Sins of Susan

Excerpt from: Sins of Susan

“God, I’d love to Dutch fuck you.” Norwood’s voice broiled with passion. His hands roamed fitfully over Susan’s excited body while he sucked on her nipples. A pale shaft of winter sunlight knifed its way through the storeroom window, touching the extremely aroused couple who feasted on each other with a fervour bordering on madness.

“What’s a Dutch fuck?” Susan panted. She braced herself against the wall and rubbed his cock against the crotch of her panties.

Norwood groaned as if in pain. She could feel the pre-ejaculatory cum ooze down the insides of her thighs. “It’s fucking between the breasts,” he gasped, tugging down her panties and entering her in one determined plunge.

Susan cried out and ground her hips in an erotic dance as old as time itself.

A car door slammed in the alley, followed by a loud knocking on the back door. “Oh shit. It must be a delivery,” Norwood moaned and with a few almighty thrusts, exploded into her twitching cunt in a fiery stream.

Susan clutched at his muscled back, her breath coming in quick, laboured puffs. Her hips pumped so fast they could have been electrified.

“I’m coming…Oh God…” she cried out, as a tumultuous climax pulsed on and on.

Afterwards, as she smoothed down her ruffled appearance, the mirror over the sink reflected back a pale, slightly narrow face with green eyes and sensuous lips. A mass of curly brown hair tumbled to her shoulders.

She’d been attracted to Norwood, immediately, his tall husky build, sandy brown hair and eyes as blue as cornflowers. She could hear him now, speaking to the delivery driver.

Norwood owned a chain of gift shops called Pandora’s Box. Small and trendy, most were located in upscale shopping malls. But this particular location—the Five Corners—was the exception, mused Susan. A dingy suburban strip mall, it sat uneasily at the corner of a five-road intersection, surrounded by agricultural land. Used car dealerships, fast food chains, and a polyglot of subdivisions were fast eroding it.

As soon as the stores closed for the day, gangs of roving teens—who generally made a nuisance of themselves by drinking, fighting and sometimes vandalising the stores—took it over.

“Don’t worry, we have twenty-four-hour security,” Norwood had assured her when she expressed concern. “The alarm button is right behind the cash desk.”

The Paladin Security Company patrolled the area, and it always gave Susan a feeling of safety to see their vehicle with its distinctive logo of an armoured knight.

“I’ll be off now.” Norwood vied with Susan for mirror space as he flicked a comb through his hair. “I’ll open up as I leave.” He kissed her quickly on the neck before disappearing through the store.

Susan experienced the bliss of post-coital calm. She felt languid and very aware of herself as a woman. “I’ve just been fucked by the sexiest man in the world,” she wanted to yell to the world. But instead, she straightened her clothing and stepped out demurely into the little treasure trove of a store.

There were only a few days left before Christmas, and business was steady all afternoon. The familiar tones of Silver Bells drifted through the wall from the fabric shop next door.

Shortly before closing time, a harsh clinking sound signalled the smashing of something fragile on the floor. Susan looked up from the cash register to see a small child with a sheepish expression and his embarrassed mother.

“I’m so sorry about this. I’ll pay for the damages, of course,” she offered. The broken ornament, a Royal Doulton crinoline lady, was not cheap. But Susan shook her head. They were insured for breakage. Besides it was just good public relations.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?”

Susan had been so engrossed in her thoughts as she swept up the pieces, that the pleasant male voice so close behind her made her jump.

It was a security guard from Paladin, tall and darkly attractive, with smiling brown eyes.

“Ben Walker,” he introduced himself. “Mall security.”