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Business Matters… Saturday

Business Matters… Saturday

“Typical fucking kid”, snorted Bobby. The snort was more of a grunt as a result of his nearness to spurting his cum into a newly stolen pair of customers’ panties.

In back of his shop he had found the undies caught up in a bath towel and when he sniffed them, besides the heady aroma of pussy juice his nose was assailed by the stench of days-old male cum. Desperately he singled out an area of the fabric that smelled more strongly of pussy, then pulled out his cock and beat it hard, determined to add his cum to that of the lucky s-o-b that had no doubt fucked the owner of the panties.

“Fucking typical”, Bobby moaned as he wiped the last splashes of his seed off the bench and threw the panties into the cleaning pile, “’Sposed to be here to help in the fucking shop, and where is she…”. He knew very well that his ire was more a result of his want, his need, to get young Tara in back, find out why she had pulled a string of balls out of her pussy when he last spied on her in the female rest-room, and at least get a hand in her pants.

His wrist watch was no help, apparently even his normally accurate timepiece seemed to have decided that it wasn’t interested in doing its job. As he zipped up his pants a stray blob of his cum grinned up at him from his black jeans… he wiped at it before realising that all his action would do is to spread the viscous fluid deeper and further over the fabric. “Jeeezuz!” The day was hardly started and it was going from bad to worse to …

“Ah fuck!”…

…The door at shop entrance opened sounding the alert in the work area. Checking his zip Bobby made his way through to check out if it was the recalcitrant Tara or some dude coming to add to his day of misery.

Against the sun that flooded in front of the shop he could only make out a female form, shapely, tall , curvy and wearing a light dress through which the back-light revealed shapely legs. He squinted against the brightness and was sure as eggs that it wasn’t the diminutive form of young Tara.

“Good morning ma’am how can I…” the words were barely out before her voice cut them off. A voice that had become unmistakable.

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