The Pun and the Supervisor

Hi! I'm trying my hand at this for the very first time. Looking to keep writing, learn, and improve. Hope you enjoy the story of Alyssa's "boring" day at work!

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Alyssa's eyes darted menacingly around the store. She was searching eagerly for something out of place -- clothes on the wrong rack, idle clerks who should be working, customers who might be shoplifters. "Braden!" She barked at the new clerk, a teenager working his first job. "That last group of idiots that that just came in here left the paisley shirts in a mess. Go put them back in order, you're not being paid to chat! Move, double time!" Her pulse quickened a little with the thrill of scolding somebody new. New hires quickly learned that Alyssa did not abide by a messy store. They also quickly learned she had little time for friendliness, but a lot of time for belittling people.

Alyssa had very strong opinions about nearly everything, and was a harsh judge of people. She adjusted her pencil skirt and checked her high heels. It was an expensive pair. Why didn't people care about appearances any more? It seemed like every foot she glanced at had nothing more than a grubby pair of sneakers and stained white socks. Add a pair of cheap jeans and a stretched out t-shirt, and there you had it -- the modern male. Alyssa wrinkled her nose contemptuously at the thought of being seen in public like that. In the midst of her grand social critique, a young man sauntered into the store looking as out of place as a penguin in Death Valley. She immediately felt a shiver go up her spine. Tall, tattooed, skinny, with a short mohawk. Tight black jeans and a ratty t-shirt. Converse sneakers. She watched one of her clerks approach him. "Can I help you find anything today, sir?"

"Yes, actually, I need to pick up some-"

Alyssa swooped in, seemingly out of nowhere. "I can help you, sir." The words sounded more sneer that speech. She turned and gave her coworker an icingly threatening glare. The message had been sent. "I, uh... guess I'll go take the register for a few minutes, then." Alyssa watched the clerk leave and turned her attention back to the punk.

"Now what is it you need, exactly?" She said sharply.

The punk explained that he was going to a friend's wedding soon and needed some formal shirts and ties.

Alyssa looked him up and down. She picked out a few items. "These are the easiest styles to pull off. Basic. Even someone like you might look halfway presentable in them." The punk stared uneasily at her. "You'll need to try them on. Follow me to the dressing room." She walked, quickly and purposely, to the back of the store and the row of dressing rooms. "Room 3 is available. Go in there. You do know what a 'three' looks like, right?" The punk rolled his eyes and replied that he did, in fact, know what a three looked like. He shut the door behind him. Alyssa sneered at the closed door. How could he roll his eyes at me? A moment later, he reappeared wearing the first of the shirts. "You've not buttoned the collar properly, and it's meant to be tucked in. Don't you know anything about looking like an adult?" The punk exhaled impatiently and turned back to the changing room.

"I'm coming in with you. Somebody has to teach you to dress yourself." The punk stared at her, not quite sure he'd heard her correctly. "Get in, quickly!" She hissed. He went in and she followed him, shutting the door. He waited for her to speak. He had quite a shock when she began to unbutton her blouse. He was about to speak, but Alyssa cut him off abruptly. "Be quiet," she said as he stared at her lacy red bra and the inviting tops of her breasts. "Stop staring. It's like you've never seen a decent pair of tits before. Unbutton your shirt." The punk followed her orders and unbuttoned the shirt. Alyssa took a look at his chest. There were several scratchy tattoos on his chest and belly. "My God, look at you. Those ugly tattoos, and..." She put her hand on the punk's sternum. A ripple of goosebumps raised themselves on his chest and ribcage. He began to breathe more heavily, not knowing exactly where this was headed, but... starting to get the picture. "Well, just like I thought, not a lot of muscle." Skinny, greasy, and -- she moved closer to him -- smelling like weed. She stood almost torso to torso with him. Alyssa prided herself on having a fit, healthy lifestyle and athletic body. She found people who didn't exercise and eat well detestable.

