Jack's Adventures 03: Allie 01 - Sex Stories

Jack's Adventures 03: Allie 01

This is the third story.

This is the story of Allie.

I worked at a music store in my early twenties, a real rundown place, one of the last bastions of CDs in Los Angeles and it looked it. I wasn't there very long and I didn't get close to any of my coworkers, with one foot always out the door and one eye always on the future. Sometimes it's hard to remember anything I did in those few months. But I remember one thing I did.

I remember Allie.

Allie wasn't a coworker and she wasn't a customer. She was the hot artsy sister of one of the employees, a guy named Blake that I didn't much care for beside his relation to her. She was in her mid-twenties, a couple inches shorter than me, with long brown hair and the willowy frame of a fashion model. She had high delicate cheekbones, cute pouty lips, and gorgeous eyes, wide and hazel, that you couldn't look into without imagining fucking her.

She'd always show up to the store in one of two modes: rockstar, with studded leather jackets and skinny jeans and jack boots, or artiste, in vintage dresses that draped perfectly across her lithe body and didn't leave much to the imagination. Her tits and ass were small but everything added up perfectly. My most persistent fantasy was having her naked up on a desk, a table, a bathroom sink, her long legs wrapped around me as I railed her tight body, her hands holding onto the edges for dear life.

The first time she walked into the store, wearing a summery low-cut romper that ...

... revealed two slender tattooed arms and almost every inch of her legs, I registered her immediately. But I don't think she registered me, and I don't blame her. I wasn't nearly as hip or stylish as she was, and I didn't imagine she was fucking anyone who looked as fresh from college as I did.

But when you don't register to someone right away, it gives you multiple chances to make a first impression. And the third or fourth time she was in I pretended I had no idea who she was and approached her.

"Can I help you find anything, miss?" I asked.

"No, I'm good," she said, looking past me. "I know Blake."

"Oh, are you his girlfriend?"

"No, he's my brother."

I laughed. That got her attention. She looked at me, confused.

"What's funny?"

"You're not joking?"

"No."

"Blake's your brother?"

"Yes."

"Blake?"

"Yes."

"It's just..."

"What?"

"It's..."

"What."

"You're really fucking hot."

She looked stunned. She stared at me, her mouth open.

"Sorry," I said, lifting my hands, "I didn't mean to insult your brother."

I walked away, inwardly smiling, knowing I'd finally made an impression. Often that's half the battle.

The rest of that day's visit, as she stood talking to Blake, I noticed her shooting glances at me. Not happy glances, but glances all the same. And on her next visit, when she walked in an almost see-through linen dress, she looked at me, I looked back, and she smiled.

We didn't talk again until a few of us at the ...