Jenny's Summer Jobs - Ice Cream'd Sketch & PSD (Patreon)

Sorry I don't have more sketches for this one - once in a while I just hit the nail on the head right out the gate.

Very often, I'm drawing in my head before I even sit down to draw for real. While running errands, doing chores, etc. I'm sussing out poses and ideas in the back of my mind. It is frequently what gets me out of bed first thing in the morning.

This is the second of three chapters for the Jenny Summer Jobs series. I do have a half-finished FOURTH chapter, set in an amusement park, meant to cap the series. I should get around to finishing that!

Aw heck, to make up for the meager showing in the sketch department, here's a little taste...

Jenny's Summer Jobs - Chapter 4  

Just a few weeks into summer, and Jenny had already made a nude fool of herself across the county. She was sure she was the scandal of the season. The internet must have been buzzing, tongues all over town wagging.

Just the thought of leaving the house gave Jenny butterflies in her tummy.

None-the-less, she needed money. She needed a job. 

Jenny found an ad for mascots at an amusement park three towns away… It just might be perfect. Far away, and hiding in a costume, no one could recognize her from her various misadventures. She eagerly called for an interview.

Mr. Krupitz eyed the young blonde up and down. She was dressed like a Mormon headed for church. White blouse buttoned to her chin and wrists. Heavy black skirt that came down past her knees.  However, Lionel Krupitz had an eye for talent, and this girl had it. That stiff white blouse couldn’t hide a pair of double-D breasts making a mockery of gravity, nor the trim little waist at the center of her hourglass figure. And for all her airs of chastity and virtue, that skirt couldn’t mask the full round ass swishing back and forth.

“Okay, kid. You can start today,” Krupitz growled.

“Thank you! Thank you!” the blonde cried, her breasts bouncing in agreement.

“Yer a tall drink, so you can be ‘Frenchy the Fox’.” He shoved a folded-up costume into her hands and led her to the locker room.

Jenny was shocked when Mr. Krupitz kicked open the locker room door. Women in various states of undress covered themselves, more annoyed than shocked. Apparently, this was nothing unusual.

“Betsy! Get yer ass over here!”

A cute, bouncy redhead emerged from the crowd of flesh and lingerie. She clutched a t-shirt over her round breasts and she reported to Mr. Krupitz. Her look of aggravation evaporated at the sight of Jenny.

“Yer gonna show the new girl around today. Got it?”

A buxom, statuesque blond, dressed up as prudish as a school marm. This was going to be fun!

Betsy held out her hand, forgetting to cover her bra-clad tits. “Betsy. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Jenny. Thank you for showing me around!”

“Yer welcome” grunt Mr. Krupitz, more to Betsy than to Jenny. Jenny wondered why…

Betsy led her over to a locker. “You can store your clothes in here.” She watched Jenny with simmering anticipation.

“Oh…I was just going to keep my clothes on, y’know, under the costume.”

Without a thought, Betsy reached down a grabbed the hem of Jenny’s skirt. Jenny yelped in surprise, one hand thrusting over her crotch lest anyone catch a glimpse of her undies. This “Demure Virgin” act was starting to drive Betsy wild!

“Sweetie, there’s no way you can wear a skirt under that costume. Secondly, its 92 in the shade out there. It will be 108 inside the costume,” Betsy explained, still clutching Jenny’s skirt.

Jenny gulped. “Oh…. Okay.” Jenny’s nervous fingers fumbled with her blouse as a blush crept up her cheeks and lips. She sheepishly slipped the white blouse form her shoulders.

Betsey choked back a gasp. Two perfect, pale round breasts, stuffed into a flimsy pink lace bra. She could even make out the faint pink outlines of two kissable nipples through the material.

“I—this was from my sister’s wedding, so it’s a little… fancy.” Truth was, Jenny’s sister’s wedding was 2 years and 2 cup sizes ago, but the events of late have left Jenny lingerie-challenged, forced her to dig all the way to the back of her underwear drawer.

Averting her gaze, Jenny unzipped her skirt and dropped it, revealing the matching panties. The thin traps pressed into the flesh of her hips. The panel of pink lace gave away an elegantly trimmed tuft of naturally-blonde pubic hair.

As first Betsy thought it was a thong, but Jenny reached back and plucked the material from between her swelling, well-toned ass.

“A-are you sure? I don’t want anyone seeing my… you know…”

“Panties,” whispered Betsy with a hint of reverence. Her mouth had gone dry, but she was going quite moist somewhere else.

Jenny made coy gestures to cover her flawless body, but Betsy saw that as a feint, as theater. No woman dresses like this without the naughty ideas to back it up...