by Style lobster
Jones is a designer, photographer, and writer from Toronto. She likes tall men and wayward girls, 24 hour anything and cream in her coffee.
I have a recurring wet dream. It first started in my teens and has become more frequent into my adulthood. It starts with me walking into a junk shop. There’s a pretty girl working there behind the counter. I’m browsing around looking at things. I pick a few up and feel them in my hands, run them across my genitals, testing the shape and firmness of them. All the time looking at the cute sales girl, almost daring her to catch me pleasuring myself. I take some big 80s plastic beads and run them over my clit. I drop a chunky jumper to the floor and fall to it writhing around on top of the dense fabric mountain. I’m so wet. The girl is suspicious but doesn’t approach. I move to an arm chair and pick up a random book and leaf through it, whilst rubbing myself on the arm. I keep catching her eye. I see the top of an umbrella in an umbrella bin. I walk over and grip it, I’m wet. I sort of hover over the handle, my pussy brushing the top. Parting my lips. I’m so slick now, one misplaced step and it falls inside. My summer dress is grazing my thighs, hiding me as I lower myself on top the rigid handle. I’m fucking the umbrella. The shop girl walks to the door, turns the sign to CLOSED and walks right up to me. Asks me, whilst I stand quivering over the erect umbrella inside me, “Are you finished or do you need some help?” My eyes answer her and she starts playing with my clitoris and breasts. Eye fucking me. She pulls me to the floor starts grabbing objects and fucking, spanking, teasing me with them. There’s a broom handle in my ass, clipped earrings on my nipples, she’s fucking me with a rolling pin from the cookery utensil shelf. She’s all over me. Fucking me with anything and everything that she can grab hold off. I orgasm. We kiss. She dresses me. I leave. She turns the sign back to OPEN.