College Girl, Workplace, Hot and Wild,
Running a small business Saturday afternoon after four o'clock should be a breeze for anyone. It's only a matter of waiting until five o'clock, packing everything up, and getting ready to lock the place and leave. It was so quiet in the arcade in general. Verity hadn't seen a window shopper for ages.
At about four-thirty, she started bringing bunches of flowers on the racks outside her mum's floral business inside.
Her mum was doing a major wedding and reception arrangement and wouldn't return.
Verity decided to close ten minutes early. Her mum wouldn't know. She got busy.
She had the outside brackets cleared and the unsold bunches in water out the back. Her mum would collect them on the way to church tomorrow. Verity wouldn't be accompanying her.
She had the window display cleared of fresh items and replaced by potted ferns—a nice, inviting green look. There was just the counter to clear, and she would be off. That was done quickly enough.
'Oh, water the ferns, then it's all done.' she reminded herself.
Though God knows what she thought she would do for the evening.
One month past nineteen and still stung by a cheating college ex and feeling unattached.
Her mum might have done her a favour by getting her to help at the shop a few hours a day over the summer break before she started University.
Her young intellect launched into her current usual post-relationship bitching mindset.
Verity was doing the: 'fuck all guys' mental routine. The 'all men are bastard's' habitual: as she fine mist sprayed the delicate fronds of the maidenhair ferns, the gorgeous thick texture of the massed crocodile ferns, the rich dark staghorn ferns, the sole; copious, radiating, bright green bird's nest fern; probably her current favourite and finally a young kangaroo paw fern, probably her least favourite as it reminded her of her hair, difficult to manage, well it was curly and ginger.
Plus, 'Ginger' was a nickname she didn't always appreciate, like her personal strawberry patch between her legs; well, she was very embarrassingly to self; very unruly, full pube ginger down between her shapely thighs.
Verity knew she was guy desperate as she lightly sprayed the fern display.
Her girlfriend Carla had told her to calm down a bit; guys would appear, and Verity needed to lose that desperate look in her eyes.
The world wasn't full of bad boys, and plenty of bad boys were real fun, too.
Carla was a tramp, and that was Verity being nice.
Then she was back on her fixation; bad boys are just bastards.
However: Verity knew she secretly liked the arsehole guys—the ones who were mischievous and got your heart racing.
Fuck Sean; he only had to keep his dick focused on her, and life would still have been a rage every day.
She realised it was probably a tear-jerking chick flick alone tonight, The Notebook, for the umpteenth time since her break up with Sean.
Her mum would be home very late.
"Excuse us, Miss; Miss; could we have some service please," the deep male voice was behind her.
Verity realised her arse was way bent over into the bay window, spraying the ferns.
Damn it; how long had the guy behind her been rump perving.
It was more than a good minute, and it was two guys, not one.
Gareth and Stephan were enjoying the display, and we are not discussing the ferns here.
They were both connoisseurs of fem-arse, and this was quality nubile butt in tight-fitting faded jeans.
As the young lass turned out of the display window, they took in her complete petite form and her appealing curvy chest, her cherry-topped muffins only two layers down, a pastel pink t-shirt and a standard bra in the way of nature and male fondling.
They were titty aficionados too.
However, above all, they were both natural camel toe seekers.
Verity's jeans were hip-hugging and skin-tight. Too just right, actually, from a guy's perspective.
Gareth and Stephan, in sync, did the male downward glance and were rewarded with an absolute stunner, a perfectly defined mound.
It was near criminal that this chick wasn't naked because the magnetism, the outline, the definition of her V was cock pulsating.
They both would have hit hard on's in record time if Verity hadn't responded to their initial request for service.
However, in their minds, what needed servicing had suddenly changed.
They watched her untamed, curly ginger locks flounce as Verity moved behind the shop counter.
Both guys decided in their minds independently but mentally concurred that some ginger fuzz was a must between her thighs, given her great light natural hair colour.
"Sorry, I was busy, but what can I do for you?"
Verity was taking them both in; they were in their early twenties. Both wore suits, looking very suave and packing it in their pants by the looks of it.
But she steadied; the roving eyes of the pair, not one big bad wolf, but two, real bad boys for sure.
