Emily Pt. 01

I was a typical rebellious teenager when it happened. Just turned eighteen and with a normal teenager's attitude of "adults know nothing." My mum understood, after all she'd been a eighteen year old girl too once, but my Dad and I argued all the time, he just wouldn't shut up about taking responsibility, learning the value of money, taking my education seriously, blah, blah, blah!

His attitude had rubbed off in one area though - I didn't "go with boys". Not that I didn't have plenty of offers. If I say it myself, I was the best looking girl in school. I had long straight blonde hair, large blue eyes and a slim, narrow hipped body. I was just the right side of skinny and my breasts were a nice B cup. I could have had my pick of the boys, and quite a few teachers by the looks they gave me, but I was going steady with Marcus. We'd known each other for years, our parents knew each other well too, and we'd always got on.

Over the time we'd been boyfriend and girlfriend he'd pushed his luck once or twice but we hadn't gone further than kissing and touching each other with our clothes on - except for one time I'd given him a hand job at a friend's party but we'd both been so drunk neither of us could really remember it! No, I was determined to stay a virgin until I got married, hopefully to Marcus.

So I was eighteen, beautiful and still a virgin. I didn't realise it then but that made me very desirable to a lot of older men, especially when I was wearing my school uniform - pleated skirt, white blouse, tie, blazer and, of course, white knee high socks. I'd noticed the looks of course, it was something every girl had to get used to. Men would look us up and down as if they were determining if we were worth anything - like a farmer sizes up a cow they might buy. I'd grown accustomed to the stares but over the last year, when my breasts had become much more noticeable, the stares had become more intense, the men looked at me hungrily now, as if I were their prey. It scared me, and if I'm honest, thrilled me a little too.

We lived in a suburb of a pretty ordinary town in the south of England - me, my little sister, my mum and my dad. To say it was boring was an understatement. I couldn't wait to finish my exams and get away to university.

One Saturday I woke up late, 11am, and my Dad immediately began to have a go at me. He was fed up with me lazing around and not pulling my weight. He banged on at me that now that I was eighteen I should get a part time job - a Saturday job in a shop or something. I got angry too and, after pulling on some clothes, stormed out. Looking back I know now he was completely right - I was selfish and lazy and really didn't appreciate how hard you have to work for your money.

As I stalked down the high street I made my mind up to get even with my Dad. If he wanted me to get a part time job then I would but it wouldn't be something he liked! It was only a few minutes later that I noticed a sign in the window of the local kebab take away. It was a dingy little place which smelt of sweat and cooking fat. The sign said they needed part time help and a plan formed in my mind.

My Dad was an unspoken racist - he never said anything politically incorrect but we all knew he didn't agree with immigration and he especially didn't like the small Asian population that had sprung up in the less affluent part of town. He was quick to criticise them and deemed them all dirty. He particularly didn't like the kebab take away and had said it was filthy and had taken work away from the local fish and chip place - run by whites!

I admit that the thought of working in that hot, smelly takeaway was not appealing but I was still angry and wanted to get back at my Dad. I walked in and up to the counter. A fat, sweating Asian man in his late fifties was standing by the till. When he noticed me I got the familiar appraisal but this time it was done without any hint that it was something wrong. His eyes slowly moved over my body taking in every inch, especially my breasts, before finally meeting my own.

"I'm here about the job." I blurted out.

Slowly, without any embarrassment his eyes moved down to stare at my breasts again - his fat tongue appeared between his lips and licked them.

"Girly want a job here in Mustafa's?" He said with a very thick Pakistani accent.

"Yes, that's right. I can only work in the evenings or at weekends as I still go to school - does that fit in with what you want?"

"You still at school girly?" He asked.

"Yes, St. Catherines."

"Ah yes, the girls with the white socks." He smiled revealing yellow, crooked teeth.

"Ummm, that's right." I felt nervous then, not sure how I was supposed to answer.

"Hmmmm," he said rubbing a fat hand over his bristly, unshaven chin. "I need Thursday and Saturday night six til eleven. Minimum wage. You want?"

I was unsure, he hadn't asked me any questions about my experience or skills. His eyes continued to roam over my body and a look of wanting passed across his face. Despite my naiveté I quickly realised why he was offering me the job! I started to reconsider - I wasn't sure I could bear this old letch leering at me for two nights a week. Then I remembered my Dad - this would really piss him off and with any luck within a couple of weeks he'd relent and probably even increase my allowance.

"Yes, that's fine." I said. He looked very pleased and rubbed his hands together.

"Start tonight, six. Don't be late." He said.

