Darren examined each piece of lingerie in turn. Three of the five brassieres would need to have semen stains removed before he could repair the cups. Two pairs of stockings would need to be re-netted. Of the five pairs of panties, three had tears in the front while two had cuts in the back.

He wrote his estimate for the lot and passed it to the customer.

The customer took her time reading the estimate. That allowed Darren to get a better look at her. She was young, maybe younger than Darren. Her long brown hair was as straight as measuring tape. Full lips were a deeper shade of red than Darren had seen before. A flimsy pink shirt stretched across what Darren estimated to be 32A cups. A white skirt wrapped around shapely hips above long tanned legs.

Her purse bore the logo of Egor Tech University. So did her watch, her earrings and her socks. Like most students at Egor Tech, she was happy to show it off.

It took her an awfully long time to read the itemized bill. She frowned and Darren felt like he had done something wrong.

“Is there a problem, Miss?” Darren asked.

“My name is Danielle,” she said. “And this is too much. I already spent my allowance for this week at the nail salon.

Darren wasn’t sure how to answer that. He glanced down at her nails. They were long, pretty and pink. “Uh, that’s too bad.”

The student smirked. “It might be your lucky day then. How about you fix my underwear and in exchange, I let you eat my pussy.”

“Excuse me?” Darren said.

“You heard me,” she said. Reaching down, Danielle pulled up her skirt. There was no underwear but there were perfectly bare sex lips.

“Uh,” Darren said dumbly. This hadn’t happened before! He wondered if he should call his boss, Mr. Jacque, at home. No, wait, of course not! Of all the days for is boss to call in sick! Oh shit, what if someone were to come in and see a customer with her skirt up? What would Mr. Jacque think?

The student kept looking at Darren. Her smirk had turned into a smile. “You better take my offer. It will probably be the only Egor Tech pussy that you ever get.”

Darren swallowed. That was true. He never really thought about having sex with someone from Egor Tech but not that she mentioned it, it did seem highly unlikely. An extraordinary opportunity was in front of him, literally with skirt raised and all. Instead of excitement, he felt fear at the idea that such a rare chance might pass him by.

He glanced back down at the damaged lingerie. It might take all night, but he could take it home and repair it himself. Perhaps he could fix them without Mr. Jacque ever knowing.

“Okay,” he said. He came around the counter. His hand shook as he flipped the open sign to ‘closed’. Nervously, he took a pencil from his pocket and wrote “Quick bathroom break” on the sign. There, if any customers came by and complained to Mr. Jacque, they would see he had an excuse.

He turned around to find Danielle already on the counter. She had her legs spread wider than looked comfortable. Her long pink nails stroked the outside of her pussy. The pink lips smiled predatorily at him.

“Hurry, before I change my mind,” she said.

Darren rushed over to her open legs. He tried to squat but found that the counter was too high. The only way to reach her sex with his mouth was to bend over at an awkward angle. It would have to do. The easier thing would be to ask her to turn around and sit in his chair but he felt that asking her to move might discourage her from their deal altogether.

Pink fingernails moved to open her pussy lips for him. Darren leaned in and gave her lips a long lick. She tasted like cherries.

“Get in there,” Danielle said. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him to her sex.

Darren’s mouth and nose pressed against her pussy. The taste of her overwhelmed him. His mouth automatically started to lick and nibble. He breathed in her sex and moaned into her pussy.

When was the last that that he ate pussy? Was it when his landlady interviewed him for the apartment? No, it was when the police women stopped him on the subway. It was best not to think about that terrifying time. Darren banished the thought and kept licking.

“Not . . . bad,” Danielle said. Her sharp nails dug into his scalp.

Darren kept licking. He relished the taste of her. The heat of her sex warmed his face. The flowing juices refreshed his parched mouth. The squirming of her pussy smothered his nose but he hungrily kept eating her.

“You love that Egor Tech pussy, don’t you?” Danielle said. “Of course you do.”

Darren did. He didn’t understand it but he loved this pussy. It was smooth, silky, wet and most of all, forbidden. He would never go to college. Girls like her never noticed boys like him. She was delicious in that special way that a treat you will never eat again can be.

He groaned into her pussy. His face felt flush, with shame or desire he couldn’t tell. There was a pain in his back from the angle he was leaning at but he ignored it. He was in ecstasy.

A powerful ache strained against his pants. He reached down to the bulge in his pants. Completely without shame, he rubbed at his restrained erection.

“Stop touching yourself!” Danielle snapped.

Darren immediately moved his hand away. Embarrassment washed over him. He paused in his oral affections.