Stephan: got his eyes up to Verity's, an act of supreme will and thank God, the cutie was behind the counter now. Otherwise, he might have asked quickly and hoped to launch straight into a bum grope.
Though he was glancing up and down from her eyes and bosom because her chesty fluffy pushy 'creamies' were both within easy grasping range before he got back to her lively, light brown eyes as he blurted his unlikely yarn.
"To cut a long story short," said Stephan, "Two of the bridesmaids in our wedding party threw a hissy fit at each other over who looked frumpier in their designated gowns and boy, did they make a mess. A lot of corsages were all flattened amongst other things, and it's not a pretty sight seeing girls rip each other's dresses and well yes, it is, but not at a wedding, well maybe it's hot, but anyway, we need two new corsages for ourselves now; if you can help?"
Verity was smiling; maybe there were as many bitches as bastards out there.
Still, she felt that men were visitors from a foreign planet outside our solar system, and women were firmly on Earth most of the time. No point being on Venus, no cock there and here were two seemingly nice bad guys but how could you really know what they were like?
The bastards were probably mentally undressing her right now, the filthy pricks.
She was spot on there.
"Well, technically, it's bouts for guys and corsages for girls, so I'd say by your dark suits, a white carnation bud will be ideal?"
"Okay, thanks," they said in near sync, their bad boy minds wandering to red nipple buds.
Verity went out the back, selected two buds, trimmed them, and brought them out.
Gareth, the cunning prick, asked Verity to please insert the bud on his lapel.
He wanted to insert his cock into the lass while she was sitting on his lap.
But he had a wedding to get back to.
Verity was too male proximate, and she knew it but was decidedly enjoying it.
Gareth could smell her freshness.
Verity could smell his tangy cologne.
She was, however, so focused on pinning the flower expertly and not bruising it. Both sets of her delicate, long, well-manicured fingers on her hands were manipulating the bud carefully, deftly into place.
Stephan was now too close as well.
Taking in the line of Verity's neck and the shape of her cute fleshy ear lobe and that secret sexy turn-on spot behind it.
Verity knew she was male hemmed in, corralled actually, as she adjusted Gareth's flower perfectly.
Gareth had deflowering on his mind.
Stephan moved in, his moist tongue risking one flick into the crevice of the sensitive skin behind the lass's earlobe.
It was either going to be, 'Piss off you bastard 'or 'I like that, you sly bugger.'
Verity murmured consent.
She was instantaneous pussy putty for a pair of cock sure bastards.
Gareth was an all-action man; he quickly removed her salmon pink t-shirt and unclipped her bra, releasing her chest muffins into free form and ready for free expressive play.
My; were her breasts a salivating, alluring pair.
Gareth was sucking and licking and cupping her spongy cupcakes as if it was the most natural action in the world.
The truth is, it is.
Stephan was tracing the rim of her ear. Then he held her fleshy earlobe between his lips for a generous suck. Then, he teased her lobe downwards gently with his teeth in a delicate stretch. Next, he dribbled moisture along the curve of her ear and blew softish warmish air over her so close ridges of sensitive skin.
Verity was rapt, caught in a tingly never before experienced sensation.
However, it was the dirty talk whispered into her ear by Stephan that aroused her.
"I bet you are so hot right now between your legs. I bet you are so wet between your legs right now. I know you want cock between your legs."
'Wow' was all that passed through Verity's busy mind, though whether it was the tit attention, the earlobe delight or both, or her trapped wet pussy, or the lot, only she knew.
The pace in the florist shop was moving up a notch rapidly. Or down a notch faster as her jeans button was popped open by Stephan, and her skin-hugging bright black briefs were also lowered around her ankles.
Full furry ginger moss. Captivated males. There was no way they would get back around the corner to the church in time for the wedding now.
Touch spreads everywhere, as it does when bodies are fully naked, times three.
Verity had her hands full of cock, in front of her and to her side. Gareth had his finger in her moist slit, and Stephan, yes, men are opportunistic bastards, was rimming her tight, puckering starfish.
Verity's pussy was excitedly sopping, wet so fast, and quickly dominating the sexually expressive side of herself at the moment.
