The Mannequin That Held on to My Fantasy That Summer

My father got me a little job for the holidays during that first summer after I started university. He said he didn’t want to see me wandering aimlessly around the house, and that the experience would help me understand how much effort it took to earn a living. I was only thinking about the extra money for my whims, so I didn’t complain too much.

The truth was, I wasn’t thrilled by the idea. In previous summers, my only obligations had been showing up for lunch and going to bed. But growing up brought new responsibilities with it, and I ended up accepting a position as an administrative assistant at a clothing store they had found for me through acquaintances.

My duties were simple and varied: opening the mail, sorting invoices, classifying and filing all kinds of paperwork. Quiet things, suitable for someone with no experience like me.

One of my jobs was handing out the pay envelopes every Friday. My boss gave me precise instructions on how to do it. When he saw my puzzled expression at the sight of the bulky stack of envelopes, he explained that our office also handled the management of the neighboring premises: a women’s clothing shop where, besides selling clothes, they made and altered formal dresses.

It wasn’t long before I discovered that two salesgirls, three seamstresses, and two apprentices worked there. They were more or less my age, and I felt a knot in my throat as soon as I saw them. They were gorgeous. Carolina had short, curly, very black hair, rounded features, and was a little plump and tremendously sensual. She had tits that strained against her blouse and a pert ass that showed with every movement. Daniela, on the other hand, was blonde, with straight, shoulder-length hair, quite a bit taller and thinner, with the air of a girl whose body hadn’t yet finished rounding out its curves, although her nipples showed very clearly beneath her thin T-shirt.

Carolina was friendly and talkative with me. Daniela was pure shyness and modesty, rather like me, since at that time I was still an insecure boy who blushed easily.

The seamstresses, older women who had seen a lot of life, quickly took control of the situation and began joking about how they could pair us off.

—Come on, girls… don’t let him leave without getting a date out of him.

—What a handsome boy. If I were your age, I’d already be flirting with him.

—Carolina, don’t be shy—keep him for yourself. Make your move before that one steals him from you. This one’s sure to have a cock people remember fondly.

They talked about me as though I were any old commodity. I didn’t exactly like it, but deep down I felt flattered and let myself be fussed over despite my embarrassment. That group of women was much more uninhibited and sharp-tongued than I was, and it intimidated me. When I went back to the office, I couldn’t hide how nervous I was, which set off my boss’s laughter and jokes. He understood perfectly what had happened.

***

The next day was Saturday, and some orders that had been finished for days had to be delivered. The packages were on the upper floor of the neighboring shop, which served as a storeroom.

—Go get the packages. Tell one of the girls to help you bring them down—the customer’s in a hurry, the manager ordered me.

I didn’t know how to ask any of them directly, so I told one of the seamstresses, leaving it to her to arrange.

—Patricia, please go with this boy to the storeroom and help him bring down some packages.

—Why me? You know I’m terrified of going up to the attic. It’s dark and full of cobwebs, she replied immediately.

—It doesn’t matter. I’ll go alone, I said, so my request wouldn’t turn into an argument.

I went upstairs alone, intending to collect the packages quickly and finish as soon as possible. Upstairs, everything was shut off from the sunlight; the rooms were dark and silent. No one had told me exactly where the boxes were, so I had to search for them. In a corner, among piled-up boxes and fabrics, I came across a naked female mannequin.

Even though it was only a plastic dummy, I felt an absurd urge to reach out and touch its breasts. I was embarrassed by what I was about to do, but that didn’t stop me. I ran my hand over those lumps that imitated a woman’s bust. It had no nipples, but the shape was surprisingly realistic. I felt aroused and annoyed with myself at the same time.

It was the first time I had touched breasts that way. I knew perfectly well they were plastic, and yet my cock went hard as a rock imagining they might belong to a pretty girl, like Carolina or Daniela, the apprentices who were downstairs on the floor below at that very moment. I imagined Carolina’s big tit spilling out of her bra, the dark nipple pointing at me, and I had to stifle a moan.

No one was going to see me. I positioned myself beside it and began fondling it as though it were my partner. First I put my hand on its hip, then slid it down to its backside. What a perfect ass it has. I squeezed the plastic buttocks with both hands and spread them slightly, imagining I was opening Carolina’s ass to put my cock in from behind. I pressed myself against it from the rear, rubbing my bulge against the hard buttocks, and felt my trousers grow tight enough to hurt.

I was so horny that I needed to get it out. I lowered my hand to my trousers, unfastened my fly, and pulled out my cock, already wet with fluid at the tip. It was so swollen that the veins along the shaft looked ready to burst. I spat into my palm and grabbed it firmly. I began masturbating with my right hand, long strokes up and down, squeezing the head tightly on every upward stroke, while with my left I fondled the mannequin’s tits. I slipped my fingers between its plastic legs and pretended I was caressing a pussy that didn’t exist. I rubbed two fingers where the slit should have been, imagining I was burying them in Carolina up to the knuckles, feeling hot, wet flesh, and jerked myself faster, without stopping.

