The Jersey Shore girl appeared shy, but curious. She tugged at the unicorn’s nipple rings and played around with her meaty clit ring in amazement. The unicorn’s clit ring was incredibly thick—it looked heavy, like a giant silver weight dangling off her pussy. I didn’t know clit rings came in various sizes like that.
The in-charge fairy with the larger wings grabbed a Hitachi magic wand—something we sold as “back massagers”—and placed it on the Jersey Shore girl’s pussy. I did always find it odd that amid anal beads, dildos, and ball-gags there were devices to massage one’s back. Now I get it!
Jersey girl’s shyness disappeared. She relaxed as her eyes went into the back of her head. She grabbed onto fairy number two’s ass for balance, and the fairy rubbed her clit with her own fingers, while grabbing onto the unicorn’s tits, all still with the butt plug inside of her.
Jimmy rubbed his crotch. I could see a boner poking from the inside of his pants. I had to admit, I was a little wet, too. What an advantage we have as women that we can be so secretive with our own perversions! I don’t envy a large metal-like rod that told the world when we’re aroused. But he didn’t seem to care. I suppose not having an erection at this moment would be worse. His eyes were glued to the TV.
The unicorn grabbed the VIP badge with Jimmy’s face on it that was around the Jersey Shore girl’s neck, and kissed her ferociously as the Hitachi was still on her clit. Everyone seemed so determined to make this girl have an orgasm. Perhaps once she had one, she would turn into a unicorn, or a fairy, too? Jimmy reached for his cock underneath his pants and began pleasuring himself behind the register. I’m not quite sure if this was allowed, but I don’t think it was illegal. Jimmy was a local hero. He pushed buttons on laptops at nightclubs that cost over fifty dollars to get into. It was an honor to have him rub his own cock underneath his oversized pants in the middle of our store, right?
The fairy with the smaller wings lied down, and the other fairy wrapped her legs around her head and sat on her face. The unicorn followed suit and laid the Jersey Shore girl down and sat on her face, with the “back massager” still glued to her clit. The fairies morphed into a 69, and licked and fingered each other progressively with more and more fingers inside each other’s wet pussies, until every part of their hands disappeared. It was intense. They continued, until they both started pulsating on each other’s hands. Holy shit! I noticed a small fountain of squirt come out of the fairy with the bigger wings’ vagina. Jimmy continued to touch himself. The Jersey girl then shook uncontrollably with the unicorn’s pussy in her mouth. The back massager had broken her down and given her a greater orgasm than anyone else’s. The fairies licked their juices off their fingers, and the unicorn seemed satisfied to have cum inside of such a perfect pair of collagen-injected lips.
And Jimmy… well… he rubbed himself to completion successfully without even taking his pants off. I ran to the bachelorette section of the shop and pulled out a “Tuggie,” aka a fuzzy sock that fits on your cock. A sock cock, if you will. I offered it to him as a complimentary gift. I thought it would be a comfortable alternative to wear for the ride home as opposed to his stained pants. There was a neon green one that I thought suited his style quite well.
The girls laughed and poured out some various powders on the table that they snorted through a penis straw. They took their time getting ready. They had about thirteen minutes of room left.
“Do you want me to call you a cab or something?” I asked Jimmy.
“Nah,” he said, “I got a limo outside.”
Yeah. Of course he did.
4
It’s Saturday night. The freakin’ weekend. Most people my age will be gearing up for a night of bar hopping, and one-night stands. As for me, I will be spending my Saturday among vibrators, silicone dongs, and films as fine as Grand Theft Anal 7. Who’s to say who’s having a sexier night?
My shift has just begun, and the owner, Sandy is here. My mother’s mother died when I was three years old and my father’s mother died just before I was born, so I never had that grandparent that baked you pies and knitted you sweaters. Sandy, however, had a unique, grandmotherly charm; she called me toots and sweetie pie and gave me kisses on the cheek, but instead of making pie she made moonshine in her bathtub. She also regularly went on dates with suitors twenty-plus years younger than her, and some time last week she fornicated with two men at the same time. (I use the word fornicate because referring to sex as “fucking” when you’re talking about your grandma is wrong—right?) I truly never knew women in their seventies could have such a healthy sex drive, but like I said, I never had a grandma.
On this fine evening she wore bright pink lipstick, a see-through halter top with giant metallic sea-shells covering her breasts, paired with stone washed jeans, red heels, and a fur coat.
“You look nice tonight! Why so dressed up?” I asked her.
“Well, it’s Saturday night sweetie!”
“Well, you’ve got some lipstick on your teeth on a Saturday night,” I laughed. I pulled out a Kleenex from behind the counter, and she pulled out a pocket mirror and inspected her mouth.
“Oh, what a hoot!” She laughed hysterically. I had her hold still as I wiped the pink stain off her teeth. Then I continued to restock dildos.
In addition to parading around in faux fur and sea-shelled boobs, Sandy put out bowls of Cheetos and Chex Mix for the customers, and turned the music (which was a bizarre collection of orchestral versions of current pop songs; I don’t think Sandy understood the origin of what these tunes were imitating) in the store up about four decibels louder than it usually is. She also made some kind of punch mix that she inconveniently placed right next to the register.
I didn’t know she would be coming in. Was she here as my boss? Is there something I should be doing differently? I could have put out some Cheetos had I known that I was supposed to. Does that help with sales? I wanted to ask her, but I also didn’t want to give away any sales tactics to any customers.
“I think there’s a folding table somewhere in the back,” I said. “Maybe we can bring it out and put the food and stuff on there…”
Sandy nodded, so I brought out the table, and laid out the punch, Chex Mix, and the Cheetos in as decorative a manner as I possibly could. The table looked a bit barren so I sprinkled some porn DVDs between everything.
“That looks lovely!” Sandy said as she lifted an anal DVD off the table. She put her glasses on and inspected the back of the DVD box cover, with the movie just a few centimeters away from her face. I wasn’t sure what she meant was lovely—the graphic photographic images of anal sex that her spectacles examined or my on-the-fly table design skills. Perhaps it was a mixture of both.
There were a few customers wandering around the store. It was interesting to watch the way people navigated their way through aisles of sex. Certain people come in here with a very specific purpose and go directly to the product they have in mind. Others spend hours looking around, unsure if they need a dildo, a blow-up doll, a XXX movie, or anything and everything in between. I noticed that several repeat “customers” (if you can still call them that) frequently came in the store, looked around at everything diligently, and then left without ever purchasing anything.