Fresh Eats

The scent of fresh bread and pickled vegetables permeated the air as Griffin pushed open the door to the sandwich shop. It was evening, only about a half-hour before closing time. Aside from himself, there was one other customer, a petite, blonde woman in a calf-length black skirt and a gray sweater. She was hemming and hawing over her sandwich order, mumbling contradictions like "Do you have salt-free pickles?" and "Hmm, lite mayo- wait, no mayo." The woman behind the counter, a tall redhead with bags under her eyes, looked more and more exhausted with each comment.

Griffin waited, eying the blonde's backside without bothering to be subtle. She was so engrossed in her order, and the redhead was so drained by her work, that he figured neither of them would notice a little harmless oogling. He wished idly that she was wearing something more revealing; her long skirt fanned outward instead of clinging, and he could barely make out the shape of her curves under her sweater.

The blonde leaned forward, tapping her finger on the glass that separated her from the sandwich fixings, and her sweater rode up half an inch, revealing a hint of smooth skin just above her skirt.

Griffin stared at her bare skin, which was

just

enough to kickstart his imagination, but not nearly enough for him to come to any actual conclusions about her body. A few seconds later, she rocked back on her heels, causing the sweater to drop. He had to bite his lip to keep from vocalizing his disappointment.

Griffin glanced around the sandwich shop. His gaze skirted over crumb-covered tabletops and sticky soda fountains before they landed on an analog clock hanging above a door with an

Employees Only

sign fixed on it. It read 8:34, though with every passing second, the longest hand ticked away toward 8:35. Griffin closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and, with the clock at the center of his thoughts, willed time to slow to a stop around him.

The drone of the blonde's indecision stopped abruptly, as did the hum and buzz of the machinery behind the counter. Griffin slowly opened his eyes to find the blonde poised in directing the redhead, who had a clump of spinach in her half-raised hand. The two were frozen in the previous moment, as was everything around them, except for Griffin.

Griffin stepped forward until he was directly behind the blonde. She was at least a foot shorter than him, a height difference that thrilled him. He slipped her purse off of the crook of her arm and rummaged in it until he found her wallet. He flipped through her credit cards and IDs, searching for her name.

Daphne.

Her name was Daphne. He put Daphne's things back into her purse and tossed it onto the countertop by the register.

Griffin leaned over until his lips brushed against Daphne's ear, covered as it was by wispy strands of soft hair. "Hello, Daphne," he murmured pleasantly. "What are you hiding under those prudish clothes of yours?"

Daphne, still frozen in the middle of her order, did not respond.

Griffin took his time sliding up her gray sweater, teasing his fingers around her waist and up her sides to feel the creaminess of her skin and the plush layers of fat filling out her curves. He maneuvered her arms upwards so that he could pull the garment off of her, revealing a plain, flesh-toned bra holding modest tits and a gold-chained pendant that had been hidden beneath the sweater.

Griffin inspected the pendant, snorting to himself when he realized it was a cross. "Are you a good Christian girl, Daphne?"

He moved her away from the counter, eying her upper body. She had thin, barely-visible specks of blonde hair here and there, especially around the top of her skirt and under her arms. No tattoos or piercings, of course, that wouldn't be godly. A mole by her navel. A few small, pink scars, randomly dotted here and there, in a manner that suggested they came from the hazards of everyday life. Nothing to write home about. But there was something about her normalcy, frozen by his will, that made Griffin's cock thicken.

He reached for the clasps of her bra and carefully removed it. Daphne's tits sagged, just this side of too big to perk instead of submitting to gravity. Her nipples were pink and flattened, and Griffin couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch one, rubbing it gently between two fingers, until it pebbled under his ministrations. Daphne's tightened, erect nipple made his mouth water. He leaned in to catch her other nipple between his lips, sucking until it, too, responded to him, engorging on his tongue.

Due to their height difference, Griffin had to bend quite far to take Daphne's tit in his mouth. He quickly realized that wasn't sustainable, so he picked her up and set her on the countertop by the register, shoving her purse further out of the way. He spread her legs as wide as her skirt would allow and stepped between them, tilting her backward a bit to allow for better access to her tantalizing tits. He cupped one in each hand, massaging them, as he alternated between sucking her nipples.

