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There was an excited murmur going around the break room of S.S.T. Super Food Mart that afternoon. All the talk was about the new store manager, who was being brought in by corporate to fix certain problems that had led to the previous manager’s dismissal and subsequent arrest. The store had closed early to allow a full-staff meeting, and the tiny break room was overflowing with curious, anxious employees.

“When’s this goddam meeting gonna start?” Wanda Schmidt whined, to no one in particular. She scratched an ample hip as she shifted uncomfortably on the metal folding chair.

“We ain’t got everybody here yet,” snapped Daisy Wells from the other side of the room. Daisy’s parents had named her after the flower, hoping that she’d blossom and otherwise live up to her name; unfortunately, she’d grown up saddled with a hook nose, crossed eyes, an extreme overbite, and a know-it-all attitude. Wanda shot her a dirty look.

“Goddam thing was supposta start five minutes ago. I ain’t even supposta work today, it’s my goddam day off.”

“Watch yer fuckin language, Wanda,” Daisy said. Titters erupted from the other employees in the room. Daisy, oblivious, gave everybody a general-purpose evil squint.

In one corner of the room, three younger female employees were clustered together, deep in conversation. One was black, another white, the third Latina.

Their names, respectively, were Mary, Marie and Maria; but they were known among their co-workers as “The Three Stoogettes”, primarily due to the fact that any one of them was rarely seen out of the company of the others, and the further fact that not one of them seemed to have an IQ higher than her bustline.

Now, as bustlines go, their IQs were pretty impressive. Mary, who was a little chunky, wore a 40E bra. Marie, who was of Italian peasant descent, possessed proportions of 38DD. And Maria, despite her diminutive height, packed her hooters into 32G cups. The threesome continued their worried whispering in their corner, oblivious to all other discussion around them.

Their worry stemmed from the simple fact that the loss of the man who had hired them might lead to the loss of their jobs. Each one knew that she had not been hired for her smarts, but for the way she had put out for the old manager on a regular basis. Not to mention how each had filled out the store’s uniform polo shirt.

“We just gotta hope that this new guy ain’t a fag or sump’n,” opined Mary.

“Yeah, no shit,” whispered Marie, “we’d be fired by tomorrow morning, this guy’s a homo.”

“I cann lose my job,” Maria whined quietly in accented English. “I got to supporr mi Madre ann my leetle seesters.”

“Well, just keep your fingers crossed, girlfriend,” said Mary, “we’ll fine out in a coupla minutes.” She reached her dark brown hand out and covered her friend’s light brown one briefly. Marie put her hand, pale by comparison, on top of the other two. A tacit pact had just been made. As it turned out, they didn’t have to wait very long at all. The door to the break room opened, and in walked the assistant manager, Cal, a skinny six-footer with big feet and a serious acne problem. He’d grumbled at first and for days after when he’d found out that corporate wasn’t going to promote him, but today he was grinning from ear to ear. Cal had bad teeth, too, which made his grin a not-so-pretty sight.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced to the assembled crowd in his high-pitched voice, “I am very pleased to introduce our new manager, K.C. Honeyhead!” He made a flamboyant gesture with one arm.

All eyes were on the open door. The Three Stoogettes held their breath, crossing their fingers against the hope that he would be straight. A couple of milliseconds passed; they seemed like full minutes.

Then the new manager entered confidently, and a collective gasp went around the break room. K.C. Honeyhead was a woman! A beautiful woman, to be exact, five-foot-ten, statuesque, with finely chiseled, intelligent features, dazzling blue eyes and a head of thick, blonde hair that looked almost like a lion’s mane.

She was wearing a tailored gray business suit that tried to hide, but only served to amplify, two of the largest breasts that any of them had ever seen.

“Hi, everybody,” she said, beaming a brilliant smile at them all.

Wanda and Daisy looked at her with envy; both immediately suspected her jutting boobs were fake.

Cal continued his green-toothed grin, his lust obvious in his eyes.

The Stoogettes hung their heads in seeming defeat.


Life went on for the employees at S.S.T. Super Food, but not without change. The Stoogettes without warning found themselves transferred from checkout to the night stock crew, pending “further review”.

Since the store opened at seven and closed at eleven, they’d be working from 10:30 PM to 7:30 AM. Within minutes after being notified, the three gathered by the Dumpster behind the store for a smoke and a bitch fest.

“Madre de Dios,” Maria spat, “I cann bahis firmaları fuckin belief we gotta work a nine hour shiff!”

