Macy's Shoe Department - A Holiday

Macy's Shoe Department -- A Fictional Holiday Tale by J.J. Eroticas

Christmas held two days away.

"Why won't they turn these fucking escalators on for the employees?"

Before the shopping action, the place is dark and smells like filthy wet money. My throat is always sore. I wear a black dress shirt and strangle my neck with a red tie. I feel like crying. I make no money here. I am college educated too. Nice country and nice capitalism.

Always hungover, I live by the water fountain. "Why am I so horny when I am hungover?" "Is it because I deliberately drank poison all night and my body wants to procreate before death?"

Around five, every day, strippers come in to buy shoes. They tip better than the wealthy parasites of golf attire and sparkling jewelry. The rich tip nothing and honestly, hold not much value in my world. Heck; multiply that by the majority of the people, and it is a bundle. A bundle of no value takers across the human condition.

The shoe stockroom smells like a summer-time attic. This wretchedness cements my sinuses closed until I have infections that drain down my neck. One time, I was so hungover in the deep bowels of the stock room, I dropped my pants down to my ankles and stroked my cock and tickled my nut sack just to relieve the hell of it all. "This would be a great place to have sex."

I helped people find the right shoe size and fetched alternatives until Bingo! And then, I rang them up: processing gift cards, coupons, credit card points and discounts until there was blood on the keyboard.

Dixie came in at 4:30PM this Tuesday. Her elongated blond hair tickled her bubble ass like Daryl Hannah in the movie Splash. She always fancied the flowering and sparkling stilettos. (Google stilettos and see which store comes up.) Her tight skirts and those long, long legs. Good legs: in between sticks and jiggled fat.

"What is wrong with you, Sage?" Dixie said.

"I am tired, still drunk, depressed, and know this place will cover like 20 percent of bills and rent."

"Poor baby," she said.

"I guess," I said and laughed.

"What can I do to help?"

"Oh, you give me the best tips, darling, that is good for me." I said.

She revealed her left ear from the curtains of her shampooed soft hair. It was a joint, a fat one at that. "You know any good place to spark one up?"

"I do actually, and you are a life saver," I said. But I meant soul saver. She saved my soul that evening.

Behind the discount shoe "missile testing site", there was a cavernous entrance to a concrete floor corridor that led to the deep bowels of the stock room. The stilettos she wore echoed the secret warehouse. He green eyes nearly crossed when I scolded her with my brown eyed and hair scowl. Something I could not withstand. I was so nervous, horny, and hungover.

After she removed her shoes, we stood flat footed close in the dark side of the moon of the stock room. We could peak at the traffic of other shoe salespeople ten yards north of us, where the lighting buzzed hot and the floors where lukewarm and squeaked like a basketball court.

"Won't they smell it?" she said.

"What if you take a deep hit, put out the joint with the cement wall, hold the smoke, blow it in my mouth. I hold it. And exhale into this empty shoe box?"

Dixie laughed and when she leaned into me, I could see her firm round tits as tan as her face. She rolled a pink lighter to a flame, sucked it in the join's sparkling cherry, put the joint out, and we locked lips. She blew smooth marijuana smoked down my wretched throat and we softly touched cold wet tongues. My erection turned to a marble weapon nearly ripping the seams of my worn-out slacks.

I listened to the intercom blare about discounts between the most horrid Christmas music ever created. I leaned forward and cupped both her cold soft tits. Doing this put my cock even further inside. All of her clothes laid on the floor as I fucked her doggy style fully naked. I kept my black clothes on with just my cock lose in case the manager needed to be intercepted on their way back here.

I saw a colleague slam down a shoe box. He was oblivious of me being in heaven in such a hellish slave machine just feet away. I slushed inside her wet pussy contemplating the shimmying of her bubble ass cheeks. I reached around and fingered her bell button. Her hair swept the floor.

Intercom: Sage please report to the discount shoe section. Sage. Please report to the discount shoe section.

I dropped my slacks and boxer shorts down to my ankles and bent my knees a tad. The smacking of her ass cheeks echoes the stock room high walls. Dixie screamed as that dizziness before coming took effect. My tongue spilled out when I saw the silhouette of my manager marching towards us.

I saw the manager's gasp as I pumped so much hot cum inside of Dixie. I kept sliding my cock in until all the come drilled out.

"Mrs. Simons. I am on my finny funny break...I will be in the discount finny funny shoe section in two shakes of a finny funny lamb's tale."

This was the best day of my retail wage slave life. I highly recommend it. (but wear a condom!)