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Kinky Cuckolding in the Sex Shop

Not long ago, I was the assistant manager of the fifth largest sex shop in Auckland. Sounds glamorous, and it was. I got to dust down the dildos and change the batteries in the vibrators every evening, while the customers were at home enjoying their purchases. When I started at the sex shop, in the back of my mind I thought that it would be the ideal place to have a string of casual encounters. After all, you would always be meeting liberated, creative women with sex on their minds. As an expert in the merchandise, you might even be called upon to show the best way to use the shop’s toys. Or so I hoped.

the sign that leads to sex

It wasn’t like that. Although my boss was famous for romancing single and married women in the backroom, I was always carrying out stock takes and processing orders. The closest I came to a ball gag and chains was packing them into secure shipping containers to customers on the other side of the world.

But hey, that’s retail. So I pursued my taste for casual encounters on the web via online dating services. After all, it’s usually good practice not to mix work and pleasure too much, especially in Auckland where everyone knows what is going on with everyone. I managed to do so pretty well until one day in the middle of summer when everything changed. Suddenly, life at the sex shop wasn’t so boring after all.

Getting the Dungeon Ready for Action

One evening I was left to close up the shop and my boss had left. According to him, he had planned one his many casual encounters, this time with a secretary from the suburbs. He planned to take her back to the shop later, and he’d asked me to set up the dungeon for him.So I laid out the bed, with its satin cushions, deep red blankets and bondage clamps attached securely to each metal bar. I carefully locked into place the manacles and laid out the leather choker with a six foot leash. I arranged the whips from longest to shortest in their rack and, at the foot of the bed, I left ten different shapes and sizes of dildo, from regular 6 inches up to a monstrous almost 20 inch model. I could hardly even imagine how it could be used, but I was about to find out. Just as I was finishing, I heard someone entering the shop and turned to see my bosses wife standing there with a brown fur coat and high leather heels. She was heavily made up and almost panting. I couldn’t tell whether she was tired out or horny. Soon, she’d be both.“Hi” she greeted me. We knew each other slightly. She kept her distance from the shop, and my boss told me that she disapproved of what went on there, so I asked her why she had come. “Look,” she said, “I know what he’s up to with his casual encounters. But I’m not going to let it rest. I’m a woman, with the same libido as everyone else, and he can’t get away with it, so here’s what we’re going to do.”Somehow, she had found out about the evening’s entertainment, and had decided to level the score. Her plan revolved around a couple of imitation torture cabinets that we had recently acquired. They looked a little like medieval iron maidens, with rubber spikes and glory holes at mouth and waist height. If you wanted to, you could have them fitted with an opening at the rear as well. We’d had plenty of enquiries. We were supposed to get into these cabinets and wait until my boss and his date arrived, surprising them just as he’d been strapped in, when he was completely helpless. Then, I’d take the date and she’d have him. If they wanted it, of course. She was confident that it would either arouse him or kill him. Knowing the girls he’d had casual encounters with in the past, I was sure that his date would be keen.

Time for a Lesbian Bondage Session in Front of Hubbie

I was right. When they came in, they were naked in seconds. His date strapped him into the manacles and foot clamps, and let her coat fall to the floor, revealing a full length red leather catsuit. She was utterly beautiful, and he was almost in tears with anticipation. Pointing to a mid-size strap on, he gestured for her to wear it, which she was happy to do. Then she started to whip him. She was gentle at first, stroking his skin in between each lash. But she soon became viscious. All of the time, my boss was moaning “more, more.” All I could think about was what his wife was doing. For minutes, she watched her husband being struck without leaving the torture cabinet.I didn’t have to wait much longer. When the woman put down her whip, she tenderly unlocked my boss and he turned over before being locked up once more. Now, his date strapped on one of the mid-sized sex toys from the range that I had selected and looked around for lubricant.Before I knew it, the wife had opened the cabinet and thrown a fresh bottle to the dominatrix. “Here you go beautiful” she said, stroking her husband’s hair, “but let’s not waste it on him. I need it much, much more.”

My Big Entrance

Maybe she had forgotten about me, or maybe this was part of the show, but the two of them were entangled in seconds. My boss was still locked up and gagged but they pushed him to one side. He said nothing as his date exchanged the mid size strap on for the monster cock model and fell upon his wife, entering her from front and behind, causing her to gasp and scream.As this was happening, I was becoming harder and harder. This was unreal. A beautiful woman in a catsuit was banging my bosses wife, another beauty. They were effectively cuckolding him and he couldn’t do anything about it. It didn’t seem to matter. All he could say was “Ohhh” or “fuck her harder” anyhow.After twenty minutes, his wife got up gingerly, opened the cabinet door and I practically fell onto the bed. “Now,” she instructed me, “fuck me up the ass while she takes me with the strap on.” I didn’t disappoint her. The strange thing was, my boss wasn’t worried either.We fucked and fucked, exchanging positions, laughing, sweating, pushing my boss ever further away. At the end of it all, his wife lifted up his head and kissed him. “Poor little bastard,” she said, before he shot his load at last.And that’s what casual encounters in the sexshop were like. It didn’t happen again, and my boss seemed to arrange fewer dates after that as well. Oddly enough, his wife never once came back to the shop. She’d got exactly what she wanted. Before I knew it, the wife had opened the cabinet and thrown a fresh bottle to the dominatrix. “Here you go beautiful” she said, stroking her husband’s hair, “but let’s not waste it on him. I need it much, much more.”

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Image sourcesImage1 Brad Pict - Fotolia.com