Transactional Services

I stood behind the checkout counter at the grocery store, my tight uniform hugging my curves as the short, fat, ugly regular shuffled up with his usual basket of cheap items. He never had cash or a card, just that pathetic grin on his face. I had come up with the perfect solution weeks ago: instead of letting him leave empty-handed, I would pay for his groceries myself using my own money, but only after he got what he wanted from me.

Today was no different. The store was quiet with just a few distant shoppers, but he insisted on staying right there at the register, exposed and risky. I glanced around, heart pounding, then dropped to my knees behind the low counter. My hands moved quickly to his belt, pulling out his cock. It was already half-hard and smelled faintly of sweat. I leaned in, wrapping my lips around the head and sucking it into my mouth with a wet slurp. The taste hit me immediately—bitter and musky—and I fought back a gag, my tongue working along the shaft as I bobbed my head.

I hated every second. This wasn't pleasure for me; it was a straight transaction to cover his bill. My phone sat propped on a lower shelf, camera rolling secretly to capture every detail for my daughters at home. They had begged to join in and help this same customer, so I recorded these sessions daily, letting them watch and learn how to handle him exactly like this.

His stubby fingers gripped the counter edge while I took him deeper, my throat tightening around his thickness. Saliva dripped down my chin as I sucked harder, cheeks hollowing with each pull. He thrust his hips forward in small movements, pushing his cock further into my mouth. The risk made it worse—the open store, possible footsteps approaching, my boss just one aisle over. I kept going anyway, my lips sliding up and down his length until he grunted and flooded my mouth with thick, warm cum. I swallowed it down in quick gulps, the sticky texture coating my throat, then pulled off and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

Standing up, I rang up his items using my own cash from the drawer to cover the total. He zipped up and left with his bag, while I discreetly stopped the recording and slipped my phone away. My daughters would see this tonight and probably ask for their turn soon. I straightened my uniform, ready for the next customer, already knowing tomorrow would bring the same hidden exchange.