Technically, it’s Monday. But my work schedule has me off on Mondays and Tuesdays, so those are the night I go out and have fun. However, my idea of fun differs from most…

I don’t spend my nights off at home; hell, I don’t even spend them in my home town. I’ll drive thirty, forty miles out of the way to have my fun. I don’t go to clubs, or bars. I don’t go out and crash parties, or get shit-faced drunk and whore myself out to the first guy to pick me up off the ground.

I go to convenience stores. Small, quiet, off the main roads, hardly any traffic. No cameras, no managers. Just one bored, lonely young man standing behind the counter, wasting time away on his phone, waiting for something to happen but never knowing quite what that “something” is.

I am that “something.”

Like I said, I’ll drive around looking for these specific stores. Sometimes it’ll be hours before I find one I think fits the bill. No big national chains like “Flying J” or “7-Eleven.” They’re always too busy. No, I look for “Conoco” or an old, rundown “Route 66.” I tend to stake out these stores for a bit before going inside. I need to know what kind of traffic they get. If there’s no gas pump, that’s always a good sign; means that not as many people stop in, so there’s less chance of me being interrupted.

Lower traffic also means less money, which by extension means fewer (or better yet, no) cameras. That means less chance of me getting caught later. That also means no replays later for anybody else; I want what happens to stay between me, and the young man behind the counter.

My night begins with me picking out a wardrobe to wear. Tonight, that’s going to be a white blouse and a grey pencil skirt, heels, and nude stockings. No bra, no underwear. Glasses are a good idea; I don’t wear glasses normally, but I have a pair of cheap reading glasses that give the ensemble a “sexy librarian” look.

“Perfect,” I whisper to myself. I grab my purse and I’m off.

***

There’s this one store that I’ve been scoping out for a week now. There’s three clerks that work the counter at this store, and the one I want is always there on Mondays and Thursdays. He’s early college-age, about nineteen or so. I’ve never gone in, but I’ve always seen him through the windows; when he’s not ringing somebody up, he’s always on his phone. When I scope out a place like this and see somebody on their phone, I always wonder what they’re looking at. Obvious answers are Facebook or Solitaire, but I imagine this young man spends his time on more adult materials. Erotic stories, beautiful half-naked women, flirting with girls a few years younger than him, hoping they send him naughty pictures of themselves so he can save them in his spank bank.

I’ll give him something for his spank bank, that’s for sure.

As eleven o’clock approaches, the point in the night where the store is least busy, I start to prepare myself. I put my auburn hair into a ponytail and pull out the glasses. I also adjust the top of the blouse by unbuttoning the top few buttons before leaving the car. I hunch my shoulders back, breasts pushing up tightly against the thin fabric of my blouse. I check myself in the mirror; yup, nipples are showing through just fine. I apply a quick coat of maroon lipstick, and I’m ready.

I walk up to the door and go inside. The “welcome” bell rings, but the clerk barely looks up. “Evening,” he says without lifting his head from his phone.

“Hey, hon,” I reply in a breathy voice, which gets his attention. He lifts his head, and I see his eyes go wide; he doesn’t know it yet, but he’s hooked. I can see his eyes fill with lust, desire. He already wants me, and he’s about to get a whole lot of me.

I adjust my glasses and give a warm, seductive smile. I stare at him as I walk down the aisle towards the coolers at the back of the store; I stare a bit longer than I should, just so I know I have his attention. Once I’m confident that his eyes are going to stay on me the entire time, I look away from him, still beaming brightly. As I reach the end of the aisle, I break his line of sight long enough to undo a couple more buttons on my blouse, exposing more of my breasts.

I hiked my skirt up and head to the end of the aisle directly in front of him. I examine the bottom row of drinks, which consists of bottled and flavored water. I bend straight over, exposing flashing the clerk my ass and shaved pussy. I stay bent over longer than it takes for me to grab a bottle of SmartWater because I want him to get a good look at me. I want him to imagine what it would be like to bury his face in my snatch. I envision his tongue, warm and wet, wiggling into my tight little hole, his hands gripping my ass cheeks and spreading them apart while his lips closed tightly around me…

Mmmm, naughty thoughts making me wet… I moaned to myself. I stood up with the bottle of water and walked down the aisle back towards the clerk. He’s still staring at me, so I decide to play with him a bit.

“Are you watching me?” I asked him in a tone that was halfway between seductive and authoritative. He quickly snapped out of his daze and stammered his response.

“Uh… no, ma’am. I was just… Yeah. Uhm, I mean, I… No. No, I wasn’t watching.” He spat out. His phone had disappeared from the counter, and his hand was in his pocket; it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out this picture.

I held out my hand palm up and said, “Phone, now!”

“What?” he asked, utterly puzzled.

“It’s illegal to take photographs of someone without their knowledge,” I informed him. “Do we need to get the police involved?” Before the word “police” left my lips, the phone was out of his pocket and back on the counter. Of course, I had no intention of phoning the police, no matter how many photos he took of my ass; if I did, then the fun would be over before it even began.

“Enter the code,” I ordered. He typed in the four-digit code (the code was “0420,” so I shouldn’t have been surprised when a giant pot plant appeared as the background image). I then snatched the phone off the counter and went into photos.

Holy Hell, there were hundreds of photos here! Most were porn pics that he had downloaded from the internet, but several were selfies from girls he had been speaking with; I could tell, because he had a series of them that were all from the same girl. And down at the bottom of his camera roll were four snapshots of my ass, bent over in front of the cooler.

“You like looking at dirty pictures, do you?” I asked him. He nodded meekly, and a smile crossed my face. “What would you do for more pictures of me?” He seemed confused by the direction the conversation was taking, so I stepped back from the counter and turned the camera to myself. I snapped a pair of selfies that were focused on my chest, and said aloud, “Oh, that won’t work!”