"Ummm, okay." I said, suddenly unsure. I turned and left, all the time feeling his eyes on my bottom.

When I got home Dad was waiting for me.

"Before you start," I said, "I agree with you." He looked suitably dumb founded. "I've got a job and I start tonight."

"Really?" He said, clearly very surprised.

"Yes, at the kebab place on the high street." His faced paled. "Two nights a week serving behind the counter."

"But..I..." I took pleasure in his being lost for words.

"What?" I said in my best teenager exasperated tone. "You said I should get a job and I have."

He looked like he was going to argue but then changed his mind.

"Well done Emily. I'll take you down and pick you up if you like."

"Yeah, okay." I said. I'd won. Now to see how long he could last.

At five thirty that night I kissed my Mum goodbye and got in the car with Dad. It only took a few minutes to get there.

As I was getting out of the car Dad said, "Emily, take care won't you?"

"What? There's nothing to be careful about Dad. See you at eleven." I got out and shut the door a little too hard. I stormed into the shop and, as I waited for Mustafa to finish serving a customer I saw Dad drive slowly away.

"Good, girly showed up to work." Said Mustafa. "Come, come." He beckoned me behind the counter.

"My name is Emily."

"Emily," he said considering, "Tis pretty name for sexy girl."

I let out an involuntarily embarrassed giggle at his words.

I felt his pudgy hand on the small of my back as he guided me through an arched door way with nothing but a curtain of beads to separate it from the front of the take away.

"Tis, store room." Said Mustafa, his hand never leaving my back. "There is office and there toilet."

The room was a typical storeroom, shelves lined the walls with various catering sized items on them, on the floor were sacks of spuds (for the chips) and other boxes. The office was a small room with thin wooden walls built into a corner of the storeroom. The toilet looked disgusting from what I could see - a single toilet stood against the wall and looked like it might once have been white but now was stained by who knew what. A small corner basin was attached to the wall and looked like it had never been used. The door was the sort you get in public toilets with a large gap at the top and bottom. I silently vowed never to use it.

Mustafa guided me back to the front of the takeaway his hand inching lower until it was just touching the top of my bottom. I was shocked by his familiarity - I should have said something but it somehow felt wrong. He was my boss so I felt that I couldn't say anything to him about it. Looking back I realise that was my downfall.

After a brief lesson in how to use the till I was set to work. It didn't take long for the first customers to appear and after a few mistakes I got the hang of taking the money and using the till while Mustafa prepared the kebabs and chips. The space behind the counter top was narrow and Mustafa seemed to need to move past me frequently. At first he just brushed past me but it wasn't long before I felt him place a hand on my narrow hips and gently pull me past him while also pulling me closer to him. He made it seem like it was just to help us get by each other but I knew he just wanted to get close to me. I didn't like touching his fat, smelly body and each time he moved past me I could smell his hot putrid breath on my face.

It got busier and busier as the night wore on. Increasing the customers were a little worse for wear after having a few drinks in town and the looks I got became more and more overt. I felt ok though as I was behind the counter but unfortunately Mustafa was getting more and more lecherous with each pass. Now he was pulling me close into him each time so that he could press his groin against my bottom.

Towards the end of the night a small group of older Asian men came in. After they each gave me unashamedly suggestive looks they started talking to Mustafa. They spoke in a language I could not understand but it seemed obvious they were talking about me. They frequently looked in my direction and spoke quickly and in excited tones. Mustafa must have been feeling proud of himself - his standing within their group must have gone up now he was the boss of a pretty, white girl. As if to demonstrate it he left the group and moved over to me.

"Need pen." He blurted at me as he came closer.

I leaned right in to the counter - I was sure I'd left plenty of room for him to pass but once again I felt his fat hands grab my hips and pull me into him. This time though it was much more forceful. I felt my hips being yanked towards him as my top half fell towards the counter. I landed heavily with my elbows on the counter top. Mustafa held me like this for a few seconds, me bent over the counter while his hands clasped my hips pulling them hard back into his groin. From behind me I could hear him say something to the other men who all laughed - I was so embarrassed to be in this humiliating position, especially in front of so many strange men. I felt my face flush red and could hear the blood rushing in my ears.

It was then that I realised that I could feel something hard pressing against me - right between my legs and through the thin fabric of my trousers. I suddenly realised it must have been Mustafa's penis - he was hard and that's what I could feel pressed against my most private parts - I bit my lower lip in shame. Whatever Mustafa said must have been very funny because all the men laughed and laughed. Finally Mustafa let me go and went back to join his friends - the pen long forgotten. I made an excuse to go to the toilet and left quickly through the bead curtain - all the men watched me go with hungry eyes. I quickly went into the toilet and locked the door - I could still clearly hear the men talking and laughing.

