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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE CLOSE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004. Please
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The Record Store
by Dan Perducci (danperducci@yahoo.co.uk)
***
It's a slow day at the record store until a young co-ed
breaks the monotony by playing hooky. (M/f-teen, reluc)
***
It was October 1966 and I was working in a Baltimore
record store. Back then, we had listening booths and I
would carefully monitor the store to make sure the
records were being listened to not were not being
lifted from the premises.
You see, we didn't have fancy surveillance and theft
prevention. Our only shoplifting prevention was a keen
eye and threats to send young thieves to reform school.
It was a slow afternoon as I fumbled through that day's
issue of the "News-American." The Orioles were
preparing for their first World Series and I was on
pins and needles. Would they defeat the Dodgers?
Well, it was half past one when I heard the jangle of
the bells that signaled someone's entry. I straightened
my necktie and dusted off my lunchtime sandwich crumbs
from my jacket.
She came in wearing a dark sweater and a pale blue
miniskirt. She wore heavy to dark eyeliner and pale
pink lipstick.
"Welcome to the Record Factory," I said to the young
lady, "Is there anything I can do for you?"
She paused by the counter and asked me if she could
sample "God Only Knows" by the Beach Boys. I obliged
and pulled the recently released single from the
cabinet and walked with her to the nearest listening
booth.
As we approached the door, her purse (hanging from a
chain-like strap) slipped from her shoulder. When it
fell to the floor, a half-empty pack of Lucky Strike
cigarettes tumbled out.
Apparently embarrassed by this, she awkwardly tucked
the pack of smokes back into her pocketbook. She
blushed as if she was somewhat too young to be
partaking in tobacco.
"Let me guess, Patterson High School...", I wondered
aloud to her. "And you're playing hooky. Where are your
friends?"
"I was sick and I needed to get some fresh air," she
replied quite defensively. "A buck's a buck, right?"
I was still skeptical but nodded and placed the 45 on
the turntable. I closed the door behind me and
proceeded to stock some records.
I was tempted to call the truancy officer about this
girl but I knew that school was going to end anyway and
my shift was about to end...
I ambled by the booths to check on her. I was her
swaying her head to the sounds of the new single as it
made its revolutions on the record player. Her nicely
coiffed red hair shimmered in the dim light of the
booth.
I rapped on the door. She jumped up from her seat and
was rattled. She cracked open the door and poked out
her head.
"You called the police, didn't you?!" she began to
plead, "I'm telling you that I am sick and I have an
excuse! I can't be in trouble! I just wanted to..."
"Have a free day," I interrupted, "I understand that
you wanted to have a little fun instead of sitting
behind a desk all day."
I pulled the booth's door from her hands and stepped
into the booth. She backed away like she was cornered
with no escape.
Her anxiety was very detectable. She braced herself
against the wall and knitted her brow in dread of the
officer's arrival. She didn't know that I didn't call
anyone or plan to call anyone.
Her heart was probably running a thousand beats a
minute by now. And this was turning me on.
"Looks like you need a hiding place," I wagered, "And
so do I."
"What do you mean?"
I rested my hand on her shoulder and hooked my thumb
under her sleeve to snag the strap of her brassiere. I
silently caressed her and pulled the door behind me
with my other arm.
My breathing got heavier as I pulled away and took to
fondling her clothed breasts. Her cashmere sweater was
soft and I closed my eyes and inhaled her sweet perfume
at the junction of her neck and shoulder.
"What..." she objected.
I cupped my hand over her mouth and whispered that she
had nothing to worry about if she stayed quiet.
I opened my eyes and stared into her face.
Her alarm shifted into a calm that seemed to know what
was going to happen next but was too shocked to resist.
I moved my hand gingerly up her skirt and diddled with
her white panties. They were dry but began to summon a
moisture that filled me with joy.
I pressed forward, moved my hand to her rear, and dry
humped her for a moment. I forced my willing tongue
into her unwilling mouth. Her objections were rising
again and I held her tighter to the wall.
With one hand, I removed her panties from her ass and
yanked them down to mid-thigh. She slowly exhaled from
her nose and shuddered like she was betraying a well-
kept secret.
She knew what the hardness was from behind my pants as
it poked against her skirt. I pulled it up a bit and
then quickly unzipped. I rubbed my penis up against her
sweet opening and she jolted like a current had run
through her.
I slowly pushed into her tightness and then detected a
hymen. I savored this moment of virginity's breach and
then thrust myself into her. She gasped and bit down
onto her lip. I think she was still afraid to scream.
I kissed her lips as I was ravishing her in this
chamber of solicitude. I bucked back and forth in our
cramped space for a while until I orgasmed inside of
her.
She was confused and had a look of "where am I?" when I
pulled out of her and began to pull myself together
again. I looked at my watch and stooped to pick up her
sweater from the floor.
Beside the sweater was her purse. Inside was a pack of
cigarettes and the Beach Boys single that she planned
to steal from my store.
I smiled lecherously at her and said, "We seem to have
our secrets, don't we?"
It was then that, forlorn, she kissed me and said, "Is
my secret safe with you?"
I pondered her situation and my situation and then
said, "I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing
happened. You weren't here and your music is paid for."
I handed her her purse and panties. She put herself
together again and we walked out of the listening
booth.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 32