David walked back to his apartment, his legs still a little shaky from the sex he'd had and the sex he'd seen.
Rules,
he thought.
There must be rules in Pornworld.
His computer was still there, even in this weird, alternate dimension, so he looked up STIs and pregnancy. There were no STIs here, and women could get pregnant only if they really to. An internal "swallowing" muscle allowed it to happen. There simply was no reason, here, not to fuck as much as you liked. "I could have fucked those two girls down the hall," he said out loud. He probably could
still
fuck those two girls down the hall. He was living in pornworld, now. He could have all the sex he wanted.
However, a quick look through his apartment revealed that he still had a job. Pornworld wasn't without an economy. Checking the time and realising he was late, he threw on his socks and shoes and hustled out the door. He saw people in various states of doin' it on his way in to work, of course, and when he got there, he was amazed at how much sex was going on in the store. David was the floor manager of a big drug store. All seemed about the same at first, but every time he rounded a corner or opened a door, there were people fucking: in the isles, behind the tills, in the back rooms, employees, customers, and combinations of the two. He was enjoying it, certainly. See something you like, stick around and watch for a minute. See something you don't like, just keep walking. It slowed productivity down, but people in Pornworld don't seem to mind. Productivity
just is
a little slower here, he thought, because everyone keeps stopping for fifteen-minute fuck breaks.
He had more or less gotten used to it when he heard a particularly enthusiastic set of moans, shrieks, and giggles coming from a certain isle. Back in the real world, there was half a shelf dedicated to condoms, lubes, and some very discreetly packaged sex toys. In Pornworld, that half a shelf had expanded into a sex shop within the store, and people were constantly "trying out" the merchandise. No one seemed bothered by that, here. It was a world without STIs, so trying out a dildo must be like trying on a shirt; you'll wash it when you get home. These moans and shrieks sounded familiar, though. They were coming from a clerk named Mindy, a shy girl with mousey brown hair who usually wore no make up at all. Mindy was definitely cute, and very personable, and David had always thought so, but he was in no way prepared for what he saw when he rounded the corner.
Mindy was demonstrating a product for a pair of customers, a couple, who were staring, mesmerised. David became mesmerised himself in short order. Mindy's hair was up, and her make-up had been put on with a trowel, but in a hot/slutty way. Her librarian-glasses somehow contrasted wither her hotness in a way that suddenly emphasised the hotness. She had her shirt unbuttoned and one tit in her hand, and she had her skirt tucked into her belt so that it exposed her sweet, delicate,
tiny
little pussy. David stared. He never expected to see her like this: brazen, randy, and enjoying the crap out of everyone staring at her. He became aware of a buzzing noise. She was demonstrating a vibrator of some kind. Her hand was cupping her pussy, her palm rubbing in big, languid circles. As he stared her up and down―her exposed legs, the pussy flesh on either side of her hand, her little pink-tipped tit, and finally up her smooth neck―he realised that she was looking right back at him. Her eyes were wide open, and when he made eye contact, she grinned even wider in a look that said "Hey, look what I'm doing!"
