Summer Ch. 06

Story Info
Jackie's Story 1: Alan begins his seduction of Jackie.
2.7k words
4.27
72.4k
8
0

Part 5 of the 31 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 03/10/2008
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
TheTyke
TheTyke
389 Followers

This is a true story. All the characters in this story were over the age of consent (18) when the story took place.

For those of you who have been following the 'Summer' stories this is in effect the sixth part in that saga, although it is a branching off from the main theme. This is Jackie's story, Sue's sister. For the feminists out there, this is not Jackie's story told by Jackie; this is Jackie's story, a woman's story, as told to me, a man and now retold by me. When Jackie told me this story and she told it over a considerable period of time, not in one sitting, she put all of herself into it, her fears and her feelings; I am now retelling it as best I can and many years have intervened since, but I will say again that I am a man telling a woman's story. I have however tried to keep the story as close to the original telling as possible but if I do not quite capture her feelings as they were expressed to me then I apologise in advance.

As far as I am aware this is a true story and it is a story worth retelling. This is how Jackie told it and I have no reason to believe she lied.

............

Summer Chapter 6

As we walked home from the reservoir the talk amongst the boys was all of Jackie and her obvious sexual experience. We had just come to terms with our own sudden sexual freedom and had come to think, as every generation does, that we had invented sex and were the only ones doing it; and then along came Jackie who is obviously far better versed in sex than we were despite our somewhat liberal attitudes to getting naked with Sue, Jackie's sister.

In truth it took me the full summer to get Jackie to tell her story and she didn't tell it all to me, some came from Sue, but I have pieced the bits together into one continuous tale for the ease of telling; and I think it is worth telling, I just hope that you agree.

............

Jackie's story Chapter 1

Jackie was not sure when she first became aware of Alan, quite literally the man next door. He had always been there in background, a vague part of the life going on around her, but she could not remember when she first became aware of him, the man, as a separate and perhaps somewhat dark and dangerous entity. He was much older than she was and therefore not within her usual sphere of interest, she was still at school and he was a working man, in his 30's, positively ancient.

He owned a motor bike, quite a status symbol in a small town and she would often see him, the bike pushed out onto the bit of hard standing he had laid in the wood that bordered onto the bottom of their back gardens, tinkering with the engine or polishing the already highly polished frame. The talk was that he was a 'bit wild' and he had a 'reputation' around the area, she was not quite sure for what but the older folk would make veiled comments about him from time to time and Jackie's dad thought him a 'bit of a rough one'. The adults in the two families in the adjacent houses were friendly enough in a casual sort of way but not what you could call close except in that, 'can you lend me a cup of sugar' sort of way that was the norm in those days.

It took a while for her to realise that Alan was showing an interest in her. As she walked back from the shops, through the woods he would occasionally stop working on his bike and watch her as she approached the back gate. He never spoke, just watched her while he polished the already gleaming paintwork. His eyes took in her body, not in the way most other men or friends looked at her, his gaze was predatory he unsettled her and she did not know how to handle his silence. She had never met anything like him before.

Once, she summoned the courage to ask him what he was looking at, he stopped polishing for a moment and sat still on his haunches at the side of his bike, "You" was all he said and he smiled, his gaze slowly working it's down her body. She hovered for a moment, full of youthful indecision, her bravery evaporating under his blatant stare.

"Well don't!" she said childishly and then cursed herself for such a pathetic, immature response; and with as much dignity as she could muster she pushed open the gate to her back garden and went through. She could feel his eyes on her back as she moved and as the gate swung shut his quiet derisory laugh followed her.

She couldn't figure out why he unsettled her and she couldn't figure out why he was watching her but she was aware enough to recognise he was somehow dangerous. When she found him watching she immediately became gawky and awkward, ungainly, all legs and angles. But she also acknowledged his effect on her, she was always aware of him watching her, a tightness in her chest and somehow turned on, excited, a walking on ice feeling, the fatal attraction of danger. When she knew he was watching she would push out her small chest and walk with an exaggerated sway of the hips. She quickly realised she liked the attention.

