lunch hour.
But her snatch was really simmering.
Then a customer came in.
He was tall, dark and handsome, and Mavis's horny heart fluttered. She put on her sexiest smile. But the man held the door open and a woman came in right behind him. The woman was gorgeous, with long blonde hair and tilted green eyes and a body that, had Mavis been given to gutter phrases, she would have termed: Built like a brick shithouse. The blonde put her arm around the man's waist as they approached the counter, her lush hip rubbing against him as they moved. Mavis stopped smiling, feeling envious and jealous. She was willing to bet that the good-looking male was gifted with a huge prick and that the blonde was not his wife. Wives did not snuggle up to husbands that way, not in a lottery office at least.
"A jackpot ticket, please," he requested.
Mavis reached for the ticket.
Then, as an afterthought, he said, "No, make that two jackpot tickets, if you will," and he smiled at the blonde.
"For me?" she asked, feigning surprise in the husky sort of voice that could never really register surprise when a man gave her a gift.
"You've earned it, Belinda," he said.
There seemed to be some hidden meaning in his words, and the blonde giggled saucily. Mavis, more frustrated than ever, passed the two jackpot tickets over the counter and took the man's money. He thanked her politely. What did she want with his thanks? She wanted his prick, was what Mavis wanted. Oh! That lucky blonde! Not only was she getting plenty of dick from the handsome guy, but a lottery ticket, as well! The man put one ticket in his wallet and gave the other to the blonde, who slid it, classically, down into the chasm of her deep, soft cleavage. The two turned, laughing together. Mavis watched them leave. The woman had an ass shaped like an upside-down valentine, firm and full-globed, and it swayed a hell of a lot more than necessary when she walked. As they went out the door, the man's hand slipped down and cupped that splendid rear end.
Mavis groaned.
Now poor Mavis was so hot that she simply had to take care of herself. The cunt juice was soaking her panties and trickling in creamy ribbons down the insides of her thighs. She felt as if she had a glowing ember between her legs.
There was no sense in disturbing the manager.
She was so horny that she was going to climax the moment she started rubbing her clit and, therefore, she figured she might as well just do the job right there at the counter. She would be finished before anyone else came in; she could finish a desperation job like that in the time it would take a customer to open the door and walk across the room to the counter. She grinned ruefully. What a life it is for a working girl, she thought. Imagine frigging myself off at a counter!
To show off her fine, long legs, Mavis always wore short skirts. Now she lifted the hem of her tiny skirt and slipped her hand down inside her soaking panties and began to finger her tingling clit.
She kept an eye on the door; she didn't expect an interruption from behind.
Brian Hammond was the manager of the lottery office and, at the moment, he was as bored as Mavis. But there was one big difference. Brian had his own office and, therefore, could play with his prick in privacy. He was a broad fellow with a paunch. His eyebrows met above his nose. But he had a cock of quality. It was long and thick and, although a bit gnarled, quite a sight. Brian had his broad pecker out at the moment, not frigging it but holding it in his open hand as he eyed it.
He was wondering why, with a cock like that at home, his wife was always cheating on him?
She fucked everyone, did Mrs. Hammond.
She fucked the meter reader and the milkman and the garbage collector. She fucked the neighbors on both sides and the one across the street, to boot. She had fucked Brian's brother. She had even fucked his sister. In fact, just about the only guy around that she did not fuck with regularity was Brian. Why is that? he wondered. She screwed him on his birthday and on Valentine's Day and, sometimes, on Easter Sunday. She blew him for Christmas, if he gave her an expensive present. In between, Brian had to do without and he was a very frustrated fellow.
Brain sighed, unable to figure it out.
He gave his dick a tentative tug.
It reacted positively, hardening and starting to pulse.
He stroked it again, then nodded to himself, satisfied with the sensation and about to settle down to a conclusive pumping. But then he paused. Jacking-off feels better if a guy has some sort of stimulation, he was thinking. He needed a fantasy or, better yet, something at which he could look. Brian naturally thought about the tall, sexy girl who worked at the lottery-ticket counter. He thought about her long legs.
Grinning fiendishly, Brian got up and moved quietly to the door, his cock rampant in his fist. He had decided to open the door a crack and gaze at Mavis's ass and gams, from behind, while he merrily pulled his pork. He always shot farther, and more abundantly, when he was inspired by a lusty sight.
He turned the knob carefully and pulled the door open a crack.
He gasped.
Brian's eyes popped out like two hardboiled eggs and his jaw dropped open so wide that it looked as if he were gnawing at his breast. It was no wonder, for it was a remarkable sight that greeted his gaze.
Standing at the counter, her back to him, Mavis had lifted her skirt and tucked her hand down the front of her panties. They were bikini panties and, with a hand stuffed inside as well as her haunches, they were drawn so tightly across her ass that it looked like her loins had been slung in a catapult. The sweet cheeks of her behind swept out naked on either side. She was shifting her weight from leg to leg, and her trim hips were working like pistons as they jolted from side to side. Her belly pumped. Her head tilted. Brian could hear her panting. He stared at this remarkable vista for a moment, hardly able to believe it. The sight registered in his eyes, but made no immediate impact on his brain. It was just too unexpected. Yet there could be no doubt about it.
Mavis Taylor was masturbating!
