When I was an eighteen-year-old student I worked every Saturday in a picture-framing gallery in the centre of town. They needed the extra staff because that was the busiest day. It was the one day of the week when all the completed jobs were delivered from the workshop for collection by their owners. Each collection was time-consuming; involving the customer’s inspection before careful wrapping. There were also customers bringing pictures in for framing throughout the day, which could involve a long process of consultation and selection. Working in the shop apart from me, there was Mr. Philips, the slightly absent-minded owner and an unattainable goddess. This goddess’s name was Maria and she was considerably older than me. I never knew her real age except that I knew she was past thirty and married. She had full, high breasts, a narrow waist and lovely slim legs. Her hair was long and black and she told me that she ironed it to keep it straight, which I secretly imagined her doing, leaning over an ironing board with her lovely round bum in the air. (I could make the excuse that I was only eighteen at the time but I still haven’t changed). She had a lovely face and a dazzling smile and I was smitten. I was her puppy. One smile and my tail wagged. The shop was a dusty, cluttered and untidy little emporium with pictures and frames leaning against the walls. In the back there was an even more untidy storeroom where the pictures waiting to be collected, as well as cardboard, paper and the thick corrugated plastic used for wrapping, were kept. Mr. Philips and Maria were the picture-framing experts while I was the gopher and on Saturdays I was in and out of the storeroom all day long. Sometimes we were so busy we had to take lunch on the run. Maria knew that she had me wrapped around her little finger, but she was kind and affectionate to me. She said she was glad when it was Saturday because she had been bored to tears alone in the dingy shop with Mr. Philips all week. I happily lapped up every titbit she offered me. After I had been there a few months, she began touching my hand with hers and smiling whenever we passed in the course of work. It was innocent but I was thrilled by it. I was intoxicated and what might have been a humdrum part-time job became a pleasure that I looked forward to all week. One Saturday I arrived for work early in a light drizzle to start the day by helping to unload the van from the workshop with all the newly framed pictures. The van driver and I worked quickly and we had unloaded all the pictures by the time Maria arrived, shaking her umbrella in the doorway before entering the shop. She eased herself out of her raincoat and reached up to straighten her hair, lifting her breasts in her tight red sweater as she did so. I saw the lecherous look on the van driver’s face but her smile was for me. “He gives me the creeps,” she said when the van driver had gone. She touched my hand with hers, the first touch of the day. Maria began to make cups of tea, which was the first thing she did every Saturday. It might be the last one we had on a busy day. We chatted while we drank our tea, expecting Mr. Philips to arrive soon. Maria was standing close to me and teasing me about not having a regular girlfriend when she put out her hand out. I moved my hand towards hers but instead of touching it, she rubbed my cock through my trousers. I was often hard around Maria but I never realized that she had noticed. She smiled and pressed her beautifully manicured fingers against the outline of my twitching prick. I was helpless. She could do anything she wanted. Taking my hand, she placed it against her round, firm left breast and squeezed. “You would like to fuck me, wouldn’t you?” she asked, as if there could be any doubt about it. You have to be eighteen, when, if you remember, in your darkest moments you could fuck a domestic animal, to really appreciate why my legs shook and my mouth was too dry to speak. This wasn’t some grubby bike-shed girl who didn’t know any other way to make friends. This was a bona fide goddess who was stroking my cock and inviting me to fuck her. I nodded my head dumbly. Maria grabbed my hand and pulled me to the back of the storeroom. “We should just have time,” she was saying, almost to herself. Despite my befuddled brain, I knew what she meant. Absent-minded Mr. Philips was sometimes late. She wanted it to be one of those days. At the back of the storeroom was a pile of flattened boxes and paper, about knee-height. Maria sat down on the pile and wiggled her bum. Pieces of cardboard shifted, but the stack stayed firm. Then she got a roll of the corrugated plastic that we used for protecting the pictures and put that on the pile of cardboard. When she sat down and lay back it made a perfect pillow. She wasn’t lying flat, she was at a slightly raised angle and her knees were bent over the end of the pile so that her feet, which were encased in shoes with minimal elevation, were on the floor. “Perfect,” she murmured and stood up again. I had just been standing watching her, dumbfounded. She turned towards me and in one hurried movement lifted her jumper and bra above her tits, which seemed to spring forward when released. She was in a hurry, but she was also gentle, kissing me on the lips and guiding my hands to her tits. The urgency of her tongue was what began to loosen me up; that and the press of her fantastic body and the feel of her fingers rubbing up and down my cock. My inhibitions began to melt as I kneaded and squeezed her tits before running my hands down her body and cupping the wonderfully taut cheeks of her bum. Passion was a fair substitute for practice and I began to lift her plaid skirt so that I could get closer to those lovely squirming mounds. Imagine how I felt when I discovered that she was wearing stockings with suspenders and no knickers. Her cool, smooth flesh seemed to sear the palms of my hands as this secret was revealed and a jolt of low voltage electricity rippled up the shaft of my cock. “I decided today was going to be the day last night,” Maria breathed. She stepped back, pulling me with her, and began to lie back on the makeshift cardboard bed, causing me to release my grasping hands from her bum. She bounced a little as if for reassurance that the bed would hold and then lifted her skirt to her waist. What I beheld before me was beyond fantasy – and my teenage fantasies were extreme, but the women of my dreams were pneumatic fuck-sluts. Maria should have qualified as one of them. She was lying on a messy bed of cardboard pieces in a dusty backroom with her jumper and bra pulled over her jutting tits, her skirt around her waist and her stocking clad legs spread apart to reveal a fecund mound and a tuft of dark hair within which were luscious lips that seemed to be breathing. There were old pictures around the walls of that store room