I soon realised that avoiding the toilet had been a good idea, it was filthy - poo stains coated the bowl and the seat-less rim was a mess of pee and thick, dark pubic hair. I stood breathing for a while until I felt myself begin to calm down. It had been such a humiliating experience - to be looked at and talked about as if I were nothing more than a thing was bad enough but to be used like that, and in front of other men, just made it worse.

I started to think I'd been gone too long - despite everything I still wanted to keep the job as I knew it wouldn't be long before Dad gave in. If the worst I had to deal with was a group of dirty old men in order to beat my Dad then I decided I'd do it. I looked at the disgusting toilet again and thought I might as well go since I was there. I pulled my trousers and knickers down and hovered over the toilet as all girls quickly learn to do. It was then I noticed the wet patch on my knickers, it was a large damp patch which completely covered the gusset. For all the world it looked like I'd wet myself but I knew I hadn't. Slowly I moved my hand between my legs and before I'd even touched myself I could feel an intense heat coming from my pussy. I gently touched my outer lips and was amazed to discover they were coated with my own lubricant. Shocked, I gently ran a finger between my outer lips and touched my inner ones - I was soaking wet! My mind reeled - had that humiliating situation turned me on? My finger continued up until it brushed against my clitoris. My eyes rolled back as a wave of pleasure coursed through me more intense than I had ever experienced. It was like an electric shock of the most delightful, mesmerizing kind.

I stood panting for a second before, unwilling, I found my fingers moving back down to my very wet pussy. Without any conscious thought my hand and fingers began rubbing my clitoris and lips - waves of please assaulted me and I had to bite my bottom lip hard not to moan out loud - I could clearly hear the group of men out front laughing - no doubt about what Mustafa had just done to me - but that thought just made the pleasure even more intense.

My hand was a blur now and I couldn't help the odd little whimper escaping my mouth. Then the pleasure was building and I knew I was about to cum. I felt my legs weaken and I collapsed onto the rim of the disgusting toilet. I felt the wet piss on the rim of the bowl against the back of my thighs but I didn't care. Involuntarily my legs spread wide and my hand thrashed around between them, giving me pleasure I had not imagined could exist.

The feelings built until I was sure I would pass out and then my orgasm hit me - waves of intense pleasure radiated out from my pussy and ran up and down my body. It seemed to go on for minutes before I finally began to realise where I was. Slowly the locked toilet door came into focus and then a second later I registered the sensation of the cold, hard toilet rim beneath my bottom. My legs were spread far apart and stuck out in front of me and my breathing was coming in huge gulps.

Slowly the reality of the situation intruded and I felt exhausted and sickened with myself. I stood up quickly, pulled up my knickers and trousers - heedless of the piss and hair sticking to me - unlocked the door and went back out to the front. Thankfully Mustafa's friends were gone and before he could say anything I saw headlights flash from outside - it was my Dad come to pick me up.

"Daddy here now?" Mustafa asked in his broken English.

I just nodded.

"You did very good. Very good girl." He said with a lurid smile which showed his crooked, yellow teeth.

"Here." He passed me a brown envelope. "Wages."

I took them wordlessly and opened the door.

"See you Thursday." He said.

Without really understanding what I was saying I blurted, "Yes, see you Thursday."

I walked out of the takeaway and got into the car.

"How was it?" Dad asked.

"Good." Was all I could muster. We drove home in silence, Dad probably thought I was having one of my teenager sulks.

When I got in I went up to the bathroom and took a very long shower - I washed my entire body three times.

Later, after I had climbed into bed I noticed the envelope on my bedside table. Absentmindedly I opened it and was surprised to find it full of five pound notes. I counted them and there was way more than I should have had. Realisation spread - Mustafa had been pleased with my first night, very pleased. Not only had I given him some cheap thrills but he had gained some status with his friends. I smiled to myself - I was beginning to see how the world worked.

I hid the money, turned out the light but could not sleep. My mind was churning with the evening's events. Could I put up with Mustafa's behavior for another couple of weeks? Would my Dad give into to his racism and ask me to stop work? But the question I kept returning to was why had I got so turned on my being treated in such a humiliating way? I should have been disgusted by being used by such a fat, smelly old man but instead he had made me hornier than I had ever been.

I replayed the events one more time and without me even being aware of it my hand moved down under the bed sheets and between my legs. I felt myself spread my knees apart and my fingers found their target. I gently rubbed myself to another earth shattering orgasm before falling into a peaceful sleep.