God, she loved her coochie and was quickly learning to appreciate what her arsehole could add to her bodily pleasure.
Thank you, God, for bad boys.
The young lass was way out of her depth and way beyond her sexual wish list and flighty, flitty fantasies under the doona in her bed.
Well, she never got beyond herself and one guy in her daydreams.
Verity's coochie was doing its designated job of attracting cock attentively.
Gareth was in, and it was wild because Stephan had lifted her and was supporting her thighs from behind.
The pecker penetration was awesomely deep and expansively filling.
Gareth was stroking, then rapidly pumping, then fully grinding deeply, then nearly withdrawing and plunging right in—complete, sleek, slit satisfaction, building.
Closing the shop, hell if she had been too fast, she would have missed this, thought Verity.
Open shop, open thighs, open pussy, open nubile; sexual expressiveness revealed.
Her sexual need was out there, exposed externally, but her inner self wanted it too; yes, the guys were leading, but Verity was happy to follow.
"Fuck;" our Ginger Miss splurged out as she was flipped up into a standing, upside down; supported; sixty-nine position by Stephan.
Verity went instinctively for the cock, perfectly erectly positioned for her waiting greedy lips.
Yum, tasty, hard and then she was too busy enjoying herself giving head and trying to encapsulate the pleasure sweeping between her thighs as Stephan's tongue got busy with her muff.
He was lustfully licking her lovely loose lips, nature's natural arrangement, pink fleshy artistry, nowhere near even, crinkled flapettes, but more compelling than the most perfect Ikebana arrangement.
Stephan buried his face in her awesome pubes.
After all, what else can a guy do when it's in your face?
Verity climaxed with shuddering intensity. Her pussy flooded her body with a surge of buzzy, sappy and sustained cosiness- combined- like warmth and enjoyment on a summer afternoon.
Stephan had her down on the floor, doggy spread.
He speared her red carpet flaps.
Gareth, at the same time, filled her open, gaped, moaning mouth with a fat pecker.
There is an absolute beauty of just life, as a young woman's legs are spread and she presents herself from behind to a guy, the vulnerable giving.
The immediate male response is to fill it. Stephan did so with hard, manically fast thrusting.
This was the maximum dual pleasure time.
Well, treble time, actually.
You couldn't question Verity's enthusiastic commitment or engagement to the sensually fulfilling instances of cock pumping into her slot between her quivering thighs and her mouth full of ramming, tonsil-tickling cock.
She expected jizz at both ends.
Bad boys don't disappoint when it comes to spreading the pearl droplets.
Every female body is designed to be fucked, but there are just those amazing slut shagging moments when they are fucked absolutely right.
So good because it's so bad.
Verity was in one; she was being fucked beyond her dreamt expectations, and her second orgasm, an easy matching of her first; made her cunny runny; filling her with a delicious, sensitive, mushy sweetness.
Stephan was reduced to his basic cock and balls self; as he unloaded in her ginger muff.
Warm, tight and blended natural juices.
Male bliss.
Gareth knew she wanted to see his cum spurt into her craving gob.
Her hazel eyes, watching for the jerk that signalled the soaring wad as it was compelled to jolt out.
Verity luxuriated in Gareth's male intensity as she caught his splattered warm splashes in her spacious, insatiable mouth.
The young lass looked how a young nubile really should look after sex: beyond the self-pleasure, beyond the shared pleasure, a young woman filled up, whole and acutely aware of living, sexually replete.
Well, fuck the wedding.
Men are true bastards when it comes to women.
The pair had ditched their best mate at the altar because after they re-dressed, they stayed and helped Verity shut the shop.
Altruism!
Hell no, bad boy cock recovery time.
However, Gareth and Stephan knew the groom would understand when he heard of their incredible, unexpected encounter.
As he would tell them how he had comforted the two quarrelling bridesmaids sexually before his wedding service.
Yes, men are real opportunistic bastards.
Screw the reception, too, as the Ginger Miss led the boys to the storeroom.
Fuck an evening by yourself with a chick flick.
Verity had the boys out the back of the shop and had moved incredibly quickly from willing, flexible playmate to the sexual-searing huntress.