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In the 2nd installment of the Chronicles of Free-Use America, we follow a day in the life of Taylor Giles, a 26-year-old working class retail worker making her way in Free-Use America.
Author Note
This project started as a thought exercise and turned into an erotica series of short stories about a Free-Use America. This is mainly a Slice-of-Life erotica that covers different perspectives from characters in this alternate reality. My goal is to build out the world over time with each new work.
**Free-Use:** This series is meant to approach the concept of a 'free-use society' with some degree of realism. In this society, women 18 years or older are required to consent or comply with any sexual advance from any adult male. I tried to capture how I imagine American society would evolve under this free-use policy, from fashion, entertainment, family life, politics, and even religion.
This series will always be a *free-use* based series and not focused on other kinks. Readers should expect the kink spectrum to shift slightly from installment to installment.
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Chronicles of Free-Use America Ch.2 - Taylor
"Thank god you're here on time," Corey projected with a little desperation in his voice and carrying an armload of clothing, "Connie is late again, and I've been backing up the registers all morning!"
Taylor was wrapping up her first week as department manager at Ameri-Mart and she wasn't about to let one busy Saturday shift ruin it. "Okay... she'll probably be in soon. I'll help you with the fitting rooms and try-ons. And when Connie gets here, you can take your break," Taylor said confidently.
"I was supposed to go on break like an hour ago," Corey complained. He stopped walking, expecting an answer.
She offered an animated expression of bewilderment, "I don't know what to tell you. I just clocked in. Let's make a run at straightening and I'll send you to break before the afternoon rush. Deal?"
"Fine... but don't ask me to stay after my shift," Corey bargained, staring down at Taylor's chest. She watched his eye contact drift downward, as most of her conversations with men went. It was worse with the younger guys like Corey; fresh out of high school and joining the workforce as well as the Free-Use American society.
His lip curled between his teeth as he reached out and tugged her the top snap of her shirt loose and reached inside to squeeze one of her soft mounds.
Ameri-Mart women's uniforms were made up of a short sleeve shirt that snapped up the front and a khaki skirt that rode midway down the thighs. The snaps in the front helped customers and co-workers alike to freely grope the staff without ripping the garment. Both the top and skirt fabric were soft, form fitted, and coated with a material to help wash out cum stains and other spills after a long shift.
Taylor didn't always feel comfortable in such a tight fitting and revealing clothing. In high school, she was the chubby goth girl. Due to the steep tax incentives for women to stay at a healthy and appealing weight, she dropped a good amount of the fat. As a 26-year-old single woman with a minimum wage diet, some of the plumpness remained in her bust and hips. In her mid-twenties, she had toned down the goth look to a more age-appropriate alternative punk style.
The cocktail of hormone treatments administered by the government and the litany of other GMOs in food tailored to stimulating the sex drive and body development had a way of naturally enhancing the female form. For women that wanted (or had husbands that wanted) a more exaggerated sex appeal, surgical options were available, but that wasn't Taylor's style.
She was confident enough in her curves, and still captured the gaze of men eager to use her plump rack or round ass for a good time. Taylor retained some round features on her face, giving her a cute 'girl next door' look. And though she had grown out of the full goth look, she kept dying her hair a deep crimson and favored darker color makeup on her pale skin. Her collection of tattoos continued to grow every year with nearly completed sleeves and other body art to express her interest in music and all-things art.
Like most girls with a naturally gifted bosom, Taylor opted to wear a cupless bra that provided lift along the underside but kept most of her tits uncovered with open access to the nipples. It was a practical way to satisfy her need for support and the male public's need to marvel and grope at her tits.
Another snap undone, and Corey found one of her nipples and gave it a playful pinch. Grabbing a pair of juicy tits was an impulse that men didn't have to control in a free-use society. Whether it was for the sexual gratification, foreplay for something else, or just a way to keep entertained, it was Corey's right to use her without any explanation.
"Has someone gone up to get the morning returns?" Taylor asked, trying not to focus on her employee toying with her tits. Employee policy allowed for some free-use among workers on shift as long as it didn't get in the way of work.
"Not yet, but I can after I put all this shit back," Corey replied.