“Yeah,” agreed Mary, “an seven of those hours are gonna be with just us and Cal.” She grimaced as she spoke the name of the assistant manager. Cal had been assigned the supervision and training of the Stoogettes on a temporary basis, but it may as well have been permanent for the three. They found him disgusting.

“Just you watch, his hands are gonna be all over us as soon as the store closes,” Marie predicted. “Our tits won’t be safe for a second.” She squeezed them defensively in anticipation of Cal’s unwanted advances.

Maria sighed in agreement. “I theen he likes mine the bess,” she said, lifting her G-cupped bombs. “He’s always fining esscuses to rub up againss me. He mess me seek.”

“He makes me sick, too, honey,” Mary said, “but doan worry – first time he tries to touch these” – and here she indicated her own ample chest – “he goan fine my knee in his nuts!”

She burst out laughing and the others joined in. It came time for them to go their separate ways until the night shift. They each dropped their cigarette butts on the tarmac and headed for home.


The first two evenings on the night shift proved to be fairly uneventful, insofar as Cal was concerned. He was on his best behavior, as if he’d received a premonition about Mary’s planned defensive move.

The Stoogettes, unused to the intense physical labor of unloading trucks and stocking shelves, nonetheless worked as hard as they could with little complaint. They went home each morning completely exhausted, but for the first time feeling as if they’d done an honest night’s work.

On the third night, however, the girls learned that Cal had called in sick and wouldn’t be supervising them. In the break room Mary asked Daisy, who was putting on her fleece-lined denim jacket, if she knew who was going to take his place.

“The fuck should I know?” she snapped. “Nobody pays me to keep track of that shit.” She walked out without another word.

Wanda was equally helpful to Marie. She said, “You goddam little sluts could be on your own all night, all I goddam care. Whole goddam store could burn down, won’t see me cryin about it.” With that, she waddled out of the break room.

It really did look as if the three would be on their own this night: it was 15 minutes from closing time, and there were no inventory lists, no truck schedules, and no idea of where to start. The girls sat and waited, puzzled looks on their faces.

Then, at five to eleven, Maria announced that she wanted a smoke, did anyone want to come along? The other two rose and followed the little Latina to the door, when it swung open to reveal the stunning figure of K. C. Honeyhead, blonde hair swept up in a ponytail, wearing running shoes, sharply creased khaki slacks and a polo shirt.

The shirt, a pale blue in contrast to the other girls’ red polos, seemed a bit too tight, and the fabric over her tremendous jugs seemed stretched to bursting. As usual, K. C. had a shining white smile on her face.

“Ladies!” she exclaimed. “Heading out to work, I see. Excellent initiative! Let’s all sit down for a minute, though, shall we?” She held a clipboard in her right hand and a gold pen in her left, and she used the pen to indicate the chairs behind the girls.

They turned and sat, dreading the night to come. This was the first time they’d seen their new boss since the day she took over. She had no right to look so damn good at eleven o’clock at night!

K. C. turned a folding chair and straddled it, resting her arms on the back of the chair and her heavy jugs on her arms.

Each of the Stoogettes noticed the fluid way in which she carried herself, as if such enormous boobs were no burden whatsoever. They felt no twinge of jealousy: indeed, they were each happy with what they had, didn’t need any more, thank you.

“As you may have heard,” the manager began, “Cal will not be coming in tonight. The poor boy ate some bad seafood for lunch, something like that, and he’s been throwing up for hours. So I’ll be working with you tonight, OK?” She smiled again.

The girls smiled in return, involuntarily. Damn bitch puts a spell on you with that smile, Mary thought. But she, and the others as well, liked how K. C. had said, “I’ll be working with you,” instead of “you’ll be working for me.”

It would prove to be a very fruitful evening.

K. C. Honeyhead seemed to be all business, once they got down to that night’s work. She gave orders like a drill sergeant and the Stoogettes jumped to without question. But she could hump a box off a truck with the best of them, and to her credit, K. C. was the first in the truck and the last out.

Before they knew it, the first three hours were gone, and the manager called for a break.

“Cokes are on me, ladies!” she shouted. “Meet you in the break room!”

Mary, Marie and Maria dropped the boxes of canned cling peaches they’d kaçak iddaa been holding onto the flatbed cart, and groaned in unison.

“Jesus Christ, it’s about time!” Marie muttered.

“God-demm, she really worse hard,” Maria said admiringly.

