Shop Assistant

The next morning I arrived at the shop alone, having left my wife to complete the weekly housekeeping chores while I battled the tourists shopping for cheap souvenirs. I opened the door early, hoping to get my head sorted before the pre lunch rush. I'm constantly amazed by customer's slavery to their stomachs; many of them wouldn't leave their motels unless they were going to eat somewhere.

I looked up from my newspaper as the door bell signalled the arrival of the first customer of the day. Luckily it was one of our semi-regulars so I knew that there wouldn't be any of those nuisance questions about what to do around here if you don't like beaches.

Much as I would always want to reply along the lines of stay in bed and go fuck yourself I was duty bound by the "Tourist Information" signage above the door to point out the many natural wonders of the area.

One of those wonders had just wandered in to my shop. There is a small artists' colony centred around a few shacks on the next bay. Some of the painters are well off but most are just struggling to make ends meet and are supported by their richer peers. There are many stories about free love, nakedness and various drug fuelled perversions circulating about the colony but the couple of times that I have been there it seemed quite dull, just a bunch of hippies sketching or staring at the waves.

One of the permanent residents is a woman named Joy who gets a lot of money for her paintings but she doesn't work that much so she's either rich or broke. Legend has it that she is happy to swap oral sex for food from the butcher and grocer when times are tough but I always scoffed at these tales as some sort of smear campaign.

I pretended to read my paper while Joy meandered her way round the shop. When she wasn't looking I studied her curvy shape. She was younger than me, maybe late forties and she had been quite beautiful in her younger, blonder years. Her hair was still long and flowing but it was now grey verging on white in parts.

She was wearing torn and faded blue jeans that fitted her rounded backside like a glove. Her breasts flopped under the loose fitting orange T shirt. Her sandals made clicking noises as she approached the counter. I looked up. She had two boxes of mouse traps.

"That time of year again!" I said to her as she placed the boxes on the counter.

"Yes" She replied "all those tourists driving the rodents out of their homes!"

"And straight into ours..." I interjected.

It happened every year, as soon as summer was over the mice and rats would return to the sanctuary of the empty holiday homes. She placed two ten dollar bills on the counter and we chatted as I handed her the change. I could make out her nipples through the thin T-shirt. I tried not to look but she caught me staring.

As our conversation continued she folded her arms under her breasts. This seemed to push them up and out. Those damned nipples were now even more prominent. I wondered if it was deliberate. She couldn't be interested in me; she could have any man in town. I decided that she was just teasing me, trying to embarrass me for staring. I started to blush but she kept talking as if nothing was going on. I asked her if she was working on any paintings at the moment.

"Yes." She said then paused for a breath before continuing "I'm working on some commissioned portraits. I've already been paid for them but I'm only half way through. I feel guilty 'cause I've almost spent it all and I've had an argument with the couple."

I asked if he was in a rush to get them. She told me that wasn't the problem. They'd argued because it was a series of nude portraits of the guy and his wife in various erotic embraces.

"What's his problem; he's paying you to do that, isn't he?" I asked.

"He is," she replied, "the problem is that they're both old and unattractive. They haven't looked in the mirror for twenty years. Her tits point at the ground and you can't see his dick because his fat gut overhangs it." She paused to put the change into her purse.

"So they want you to make them more attractive?" I asked as I watched her long fingers close the clasp on the purse.

"Exactly" she said as she nodded. Her breasts bobbed in time with her head movements. "I've had two goes at it. The first was too realistic, all saggy flesh and fat arses. The second one was hornier but it didn't look like them. My third attempt is somewhere in between but I'm over it. They refuse to pose anymore after the last time."

"What happened?" I asked. I was intrigued and wondered if I knew the couple.

"Well," she said as she looked around and lowered her voice "the last session went for about six hours. I made quite a few sketches. They started out fully clothed and I got them into various romantic positions. You know, cuddling near a window, sitting on the edge of the bed. Looking at a bunch of roses...I got them to gradually undress and fondle each other while the kissing got more intense. He even got a hard on a couple of times though it was hard to spot amongst the layer of fat. I took photos for future reference, like I always do. The camera went flat and I had to get my spare."

"When I returned to the studio she was on all fours and he was fucking her." She said. She paused to study my reaction then continued with the story. "They didn't see me at first. He was going to town on her! I didn't know what to do so I just watched her fat arse bounce to the rhythm of his clumsy thrusting. I hoped that they would finish but he just kept fucking her, reaching under her and kneading her saggy tits with his arthritic fingers."

"Eventually," Joy smiled at me as she continued "he must have climaxed 'cause he pulled out of her and slapped her arse. That created little ripples in her flab, like a pond when you throw a rock into it. I burst out laughing. He thought that I was laughing at his pathetic dick and got all huffy. Then I noticed that she had cum oozing out of her butt hole and I realised that he had fucked her anally which just made me laugh more. Judging by the way he was shoving it into her she was well worn there too. I imagined the giant cocks that her fanny could take as I handed her a towel and left the room."

"Then what happened?" I asked impatiently

"I waited for a few minutes to give them time to clean up." She said as she placed her handbag on the ground. "When I went back they were gone. They've left a few voice messages asking when the paintings will be ready but I just can't take it seriously any more. All I can think of is that fat arse wobbling and his deflated little dick."

We continued talking for a few moments. I asked her if she did many erotic paintings. She told me that she did quite a few; there were a lot of tourists who came here on their second honeymoons and wanted a souvenir or a Valentine's Day gift. She didn't advertise but word of mouth kept the customers coming. Sometimes literally, apparently.

The she told me that she enjoyed doing these paintings so much that she'd had sex with some of the couples involved. She said that she loved having her pussy licked while some one watched. This took my breath away as the possibilities ran through my head. I asked for more detail but she picked up her mouse traps and started to walk for the door.

"If you're interested you should bring your wife to the studio." She said as she left the shop giggling.