She Wore Shorts to the Gas Station

by Ken Haramiru

 

An excerpt

 

I felt a pair of arms wrap around my V-shaped torso from behind. A pair of soft, warm breasts pressed into my lower shoulder blades as she drew herself to me and whispered into my ear, "You didn't have to actually start the laundry, you know. I really don't care if my clothes smell like gunpowder."

I pressed the button anyway, starting the load. "Had a hunch that's what was going on here," I replied as I turned around to face her. The athletic girl now nestled nicely up against my chest as I smiled and said, "But once the cycle starts, it doesn't stop until it's done. So it will manage to keep your clothes off of you now for at least a good hour."

Erica ran her hands over my shoulders compulsively, enjoying all of the sculpted curves. "With a body like this, why are you a salesman?" she asked me. "Why not a model, or an actor?"

I shrugged. "I used to be a fireman, but I got tired of it. Right now, I'm at a decent place in my life. I'm part owner at the shop, and business is good. And the guys I work with are cool." I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her close to me before saying, "And once in a while, I get a cute customer."

Erica giggled. "Are you really sure you need those muscles to sell guns to people? Don't they kind of sell themselves?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Food sells itself too, right? But the cute waitresses with low-cut tops get bigger tips, especially if they bend over in front of guys while they take orders. Selling guns to video gamers isn't much different, so Fred and I try to look like we came out of a video game."

Erica smirked and asked, "So, if I were trying to sell you something..."

I raised my eyebrow. "Yes?"

She paused for a moment, then restarted. "If I were trying to sell you something, then would I do better at it if I did this?" she asked as she toyed with the strap on her panties.

I smiled and folded my arms over my chest, leaning up against the wall. "I don't know - what are you trying to sell me?" I asked.

"Good question. How about I'm trying to get your boxers off?" she asked.

I smiled. "Um, yeah, I think you're going to have to work on that one for a little bit."

She slinked up to me and ran her hand down my chest. "I have all kinds of plans for you once you get those off."

I put my hands on her hips, enjoying the view of her midriff. "There's a lot of things I can do to you before hand, though."

She leaned in close and put a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. "I guarantee you, my way's more fun," she said.

I kissed her back quickly, then pulled back and stared into her eyes for a few seconds before I returned and kissed her with more intent. We wrapped our arms against each other and caressed, losing ourselves in the sensation of our bodies pressing up against each other.

I began to edge us out of the laundry room and down the hall. We broke apart for a second and she reached down to caress my cock through my boxers. "What do I have to do to get those off of you?" she asked before she put her lips back to mine. As our tongues went back and forth between our mouths, I quietly lowered my hand to her panties, and began to massage her pussy lips with my fingers. I could feel them responding, swelling and spreading as my fingers sought their goal.

Erica let out a little moan and ground herself against my hand, the edge of my thumb tickling her clit. "No fair," she whined as her slender hand and its smooth fingers still pressed against my boxers.

I stepped closer and fidgeted with her vulva, my fingers finding her moist slit and gliding along it. "If it's really that unfair, I could always stop," I offered.

She bit her lip and fished with her hand, finding my fly and slipping through to wrap her fingers around my shaft. "You're just going to make me try harder," she said breathlessly.