“She ain’t been workin any harder than us,” Mary snapped, “well, maybe she has, but why’s she still look so damn good?”

“Huh? Whutchoo minn?” asked Maria.

“I mean,” Mary said, “we all bin humpin boxes and stockin shelves, and look at us! Covered in sweat, hair droopin, clothes rumpled. But not her. She still look perfect. How come?”

“I dunno,” Marie replied, “but I don’t care, neither. She’s buyin, and I’m thirsty as fuck. Let’s go.” She started for the break room and the others, after a brief look at each other’s disheveled appearance, followed.

There was a cold can of diet cola for each of them on the break room table. K. C. stood at an open locker across the room, dabbing imaginary sweat from her face with a white towel.

“Hot work, isn’t it?” she asked, smiling as usual. The three others gave noncommittal grunts as they sat and picked up their sodas.

K. C. put down her towel and picked up a fourth can, popped it open, then put it to her perfect lips. The girls watched in amazement as she tilted her head back and drank the cold soda down with steady gulps.

The muscles in her long neck moved gracefully as she swallowed. Her tremendous chest heaved fluidly as she breathed and exhaled.

Their sodas sat forgotten on the table as they observed with a growing heat the unwitting enticement of their manager.

A current of sexual energy traveled around the room. They feasted upon the blonde with hungry eyes; then a look passed between the three, and with it an understanding of what had to happen next.

Maria took her diet cola and surreptitiously shook it vigorously under the table. Mary and Marie opened their cans to cover the noise. K. C. was just finishing her soda; she lowered the can and was beginning to say “Aaahh!” when her shirt was suddenly drenched with a stream of ice-cold diet cola.

The sigh turned into a shriek and the manager jumped back, trying to get away from the blast. More surprised than angry, K. C. stared with wide eyes at the Latina. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

Mary and Marie got up from the table quickly and went to K. C. “Oh, my, look what she done to you, girl!” Mary said. “You all wet, now!”

“Can’t go around the store lookin like that, K. C.,” Marie said. “Let us help you out of that.” Before she could resist, the chunky black girl and the curvy Italian had pulled the blonde’s polo off over her head and tossed it aside.

K. C. was dumbstruck as she stood there, dressed only in her khaki slacks and a demi-bra, her magnificent mams heaving in surprise.

Maria got up from the table now, whispering, “Madre de Dios,” and placed her little hands on the sloping tops of K. C.’s breasts. Mary, standing behind the blonde, undid the hooks in the back, and Marie ripped the bra from the manager’s body. The sight of those two jutting melons, now bare and swaying, their light brown nipples erect with fright and excitement, made them all pause for a moment.

But only for a moment. Maria and Marie each took one of K. C.’s nipples in her mouth and sucked fiercely, massaging the heavy breasts with their eager hands.

Mary, not wanting to be left out, turned K. C.’s head to the side and forced her tongue into the blonde’s mouth. K. C. responded by sucking Mary’s tongue into hers, and putting her hands on the heads of the girls at her boobs, pressing their faces into her soft, firm flesh.

K. C. broke the kiss. “Wait,” she said, panting. The girls paused and looked at her. A little fear crept into their eyes. Were they going to be fired? Had they read the signs wrong?

“Why don’t we all get a little more comfortable?” she asked, a sexy grin breaking out on her face.


Moments later, after a hurried trip around the store, the foursome had gotten completely undressed and took turns lying on the table. K. C. went first, and spread her long, shapely legs for the eager mouth of Maria, while Mary and Marie planted soft, wet kisses on the rest of her body.

This being a supermarket, plenty of things were on hand for providing pleasure, and a can of spray whipped cream was produced first. The girls made little sundaes on K. C.’s nipples, complete with maraschino cherries, and gobbled them down greedily. K.C.’s pussy, to Maria’s delight, was completely shaved except for a little tuft of blonde pubic hair over her clit. She took a squeeze bottle of honey and dribbled it down along the manager’s dripping slit, and spend a good ten minutes licking it clean.

She then pushed K. C.’s legs up so she could get access to her sphincter. Her tongue made long strokes from the blonde’s pink asshole up to her perfectly sculpted, fleshy pussy lips. K. C. moaned with deep appreciation. Maria murmured how deliciosa it tasted.

All kaçak bahis the girls were impressed with the firmness of K. C.’s boobs: even though they were big and heavy, they didn’t sag over to the side when she was on her back. They spent a great deal of time on those melons, making K. C. come half a dozen times just from having her nipples sucked.