When her nipples were puffy and coated with saliva - that is, when Griffin had his fill of playing with her pretty tits - he pulled back to admire her. Daphne's wet and reddened chest was a beautiful sight to behold.

"Fuck," Griffin murmured, "you're making me so hard, Daphne." He grabbed himself through his jeans, but the relief from his own touch was only temporary. He needed a hot cunt to really relieve the building pressure in his cock and the blood pounding in his ears.

Griffin hooked his fingers into the waistband of Daphne's skirt. He pulled it down to find a pair of high-waisted pink panties beneath.

How quaint,

he thought with another snort, and then he removed those, too, along with the black flats she wore on her delicate feet.

Now that she was completely naked, Griffin admired Daphne in full. She was neither particularly fat nor skinny, adding to her sense of averageness, and though she had more curves than her unflattering outfit suggested, she was less curvaceous than Griffin had imagined. He looked between her parted thighs to examine her cunt; it was covered with golden-blonde pubic hair, a shade darker than her head hair. Griffin licked two fingers and used them to gently part her labia, groaning at his first view of her tight entrance. He felt above her opening and found her clit sheathed in its tiny hood. Perfectly normal cunt on a perfectly normal girl - and fuck, that made Griffin so eager.

He got down on his knees, caring little that the dirty floor would make a mess of his pants. He found her clit with his mouth, licking and sucking with tender strokes until it hardened and slipped from its hood to throb against his tongue. He used his fingers to tease her slit, sliding first one finger in, then a second when her body slicked his passage, wet as it was from his messy attentions on her clit. Her cunt, hot and silky, stretched around his fingers, and in no time, he was scissoring her open in time with flicks of his tongue against her clit. Her salty musk saturated his mouth, making his blood boil. He moaned against her as her tight, wet heat made his cock strain painfully. Fuck, but he needed to be inside her so badly.

Griffin stood up, freeing his cock from his jeans with a quick pop of a button. Then, he lifted Daphne from the countertop and brought her back to her original position - across the windowed counter from the redheaded worker. He propped Daphne against the glass so that her tits pressed level with the redhead's face. From his angle, it looked like the redhead was sucking Daphne's tits. Since Daphne was so short, Griffin had to hold her up to keep her in position, and her feet dangled above the floor.

Griffin hoisted her up and aligned her with his cockhead, which was an angry red and beginning to weep precum by the time he slipped it inside of her. Though he'd stretched her beforehand, Daphne's cunt was still tight around him, and Griffin grunted as he pressed past the ring of muscle that resisted him. He thrust firmly inside her, sliding to the hilt, and then stilled for a moment, soaking in the feeling of being deep within her.

Griffin caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass - really just the shadow of his beard and the dark smudge of his hair. He looked so good, he thought, towering over this innocent Christian girl and fucking her cunt. Had she ever been fucked before? What if he got her pregnant? Would she think herself the next Virgin Mary?

Griffin smiled at the thought, then began fucking her in earnest. The only sounds in the shop were the slap of skin-on-skin and the wet squelch of Daphne's cunt as he pulled out and thrust back into her. He adjusted his grip on her, reaching around to rub her clit with his fingers as he fucked her. Her cunt clenched and contracted around him, and he moaned as she clung to him. His balls tightened as they swung against her warm skin, and soon, far too soon, Griffin was pushing himself as deeply as he could inside of Daphne. He wanted to cum inside her. He wanted to fill her up. He hoped she didn't know what cum was. He burst, flooding her with cum, at the mental image of her later, inspecting her soiled panties with confusion.

When Griffin came down from his orgasm, he pulled out of Daphne, relishing the slow trickle of semen that followed his cock out of her. He set her down so that she was standing upright, and then he tucked his cock back into his pants. He gathered his clothes and redressed her - mostly. He tucked her bra into his back pocket, marveling at her hard nipples poking at the sweater's fabric.

Fucking Daphne left Griffin hungry, and well, he was already in a sandwich shop. He went behind the counter, moved the redhead aside, and began making himself a sandwich.