and above Maria’s head was a picture of a plump, naked Greek goddess with an urn on her shoulder. The whole scene could have been sleazy, but it was the most breath-taking sight I had ever seen. Did she guide my hand or did I act alone? I do not know, but those gorgeous pussy lips gave way readily between my fingers which were soon moist. Responding to Maria’s hips, they began to slide in and out of her succulent cunt. She raised herself again, holding my fingers in her cunt and began to urgently undo my trousers. She ripped them open and roughly pulled them down to my knees, where they were followed just as unceremoniously by my underpants. Cool fingers closed around my screaming cock and began to slide up and down the shaft. I groaned out loud, while a voice inside me begged silently. “Please, don’t. You’ll make me come. Oh, God, I can’t last.” She stopped and gave me brief respite but only to guide my cock towards her pussy. “I need you to fuck me now,” she said huskily. “We’ll just have time.” She had maneuvered the head of my prick so that it nestled between the juicy lips of her pussy, then she lay back breathing heavily. The rest was up to me. I clenched my buttocks and began to push, gasping at what I could see and feel. The sight of my prick disappearing into that warm muscular passage surrounded by dark hair, the feel of her smooth white thighs between my hands, even her suspenders as I pushed my fingers beneath them, turned me to liquid gold. I knew that I was going to come straight away and prove myself to be the useless teenager that I was. There was nothing I could do about it. And then the bell above the front door of the shop jangled! I jumped back in shock and pulled my bell-end out of Maria’s pussy. She jumped up and, panic-stricken, even as we heard Mr. Philips pushing open the door to the storeroom, we dressed ourselves and made ourselves as tidy as we could. Fortunately, he could not see us immediately on entering because of the shelves of pictures in the way. Maria was the first to reveal herself, but not before whispering meaningfully in my ear, “Later.” Is there some place between the instant before you come and actually coming that it is possible to get trapped in – like a black hole? I had been on the absolute verge of coming and then been halted by the shock of the shop door bell jangling and Mr. Philips entering. Now my prick was as achingly hard as a rock in my trousers and the bell-end throbbed as if it was gorged with spunk. The busy morning of shop work sprang into life and I spent most of my time going backwards and forwards between the store room retrieving pictures for customers. I had to hold the pictures in front of me or stand behind the counter to hide the bulge in my trousers. Every time she could do it unseen, Maria stroked my hard cock, which pulsated. I wanted to pee but I couldn’t. It was sweet agony. At all times, Maria was looking for an opportunity to get me alone in the storeroom. After a manic couple of hours, the busy shop suddenly emptied, except for a fussy customer that Mr. Philips was dealing with. Maria headed towards the store room and motioned me to follow with her eyes. I limped after her, covering my rigid cock with my hands as I walked past Mr. Philips and his customer. By the time I caught up with Maria, she was lying back on the cardboard bed with her legs apart just as I had left her a couple of hours earlier. She didn’t even have to say or do anything. I pulled my aching cock out of my pants, grabbed her fantastic tits and pushed my bell-end straight into her damp cunt. If we had been in a movie, the continuity experts would have been purring with delight. There was one difference, invisible to the naked eye. I knew I was not going to come in a long time. From the off we fucked hard and urgently, desperate to finish this time. My cock felt like an iron spear as I pierced her grasping cunt with it time and time again. She raised her legs and gripped my waist with her strong shapely calves while her sharp fingernails raked my buttocks. With her back raised against her makeshift cushion she was almost in a foetal position and her white teeth were clenched within parted red lips. I sought her mouth with mine, knowing that we were both about to come. And then the fucking bell above the front door of the shop jangled again and we sprang apart like frightened rabbits! Five times we tried to finish our fuck that day and each time we started from a point closer to completion and each time we were disturbed before we could reach the finishing post. My prick stayed hard as concrete all day, occasionally helped by a surreptitious stroke from Maria who was starting to look stressed. By the end of the working day it looked as if we would be thwarted, especially when a woman came into the shop within minutes of closing time with three pictures and approached Maria. She said that the pictures were very sentimental as they had been painted by her recently departed husband. “What you need is a real expert,” Maria said sweetly. “Mr. Philips, ” she called out, “could you help this lady? She wants something really special.” Mr. Philips was only too eager to help and Maria and I shot into the store room. We knew that this would be our last chance. In no time, we were banging away almost in desperation on our shifting cardboard bed. My cock had been fooled into thinking that its finest moment was about to arrive so many times that it achingly refused to come but eventually Maria began to come with great shuddering gasps. “For christ’s sake, come in inside me now, ” she gasped, almost tearing lumps out of my backside. I was her poodle; when she said jump, I jumped. I started to come. At that age, I could have had a shot at the national spunk hurling championships. In amount, height and length of trajectory, I was a top performer as the light fitting and walls of my bedroom could testify. Maria’s lovely dark eyes began to widen as I began to blast. And then the fucking, bastarding bell above the stupid front door of that godawful shop jangled again and we sprang apart with a loud wet suck! My cock was still pumping, first catching Maria on the side of her hair and then splattering against the face of the naked Greek goddess in the picture on the wall. When Mr. Philips came into view, Maria was leaning unconcernedly against a shelf with one stocking round her ankles and a gob of spunk sliding down her well-ironed hair, while I, with trousers still undone and now limp (hallelujah!) prick hanging out, all thankfully hidden by a picture that I was holding onto, tried to look innocent. I looked in horror as rivulets of spunk slowly wended their way down the big round belly of the Greek goddess on the wall. Absent-minded Mr. Philips noticed none of these things. “Helluva day,” he said, rummaging in a cupboard for his hat and coat. “Yes, Mr. Philips,” Mary and I chorused.