"Thanks, Corey," she said, waiting for him to remove his hand from her shirt. He gave her one last squeeze before he walked off to resume his work. For a younger and more clean-cut guy, Taylor thought he was pretty cute, and she knew he was a good fuck based on other times he had asserted his right to use her. In a world where men didn't have to try to be good in the sack, those who did always stood out in a woman's memory.
Taylor centered her thoughts back to the job and looked out at the adult clothing department to find it in disarray. The store had fitting rooms, but they were mainly used by women looking for a somewhat private place to change. With the decency laws almost nonexistent, most of the men and even some of the women tried on clothes right at the rack or in the aisles and tossed any unwanted garments wherever they felt like.
She brushed her shoulder length red hair out of her face and started to pick up some stray clothes from the floor, making a pile of items to fold and sort. In the next aisle, the familiar slapping and moaning could be heard as two customers shamelessly fucked. Taylor made a mental note to come back to that aisle later to check for a cleanup.
Public free-use was a lot like yawning, it had a contagious effect. Once someone started fucking in an area, other men who witnessed it would get horny and instinctively seek out a woman to use for themselves.
So, it was no surprise when Taylor felt a pair of rogue hands grip her by the waist and start pulling up her skirt. Followed by the smell of cigarette smoke that persisted from the man's clothes and body. "Excuse me, missy. I'm just gonna get in a quick fuck and then I'll get on out of your way," the customer said casually with a country accent.
Behind Taylor, stood a tall man, average build, and from the sound of it, a little older than Taylor. He was wearing a loose off white Koore's beer t-shirt that was sloppily cut into a tank top. His jeans and boots were worn with some aged paint stains from obvious labor.
The customer shook his head to flip some of the stringy hair that wafted over his face from under his trucker hat. Though, Taylor didn't really get a good look at his face as he pinned her against the folding table and pulled her skirt over her ass.
Taylor knew better than to wear panties on a weekend shift, so the man was easily able to find her clean-shaven cunt with his hands and start priming her slit for his cock. "Help yourself, sir," she said with an awkward grunt as she pushed her chest from the table. "Is it okay if I keep folding?"
"Yeah, go on ahead, sweet thing. I know you got shit to do," he said as he unzipped his pants and retrieved his cock to start stroking. "You been working long?" the customer made conversation while stroking his knob against Taylor's plump white ass cheeks.
"No, I just got in," Taylor tried ignoring his cock and continued folding. Learning to multitask while being used was something most women picked up quickly. The better she was at being productive while also offering her holes to any one was key in a competitive working environment.
"Night shift on a Saturday? That's some shit," the man continued his conversion, stopping to squat down and spit onto Taylor's cunt. He could see and smell that she hadn't been recently fucked, which was always a plus.
She jumped slightly, startled by the sudden wet glob launched at her sensitive folds. "It's okay. I'm more of a night owl than a morning pers-ugh-on," she said with a groan as her pussy spread around his knob, his spit and her own wetness helping him slide into her opening. Taylor could tell he wasn't that big, but since it was her first cock of the day, so she was still fairly tight.
As he fucked her, the smoky smelling man noticed the swim trunks that Taylor was reclipping to a hanger. "Hey, what size are them?" he asked in his southern drawl.
Taylor peeked inside the American flag printed swim trunks and read off the size, "They're a large." She moaned a little from the rhythmic fucking, but it was more for the subtle theatrics. His small cock was not giving her much to be excited about, but there was a reason she never received a customer service complaint.
"Lemme see 'em," he reached over her and grabbed the trunks from the hanger. Shifting forward, he pushed her harder against the folding table. She had to spread her legs wider, losing one of her heeled pumps in the process as her ankle slight buckled on the floor.
He pushed on her back so that she was flat on the table before unfolding the trunks and laying them on her back. "Oh yeah...these'll work..." her words trailed to a grunt as he throbbed hard inside her and started pounding harder. He let his jeans fall to his ankles so he could part his knees wider and generate more power in his thrusts. "You think that'll be enough room for my pecker?" he hacked out a smokey laugh and continued fucking her rhythmically.
Taylor forced out a laugh over her exaggerated groans before answering with a lie, "I don't know about that...might have to go a size up."
The next voice she heard was a woman's, "Goddamn Clint, I done looked all over the damn store for you!" The woman was around Clint's age with brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Like Clint, she was skinny but more on the sickly side. She only wore an oversized T-shirt and some old sneakers.