She grabbed his ear. Sharp nails dug in and twisted. “Don’t stop licking, asshole!”

His mouth went back to work. The twisting of his ear stopped but her sharp nails remained. He licked as fast and as hard as he could out of fear and humiliation.

Darren’s cock felt twice as big within his pants. The fact that he couldn’t touch himself was agony. The slightest shift of his body made his underwear feel tighter around his erection.

Danielle shivered. “Close.”

He licked harder.

“Close,” she said again.

He licked faster.

“Close!” she cried.

Her hands pulled him tighter against her sex. Breathing became impossible. He was buried in young pussy and juices.

He never stopped licking.

“Fuck!” Danielle cried and she pushed his head away.

Darren lost his balance and fell backwards onto the floor. He looked up at the student’s wide open legs as she shuddered on the counter. Muscles spasmed up and down her long legs as she enjoyed her orgasm.

When it was over, she closed her legs. Darren didn’t move a muscle as she stepped into her skirt and pulled it back up to her waist. He watched in silence as she smoothed out her skirt and picked up her bill.

“Have them ready tomorrow morning,” Danielle commanded. “And don’t you dare masturbate with them.”

Danielle stepped over him and went to the door. She unlocked the door and without asking, flipped the sign back to ‘open’. A moment later, she was out the door and Darren was alone.

He stood up. His face was wet. So was the counter. There was a lot to clean and he needed to hurry before the next customer came in.

The pile of lingerie was still on the counter. The thought of masturbating with them was intoxicating although he knew that he never would.

Darren walked out of the store. Mr. Jacque locked the door behind him. Darren turned to wave at his boss but the blinds had already been pulled down.

The young man shrugged. His boss was being paranoid. It was Saint Valen’s Day. Today women all over the world reenacted the passion of Saint Valen’s long denied lover. Mr. Jacque had felt it necessary to close early for the day. That was silly. As long as a man doesn’t wear red, the women left him alone.

Darren frowned. That was certainly true in Darren’s hometown, but this was Atlantica. People do things differently in the big city.

A limousine pulled onto the street. Darren watched in awe. He had never seen such a vehicle in person before. It seem to stretch forever and the black of the car was almost reflective.

It pulled close to Darren and a window rolled down. A smiling woman with perfect blonde hair leaned out. Diamonds sparkled from her ears. There was something odd about her cheeks. They were high and too prominent.

“Excuse me,” the woman said. Her enunciation was perfect. He suspected that she was from the better side of the city, like Witch Hills or Staghead.

“Yes ma’am?” Darren said. He stepped closer to the window. What could such a high class woman want with him?

“We appear to be lost,” the woman said. “Do you know the way to the Wolf Theater?”

“Of course,” Darren said. He had only lived in the city for less than a year and he had the newcomer’s pride of actually knowing where something was. “It is down this street, about four blocks away.”

“Come closer, please,” the woman said. “I can’t quite hear you. I am not used to yelling in the street,”

Darren blushed. Of course she wasn’t! He should have known better. He stepped up to the window and bent down so she could hear him better.

“You just go down thi-aaahhh!”

She lunged for him and grabbed him by his shirt collar. Powerful hands lined with rings pulled him into the car. Another hand grabbed his head and pulled cruelly. Pain blossomed on his scalp and Darren found himself trying his best to follow the painful grip of his hair. He climbed into the car through the window as more hands grabbed his arms and pulled.

Darren was inside the limousine. He was stretched out across the laps of three women. He looked up at the smiling face of a dark woman with sun bright blonde hair. An expansive chest blocked part of his view. He unconsciously judged them to be J cups. She was the one holding his hair and her sharp nails scraped his scalp.

“Look what Betty caught us for Saint Valen’s Day!” the dark woman said.

“I’m not wearing red!” Darren cried.

All three women cackled. Their laughter filled the limousine.

“You will be,” the woman in the middle said. She was pale and long dark brown hair. Her lips were too large and her eyes were too wide.

The limousine started to move. The pale woman pulled off his belt. The dark woman grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his head. The blonde woman pulled his shoes off. The pale woman and the blonde woman worked together to pull his pants completely off. Before he could kick free, he felt the belt wrap around his ankles and cinch tight.

“Stop!” Darren yelled. This wasn’t right! He wasn’t wearing red! They had no right to do this!

The dark woman let go of his hair and clamped her hand over his mouth. He kept trying to scream when her thumb pinched his nose. Darren’s eyes bulged and he stopped trying to yell. The dark woman mercifully released his nose.

“Let’s see what the boy is hiding,” the blonde said.

The pale woman pointed at his crotch. “Look at that! I think he’s lying about wanting us to stop!”