Once when she was sunbathing in her bikini on the back garden, lying on her back on a blanket, one arm shading her eyes as she read a book a book; she suddenly became aware of him, leaning quietly over the fence between the two houses, smoking a cigarette, almost looking straight down on her. She literally jumped and squealed with surprise. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" she yelled, sitting up and dropping her book.

He made no attempt to hide his interest in her body; he studied her breasts in the small bikini top like a man judging horseflesh at a fair. "Grown up a bit since I last looked at you." He said ignoring her question.

"You're always looking at me," she said, beginning to wilt under his casual scrutiny "why?" She wanted to cover herself up with her blanket but she found she could not move. She could feel her nipples hardening under his blatant stare.

"You've got nice tits," he said, "small, but nice. Not quite a handful but they look juicy." She never moved. His eyes roved down her body and focused on her groin, where legs meet. She felt as though he could see through her pants, she wanted to run. He smiled and looked up into her eyes. "You could be interesting naked."

Her eyes opened wide as the meaning of his words registered. She licked her lips with a tongue that had gone surprising dry. She could not break the eye contact, she could not move. "Might even be worth fucking." he said in the same quiet, matter of fact voice he would use to buy a daily newspaper. Her mouth fell open as his words hit her.

Blushing furiously she struggled to her feet, her mouth still open, her shocked brain trying to form some kind of response. She stood poised somewhere between fight and flight, her chest heaving in confusion. He never moved, never flinched, he just casually inspected her body as she stood in front of him. "No," he said, "definitely worth fucking."

She grabbed her blanket and book, "You'll never get to find out!" she spat at him and turned and stormed off up the garden. "And a nice arse." He said loud enough for her to hear.

When she had calmed down she began to try to understand what she was angry about. Who was he? What was he to her? He was far too old for her; he wasn't her boyfriend she didn't even find him that attractive, dirty fingernails and sideburns. But he had something that she could not throw off, he was interested in her, no one had ever shown this intensity of interest, this blatantly sexual interest, and she found it attractive, very attractive.

Plus he was 'grown up', he was no spotty youth trying to 'grab a feel' at the pictures on a Saturday night, he gave off the air of sexual confidence, of experience, he knew what he was doing; he was mature and self assured, a powerful combination for any young woman to handle.

He could clearly handle her although he also obviously didn't need her. He was beginning to figure large in her imagination and she wanted to feel his interest in her, he was a powerful aphrodisiac.

She recognised the connection between his eyes on her body and the tingle in her groin; and she liked it. She knew she loved the feel of her fingers inside her in bed at night, bringing arousal and eventual relief, and the idea of someone else's fingers doing the same to her was fiercely arousing. Alan was taking shape in her imagination.

She began to look for him and when she knew he was around she would stroll down the garden and while feigning disinterest she would try and attract his attention; hoping that he would notice her and then getting angry when he didn't.

When he did notice her it would never go as she had planned it in her head, he wouldn't talk to her or act normally; he would simply stop what he was doing and just stare at her, at her breasts or at her groin, with a slightly amused smile on his face until she grew uncomfortable and she would finally slink back into the house. This situation continued for some time with Jackie beginning to become more extreme in her attempts to draw Alan's attention. He was becoming a fixation for her and yet if you'd asked her why she would not have been able to explain. If he was cleaning or working on his bike she'd find an excuse to stand by her bedroom window and brush her hair while pushing her breasts forward.

When this failed to draw his attention she would change into her dressing gown and stand by the window 'towelling' her hair dry, showing as much cleavage as she dare and watching for his reaction; and his reaction was always the same, if he saw her he would stop what he was doing and stare.

She sometimes thought she could see a small smile playing about the corner of his mouth, but his eyes never smiled, of that she was sure, his eyes were always cold blue, like ice. In many ways he frightened her but she could not stop herself from trying to attract his attention, she wanted him to notice her.

The next real contact came almost by accident. Just when Jackie thought that he had lost interest she bumped into him as he was cleaning his bike on the hard standing in the woods at the bottom of their gardens. She was on her way to a friend's house and hadn't expected him to be there.

