Chapter 8: Storing it Up

Amy Torch shivered in the cold. She was standing across the street from a building she usually didn't pass on her way home from school, but that she'd recently begun to go out of her way to visit. Or not visit, exactly. Because Amy hadn't yet built up the courage to enter the place.

It was a small building nestled between an abandoned hair salon on one side and an empty, run-down parking lot on its left. It was called "Lover's Market"-a classy name for a place that lacked any semblance of class. The faded sign that marked the store explained its business, "Adult Movies, XXX, and Toys".

For over a week Amy had stopped taking the bus home and had begun walking this alternate route instead. She was interested in the toys this place purported to sell. Because Amy, the 14-year-old who suddenly lacked any friends, wanted a dildo like the character Becky used in "Farm Girl".

When Mary, her former step-mom, left she'd taken the only dildo Amy had ever used with her. At first Amy could have cared less: she'd only ever tried the thing a few times, and though it'd been fun it hadn't been anything like the orgasms she'd had from her father, or even from her manual masturbation while reading Dark Dreamer's dirty tale. Now, though, the girl had become obsessed with pushing the envelope. She wanted to try a real dildo, a big one, like the ones her new fictional hero used early on in that story.

The problem was building up the courage necessary to enter the place. It seemed so sleazy, so shady. She'd only ever seen one customer parked in the lot next to it, but there was always a beat-up old white van there, most likely the owner's. The passing traffic always made her nervous, too: what if someone she knew spotted her going inside? It would be tough to explain why she'd entered the dirty adult store.

If anyone ever asks, I'll tell them I was looking for one of those funny blow-up dolls to send to Laura, the girl told herself. Kids her age would understand that. After all, Laura continued to pull mean pranks on her since their falling out two months ago. Still, what if an adult she knew spotted her?

I'll just say I was doing a class project, it suddenly occurred to her. Yes! That's what I'll say! For my English essay. I'll say I was writing about the access minors have to things they shouldn't. I'll say I was being sort of an undercover reporter...

This idea thrilled her, and the next thing Amy knew her legs were moving. She was finally crossing the street. Her heart-rate increased as she got closer to the door. Her mouth went dry. There was no turning back though-she was too close. Another few steps and she'd be inside.

And then she was. The door pushed open with the clang of a bell, and just like that she was standing inside the grimy store. And boy was it grimy. The floor was made up of large, dirt stained tiles. The air smelled like cigarette smoke and something less familiar, something gross. And the sights overwhelmed her right away.

Everywhere she looked there was evidence of this place's depravity. Blow-up dolls hanging from ceilings; rack after rack of dirty magazines; shelves filled with VHS and DVD pornos. And there were toys, toys of all kinds, displayed everywhere.

At the left side of the store was a long glass display case. The glass was predictably grimy and smeared. Behind this counter, though, were most of the toys on full display: large rubber dildos, rubber vaginas, and other things that Amy had never even heard of before.

"Can I help you?"

Amy nearly jumped. A woman, probably in her mid-forties, was approaching her from one of the aisles. She had a friendly expression on her slightly overweight face. She looked like she'd been taken from the 1980's: large hoop earrings, bracelets, tight pants; large hair. She was a woman who'd long since passed her prime, but she seemed genuinely friendly. And the fact that it was a woman, and not some sleazy guy, did much to relax the nervous girl.

"Uhm, yeah," she said, embarrassed. "Uhm, I'm looking for something, uhm..."

"Don't be nervous," the older woman grinned. "You can be comfortable here. You never been here before?"

You know I haven't, the girl thought. What she said, though, was, "Uhm, no. Uhm, I'm just, looking for a, uhm, a dildo, I guess."

The woman nodded. "Sure thing, we got plenty of those! What kind you interested in?"

Amy followed the woman to the glass counter, which she got behind in order to show the girl their wares. For the next five or six minutes she showed her a wide variety of woman-pleasing toys: big ones, small ones, strap-on ones, and some in shapes and curves Amy couldn't imagine being pleasant.

"So what's your pleasure, honey? Seen anything that tickles your fancy?"

Amy blushed. "Uhm... I guess I just want something simple, you know? Something, uhm, big... and easy, you know?"

The woman laughed. "Girl, all of us are looking for something big, simple, and easy! I got just the thing."

The sight of the object suddenly placed before her gave the nervous girl a twitch in her loins. It seemed huge. It was a deep crimson red in color, made of some sort of rubber or plastic. The tip of the object was shaped like the head of a man's penis while the shaft itself had been molded with twists which spiraled down to its base.

"We call it the Crimson Rapture," the 40-something saleswoman said with a smile. "It's made of high quality silicone. It'll go in easy, and the twists, well, trust me... they're like nothing you've ever felt before."

"I'll take it," Amy blurted. She couldn't keep her eyes off the thing; she could feel herself getting wet as she imagined what it must feel like stuffed up into her cunt.

"My worry is its size," the woman explained. "You're a small thing. If this is your first one..."

"I'll take it," Amy said again. "How much?"

"Only sixty bucks for you," the woman smiled.

With that, Amy followed the woman down the counter toward the cash register. When it came within sight Amy froze, though. Leaning against the glass counter, right next to the old-fashioned register, was a scruffy looking older man, a porno mag in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"Don't let him scare ya," the woman whispered soothingly as they approached. "He's a big gentle dog, trust me. He's my boss; he'll sell you this no questions asked."