The women laughed and Darren blushed. His cock was hard and forming a tent inside his boxers. The pale woman hooked her fingers into his boxers and pulled. The cheap material easily tore and she ripped his underwear from his body.

“His head is certainly red,” the dark woman said.

The cackled again.

“Are you going to suck him?” the blonde asked.

The pale woman snorted. “This nobody? If we had picked him up in Staghead, I might have. This is just some loser from midtown.”

“Still, it is a nice cock,” the blonde said. She grabbed the tip of his cock and gave him a stroke. Darren shuddered and the women laughed. Stretched out across their laps, they were aware of every movement he made.

“Then you suck him,” the pale woman said.

The blonde laughed. “I only suck for diamonds or surgery. She ran her thumb over Darren’s sensitive cock.

“When I was younger,” the dark woman said, “I would make my Saint Valen’s men jerk themselves off while I sat on their faces.”

“Do you want to do that now?” the pale woman asked. She kept a hold on Darren’s cock and pumped it once.

Darren’s back arched and his groan could be heard under the dark woman’s hand.

“No, I’ll wait until we get a real man,” the dark woman said. “I’m worry I might kill this boy if I sit on him.”

Darren laid helpless on their laps. His arm hurt from where the dark woman had it pinned. An ache formed in his ankles from where the blonde woman had bound them. He breathed hard through his nose because his mouth was sealed.

The pale woman licked her hand. “Then I shall jerk him off,” she said.

Wet fingers wrapped around Darren’s cock. He groaned and shuddered as the woman cackled. He was at the mercy of wealthy women and in his short time with them, he understood that was no mercy at all.

The pale woman stroked his cock. A skill grip slid up and down his slick member. Expensive rings rubbed against the veins of his flesh.

The blonde woman reached across and he felt nails touch his balls. He tensed as she pulled and tugged on his sensitive sack. Nails pinched briefly before dragging across to a new spot on his scrotum.

The dark woman released his mouth but before he could gasp for air, she rolled his face towards her giant breast. Her blouse prevented him from touching her skin but the massive amount of flesh sealed around his face. He felt the warmth radiating from her breast and he was teased by softness that was being withheld from his hungry mouth.

The pale woman stroked faster. There was no technique. There was no teasing escalation. This was clinical. This was an uncaring hand abusing his sexual response.

Darren was so turned on. His balls ached with release despite the distraction of pinches. He moaned into the mountain of flesh that smothered him. The women cackled and mocked his struggles while his cock was continuously tugged and stroked.

He climaxed. The women laughed as his seed erupted.

“Such a large amount!” the blonde said.

“He must never get laid,” the dark woman said.

“He has made an awful mess!” the pale woman said.

The pale woman kept tugging on his cock. Darren squirmed as his sensitive cock was milked dry. He tried to stop her but the dark woman twisted his arm and pulled him tighter into her smothering breast.

“Hand me his pants,” the pale woman said.

“Make sure you don’t get any on the car seat,” the blonde said.

Darren felt the rough material of his pants press against his crotch. Multiple hands scrubbed at his tender flesh. They cared nothing for his comfort as they rubbed and dried his cock.

The car came to a stop. The car door by his head opened. He heard the busy street outside.

“Now!” the dark woman said and all three women lifted Darren up and threw him out the door. He landed hard on his shoulders and they pushed his feet out of the car.

“Give him his wallet,” the pale woman said. “We’re not thieves!”

Darren’s wallet thudded beside him. He rolled over on the hard sidewalk and got on his knees. His feet were still bound so he removed the belt. He grabbed his wallet and instinctively tried to put in his pants that weren’t there.

The door slammed and the limousine took off.

Darren rose to his feet. He held onto his belt and wallet as he tried to cover his crotch. The sidewalk bit at his bare feet. People walked past him and avoided looking at him.

He recognized where he was. He couldn’t take the bus like this. It was going to be a long walk back to his apartment.

Next Saint Valen’s Day, Darren would be more careful.

Darren was hunched over the counter. There was a four stitch tear in the panties he was working on. The smell of perfume wafted up from the panties.

He guided the needle in and out of the delicate fabric. The thread was a perfect match for the pink material. More difficult was the stitching. Darren had to duplicate the rather rare Xeres stitch that made up the panties. It was new to him and this was his third try.

The bell above the door rang. In walked a woman in a green blouse and black slacks. Her eyes were Asian and her black hair was a shimmering veil. Darren guessed that she was Murean.

“Is Mr. Jaque in?” the woman asked. Her voice was lyrical with a light lisp. She was definitely Murean.

