Couples #sexshopstories

A couple came into the store last night. They were just starting to get into BDSM.

“Are you a submissive?” I asked her.

She said yes.

“You don’t seem like a submissive.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not really. It’s for him.”

They bought a ton of stuff. Even spent extra on cuffs that would not irritate the skin of her wrists.

Unfortunately, she wanted some fetish attire, but we don’t really carry much so I sent her to the dressing room with what little we do have.

Earlier, another couple had come in and spent almost $500 dollars. They shopped for two hours. Their story is pretty sad: they’ve been married for 23 years, and they have 5 daughters. But she has a brain tumor and so they’ve decided to live it up. They’ve recently become poly as well. 41 years-old.

A male customer came in also. One of the good ones. A couple of weeks ago, I had given him advice on having anal sex for the first time. He came in to thank me, and to tell me it went so well that he and his wife did it 3 days in a row. He said she’s just now starting to get “freaky” (whatever that means) because she’s going through menopause.

Later on, my coworker called me over to find out if I knew of any places to have sex. I don’t, but I had some tips so I shared those with the woman who made the inquiry. She looked at me funny and said, “No offense, but you don’t seem like the most credible source. You seem so innocent! What could you possibly know about sex?”

Preconceived notions: everybody’s got them.

sex shop stories #11

At work, I answer the phone to some guy.

“I got 9 inches for ya, baby,” he says, all breathless.

“That’s too big,” I say.

“What?!?!”

“9 inches would hurt my cervix.”

“You mean I could hurt you, baby?” he asks.

I was almost impressed. That was quick.

“Yes. Now, I’ve gotta go—I’m working!”

“Wait, wait, just one more thing!”

“What?” I ask.

“Do you like it when guys come on your face?”

“The right partner might enjoy the privilege.” I hang up on him.

He calls back the next day: “Remember me?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to masturbate for you?”

“No. I’ve gotta go—I’ve got customers.”

“Real quick?”

“No!”

more sex shop antics

During my shift, I help a man pick out some lube. 40-something, blue collar. He says his wife had sent him in for some. He seems really sheepish. Also says he feels like a kid in a candy store because his wife has been recovering from a broken back and they are just now starting to rekindle their sex life. It had been a long time for them and he thanks me for not making him feel embarrassed.

He’s the kind of customer that I like.

Too bad they aren’t all like that.

Later on, another man comes in, asks how my day is, blah blah blah…

I dust some shelves and complain about the store being slow.

He asks, “What’s it like looking at all this stuff day in and day out?”

“Pretty desensitizing, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, you’re pretty cute,” he says. “What time do you get off? Wanna hang out afterwards?”

“Nope, I’ve gotta boyfriend.” I couldn’t have been less interested in this man and I wasn’t hiding it.

“Ah, that sucks, I was thinking we could go fool around in the back or something.”

Ass.

Don’t make assumptions just because I work in a sex shop.

sex shop stories #10

A biker comes into the store to peruse the vibrator section.

I ask him if he needs any help and he boasts that he probably has a better collection than I do.

Referring to the wall before him, I insist that “my” collection is better, but eventually concede. I’m not really into vibrators so much.

He asks what I am into. I nod to the bondage section.

“Would you spank me?” he asks.

“I don’t spank.”

“Oh, so you’re a submissive,” he says. “Well, can I spank you then?”

“No.” try not to scoff. “Not just anybody can spank me. Not everyone knows how to spank, either.”

“So how can I get on that list?” he asks.

Then he says he’ll get on my list somehow and that when he does, he’ll punish me because my underwear doesn’t match my all-black outfit. I hadn’t realized that a peek of red lace was barely visible out of the top of my skirt.

He has the right idea, but he’s a stranger.

valentine

At the club, I watched him rig up some rope and a steel bar among the exposed beams.

“That’s for you,” he said.

The contraption left my body free for him to circle and flog in all different directions.

He held a rose before my mouth and told me to bite down on the stem.

Most of the flogging was frontal this time. Since I wasn’t blindfolded, I could see all the people that were watching us, but soon they didn’t matter to me.

Afterward, he guided me to my knees and kneeled alongside me, then held me by the neck and bent me nearly backward. My body was so warm and flexible, he had total control.

The position allowed him to assess the marks on the tops of my breasts and on my belly. I know we made a beautiful shape together, too – we usually received many compliments. I have also seen him with others. He knows what looks beautiful – it is part of his job.

None of that mattered right then, though. At that moment, someone could have killed me and I would not have minded.

I spent the rest of the evening tracing the rose all over my skin.

wanting and waiting

He told me to bend over his bed, chest down. I waited like that while he worked at his computer.

I tried to be patient. To not shift or sigh. To breathe naturally, as if I could do this all night, every night.

I hated waiting and wanting as much as I loved it. I respected it for this.

Finally, he spanked me.

I had to cling to the sheets. I was no good at holding position or at being quiet.

Afterward, my body was warm, my limbs loose with the rush, my head light.

He laughed at me for being in la-la-land and went back to work on his computer.