I pressed against the mannequin and mounted it from behind, resting my cock between its plastic buttocks and thrusting as if I were really fucking it. My thighs tensed, my balls hardened, and a brutal tingling rose up my back. I let out a muffled growl. “Carolina, fuck, Carolina…” I muttered through clenched teeth, squeezing my eyes shut. I imagined her on all fours in front of me, her skirt raised to her waist, her panties pulled aside, her pussy open for me to pound with my cock.

I didn’t stop until I felt everything boiling inside me. I leaned back a little, stroked myself the last few times while looking at the dummy’s perfect ass, and came in several thick spurts that splashed across the plastic. My hot cum ran down the mannequin’s ass and thighs, dripping onto the floor in thick drops. A brutal orgasm shook me; I had to grab hold of a box to keep my balance, and two or three more spasms still wrung out another thread of semen. I remained hunched over, my cock dripping, panting in the gloom.

I cleaned myself as best I could with a scrap of fabric that was lying there, put away my still-hard cock, took a couple of deep breaths, and picked up the packages. On the way down, I passed in front of the girls and felt myself blushing, insecure, guilty about what I had just done. If they knew, I would die of embarrassment. I stumbled and almost dropped all the packages, which I was barely managing to hold against my chest so I could finish the errand quickly.

The seamstresses noticed my discomfort and assumed it was because of the two apprentices. The jokes at my expense began, and laughter echoed through every corner. Carolina and Daniela maintained a prudent silence, though inside they felt flattered and uneasy.

***

The following Friday I came back with the pay envelopes. They had conspired together and had a surprise waiting for me.

—Carolina has to go up to the storeroom to look for some patterns, but she doesn’t dare because she’s afraid of mice, one of the seamstresses said. Can you go with her so she feels safe?

All the women in the room asked me in chorus to accompany her on “such a dangerous mission.” I turned red at the mere thought of being alone with her on the top floor, in the same place where I had masturbated beside the mannequin the week before. Thank goodness it can’t tell tales.

When Carolina got up from her worktable, I had to swallow several times so I wouldn’t choke. She was wearing a pleated miniskirt so short it seemed designed solely to emphasize her round behind. Her blouse was tight, making it obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra—or, if she was, it was a very thin one—because her nipples showed through the fabric every time she breathed.

Seeing my reaction, the women couldn’t contain their laughter or their comments about how careful I ought to be climbing the stairs. It was obvious they had planned everything perfectly.

And indeed, the task turned out to be just difficult enough to make “the boy” accompany the lady.

Carolina climbed ahead of me up the narrow, dark staircase. I couldn’t look anywhere but at her ass. The rise and fall of her buttocks had me completely dazed. With every step, her pleated skirt lifted a little higher, letting me see the beginnings of her thighs, white and firm, and from time to time the edge of a pair of tiny black panties that had worked their way between her buttocks. My erection was so brutal that it hurt with every step I climbed.

By the time we reached the third floor, there was no way to hide the bulge in my trousers. Carolina, without even looking toward that area, knew perfectly well what was happening to me, and wore a sly smile. She must have been confirming firsthand everything the others had predicted.

—You go ahead. I’m scared, she told me.

As we moved along the almost-dark corridor, I felt her press against me under the pretext of feeling more protected. Her big tits flattened against my back, and she held me around the waist with both hands. One of those hands, the little minx, slipped downward a couple of times and brushed against the bulge in my trousers as if by accident. The first time I thought it had been accidental. The second time, I knew better. I felt her hot breath on my neck, a brush that made my hair stand on end, and heard her give a muffled giggle.

We passed beside the mannequin, which seemed to look at me with a certain sadness, perhaps jealousy.

A flesh-and-blood girl turns me on today, I thought as I passed it, as though trying to justify myself. I had no doubt where this was going.

When we reached the room with the patterns, Carolina, now very determined, brought over a stepladder and positioned it to reach the upper shelf.

—Hold it for me, please, so I don’t fall, she said, and immediately climbed up three steps.

The edge of her skirt was right at the level of my face. I didn’t even have to bend down. Raising my eyes slightly, I had her open thighs before me, the curve of her pert ass, and the black panties that barely covered anything. The fabric had worked its way into her slit, outlining her round buttocks, and a little dark, curly hair escaped from her pussy on one side. She had to know that while she rummaged through the boxes looking for the patterns, my nose was barely a foot from her ass, and I was swallowing the urge to bury my face there and bite her buttocks. But her modesty lost out, and she let me look. In fact, I think she spread her legs a little to give me a better view. I could smell her—a warm smell of woman, sweat, and young pussy—that hit me like a punch between the legs.