“Mr. Jacque is at lunch,” Darren said. It was what Mr. Jacque claimed but he always came back flushed in the face and smelling of bananas. “Is there something I can help you with, Miss?”

“Mrs. Qwen,” the woman said she pulled off her blouse. A white bra held her lovely breasts. Darren’s practiced eye identified them as C cups. When the woman moved to unclasp her bra, Darren remembered his manners.

“There is a changing room over there,” he said.

Mrs. Qwen ignored him. She removed her bra and her plump breasts were freed. She laid the bra on the counter.

Darren picked it up. It was warm to the touch. There were no holes. The fabric was inexpensive.

“What can we do?” Darren asked.

“It is too loose,” Mrs. Qwen said. There was an economy to her speech. “I want it to grip me tighter. Can you do that?”

“Certainly,” Darren said. “We can adjust the frame and add wiring if you wish. How tight do you want it?”

“I’ll show you,” Mrs. Qwen said. “Come here.”

Darren rose without hesitation. He really should be ushering her to a changing room in case another client came in but he lacked the courage. Mr. Jaque always said to obey the clients. He decided to err on the side of obedience.

He came around the counter and Mrs. Qwen presented her back to him. A flowing tattoo of a swooping bird decorated her back. The talons looked exceedingly sharp.

Mrs. Qwen looked over her shoulder. “Give me your hands.”

Darren lifted his hands and she reached back for them. Her small fingers grabbed his wrists and pulled him forward. He felt her bottom press against his now growing erection. She brought his hands up to her breasts and his fingers curled around her flesh.

“Higher,” she said. “Lift them up more.”

Darren did. He supported the weight of her breasts in his hands.

“Curl your fingers,” she said. “Tighter. Tighter.”

He obeyed. Her flesh spilled between his fingers.

“Closer together,” she said. “Right there.”

Darren’s hands came together to her specifications.

“Can you make a bra that holds me like this?” Mrs. Qwen asked.

“Yes,” Darren said in a whisper. He wasn’t sure but he would try. Mr. Jaque would expect nothing less.

“Wait, I must test it,” Mrs. Qwen said.

Darren didn’t ask how. He held her breasts and worked hard to retain the shape of his fingers.

Mrs. Qwen reached down to her pants. Her arm came down over Darren’s arm and pinned it to her. He heard the sound of a zipper coming undone.

Darren’s heart raced. His eyes darted to the door. No one was coming through.

Mrs. Qwen reached into her pants. Her arm moved. The sound of something wet was being stroked. A new smell joined the smell of fabric and sweat.

Darren shuddered. “Stay still,” Mrs. Qwen hissed.

Darren didn’t answer but he tried to obey. The movement of her arm was jostling his own. He made subtle adjustments while maintaining his precise grip on her breasts.

He felt her nipples harden against his fingers.

Mrs. Qwen stroked faster. “A little higher,” she commanded.

Darren lifted her breasts a fraction.

Mrs. Qwen stroked harder. The wet sounds grew louder. Her breasts jiggled within his fingers.

Darren’s member throbbed against the confines of his pants. It pulsed against Mrs. Qwen’s plump bottom. She had to have noticed the pressure on her ass. Darren feared offending her but if he moved his erection away, he might disturb the gripping of her breasts.

Mrs. Qwen groaned. Her hips moved. Darren’s cock ached as it was grinded on.

“A little looser,” Mrs. Qwen said.

Darren’s fingers relaxed ever so slightly. The jiggling of her flesh increased in his hands.

Mrs. Qwen said nothing as she stroked faster. The bouncing of her flesh continued within his grip. Her ass rolled against Darren’s trapped cock.

Darren wondered if he could climax. He was close. It was so hot and tight within his pants. Her breasts were so soft and warm within his hands. A little more and he was sure that could come.

Mrs. Qwen suddenly stopped. She groaned and a shudder ran through her body.

“Yes, this will do,” she said.

She pushed his hands away and took a step forward. Darren quickly stepped behind the counter to hide the bulge within his pants.

“That is the fit I want,” Mrs. Qwen said. She pulled her blouse back on. Her bra remained on the counter.

“We will work on it right away,” Darren said.

“I will return at the end of the week,” Mrs. Qwen said. She turned and her breasts swung freely within her blouse. Out the door she went and the bell signaled her departure.

Darren let out a long sigh. Was what she asked for possible? How was he going to explain this to Mr. Jaque? More importantly, could he possibly remember how she wanted her bra to feel?

He closed his eyes. His fingers curled around the plump flesh he could still feel. His hands came together until they replicated her wishes. His arms lifted as he recalled the weight in his hands.

Yes, he could remember.