Pants-spunking in the dirty bookshops

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Pants-spunking in the dirty bookshopsbased on real events but enhanced for entertainment value & because memory is poor…It’s the 80s and I’m now on the road all the time. There’s a dirty bookshop in every town and I know them all. And they know me. It’s a golden age for dirty mags – they’re not explicit (yet) and we’ve got Escort, Fiesta and the Tozerward mags Peaches, Amazons, and 50+. In the exchange bookshops I also get the US mags and Continental ones too. Spick & Span are long gone but I still find some I haven’t got. I’m pretty much out of control at this time, and having to change jobs frequently, eventually going freelance. I only have to see a bookshop or girls walking along and I forget all about work and many an afternoon was lost to ogling, buying mags and pants-spunking. I’m beyond crazy about girls, seeing them pose, their cleavages, even topless, miniskirts, and I never get beyond the first page or so of Her cleavage poses.It’s the era of Miss Donna Ambrose, Miss Debbie Jordan, Miss Judy, Miss Chloe, Miss Lorna Morgan, Miss Debbie Ashby, Miss Debbie Quorel, Miss Donna Ewin, Miss Janine Oldfield, Miss Jessica Turner, Miss Karen Wing, Miss Karen Partington, Miss Julie Harrison, Miss Lindsey Dawn McSpunkstress, Miss Lisa Phillips, Miss Louise Leeds, Miss Stacey Owen, Miss Pauline Hickey, and many many more (yes, I’m getting to late 80s, straying into 90s with some of the girls).All of these lovely goddesses have one thing in common – they all made me spunk in my pants, parked up somewhere not far from the shop minutes after buying the mags. But there’s something only a few of them ‘share’.There are several of my shops, where I’m a regular – I’m a regular in all of them – where ladies serve. And I really love buying my mags in those shops. Two of them are ‘adult’ shops, the rest are newsagents but with a much larger than usual store of dirty mags. I love buying my mags in newsagents, because there’s a chance of being seen by girls. Even better if it’s a lady serving. So I’m there in my mac and perv gear, looking like a real perv, and I’m ogling mags on the top shelf, eagerly pulling out mag after mag, my eyes wide, drooling, stuffing mag after mag under my arm, and I can hear girls saying “urgh, look at that fucking perv!”, “dirty old sod, look at the mags he’s buying!”, “wanker!”, “pervert!” I love it. But in the ‘adult’ shops where ladies serve – and they’ve seen me 100s of times – I go in with my mac open, spunk-stained wank-trousers on view, holes in my mac pockets obvious. I take my case full of dirty mags, all heavily wanked on and bulging with toilet paper, so that I can go through the routine of trying to force my new purchases in, taking mags out and shuffling them around before having to give up and stuff the brown paper bag under my arm, to then be seen by girls in the street hopefully, emerging from the dirty bookshop with my many purchases. And in the adult shops where ladies serve, something special has happened a few times. In fact, it also happened in two of the newsagents shops too, when a lady was serving. One shop in north London had a lovely lady with big bosoms, and often She’d wear a tight jumper. My eyes popped when I saw Her and my knob was upright in seconds, but on this one occasion, I’d been on holiday for two weeks, so was starved of my bookshop visits (but not of bikini girls on the beach which I could look out on, parked on the promenade). I went in Her shop and saw a lot of mags on the shelf and knew I’d buy them all, so I was already very excited. I was ogling the lady and Her big bosoms in Her jumper and then ogling the mags on the shelves. Heaven. Then I saw her. Miss Lisa Phillips had been making me spunk my pants again and again after appearing in the Sport and then the Tozerward mags. She was so bosomy I couldn’t even wait till the topless pics, Her cleavage was more than enough. And Miss Lisa was on the cover of this mag, 50+ extra, Her arms either side of Her bulging bosoms and Her cleavage electrifying. I can’t remember the precise sequence of events but I’d done it in my pants before I got the mag to the counter. If the lady had been looking at me, I expect She will have seen my mouth drop open and my eyes widen as I gawped at Miss Lisa, and a gasp uşak escort escape me. Obviously I’m not touching myself, just looking, and looking and looking, standing there and just ogling this mag for minute after minute. I can’t believe the shop lady wouldn’t have noticed but I’m in my usual trance now, when a girl’s got me on the verge. Did I moan? Did I yelp? Was I quivering all over? Did my knees crumple? Did a big jolt go through me? Did I shudder violently? Did I give out pathetic cries of perv ecstasy?I don’t know. Some of those it’s almost certain that I did. What is certain is that Miss Lisa was making me spunk my pants very obviously in the middle of the shop. Back then I was still pretty virile (perv-style, nothing else). I could spunk several times a week, more than once in a day, and produce enough cum to soak my trousers and pants front to back. In the newsagents I had my mac done up, so my huge wet patch couldn’t be seen.But in the favourite mag shops, I went in with my mac open. Once it was the lady serving who actually made me spunk my pants, with what She was wearing, sitting on a stool behind the counter. But on 3 or 4 occasions girls on mag covers made me spunk my pants in the shop. And as it was a quiet shop with no one else in there, so Miss Debbie would certainly have seen. There was a Busen Mag with Miss Maria Whittaker on the cover, topless. She drove me crazy from the first time I saw Her and She’d given me many pairs of