She saw him as she closed the high garden gate behind her; he was leaning over his bike rubbing down the gleaming paintwork of the fuel tank. He looked up at the noise of the gate closing and she froze; she could not retreat and was almost too frightened by his sudden proximity to go past.

He smiled. "Do you like bikes?"

"Don't know." She said with a dry mouth.

"What do you mean 'you don't know'?"

"I've never been on one." She said, recovering her confidence a little.

"Come here." He said, a command, not a request, and she felt herself walking towards him and his gleaming machine. In one movement he put his hands around her waist and lifted her astride the bike. She gasped at the sudden contact with both his hands and the bike and tried to squirm away.

"Sit still," he said, "you'll have it over on you." She sat stock still realising the weight of the machine she was sitting astride.

"There," he said at last when he was satisfied she wouldn't move, "now you've been on one." He took a step back and looked at her. "You look good on it."

"Thanks." She said attempting sarcasm but failing. She had no idea what to say, she could feel where his hands had rested on her hips, she felt off balance, unsure.

He walked around her, openly appraising her as he made the circuit. "Yeah, you look good."

"I want to get down." She said quietly. This meeting wasn't going as she expected, as she had run it or one very like it, a million times in her head.

"Sure." He walked to her side and put his hands around her waist but made no attempt to lift her.

"What are you doing?" She asked at last.

"Just wondering what you would be like to fuck." He said, his hands openly feeling the swell of her hips. Her mouth fell open but before she could speak he lifted her easily off the bike and placed her down in front of him. She tried to step back but the bike was behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and steadied her.

"Easy." He said gently, his hands following the line of her shoulders and arms.

"Let go of me."

She had intended it to be a command but it came out quietly, a request at best. He looked down on her and gently, but deliberately, brought his hand up and placed it on her breast. She tried again to half heartedly step back but the bike was behind her. He squeezed softly, his hand moulding to her breast.

"Oh yes. You would definitely be worth fucking." She placed her hand over his as if to push it away but her hand stayed there, covering his as he gently felt the shape of her breast, his fingers tracing the outline of her nipple, the pressure of his finger immediately bringing it erect.

"Let me go." She said almost in a whisper and looked up at him. He smiled and suddenly stepped back, taking his hand away from her breast. His movement was so sudden she almost fell forward, her hand holding her now deserted breast.

He bowed slightly and swept his arm out to his side in a grand and elegant gesture "Your wish, Ma'am." Confused and shaken she walked passed him. She realised she was still holding her breast and dropped her hand. "Yes, very fuckable. Very fuckable indeed" she heard him say; she turned to look but he had returned to polishing his bike.

...........

She fantasised about the hand on her breast for days, lying in bed, her hands between her legs as she tried to remember every detail of what had happened. She could not get him out of her mind; she watched for him constantly and made herself available at every opportunity.

He did not however, show any interest in her at all, he simply polished his bike or looked through her as if she was not there. Her anger flared, a first cut of wounded pride, and she swore that she would not give him the opportunity to touch her again; but every night she was there in bed, masturbating to the memory of his fingers on her breast.

She would hold her breast and stroke her nipple, imagining that the hand was his. After striking her nipple erect her hand would finally sneak between her legs, pushing her pyjama bottoms down around her thighs and when she finally came, it was to his imagined fingers.

Desire coursed through her body, filled her up and soaked out of every pore; and it grew stronger every day. He had opened a door in her mind, in her life and she was eager to rush headlong through it.

TheTyke
TheTyke
389 Followers
Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
Share this Story

READ MORE OF THIS SERIES

Summer Ch. 05 Previous Part
Summer Series Info

Similar Stories

Carnal Knowledge Ch. 01-02 The earl forces his governess to receive lessons in sex.in NonConsent/Reluctance
Yours Ch. 01 Well-endowed victim seeks revenge.in BDSM
A Pussy Named Amber Ending a goth girl's virginity.in First Time
Roommate Wanted Marie's new roommate exceeds expectations.in Romance
Cumming In My Wife's Best Friend Ch. 01 He fucks wife's best friend to help with pregnancy.in Loving Wives
More Stories