"In fact, I changed my mind. I don't want you to get your sweat and grime on this merchandise. Take it all the way off. Right away." The punk followed her orders. She put her face right up against his chest, her mouth millimeters away from his nipple. He could feel her breathing onto his skin. It was fast. "You ought to start going to the gym. Do some bench pressing, or something. Look at your chest. Flat as a board!" She gave his chest a few gentle kisses and then briefly sucked his nipple. What a loser, she thought to herself. She sucked his other nipple. Dresses like shit. Smells like woodstock. No physique. And pale, to boot.

She took her own blouse all the way off and removed her bra. She had very nice breasts. Not too small, but not too big, with cute little nipples. She had tanlines from her bikini top. "I doubt you've got a girlfriend, looking the way you do. This is what a nice pair of tits looks like." She cupped her breasts with her hands. He stared. She ran her fingers over her nipples.

"Put your hands on them. This is what a nice pair of tits feels like." The punk fondled her breasts dutifully. "Did you brush your teeth this morning?" The punk was slightly taken abHack, but recovered in time to say that he had. "Then come here." He knelt down. She put her hands behind his ears and guided his face to her nipples. "This is... mmmmm.... What a nice pair of tits tastes like." He sucked one, then the other, and then back again. She could see the top of his head now, see his greasy mohawk. She frowned contemptuously. Greasy loser, she thought gain. She ran his hands through the mohawk. What an awful hairstyle. She moaned softly.

Customers in the other changing rooms wondered what was going on in there. Their voices were muffled, but still audible through the walls. Must be some manager training a new hire, a fellow customer shrugged and thought to herself.

"You losers always wear the tightest jeans you can squeeze yourselves into. I'll bet you can't hide it when you get a hard-on. Can you? Stand up." Alyssa pulled his head away from her tits and looked down to test her hypothesis. His pants bulged as he stood. She rubbed his crotch. "Sure enough, hard as a rock." The punk undid his belt. "Cheap belt. Cheap pants. Cheap underwear too, I'll bet... yeah, just like I thought," She lambasted him. "Your kind really disappoints me out, you know?" The punk didn't really see the point of her judgemental pronouncements at this point, but he wasn't going to waste time pointing that out, either. She pulled down his jeans and boxers impatiently. "That cock get much use? Probably just the desperate girls at last call in a sleazy dive bar, right? Pathetic." The punk began to stroke himself as Alyssa kneeled in front of him.

"A nice fat cock like that going to complete waste. Try shaving your pubes some time, too. You'll smell cleaner that way." Given the circumstances, the punk was actually moved to consider this approach in the future. Alyssa gave the head of his cock a lick. Then another. Then a long, slower lick from the base of his shaft up the entire length. She ran her tongue up and down it, before wrapping her lips around it and starting to suck. The punk stroked her hair. She stopped sucking and looked up at him angrily. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She barked. "My hair is perfect. Don't put.your gross hands on it. Keep them behind your back." He did so. Clueless, she thought, as her tongue found his balls.

She licked. She sucked. Slowly and lovingly, then quickly and aggressively, then teasingly. Alyssa had mastered a lot of dicksucking techniques, and was bringing each to bear as she nearly overwhelmed her unsuspecting customer. She would show this man the only proper blowjob of his life. She took his dick deep into her throat. She stopped deep throating him long enough to comment on how unattractive his balls were before starting to suck on those again, one at a time at first, and then both. It was an awful lot of ballsack to fit in her mouth, but she nothing if not hardworking.

She felt viscerally put off by his unkemptness. She jerked him off as she spoke to him. Her voice was cold and sharp. "Anybody ever suck your dick like that before? Those lazy bitches from the bar have half of my skills? Probably the first blowjob with class you've ever gotten." Before he could answer, she hungrily bore down on his cock again and took his entire length down her talented throat. She fondled his balls while her throat massaged his dick. Her spit dripped down her chin. She alternated the deep-throated gagging with pulling back, running her tongue in surgically precise circles around his head and stroking his shaft with her perfectly manicured hands.

