very bottom of the cabinet is a stack of brochures. I lift one up after the other, finding nothing but Ikea promotional materials. I about ready to return to the couch when I lift up the last of these brochures and that’s when I see it: a DVD titled “Bang That Teen Pussy #10.”
Footsteps quickly approach and I shove the brochures back on top of the DVD, close the cabinet, and rush to the couch. Jim opens the door just as I get sit back down.
“So, is everything okay,” I ask?
“Couldn’t be better. So you want to see the store? Follow me.”
We first make our way to the large warehouse that contains the millions boxes of unassembled tables and chairs waiting to be taken home by new owners. I can’t believe how quiet it is. The slightest noise results in the largest of echos. As we walk, I think about the DVD I just saw, that blonde teen on the cover taking a large penis from behind while she stares at the camera with longing eyes. How good that must feel, those strong hands steadying her tight butt cheeks as ass and pelvis thrust against each other again and again.
“These boxes contain everything you need to assemble the pieces yourself,” Jim says. “Even the screws are included. But I guess you must already know that.”
“I know,” I say. “Girls always enjoy when screws are included.”
Jim looks at me with a mildly confused expression. I then see him crack a smile as he realizes my true meaning. “Haha. I guess so…” he says.
As we walk I start imagining how Jim must be here late at night, so often working away in a windowless office with no one and nothing around except for lists of inventories and that porn DVD. How he must slip that DVD into his computer wanting to find some visceral escape. I try to imagine what scenes he watches as he strokes his cock and musters the only enjoyment available to him. I’m suddenly that girl on the front cover and he’s that man, grabbing my ass just as a hawk snatches a mouse from a field, his balls repeatedly smacking the short, trimmed hairs on my vigina as he comes ever closer to ejecting his hot load inside of me.
“So this is the couch area,” he says. I’m suddenly snapped out of my daydream and realize I’ve had one finger touching my lips as my other hand gently strokes my pelvis. Did he see me doing this? From his casual tone I believe not. It’s a good thing we’ve continued to walk as this has allowed my tight, red dress to keep hidden the moisture that has accumulated between my pussy and black lace Victoria’s Secrets Hiphuggers.
“So you like our couches, right,” he asks? “Well there’s no giant crowd of shoppers here to get in your way of trying one out. Which one do you like?”
There must be 30 or 40 couches in front of me, all of them with large tags and unpronounceable names. I walk between them, my nails skimming along the top of each, searching for one that comforts and warms my fingers’ bare skin. I then pass a pinkish-red one which seems to have comfortable cushions and firm, solid armrests. Red is my favorite color after all. I feel my moist underwear rubbing against my inner thighs as I sit down and cross my legs.
“I like this one. What do you think,” I say.
“That’s the Karlstad Loveseat. It’s one of our most popular sofas. I don’t think I’ve sat on one of them for a while,” Jim says.
“Well come over here and try it,” I say.
As he walks towards me I suddenly imagine him picking me up, turning me around, and bending me over just like that girl on the DVD’s cover, except our couch is a red Karlstad Loveseat and we’re in the middle of a huge, entirely empty IKEA. We’re the only two people left in an imaginary world after a zombie apocalypse has wiped out every other remaining soul but we’re not fucking to keep the human race alive - we’re fucking for our own immediate pleasure.
Jim’s suddenly sitting beside me and I again notice his cologne. Except this time I don’t seem to be
Footsteps quickly approach and I shove the brochures back on top of the DVD, close the cabinet, and rush to the couch. Jim opens the door just as I get sit back down.
“So, is everything okay,” I ask?
“Couldn’t be better. So you want to see the store? Follow me.”
We first make our way to the large warehouse that contains the millions boxes of unassembled tables and chairs waiting to be taken home by new owners. I can’t believe how quiet it is. The slightest noise results in the largest of echos. As we walk, I think about the DVD I just saw, that blonde teen on the cover taking a large penis from behind while she stares at the camera with longing eyes. How good that must feel, those strong hands steadying her tight butt cheeks as ass and pelvis thrust against each other again and again.
“These boxes contain everything you need to assemble the pieces yourself,” Jim says. “Even the screws are included. But I guess you must already know that.”
“I know,” I say. “Girls always enjoy when screws are included.”
Jim looks at me with a mildly confused expression. I then see him crack a smile as he realizes my true meaning. “Haha. I guess so…” he says.
As we walk I start imagining how Jim must be here late at night, so often working away in a windowless office with no one and nothing around except for lists of inventories and that porn DVD. How he must slip that DVD into his computer wanting to find some visceral escape. I try to imagine what scenes he watches as he strokes his cock and musters the only enjoyment available to him. I’m suddenly that girl on the front cover and he’s that man, grabbing my ass just as a hawk snatches a mouse from a field, his balls repeatedly smacking the short, trimmed hairs on my vigina as he comes ever closer to ejecting his hot load inside of me.
“So this is the couch area,” he says. I’m suddenly snapped out of my daydream and realize I’ve had one finger touching my lips as my other hand gently strokes my pelvis. Did he see me doing this? From his casual tone I believe not. It’s a good thing we’ve continued to walk as this has allowed my tight, red dress to keep hidden the moisture that has accumulated between my pussy and black lace Victoria’s Secrets Hiphuggers.
“So you like our couches, right,” he asks? “Well there’s no giant crowd of shoppers here to get in your way of trying one out. Which one do you like?”
There must be 30 or 40 couches in front of me, all of them with large tags and unpronounceable names. I walk between them, my nails skimming along the top of each, searching for one that comforts and warms my fingers’ bare skin. I then pass a pinkish-red one which seems to have comfortable cushions and firm, solid armrests. Red is my favorite color after all. I feel my moist underwear rubbing against my inner thighs as I sit down and cross my legs.
“I like this one. What do you think,” I say.
“That’s the Karlstad Loveseat. It’s one of our most popular sofas. I don’t think I’ve sat on one of them for a while,” Jim says.
“Well come over here and try it,” I say.
As he walks towards me I suddenly imagine him picking me up, turning me around, and bending me over just like that girl on the DVD’s cover, except our couch is a red Karlstad Loveseat and we’re in the middle of a huge, entirely empty IKEA. We’re the only two people left in an imaginary world after a zombie apocalypse has wiped out every other remaining soul but we’re not fucking to keep the human race alive - we’re fucking for our own immediate pleasure.
Jim’s suddenly sitting beside me and I again notice his cologne. Except this time I don’t seem to be
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