wet pants already. So whenever I saw a girl on the cover who made me spunk my pants for the umpteenth time last week, or 3 days ago, I do go a bit crazy. So I pull Her mag off the shelf and just gawp at Her in disbelief, and it’s a gradual process of me ogling and the spunk gradually rising, and it’s the fact it’s happening all by itself, I don’t have any control, I’m not touching myself, Miss Maria is making it happen with Her bareness and the way She’s looking at the camera. Time does seem to stand still and I think I’ve stood there for an hour as She edges me towards perv ecstasy, but it’s gotta be quicker than that, but long enough for Miss Debbie to look at me, see I’m in a trance ogling the bare girl on the cover, my eyes wide and unblinking, my mouth open and dry, my face reddening and breath coming in gasps as I’m going “oh, oh, oh” softly as Miss Maria drives me on and on towards pervert pants-spunk ecstasy. I don’t know exactly what happened when the long leak of pre-cum turns to powerful shots of spunk into my pants, but it has to include noise and violent contortions of one sort or another. When I got a video camera I was able to let it run during a pants-spunking session so I could find out exactly what did happen to me. The lovely thing then is when I’d wet myself with spunk, I could turn to the counter and buy the mag with a big wet patch on my trousers. A wet stain amongst all the crusty dry stains already there. Miss Debbie saw me do that three or four times in all if memory serves, once caused by Her. I guess working in a porn shop you see it all, but of course I spent a fortune in there so hopefully She thought it was worth it. Another time it was a ‘Busty’ mag with Miss Debbie Jordan squashing Her big bare tits on the cover.Miss Debbie had made me spunk my pants many times, and as it was a Continental mag they could have topless girls on the cover. I think that was more or less an instant pants-spunk, because it was the sort of pose you only normally saw inside the mag – and which would always make me shoot spunk spont
aneously on turning the page. Lifting the mag off the shelf and seeing the full extent of Miss Debbie’s bare pose probably forced a yelp from me and my head and shoulders jerking forward as the shots of spunk jetted into my underpants at the sight of Her. And again there’s no doubt that the shop-girl Miss Debbie would have seen and heard it all, and saw the wet spunk-patch afterwards. I spent a lot of time in the adult shop in Northampton, where a lady served but whose name I never knew. She knew how many mags I bought in there though, lots of Continental ones. There’d be no doubt in Her mind that I was a big wanker though, and She’d seen inside my case of mags many times. On this occasion it was some time after escort uşak Miss Lindsey Dawn McSpunk-Queen had appeared in mags, and I must have shot gallons of spunk into my pants ogling Her photos. This was a Voluptuous mag – you could get these in newsagents but this one was pre-owned. I don’t need to tell you about Miss Lindsey and Her stunning big tits and lovely figure. That image entering my brain through my eyes sent instant urgent signals down to my genitals – ‘Spurt spunk! Spurt spunk!!’ So as my knob and balls gear up to turn my underpants and wank-trousers into a soggy mess, I’m going into a trance ogling Her pic. I start to chant – “oh miss Spunk Queen, oh Miss Bare Girl, oh Miss Big Tits, oh Miss Lindsey” again and again, over and over. All this time the spunk is entering my shaft and oozing its way upwards, my knob erect and stiff and those special feelings in the tip that I know so well. I’m standing in the middle of the shop not far from the counter and I can see out the corner of my eye the shop lady is looking at me, glued to the pic on the cover of the mag I’m holding, wondering ‘what’s he doing’. Despite that I’m powerless to do anything except ogle and chant, pulsations throbbing in my knob as squirts of pre-cum leak into my pants. Soon I’m telling Miss Lindsey, “oh Miss Lindsey, girlie-goddess spunk queen, Wanker’s going to spunk his pants, you’re going to make me spunk my pants!”Then the trickle turns to a stream of pre-cum running into my pants and I’m moaning long and loud, and then I yelp as knobby pumps a big gob of spunk into my pants, forcing my head and shoulders forward violently, and then I’m nodding in time to the shots of spunk going into my pants, a pervy cry of ecstasy coming out with each shot, “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!”My mac’s open and with each pump of cum a glistening mound of spunk wells up through the absorbent material of my wank-trousers, and soaks back in, making a wet patch of spunk the size of a football. I sort of see the shop lady, trying to concentrate on what She’s doing, obviously hoping no-one comes through the door while all this is going on. I emerge dazed and blinking from my reverie, and shuffle the few feet to the counter with my stack of mags, presenting a massive spread of cum across the front of my trousers for the lady to see. She says nothing apart from “£245 please”. Another time I’d gone in to that shop, mumbling “hullo” in response to Her knowing greeting. ‘It’s that wanker again, god I hope he’s not going to wet himself in my shop again, still he spends a fortune. Maybe I should lock the door till he’s finished?!’ I bet She was thinking. Bosomy Goddess Miss Caroline had appeared in one or two of the Tozerward mags as well as Parade and others, and my underpants had suffered a great deal of wetness as a result. She appeared on the covers of one or two of those mags, but in the ‘adult’ shop, where you could get continental and US mags, you would often get topless girls, which wasn’t allowed in the UK. So when I went up to the big tits mags shelves, I picked up several mags, at least some of which I thought I didn’t have (I could never remember, and always had to buy the mag as I couldn’t take the risk that I didn’t have it). Then I found a ‘Big Look’ mag with Miss Caroline topless on the cover, looking straight at the camera. As usual I was erect in my pants before pushing on the door to the shop, so excited at the prospect of buying lots of bare girl mags and being seen by the shop lady again doing that. The first few mags with the lovely girls on the cover would get me into a state – normally I hastily pull mags off the shelves, rush them to the counter to pay and then stumble urgently out the shop to go and ogle till the girls make me spunk my pants. This shows the shop lady that I’m in a panic to ogle bare girls and wet my pants, and She’s seen the spunk-stained state of my wank-trousers. That whole process gets me very worked up, so when I see Miss Caroline on the cover, I can’t help just giving a long moan. That leads to a leak of pre-cum cause I know the shop lady will recognise what’s about to happen to me, so I moan some more and leak a lot more. Excitement builds and control fades away, and I really moan this time, my eyes wide uşak escort bayan in disbelief at the lovely vision before me and what She’s making me do. With that moan cums a long stream of pre-cum and I’m just about to give another moan when the stream turns to a gushing flood of spunk and I groan out loud as my knees fold and I’m convulsing up and down while my pants and trousers get a soaking, in full view of the shop lady. I love girls to see my wet patch so I take a long time at the counter finding and counting out £165 from my bum bag which is strapped above the mass of spunk-stains on my trousers, then opening my case so full of dirty mags that it’s unlikely I can cram any more in but I give it a good go. Probably one of the best book-shop pants-spunks I had was when Miss Donna (Miss Danica) was on the cover of a Gent mag, measuring Her big bare tits. This was an early mag, pre-owned, and I saw it in Miss Debbie’s shop. I was already erect as I approached the shelves and I could see it straightaway as I walked up, and just went “ohhhhhhhh….” I had the mag in my hands, held up right in front of my eyes, going “ohhhhh, ohhhhh….” I can’t control my pervy excitement at all and I’m chanting “big tit bare girl, big tit bare girl”, over and over, and suddenly knobby is pumping into my pants, making my head nod up and down while I quiver all over, whimpering with each shot of spunk. It’s over almost as soon as it starts, 7 or 8 massive shots of spunk now soaking into my underpants, down round my balls and putting a wet patch from the tip of my willy right round to the back of my trousers. My mac’s open of course so as I waddle up to the counter, my wet trousers slapping my thighs as I walk, Miss Debbie sees it all. She does look a bit disapproving this time, so I feel the need to apologise. “Sorry Miss Debbie, I couldn’t help it, Miss Donna just made me do it, there was nothing I could do to stop….” She didn’t reply, just patiently waited as I fumbled for the cash, having to keep lifting the front of my sodden wank-trousers which were sagging under the weight of the cum soaked into them. I bet She smelled the stink of cum though!There were a few other occasions when the girl on the cover caused instant wetting of my pants in the shop – Miss Louise, Miss Lorna, Miss Pauline, Miss Debbie Quorel, Miss Stacey and Miss Tracy West.One that sticks out in my mind was the newsagents in north London I went to where a black lady served. She always had a good range of dirty mags, but as it was a newsagents I kept my mac done up. There was a previous occasion where I bought a mag with such a lovely pic on the cover that I only got as far as the shop doorway after buying it, and just had to stop and squeeze the end of my knob a couple of times and then convulse as the girl made spunk shoot into my pants. I don’t know if the shop lady saw that but I was in full view of the counter, so She might have.On this occasion I was at the counter with just two mags. I think I must have been short of cash or something, or I’d added up the prices wrong, because I was thinking I’d leave the Parade mag after all, as the lady tol
d me the price and waited for me to decide. So I opened the Parade on the counter, to see who was inside and if I needed to buy it, and it opened at an unbelievable pic of Miss Judy, topless and squashing Her big big tits, looking down at the counter with Her tongue between Her lips. I instantly shoved the money on the counter and at the same time started to fill my pants with cum, having to grab the counter to stop falling over. It happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that I couldn’t do much to cover it, so again whether the shop lady realised what Miss Judy was making me do I don’t know.I do miss those days, but now I rarely go out in my mac, and deliberately never go into shops. My mag-buying was totally out of control for years, and even when mags got explicit, I just had to buy it for the girl on the cover, and then couldn’t really look at much inside. After accumulating 1000s and 1000s of mags over the years, I was almost bankrupt, but then the Internet came along, and not only is there nothing you can’t download now, including the Spick & Span photos I love so much, but most of it is free. Obviously with most sites you need to pay to get the best pics but it’s not a lot and I’m happy to do that if it gives me the opportunity to worship a goddess. If I’m allowed to worship personally, at least I can get my mac out again!

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