The All Nighter 4

"Oh my god!" I exclaimed in awe as I got out of the car and looked around me. I had to remove my sunglasses and place them on top of my head to make sure I was seeing the world around me correctly.

Everything was so...different. The passage of 7 years had done much to the town I'd grown up in. When I left all those years ago to accept a job nearly 8 hours away, I didn't realize the significance of that distance. In my young mind, I figured I'd drive down every holiday, birthday, and whatever. I couldn't imagine not seeing my parents every few months or so.

What I didn't count on was life. New friends, new job, new responsibilities, bills, bills, bills...

Time got away from me. And that was before I met my now fiancé, John. When he first entered my life, I didn't even really want to date him. He was a young widow (his wife died of cancer). I did anyway, just to see why my friend kept insisting that we'd be perfect for each other.

I started to like John pretty quickly, but when I met Olivia (his 10-year-old daughter), I fell in LOVE with her. It wasn't long before I fell in love with her father also.

Now that we were thinking about marriage, it was time for him to meet my folks. So, we planned a nice 4-day trip to my hometown, just the three of us. I was apprehensive about this meeting, but so far, it's been great. My parents like John, love Olivia, and are supportive about our plans.

John has been listening to story after story about me growing up as a child. He's laughed at my embarrassments, smiled at my accomplishments, and genuinely enjoyed getting to know me better through my parents' tales.

Of course, there were things he just couldn't learn about me from my parents.

Me and John have a strange kink. One night we were lying in bed cuddling, and somehow we got on the conversation of having a threesome. He told me he always wished for one, but his late wife would never go for it. She was WAY too jealous to ever even think about it.

Naturally, he was talking about a threesome with two girls. Why is it that when guys hear the word "threesome", they automatically think of THAT one?

It was then that I slipped and told him that I've had a few threesomes in my day. Both kinds. To say that he was intrigued would be an understatement. He wanted to hear about all of them. I wasn't even halfway through the first story before he pounced on me with a raging hard-on.

That was when I realized how much he liked hearing stories about my sexual past. He liked imagining me with other guys. And honestly, I enjoyed sharing with him. I was a little embarrassed at first. Not embarrassed about my history but embarrassed about being so open about it.

To put things bluntly, I've always enjoyed sex. I love having it. I'm very good at it, as I've been told several times.

For some reason, my past boyfriends would shame me when they realized exactly how much sex I've had. Even if their number was higher than mine, they felt emasculated, and would often throw my history in my face. After a while, I did what most girls do; I lied about it. Men seemed much happier to remain in ignorance about the fact that their cocks weren't the only ones to ever penetrate my vagina (or mouth, or ass).

But John was different. He got off on those stories, imagining me "being a slut" as he called it. Normally, I hate that word. I've been called a slut before, and there was nothing endearing about it. But when he said it...I don't know...it always made me feel naughty (in a good way).

So, I often told him about my past sexual relationships. Sometimes I've embellished a bit to add spice, but for the most part, I had a lot of tales to choose from. Yes, I was a bit of a slut in my past, but I'm HIS slut. He was the first guy to not make me feel ashamed of that.

"Bringing back memories?" He asked as he walked up beside me.

"Not really." I admitted, shielding my eyes from the glaring sun as I took in the scenery. "None of this was here when I worked here. Not even that McDonald's." I added as I pointed to the golden arches across the street.

This gas station looked nothing like the place of my past; the place I worked when I came home from college during my summer breaks. For one, the small, quaint, family-owned business was bought out years ago by a larger company. Since then, it's been turned into a carbon copy of every other gas station. Everything was updated. Additions were made. The old-time gas pumps with the rolling numbers had been replaced with digital monitors. It even played music while you filled your tank.

John kissed me on my cheek before walking over to the pump. By this time, Olivia got out of the back seat and came to my side. After tugging on my arm to get my attention, she said, "I gotta pee."

I turned to John, who was removing the pump from its cradle and placing it inside the tank. "I'm gonna take her inside to use it. You want anything?"

"I don't know. I'll meet you in there when I'm done."

"Okay."

After we donned our facemasks, my daughter-to-be and I walked into the convenience store. When I first opened the door, a cool blast of AC hit me. It felt refreshing against the hot summer day.

I chuckled at a brief flash of a memory. When I worked here all those years ago, Bob (the then owner of the store) was notoriously cheap. The spotty AC was something all his employees complained about. His solution to the problem was to buy a bunch of fans. He even complained about having to do

that

.

It was especially bad back in the storeroom. That was a place in the back where we stored all the product that was going to be stocked on the shelves. It also doubled as a sort of break room.

If those walls could talk...

Lots of funny, flirty, and even raunchy conversations happened back there. Lots of illegal naps were taken. And there then were...other things.

Thinking of the storeroom made a shiver run down my body that had nothing to do with the state-of-the-art AC that was blowing on us.

I led Olivia to the restroom, taking note of the drastic modifications that had been made to the store. Everything was newer and brighter. The tiles on the floor were shiny and waxed. The arrangement of the shelving opened the store up, making it look roomier than it did before. There was even a small hot bar that cooked hot dogs, burgers, chicken, and fries.

Olivia went into the bathroom, making sure to remind me that she didn't need a babysitter. I put my hands up in surrender and gave her the privacy she wanted.

While she was in there, I remembered that the storeroom was but a short walk from where I was now standing. It would be nothing to "accidently" wander back there.

