Emily Pt. 02

I woke up the next day refreshed. The events of the previous night seemed strangely far away and nothing to do with my real life. I went out shopping that day and bought way too many clothes. When I got back my parents gave me a knowing look.

"Feels good spending money that you've earned, doesn't it?" Dad said smugly.

"It does." I answered. I smiled wondering what my Dad would say if he knew exactly what I had done to earn that money!

Monday came and school started another week. I didn't tell any of my friends about the job, I wanted to keep it a secret. The week went quickly and suddenly Thursday was here and I had to go back to the takeaway. Up in my room I grabbed the modest black trousers I'd worn the previous Saturday. Then, a weird thought struck me, if Mustafa was prepared to pay me more for not complaining when he brushed past me imagine what he'd pay if I dressed up a little?

I reached across and took out one of my old school skirts. It was a black pleated skirt which I'd grown out of - not because it was too tight but because as my legs had grown it had become too short. I then took out a white v-necked tee-shirt which I kept for knocking about the house, it was tight and I knew it made my teenaged perky breasts really stand out. I put on the skirt and tee-shirt and then put on a baggy jumper and went down stairs.

My Dad was waiting to take me to work when I got downstairs.

"That's a bit short, isn't it?" He said looking at my skirt.

"It's ok," I replied, "Besides it's an old one and its better I get this messed up with oil than my decent trousers."

I knew this would appeal to his money saving side. After a second he shrugged and we went out to the car.

After he dropped me off at the takeaway I quickly took off the jumper. Mustafa was waiting when I opened the door - I think he might have been worried I wasn't coming back. The smile that cracked his fat, unshaven, face told me he was pleased to see me and very pleased to see what I was wearing.

That evening Mustafa didn't wait long before making excuses to shuffle past me, each time grabbing my hips and pulling me close to him. I could now distinctly feel the hard shape of his penis against my bottom and legs as he held me close. He didn't restrict himself to my bottom either - he used any excuse to reach across in front of me, each time his hand 'accidently' brushing my breasts. And each time he touched me I could hear his breathing quicken and saw his face break out into a sweat. I felt kind of powerful knowing my young body could do that to a grown man and I knew from the heat between my legs that I was getting turned on too.

I was feeling confident I suppose and so the next time Mustafa shuffled past and touched me I said, "Do that often enough and I might start liking it." I smiled a girly, innocent smile at him and I saw his face flush and eyes narrow with lust. That scared me a bit so I quickly turned around and found something to do.

Towards the end of the night one of the group of Asian men I had seen before came in and started talking to Mustafa. Again I could not understand what they said but it was obviously sexual comments about me. They both watched me with lustful looks on their faces as I served other customers.

Towards the end of the night, when the shop was empty, the other Asian man started nudging Mustafa and looking at me - it was as if he was daring Mustafa to do something. A sudden suspicion popped into my head - he wanted Mustafa to grab me like he had the other night. Uncertainty flooded my brain - was I alright with it happening again? Was the extra money worth allowing this dirty, smelly old man to touch me while his friend watched? But then I felt the heat in my pussy intensify and knew I was getting turned on by the idea!

I pretended to lean over the counter to clean it with a cloth as I watched from the corner of my eye - the man nudged Mustafa a couple more times and, finally, Mustafa started to move towards me. I could have stopped him then, stood up and faced him but something inside made me stay where I was. I felt Mustafa stand beside me and then the now familiar feeling of his hands grabbing my hips and pulling sharply back. The hardness of his penis wedged itself between my legs and I felt it push against my pussy - I was suddenly so hot and I knew I must be just as wet down there as before. Blood was rushing in my ears but I heard the other man laughing and saying something else to Mustafa. Intense feelings of humiliation swept through me but that just made my horniness greater. The man said something else and then, suddenly, I felt Mustafa's hands release my hips, snake around my body and, before I could do anything, felt them cup each of my breasts. I gasped and the other man laughed - between my legs my pussy gave a spasm and Mustafa's penis went rock hard.

Mustafa began to roughly knead my breasts and then, through half closed eyes, I saw the other man standing right in front of me.

"You like old Mustafa, girlie?" He said with a smug tone and thick accent.

I couldn't say anything so I just shook my head no. I was caught between conflicting feelings of degradation and intense horniness.

"Yes, I think you like old Mustafa. White girls are all sluts, no?" He asked, his smug expression still in place.

I felt my face flush even more to be called such a dirty word and I shook my head again and managed to blurt, "No. I'm a good girl."

Then I felt his hand cup my cheek and then begin to stroke it - it was almost tender.

"You get hot in your little pussy when Mustafa touches you, no?" He said, "You are dirty slut I think."

"No!" I said again, but I knew it was a lie.

"Your little cunt is very wet now I think, no?" He said still stroking my cheek. For some reason I felt myself getting angry - I can only imagine I was embarrassed - he knew exactly what was happening to me.

"Perhaps Abdullah take a look and see your wet cunt, no?" He said, referring to himself.

That scarred me and I blurted, "I'm not a slut, I'm a virgin."

For a second I felt both men stop. I managed to look up at Abdullah in front of me - he was looking over my head at Mustafa. I saw him smile then, a cruel knowing smile. Then I felt Mustafa squeeze my breasts and push his groin into me and I was overtaken with horniness.

Then I felt one of Abdullah's fingers touch my lips. I clamped my mouth shut and tried to move away but just then Mustafa stopped kneading my breasts and he clamped my nipples between his thumb and finger. How is it men always seem to know where your nipples are? Both pain and pleasure shot out from each nipple and I gasped - Abdullah's finger moved into my mouth. I should have bitten him, hard, but I didn't. I knew what he wanted me to do and I felt I had no choice. I closed my lips around his finger and sucked.

A look of triumph appeared on his face - god how I hated myself then - I had given in to him, allowed him to win and control me. But the feeling only lasted a second as my horniness took over once again.

Abdullah pushed his finger in and out of my mouth as Mustafa continued to grind his groin into me and pinch my nipples. I felt completely helpless bent over the counter like that but at the same time didn't want it to stop.

I don't know how long this went on, maybe a minute, maybe more, but suddenly it stopped and Mustafa and Abdullah walked away - laughing and talking as they went. I slowly stood upright and smoothed my skirt and tee-shirt down. It was a good job I did as seconds later I saw a car pull into the car park outside and the lights flash.

I pulled on my jumper and as I left Mustafa pushed another envelope into my hand.

"See you Saturday." He smirked.

I just grabbed the envelope and walked to the car. Ignoring my Dad's questions I sat silently on the way home. I was not sure how to feel - on the one hand those two old men had used me like a cheap prostitute but on the other I had enjoyed it immensely - so much I was missing that dirty, hot, horny feeling already.

When I got home I rushed up to bed and masturbated furiously for half the night. In the morning my pussy was sore but very satisfied and I sat up in bed and counted my money. It was twice as much as on the first night. I couldn't believe it.