Brian had a logical, managerial mind and he contemplated the situation. She was frigging off; he had intended to jack-off; she must be as horny as he was; the conclusion was obvious.
He hesitated for another moment.
Brian was a bit of a snob and didn't relish the thought of balling a common clerk. But then he remembered that his wife, who was a complete snob, was not reluctant to screw even garbage collectors.
Grinning, Brian opened the door wide and advanced, cock-first, upon the unsuspecting girl....
When Brian cleared his throat and looked over her shoulder, Mavis was horrified. Caught in the act! She blushed bright-red. Her hand stopped moving, but she left it where it was, figuring that it would be more obvious if she drew it out, digits dripping with cunt juice, than if she kept it concealed and pretended that she had merely been scratching an itch in her crotch.
"I just wanted to check the till," he claimed.
Have I gotten away with it? Mavis wondered. Doesn't he realize what I've been doing? She hoped so. Mavis was terribly embarrassed about masturbating, not because of the act itself, but because it seemed to imply that she could not get a cock of her own. Acting as nonchalantly as possible under the circumstances, with her pussy still flowing into her hand, she opened the cash register with her left hand. Brian stood close behind her, looking over her shoulder.
"Not much business today, eh?" he inquired.
"Times are hard," said Mavis.
And something else was hard, too, they both soon realized.
She felt it against the inside of her thigh, hard as iron and hot as-well, hot as her cunt, in point of fact. She blushed even deeper. The hard rod slid upward. The leg hole of her bikini panties stretched out and a smoking cockhead snuggled into her creamy slot. Mavis didn't know what to do or how to react, so she did the natural thing and opened her legs a bit wider.
Brian's peckerhead slid into her vertical slash.
Her right hand was still cupped over her mount of Venus, and her fingers trailed into her crotch. She could feel his prick as it began to slowly slither up her slot. Mavis had felt enough stiff penises in her life, and she had no doubt what it was.
Jesus, she thought, he might have asked, first.
But then she realized that it might have been embarrassing if he had asked her permission, since he was her boss and all, and that maybe he had chosen the right approach, after all. She pushed her firm ass back against his belly and her hips began to churn. He was still regarding the cash drawer over her shoulder, but his big hands clamped into her hipbones as if they were handles.
He ran the full length of his cock up her cunt.
Neither of them moved for a moment as they both savored the full penetration. Mavis was stuffed full of prick.
Who would ever have thought that Mister Hammond had such a lovely big prick? she thought.
Her slippery pussy was starting to clamp around his meatpole, clutching him like a velvet vise.
He had never realized that mere counter clerks were possessed of such adorable cunts.
Then he began to fuck her with vigor.
His ass corkscrewed as he dove the meat in to the hilt, burying himself balls-deep with every stroke. Mavis met him with equal effort, in counterpoint, pushing her pussy down as his schlong surged in and rolling her hips from side to side as he withdrew. His bloated nuts were whanging into her crotch. She worked her ass against his belly. Her hand was already between her legs so she got a handful of balls, squeezing gently, as if eager to coax the cum out of them. Cunt sauce was pouring out of her hole now, soaking his prong in a foaming flood. Brian began to moan and, feeling his cock expand inside her, Mavis realized that he was ready to shoot his boiling load. Normally, she would have resented such a fast fuck, almost a premature ejaculation, but since she had been all set to cream all by her lonesome, on her hand, she had no objections. She purred and whimpered.
Her pussy melted around his prick like a wax candle around a hard, flaming wick.
Brian unleashed his hot wad straight up into her loins in a steaming rocket, and when she felt the hot jizz splash into her, Mavis wailed and creamed a second time, going off like a machine gun.
He humped away until he was totally drained.
Then he held rigid, his cock still stuffed up her box, while she ground against him, working off the terminal spasms of her own orgasm and milking the last drops of sex juice out.
Then they both stood still.
After awhile, he drew his diminishing meat out of her twat. It came out with a slurp, semi-hard now, jutting out in a wide parabola from his soaking trousers. The head bobbed left and right like a horizontal pendulum, as if uncertain whether to rise or fall.
Mavis still had a handful of balls.
They had collapsed now, like deflated balloons.
She released him and he stepped back a pace.
"Well, the till seems right," he commented. Mavis looked over her shoulder. Hammond had a sheepish grin on his face as he was tucking his spent pecker back into his fly.
Mavis gave him a smile.
"Anytime you want to check the till, Mister Hammond, you just feel free to do it," she told him. Mavis was a girl who always welcomed deposits in that carnal cashbox between her shapely legs. It occurred to her, too, that she might ask Mister Hammond to give her a raise in pay if she was going to have overtime duty. But she didn't want to mention it at the moment; Mavis was no whore.
Hammond said, "I may want to check it again, after lunch.", "It'll be right," she assured him.
He returned to his office and Mavis turned back to the counter, no longer bored in the slightest. This job had benefits that she had not foreseen, and Mavis was in a cheerful mood.
She was so satisfied, now, that she didn't even feel envious of the blonde who had been given a jackpot ticket-in return, no doubt, for plenty of pussy.
Mavis didn't give her another thought.
Nor was there any way for Mavis to know what a remarkable chain of events she had set in process when she sold that jackpot ticket.
It was going to turn out a winning ticket, in fact.
But there was a lot more to it than that....