Finally, she released him. With an air of frustration, she undid her skirt and pulled down her stockings and panties. She stood before him, nude except for her high heels. "You keep a condom with you?" The punk admitted that he did not. She made a sour face. "I guess you've got no reason to expect any pussy on a typical day, huh. Well, let's get on with it then." She turned to face away from him, and bent over with her hands on the wall. She arched her back and spread her legs. Her breath came quickly, and her voice was strained and urgent. "You see it? You see that perfect, pink, tight-as-fuck, flawlessly waxed pussy?" The punk nodded. "Get your dirty cock inside it, right the fuck now. Whatever muscles you've got in that body of yours, give it to me as hard as you fucking can. Go! Harder!" He slid his dick into her pussy, noting that it was exactly as perfect as she claimed. The customer in the next changing room wondered what the noise was, and assumed it must have been some routine plumbing maintenance or something.

Alyssa gritted her teeth as the punk's large but un-maintained cock slammed in and out of her pussy. This nasty loser, just having raw sex in a changing room with a total stranger, she thought. No condom, no niceties, he didn't even know her name. There was not a single ounce of class to him. She felt his smooth cock going in and out of her. "Keep going... faster... harder... more...more..." she commanded him. He obeyed. Harder, faster, more powerful strokes. His balls slapped against her ass. "Oh my God... Oh my God...Fuck! Fuuuuuuckkkk..." She half-yelled through gritted teeth as she came. "Fuuuckkk... ooooh... Oh, God...mmmmm..."

The punk took his dick out of her pussy. Before he could say or do anything else, she turned to face him again and knelt down to start sucking. She was rougher, more aggressive. There was a job to be done. She got his dick as wet as possible, tasting her own perfect pussy scent on top of his common, sweaty musk. She felt smugly superior to him in every way. She turned back to face away from him, and put one hand back on the wall. This time, she bent even lower than before. With her free hands, she spread her ass open. "Put it in." He obeyed.

Alyssa's moans were louder now, more raw and out of control. The punk was burying his cock up to his balls in her asshole, sliding it out, pushing it back in, again and again, harder and harder. Alyssa was an animal for anal sex. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She was sweaty, flushed, and her mouth was slack. Her eyes were rolling back in her head. She let out deep moans, not fully in control of her voice any more. The store staff started to wonder where their supervisor had gone. "Do... NOT... come... in... my... ass... mmmmf... oh god, oh god, oh fuck...Oh...FUUUUUUCKKKK..." her legs began to shake. Another climax was building, deeper inside her and more powerful than the first. She began to fondle her breasts with her free hand. Her anal orgasm drew nearer. She moved her hand from her breasts to her pussy, flicking her clit madly. "That is it... That is IT... That's what I need... Oh God... Oh... Fuck!" She bit her lip and exploded in an orgasm, still moaning. She couldn't think, could barely see. Every molecule in her body was shaking. The pleasure was intense and overwhelming. She slumped down to her knees on the wall for just a brief second, but she knew there was more work to be done.

The customer in the next changing room began to press her ears to the wall. Is there... Is there someone fucking in there? She thought.

To the punk's surprise, she was not finished with him. "Fuck my throat." She growled at him. He obliged. He had been desperate to get off for some time now, and as she licked the essence of her own asshole off of his cock, he shot heavy, white strands of cum into her mouth and onto her chin. She greedily swallowed every drop she could suck out of him. The exertion, and the adrenaline, left them both shaking. "Wait in here for at least ten minutes before you leave," She ordered him. "And remember. Don't you come in here again, ever. You're banned from this store. For life. And you'd better buy those three shirts I brought in for you."

Alyssa regained her composure and got dressed, then exited the dressing room and walked past the cash register. "I'm taking my lunch break. I'll be watching the security cameras, so no slacking off!" She barked at her staff. The filthy punk had been shown a thing or two about how real people lived, Alyssa had no doubt. Her legs were shaky, but she managed to walked out to her car and took out her phone. The smell of the punk's dirty cock was still on her lips, and her pussy and ass were still tingling. She dialed a familiar number. There was an answer after two rings.

"Hey honey. Yeah, just another boring day. How about you? Oh, sure. Do we need anything else from the store? Ok, no problem... Oh, sure I would love to play scrabble with you tonight. Yeah, I love you too. See you tonight, sweetheart." She looked at her reflection in the rear view mirror. She smiled a small, victorious smile.