Zoey makes a reasonable request

Instead of dismissing the two of you and going back to work, Zoey remains where she is. And unfortunately, as she intently observes your and Pearl’s rutting, the clerk’s former annoyance returns.

“This is your final warning,” says Zoey with hands on hips, impatiently keeping track of every book that falls to the ground as you and Pearl thump rhythmically against the bookshelves.

You thought you fixed this. What did you do wrong?

With your friend’s breasts undulating wildly, barely contained beneath her shirt as she humps into you, Pearl curses and loses her temper.

“Oh my fucking god.” Pearl leans back to glare at Zoey, as well as to give you a better angle for thrusting. She wants it harder. “You don’t even know anything about sex or clothes anymore. What’s the fucking problem now lady? What rule do you think we’re breaking?”

Zoey is mystified by Pearl’s use of the terms ‘sex’ and ‘clothes’, but she gathers herself and stands up to full height anyway. She channels the full authority afforded her by her Barnes & Noble name tag, and chews her out.

“Ma’am, this is a bookstore. Not a gym. If you’re going to wrestle, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” says Zoey, scowling and pointing at the number of books that’ve fallen to the ground since you started plowing your curvy partner. “I can’t let you make a mess of my store or disturb our other customers.”

It’s not an unreasonable demand. “She’s got a point there,” you mutter.

Point or not, though Pearl hates being interrupted, and apparently that goes double for sex. “Should’ve just claimed her job,” she grumbles in irritation.

Your pace slackens, much to Pearl’s frustration, but you’ve got a lot on your mind. “I could claim the store, or…”

Pearl’s voice is tight as she crushes her hips down on your cock. “Don’t care, don’t stop. Fuck I’m so close.”

It’s difficult to find a flaw with Pearl’s argument. You grip her wide hips and fuck her slippery pussy.

“Unh,” Pearl huffs. “Ooh fuck. Hah…”

As if to remind you of her presence, Zoey takes a threatening step forward. “Hey, I’m talking to you! Don’t make me call the cops!”

You roll your eyes and pop Pearl’s shirt up over her big tits so you can watch them bounce for you. Awsome. “Look lady,” you say over your shoulder, “we’re having sex, okay?”

Zoey takes another step closer, strangely curious. “Having sex?”

“Yeah,” grunts Pearl, “and we’d enjoy it a whole lot better if you’d buzz off.”

Despite Zoey’s professional annoyance, being dismissed only serves to strengthen her curiosity. Nothing’s more interesting than a topic someone doesn’t want to tell you about. She comes closer still, but her inspection of your hardened cock plunging between the swollen lips of Pearl’s vulva only raises more questions.

“I’ll buzz off when you stop knocking books onto the ground,” Zoey states. "Those things cost money, you know."

You do the math. It’s not a bad trade. “Fair enough,” you say. “Sorry for the trouble. Hey Pearl.”

“Wuh?”

You slip out of your friend, eliciting an annoyed moan, and step away from the shelves. You lead Pearl with you. Then, stepping back a fair distance, you lie down on the carpet and pull her down after you. Wordlessly, you steer her overtop you, till she’s straddling your hips.

“Oh, gotcha,” says Pearl, understanding. She flips your erection up and gives it a couple full strokes to raise you to full hardness again. When you’re ready, she mounts, rocks her hips back and down, and takes the whole of your shaft back into her body with a sharp intake of breath. “Mmnh…”

Pearl rocks in place, riding you, her breasts slapping lightly against her chest. She closes her eyes and bites her lip to focus on the sensations, catching a moan in her throat. All that escapes is a choked, pleased sound.

You admire her before looking again at Zoey. “This better?” you ask, lightly tapping Pearl’s ass to emphasize the new position, in which no bookshelves are harmed. Your calm expression hides the wild pleasure of your partner’s body spasming tight all around you.

Zoey nods, albeit begrudgingly. Yet, she still makes no move to leave. Even more perplexed than before, she watches how Pearl - with wild abandon - bounces on your cock. Her macabre curiosity overcomes good sense.

“Seriously though,” says Zoey, “what are you doing?”

Pearl bristles at the spectator. “We’re not touching your books,” she hisses. “Buzz. Off.”

On a whim, you **** Pearl’s hips down fully on yours, rolling your pelvis to really feel every inch of her on you. If you don’t mind Zoey watching, why should Pearl? “Chill, Pearl. You consent to her watching if she wants.”

Pearl’s mind changes instantly at your words. “Oh, uh. Hm.” She voices no further complaint.

Zoey eyes the shockwaves rippling through Pearl’s ass as she bucks atop you. “That can’t be comfortable.”

“Well it feeeeels…” Pearl cums mid-sentence. She starts bucking wildly. “It f-feels awe-ah, ah, ah…!”

“It feels better than it looks,” you say, your voice tight. It takes all you have not to cum with Pearl, but you curl your toes and fight to hold it in. It helps immensely when Pearl stops to catch her breath.

Zoey is skeptical. “I’ll take your word for it.” Still curious, though, the clerk points to the shirt bundled up above Pearl’s breasts, and to your rumpled shirt and half-undone jeans. “What about those fabric things on you? Are they a sex thing?”

It takes a second to process Zoey’s question. You know that Pearl had Zoey forget clothing the same way you had her forget sex, but dealing with the implications is something else entirely.

“Oh, these are clothes,” you answer, patting your shirt sleeve for emphasis. “You’re actually wearing some yourself, too.”

Zoey looks down at herself. “What are you taking - wait, what the…?” Utterly astonished, she picks at her black blouse and skinny jeans. “The fuck is this?”

Pearl slowly starts humping you again. Feels like she’s recovered enough from her orgasm to keep going. You and Pearl exchange a mutual grin and promptly forget all about Zoey while you get back into fucking.

“Are you close?” asks Pearl, her voice husky.

“Yeah,” you huff.

“I still consent to getting knocked up, yeah?”