I popped a few more buttons on the blouse, freeing up the girls a bit more; nipples were showing and I took a close up of them.

I took a finger and traced it around one nipple, making it stiff before taking another close up of it. “This is fun, isn’t it?” The poor guy was speechless.

“This has flash, right?” I then stuck the phone under my skirt and snapped off a series of upskirts. When I pulled the phone out and looked through them, I gasped and looked up at the clerk. “Wow! You see that?” I showed him the one of the photos. “See how wet I am now?”

True enough, the photo in question showed me absolutely dripping wet; you could see it reflecting the flash of the camera. His jaw dropped, and it became abundantly clear that he was putty in my hands now.

Nearby was a seating area with a small row of old chairs. I kept the phone in my hand and walked over to grab one of the chairs. I dragged it back over in front of the counter; it was time for the show to begin.

I sat down in the chair and crossed my legs, dangling one heel off the tip of my foot just a few feet from the counter. While I dangled my heel, I used my free hand to pull out my ponytail and let my hair fall free before going to undo the final buttons on the blouse, letting it fall open so he could get a good look at my tits. With my other hand, I snapped pic after pic of my heels, legs, and swollen breasts. I even started rubbing my thighs, moving slowly up my legs as I prepared to finger myself. I keep snapping away, pretending I’d forgotten about the clerk for a moment. I soon look back at him and feign amnesia.

“Oh,” I exclaimed. “I forgot you were here for a moment!” He remained silent, but his Adam’s apple was twitching nervously; he was getting excited. “You like watching me, don’t you?” I pouted. He nodded eagerly and smiled for the first time since I’d walked through the door.

“That’s good,” I replied. “Because I like watching men like you watch me.” Suddenly, he made for the gap in the counter; he was wanting to come out to me.

“No, no, no…” I tsked, suddenly whipping my blouse closed; he stopped dead in his tracks. “You stay on that side of the counter,” I ordered. “If you cross that counter, the show’s over and the police see those photos you took of me. Is that clear? Say ‘yes, ma’am,’ if you understand.”

“Y… yes… yes, ma’am,” he sputtered aloud.

“Good boy,” I smiled. I let the blouse fall back open, exposing my round tits and perky nipples once again. “Now, do you want to watch me play with myself?” He nodded eagerly.

“I’ll play with myself on one condition,” I explained. “I want you to take your cock out, and start stroking yourself.”

If you’ve never seen a man’s face flood in fear, it’s a sight to behold. The color drained from his face so fast that it was like someone had taken a remote and turned his settings all the way down; the effect was almost comical.

Despite him clearly being scared shitless, he clumsily unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock; it wasn’t much, really. I was hoping for a one-hander, at least; but it was shorter than that, even! He was clearly fully erect, and he could only pinch it with his fingers! I resisted the urge to laugh at his tiny cock, and proceeded with the show.

I hiked my skirt up over my hips and spread my legs wide, running my hands over my stockings and up my thighs. I took a finger and dragged it through my sodden slit.

“Jerk yourself,” I demanded. Immediately, he started jerking himself off. I held up the camera and took a few pics of him jerking it. As small as he was, I admired his enthusiasm; if he pulled it much harder, he might have yanked it completely off. And I will concede that, while he wasn’t well endowed with length, he had girth, and sometimes that’s enough. Watching him turned me on, at any rate.

I flipped the camera to “video” and aimed it at my swollen pussy, which I continued to finger as I offered vocal encouragement.

“Yeah, keep jerking yourself. Ooh, I love watching guys play with themselves while they watch me.” It was true; watching a guy while he watched me play with myself turned me on even more. The more turned on I god, the harder I played with myself, which caused them to enjoy themselves more, which again caused me to get turned on even more; it was an endless cycle that fed itself.

A pair of headlights flashed outside as a car began to pull into the lot. We now had a timer.

“Come on, jerk it for me!” I ordered. “Faster!” He nodded eagerly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said as he continued to pound his pud quite vigorously. It was almost admirable, really.

“Good boy,” I said. “Milk that cock for me!” I smile back at him and start to finger myself faster. The clock was ticking; we only had a few seconds before the person in the car came through the door. My heart, which was already pounding before, went into overdrive as a flicked my bean and began gasping for air as I was overcome with orgasm.

“Yeah! Cum for me, baby! Do it! I’m gonna cum too! I’m cumming!” I yelled aloud. Suddenly, with a loud groan, he shot off a rather large load all over the counter. I took a few shots of him ejaculating all over the counter, and sent then sent all of the photos I had taken to my own phone, which was out in the car.
Once they were all sent, I quickly deleted both the sent messages and the original photos I had taken from his phone, and emptied the trash folder for good measure. No replays.

I snapped my blouse back together, pulled my skirt down, and kicked the chair out of the way just as someone walked past the window. I tossed the phone back to the clerk as I headed for the door with my water.

“Better clean that up quickly, sweetie,” I said to him with a wink as I hustled out the door, popping my ass from side-to-side as I did so to give him one final visual image before I left.

I took note of a cute redheaded girl coming up the sidewalk towards the door, but made a point of not making eye contact lest I draw attention to my disheveled state. I got to my car, turned quickly, and watched. The poor clerk stood there at the counter for a moment, not doing anything until he heard the door open and the bell rang. Then he scrambled into action, stuffing his cock away and wiping away the cum from the counter with his hand.

I chuckled to myself and got into my car. I took a long drink from the bottle and pulled out my phone. I saved all the photos I had sent to myself, then deleted the messages. The clerk had something for his spank bank, and now I had something for mine…