Then she happened to look at the clock.

"Oh, shit, Mitch! You can't fuck me now! I'm gonna be late for work!"

Becky worked as a cashier at a local market, owned by a sweet-tempered, if rather lecherous, forty-four-year-old named Leonard Nelson. She liked the job, and it didn't bother her that it lacked the status of Mitch's executive position with Crenshaw Manufacturing.

Becky had never really been an ambitious person, though she did want to be respected for her intelligence. All she really wanted from life was a happy marriage and a good home.

She really felt ashamed of herself for being ten minutes late for work, though. Becky reflected on this as she stood at the cash register an hour later, dressed in a sweater and slacks ensemble that, while modest, couldn't help highlighting the spectacular curves of her young body.

She still felt awfully horny. She'd already rung up two purchases wrong, all because she couldn't stop thinking about her wet, tingling cunt. It was hard to get through the day at work when all she could think about was more sucking and fucking with Mitch.

"You look awfully nice today, Becky."

The familiar voice came from right behind her shoulder. Becky turned, getting an eyeful of the red-faced Leonard Nelson staring hungrily at the outline of her huge, firm milkers.

"I'm sorry again I was late today, Mr. Nelson," Becky said guiltily.

"That's all right. You didn't do any damage."

Nelson licked his lips, then went back to sneaking peeks at Becky's super-sized tits.

"Is that a new sweater?"

Becky heaved a deep sigh, then smiled in spite of herself. Poor horny old Mr. Nelson! He was always looking at her tits!

"I know perfectly well it's not my sweater you're interested in, Mr. Nelson! Honestly, you're such a dirty old man sometimes! Can't you ever stop thinking about my tits?"