Amy nodded. She continued toward the register, the boxed-up dildo clutched firmly in her arms.

When the balding man finally noticed her he immediately lost interest in his magazine. Pushing it to the side he eyed her lasciviously, took a long drag from his smoke, and asked with a raspy voice, "What's this we got here?"

"Terry, this young lady wants to purchase a Crimson Rapture," the woman said confidently.

Amy did her best to give the man a smile, but it was hard. Part of her wanted to run right out of the building, but she'd come this far, and she was so close. She couldn't stop thinking about how this thing would feel inside her fuzzy little pussy, and she couldn't wait to get home and actually give it a try.

"Izzat so?" the man smiled. He was a large man, maybe as large as her father, but much fatter and much balder. His face was scruffy with a five 'o clock shadow and Amy would have guessed that he hadn't taken a proper shower in days. Still, he was obviously the boss. And he was the only thing standing between her and getting home and getting off.

"Yes, sir," she said respectfully to the man. He grinned at her words.

"And how old are ya, deary?"

This had been one of Amy's biggest worries, being asked this. When she'd imagined getting asked about her age, though, she'd always imagined just shaking her head, turning around, and leaving the store. Lying had never crossed her mind, until now. She was hoping a lie would work. She figured it was worth any risk.

The 14-year-old girl gulped. She eyed the woman, then the man again. "Eighteen," she said, trying her best to sound convincing. "I uhm, just turned eighteen..."

The man laughed. "Sure, sure ya are," the man replied. "An' I bet ya got ID to prove that, now don't ya?"

Amy's shoulders slumped. He'd called her bluff, despite the woman's assurances. "No," she answered meekly.

"Come on, Terry, don't give the girl a hard ti-," the woman began to say in Amy's defense before he interrupted her.

"Shuddup, woman! I ain't gonna sell to no minor! You know how much shit I'd get in? This girl here, she don't look a day over 14.

"So what is it, girl?" the man asked her again. "How old are ya, really?"

Amy swallowed hard. Her knees were wobbling. "Eighteen," she lied again, softly this time.

"But you got no ID?" the man said condescendingly. "Well, shit. We're in a bit of a pickle then, ain't we? You can't prove you're 18, but you says you is. Hm. Tell ya what, I'll ask ya a couple questions. Maybe you can convince me you're legal without gov'ment approved ID, whaddya say?"

Amy looked up at him hopefully. She'd already memorized a fake birth date for something like this (Shane's, actually, because his was easy to remember). "Okay," the girl answered.

"Jesus, Terry, you're a dick," the woman who Amy now knew was named Abby replied. She was lighting up a cigarette. Amy focused her attention back on Terry, though.

"Okay, girl," the man said. "Tell me your date of birth."

Amy lied with confidence as she gave him Shane's birthday. He'd just turned eighteen three weeks before.

The man seemed to be doing some math in his head as he counted out fingers for a moment, then he nodded. "Alright," he admitted. "That works. But tell me when ya graduated high school, then."

Amy gulped. "I haven't yet..." she said.

"Okay, fine. Well, then, who was the President when you was born?"

"I don't know anything about that stuff," she insisted. "I guess, uhm, Clinton?"

The man chuckled. "At minimum you'd be 13 if that was true," he chided the girl. "Are you 13?"

Amy blushed a deep red. "No! I'm eighteen!"

"How old were ya when you gave your first blowjob?"

Amy froze at the question. She heard Abby say something about Terry being a dick again. The question caught the girl off guard. Truth was, the 14-year-old had never given a blowjob. And since that was the truth, she decided to say it.

"I never have," she responded with embarrassment.

"Now I know you're not eighteen," he said triumphantly. "Get out of my store, little girl."

Amy was crestfallen. She'd been so close! To let go of this box seemed impossible. It contained something wonderful, something this man had decided she was four years too young for. Her eyes welled with tears.

Realizing she had no choice, though, she slowly placed it on the counter in front of the man. Completely humiliated now, she turned around, hoisted her backpack over her shoulder, and began to walk away in defeat.

"Wait."

Amy stopped.

"Abby here just pointed out that you might 'ave never had no chance to suck a dick," he was saying. "Is that true? Is it just that you've never had no chance? Strict parents or sumthin'?"

The girl wiped away a tear. Hope flooded her mind suddenly. She turned to him. Not knowing what else to say, she simply spoke the truth. "My dad is real strict," she said, her voice quavering.

The man was eyeing her lewdly. Abby, to his right, looked annoyed, but Amy didn't care. She obviously had no power here. It was always the men who had the power, after all.

"Tell ya what," the man declared. "I'll let you suck my dick. Girl like you with such a strict upbringing probably wants the experience. And if you don't want it, well then, I can't rightly believe you're legal."

Amy's eyes widened. He wanted her to give him a blowjob? She shuddered.

"Terry--," Abby began.

"Shuddup, bitch. Go lock the fucking door an' keep an eye-out." He turned back to the girl. "So whadda ya say? You wanna prove your age to me, or... ?"

The girl's heart skipped a beat. She was getting wet again. She didn't know why, but the idea of doing for this man something she'd never done for anyone else was actually turning her on. And if she did it, she'd get her toy. She'd be able to forget about this sleazy man before too long but experience the reward for years to come.