—I don’t think they’re in this box, she said in an irritated tone.

She climbed down, moved the stepladder to one side, and climbed up again. The perfect view of her intimacy was repeated, and I could barely conceal the erection throbbing between my legs. My hard cock showed against the fabric of my trousers, pointing upward, and even the tip became soaked with a dark stain of fluid that seeped through the cloth. I nearly slipped my hand beneath her skirt, caught her panties at the side, and pulled them aside to lick her whole pussy from down there. All it would have taken was one gesture, an extension of my tongue, and I would have buried my mouth in her slit.

Her ass was once again right in front of my face, and my erection could not grow another millimeter. My testicles began to ache, and I don’t think I had ever endured such torture. If I knew she wanted it too, I would try something. But I didn’t dare. We had never had the slightest physical contact. If I made a move and she took it the wrong way, I could put my job at risk.

After searching in several places, Carolina finally found what she needed.

We made the journey back quickly. As we passed in front of the mannequin, I gave it a conspiratorial gesture. That pile of plastic had given me a great deal of pleasure the other day, and it hadn’t made me suffer like Carolina had.

Back in the workshop, as I walked between the women, I couldn’t hide my discomfort or embarrassment. They watched me expectantly, trying to work out what had happened while the two of us were alone in the attic.

They guessed soon enough. Apparently, Carolina had played the part she had been assigned perfectly, while I had exposed myself by not daring to overcome my shyness. The jokes began again, and they all laughed merrily at the situation they had prepared so well.

—You didn’t leave the stepladder propped against the boxes, did you? the manager asked me.

When I hesitated, she ordered me to go back up and leave it on the floor so it wouldn’t fall. I went upstairs quickly, eager to finish the seamstresses’ little adventure and return to the calm of the office.

***

When I reached the top, the mannequin in the corner was looking at me with an unmistakable conspiratorial smile. Without thinking too much, I reached out and touched its ass, just as I would have liked to do with Carolina. Despite the cold feel of the plastic, I felt something very special.

I positioned myself beside it and began caressing it. I closed my eyes and saw Carolina again, standing on the stepladder with her black panties wedged between her buttocks and her hairy pussy peeking out on one side. I had another erection as powerful as the one before; my cock shot up inside my trousers, hard and burning. I surprised even myself with how real it felt to imagine her while touching the dummy.

With my eyes still closed, I brought my hand to my fly, unfastened it, and pulled myself out. It was enormous again, the swollen tip glistening with the fluid oozing from it. I gripped it firmly at the base, squeezing until the head turned purple, and began pounding it with my closed fist. One stroke, two, three, faster and faster. With my other hand I fondled the mannequin’s tits, moved down to its ass, and dug my fingers into the hard plastic flesh, imagining Carolina was the one standing before me, bent over and offering herself to me.

“Suck my cock, slut,” I whispered under my breath, picturing Carolina on her knees, mouth open and tongue out, letting me push my cock down her throat. I imagined her sucking me with those red lips, choking, her eyes watering, pulling my cock out slick with saliva so she could lick my balls. I pounded my cock with increasing fury; my arm burned, my buttocks tightened, and the floor trembled beneath my feet.

I changed fantasies. Now Carolina was lying on her back on the pattern-cutting table, her miniskirt raised to her navel and her black panties pushed aside. Her hairy pussy was open, shiny, wet. I spread it with two fingers and slammed my cock into her, all the way to the bottom, until a cry escaped her. I fucked her hard, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in, her big tits bouncing up and down with every drive, her clinging to the edges of the table, moaning and begging me for more, more, more.

I clenched my ass and rubbed against the dummy with all my strength, feeling my cum building in my balls like a clenched fist. I was about to explode. I gave myself a few brutal strokes, my whole hand closed around the shaft, squeezing hard, without stopping rubbing myself against the mannequin. I felt my legs give way. A long, thick jet of semen shot out and splashed onto the floor, then another, and another, shaking my entire body. The hot cum ran between my fingers, wetting my balls, and fell onto the mannequin’s plastic body in strands that slowly slid downward.

I came at once, thinking of Carolina, the apprentice seamstress, imagining I was filling her mouth with milk and that she swallowed it all without letting a drop fall.

I opened my eyes, completely satisfied, my cock still in my hand and dripping the last remnants. That was one hell of a good time.

And then, in the doorway, I discovered the silhouette of someone who had been watching me for a while. It was Carolina, who had come upstairs to apologize for agreeing to act as the bait in the prank they had played on me. One hand was beneath her pleated skirt and the other rested against the doorframe; her breathing was ragged, her cheeks flushed. From the way she looked at me, biting her lip without saying a word, her eyes fixed on my still-hard, glistening cock, I understood that summer still had a surprise or two in store for me.