One of the many inevitable things that come with buying a house, is frequenting Do It Yourself stores. A lot. I’ve always loved them: the smell of newly cut wood, dried up paint and burnt dust, the sheer endlessness of the isles and the countless object that I never knew existed until I saw them, it’s amazing. The weeks between moving into my new house and selling the old one, I could be found in such stores about every other day. I had worked out the perfect schedule, arriving just after peak times were over, but long enough before closing time for me not to have to hurry.

I also knew all the students and middle-aged men that worked there. Or I thought I did. One day, on a random weekday evening, there was a new face. A face that one would expect in an urban clothes store or a Starbucks in an artsy city, not here. It was a girl, which was somewhat of a surprise. This one had dead straight, black hair, running from the top of her head all the way down to her lower back. The skinniest of arms and the tiniest of hands. At least seven rings in each ear, one in her nose, a few in her lower lip, and God knows how much more in other places I couldn’t see for the barely flattering store outfit she had to wear, but of which she had made the absolute most by not closing the top four buttons of her shirt and leaving one shoulder only covered by the black top underneath. In no way did she look suitable for the job.

I had not even started shopping, but the sight of this girl had me forgetting about that altogether. The sheer improbability of the situation made me want to keep looking. She was rearranging a setup of garden tables and chairs, for whatever reason, since it looked fairly good to me already. The longer I looked, the more I noticed she was not only busy with work, she was also looking around. As I did the same thing, I realized I was the only person in this part of the store. Was I ruining her plans? I decided to test that hypothesis by walking away, disappearing into one of the isles close by. There I stayed for a minute or two, before walking back to the garden isle. The girl had vanished. She wasn’t in the next one either, or in the one behind it. There was only one left, one I knew few people ever came, for it housed only the tallest pieces of drywall, something I figured barely anyone would ever buy.

I peeked around the corner, and I saw her. She was standing in between the pieces of drywall, her back turned towards me. I only saw a third of her body, but I could see her elbow pointing slightly outward, moving slowly. Technically, she could be writing something on a piece of paper, or pulling some rough edges off of the drywall, but given the circumstances, her nervous looking around, I knew something else must have been going on. I watched her for a while, keeping an eye on my side of the isle. There was a woman slowly walking towards us. As she came closer, I thought about my next move. I had to tell her, obviously, but preferrably without letting her know I had been standing here for a while. Once the woman was too close to the corner for the girl to be safe, I walked towards her.

“You may want to pause for a few,” I said as I walked past.

I didn’t look back, turned the corner, and pretended I was quite interested in one of the pieces of wood hanging from a ledge. Through a small gap, I could see her talking to the woman, pointing her in a certain direction. She then walked around the isle and stood next to me.

“You know, it’s rude to interrupt a girl,” she said.

I took a good look at her face. It was pale, there were scratch marks on her cheeks and next to her eyes.

“It’s also rude to yell “Hang on, I’ll be with you in a moment’ at a customer in the middle of an orgasm.”

She laughed.

“Orgasm? I wasn’t even remotely there yet.”

“Well,” I said, “then you might want to find a somewhat less public place and get to it.”

She threw her head over her shoulder and pulled her head to the side.

“Or…” she said slowly.

She did not finish her sentence. She only looked around, saw nothing she didn’t like, grabbed me by the hand and pulled me towards the large, flappy doors that said “Staff only”.

I had never been backstage in a store like this. Building materials were everywhere, as well as boxes with tools, stacks of wallpaper, and all sorts of screws, nails, and other small things. No one was here, and she must have known, for didn’t even look for any possible intruders and took me straight through another door made of plastic, curtain-like things. This room was emptier. It had a massive wall with a gigantic door that opened upwards – I assumed it did so when trucks arrived to drop off their load. On the other side stood a large machine that turned boxes into pulp, and some small, wooden stairs against it. The girl unbuttoned her jeans, leaned over them, and pulled down her pants, giving me the briefest of looks at her black thong before she pulled it down too.

In no universe imaginable would I let this opportunity slip away. Even if I was married to a fairytale princess who was standing right behind me, I still would have done what I did: unbuckle my belt, pull my jeans and shorts down and get myself hard enough in order for it not to bend. As soon as that was the case, I stood behind her, put my hands on her ass, used my thumbs to push my dick down just a little, and slid it inside her. If there had been any doubt regarding her intentions, her loud curse would have taken all of it away. She had been working herself well back in the store, and I had no trouble sliding out and back in again.

It was a great position we were in. Her knees were on the stairs, her back was arched, her hands were reaching up to the edge of the machine, and I was behind her, leaning on her butt, getting in as deep as physics allowed me to. Every thrust sounded like the clapping of hands, or slapping a cheek. Noises were coming from everywhere in the room, where other machines were doing their thing, oblivious of what was happening within the same four walls.

Because she didn’t seem like the type of girl that likes to be stuck in the same position for too long, I slid out, pulled her hair and dragged her towards the doorway. There was just enough room next to it to pull her up and push her against the wall. It was only after I was back inside her that I realized it wasn’t an empty wall that she was leaning into, but that there was a large red button that her left shoulder was now banging into. Every time I pushed her up against it, the large door behind me opened a little, and with every other time it stopped. After some thirty-odd times, the gap had opened enough for the cars passing by to become visible. I barely noticed, especially when the plastic next to me started to move. A young man walked into the room, and dropped the empty boxes he was holding when he saw us. He stood there for a few moments, then disappeared again.

“You’re probably fucked,” I whispered in her ear.

“Damn right,” she yelled. “Don’t worry, I hate this job anyway!”

Without sliding out, I pulled her away from the wall, and put her down on a table that had a staggering amount of pieces of paper lying on top of it. I could feel my dick trying to burn its way through her lower belly, and I had to be really careful not to pull my hips back too far. I put both my hands over her throat and leaned into it. She coughed, she laughed, she moaned and bit her lip.

“Hang on!” she screamed.

“What’s wrong?”

Her heels buried themself into the back of my upper legs as her body started to shake.

“I’ll be with you in a moment!”

There was wave after wave of pressure. Her body grabbed my dick, let go, grabbed it again, and it kept doing so for at least fifteen times. I was fairly sure she wasn’t fully done when she freed herself from my grasp, kneeled down in front of me, and took me in her mouth. Her tongue piercing – I hadn’t even noticed she had one – flicked around the tip as her lips crawled all the way up the shaft. I was in the far depths of her throat, ready to explode, when the flappy doors opened again. The boy was back, along with a guy in a suit, and a furious look on his face.

“Sam! What on Earth do you think you’re doing!”

She may have tried to answer that question, if it wasn’t for the first wave of cum to hit the back of her throat. She took it all, every last drop, but she didn’t swallow, nor spit. Even as she stood up, she kept everything in her mouth. Her one hand grabbed my arm as her other pulled up her pants as much as possible. I did the same thing, wondering what she had in mind. As we arrived at the plastic door, she let go of me. She grabbed her boss’s both cheeks, kissed him on his lips – her mouth still filled with the result of our shenanigans – and slapped him on the butt. Then, finally, she swallowed, winked, grabbed my arm again, walked through the door, and shouted.

“I quit!”

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