Next came Mary’s turn to lie down. Having a little bit of a belly, she hadn’t wanted to fully disrobe at first, but it was Marie who convinced her, telling the black girl that she’d always wanted to see her naked. Mary thanked her by asking Marie to sit on her face.

The Italian girl complied readily, straddling Mary’s tongue and big soft lips with her own nether lips, and soon the girl on top was riding face like a regular cowgirl.

Meanwhile, K. C. and Maria were fondling and caressing the soft, dusky skin of Mary. The blonde ate her snatch with loud slurping sounds, then concentrated on her engorged clit while she worked a long, slender cucumber into her tight pink pussy. As K. C. worked the green dildo in and out of Mary’s cunt, making the black girl buck her hips wildly, Maria was going to town on Mary’s big boobs. The tiny Latina knelt on the table on Mary’s left side, reached across her to her right tit and chewed on the spongy black nipple, while rubbing her own big boobs against Mary’s flesh.

Marie, meanwhile, was being brought to a screaming orgasm by Mary’s tongue, flooding Mary’s mouth with her musky juices. As Marie hopped down, Maria moved up Mary’s body to kiss her and lick Marie’s juices off her cheeks. Marie hurried to the other end of the table and joined K. C. in licking Mary’s pussy and fucking her with the cucumber.

Mary’s orgasm built up slowly and came out as a long, low keening from her throat, gradually increasing in volume until she was wailing like a climaxing banshee. Her pussy muscles tightened around the cuke and shot it across the break room. Everyone cheered in amazement.

Next came Maria’s turn to lie down. She was such a little thing, but her titties were so big, all the others wanted to lick and suck on them at once. Maria didn’t mind, but she said that somebody had to do something to her pussy, it needed some attention real bad, so Marie, after a brief lick and squeeze of Maria’s titflesh, kissed her way down Maria’s flat tummy to her tiny fuckhole.

She couldn’t believe how much juice was dribbling from such a small opening! Marie was able to fit her entire mouth around Maria’s pussy; she sucked on it like a woman starving and found it delicious.

“Guys, you gotta fuckin try this,” Marie called out to her friends. “Maria’s got the tastiest pussy I’ve ever eaten.” She dove down again and sucked the brown labia into her mouth, then fucked the little pussy with her long tongue.

This, combined with Mary and K. C.’s ministrations on her enormous jugs, brought Maria to a whimpering orgasm in no time. The others then took Marie up on her suggestion and gave Maria three more climaxes.

Last to take her turn on the table, but by no means least, was Marie. She had a body like Sophia Loren, round-hipped and long-legged, and her mound of black pubic hair was thick and glistening with pussy juice and Mary’s saliva. She lay down on her back and propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Maria ovingly. “You know what I want, baby. Give it to me.”

Maria positioned herself at Marie’s pussy and started working her small hand into the opening, one finger at a time, until it was fully inserted. She made a fist and started pumping it in and out, almost up to her elbow. “Yeah! Oh, God! Shit! Fuck me, Maria, fuck me!”

Marie tossed her long, brown hair back and forth in ecstasy. K. C. lubed a thick carrot with her own pussy juice and, rolling Marie onto her side, worked the tapered end slowly into her asshole while Maria continued fist-fucking her. Mary rubbed her dusky jugs against Marie’s pale white melons, then attacked them with her mouth, sucking and biting the pink nipples fiercely. Marie’s screams nearly set off the burglar alarm.

When they had all been satisfied, they collapsed in a tangle of legs, tits and pussies on the floor, exchanging soft caresses and sweet kisses. Then someone wondered what time it was.

K. C. looked at her wristwatch and said, “Holy shit! We’ve only got an hour left of the shift! Get up, ladies, we’ve got work to do, or we’re all fired!” Dressing quickly, they returned to work, finishing the re-stock just minutes before the first employee walked through the door.

The first employee happened to be Cal, feeling a little better but not looking so great; but he was never a prize to begin with. He hung up his coat in the break room, glancing at the three tired Stoogettes at the table, their heads down on their folded arms.

He grinned stupidly at the mangled produce on the floor, at the discarded whipped cream can, and wondered what he’d see when he checked the equipment in the manager’s office.

K. C. was also dozing, in her chair in the office, when Cal came in. She didn’t move at first, so he stared lustfully at the outline of her hooters under her shirt, and wondered vaguely how she’d gotten that brown stain on it.

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