So, I did. After ensuring that no one was watching me, I slipped down the narrow hallway and took a peek.

A warm, surprised smile adorned my lips when I looked at the cramped storeroom. Unlike the rest of the store, this place remained much the same as I remembered. Maybe the couch, the chairs, and the small table were different, but this room still looked much like the place in my vivid memory.

I could almost see me, Casey, and Anton. My cheeks reddened with embarrassment at the vision. I saw myself on my knees, on my back, being bent over the table...

Oh, to be young again.

I heard the bathroom door open, so that was my signal that my walk down memory lane was over. I startled Olivia coming from behind her.

"Where were you?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I wandered into the back by mistake."

She bought that with no more questioning, but that was because her eyes fell on some snacks that she wanted me to buy. She didn't have time to worry about why I was aimlessly walking into random rooms at a strange store.

By this time, me and John spotted each other, and he came over to join us. The three of us picked out what we wanted before standing in line to complete our purchase.

When we reached the front, we dumped our bounty on the counter as the bored looking cashier rang us up. While she was doing so, I happened to look up at the wall behind her.

A smile spread on my face. An excited feeling swarmed my tummy. I felt myself being brought back in time; back to a time where a young girl in the prime of her life worked alongside two guys. It was during that time that an innocent card game got out of hand and led to a night of...adventures.

John saw my smile. When our eyes locked, he knew. He knew that an erotic memory was triggered.

Leaning in to whisper, he asked, "Is this something I'm gonna wanna hear about?"

All I could do was nod with an impish smile on my face.

***

Before there was a worldwide health crisis working alongside of companies like Amazon and Doordash to make introversion cool, there was a time that I worked the late shift at a small, 24-hour convenience store/ gas station.

I was in my early twenties (20 or 21 if memory serves). I was a full-time student working on a bachelor's in business. I had no aspirations to take the business world by storm. I didn't even like it. I just took it because my father said it will serve me well in the future.

Business was all numbers. While I was decent in math, a lifetime of creating budgets and analyzing profitability made my head spin.

I had the typical high school life of a popular girl. I was the cheerleader who enjoyed dancing. Get a petite girl with a nice rack and an athletic body, put her in a cheerleading outfit with a short skirt, and you have an instant high school celebrity.

Yes, I was

that

girl, at least at school. When alone, I was more like a theater nerd. I liked to sing, dance, write stories, read poetry, and even do a little drawing; you know, creative stuff. I had dreams of art school in Europe.

However, I was a good little girl who always did what she was told. I love my daddy. He's awesome. But sometimes, he gets an idea in his head that he takes as the only truth in life that matters.

He told me there was no future in art and dance unless I had the skills of a ballerina or wanted to grind on some rapper in a hip-hop video. Being the good little girl I was, I chose to go into a field that would please him. Business management.

At first, college life was like a bucket of cold water. High school was easy. In college, I was but a minnow in a large ocean. No longer did I have my cheerleader outfit to create gravity and make people want to be around me. There were tons of pretty girls. Add the fact that I was studying for a future I didn't want, and you can see why I had a stressful dorm life.

I didn't even have the luxury of summer break as a respite against my dull future. My dad didn't like the idea of me sitting around for three months wasting time when I was home. Luckily (for his agenda) he was friends with a man who owned a gas station / convenience store that was just off the highway.

His idea was for his friend to take me under his wing and show me the ropes of running a business. For him, it was the perfect scenario. His daughter wasn't idly mulling around the house, and she was getting a hands-on education in the field she was looking to get into.

Only...I HATED BUSINESS!

But like I said, I was a good girl; only a rebel in my mind. I did what daddy told me to do. I took the job. Every summer when I came home, this job was waiting for me. I would eventually only work at it for two summers due to me finally finding the courage in my junior year to stand up to my father as an adult, but that's another story.

Initially, I worked from 7 am -3 pm. I thought Mr. (call me Bob) Wilburt was a nice boss; at least at first. He took an immediate liking to me and did what my father wanted. He paid special attention to me and showed me things. Lots and lots of boring things.

However, it soon became apparent that Bob's attention wasn't completely professional. I noticed the way he looked at me; the way his eyes would roam my body when he thought I wasn't looking. His hand would "accidently" rub across my ass when he and I were alone in his office, going over sales and counting money.

I didn't jump to conclusions. I told myself that these "accidents" were unintentional. But the more naïve I feigned, the bolder his touches became. Those light brushes soon turned into all out cupping my butt cheeks.

Now, I'm sure it's apparent that I'm not a prude when it comes to sex. I was used to attention from men. And not just men close to my age. Older, mature, sophisticated men often gave me an appreciative once over before offering to buy me a drink. And if he turns me on, that drink can often lead to "other things".

But there was something about Mr. Wilburt that put me on edge. He wasn't like my nerdy-but-sexy Biochem professor, or the older businessman that came into town every few months and liked to buy me things (stories for another day). Mr. Wilburt was just...pervy.

I tried to hint around the situation to my dad without coming out and saying it. I didn't know how to tell him what his friend

really

wanted to teach his daughter. But my dad never caught my drift. He just encouraged me to soak up as much knowledge as I could, and at the same time have some pocket money to do what I wanted.

As creepy as this situation was, I found a silver lining that made me rethink my approach. I couldn't pretend the be naïve forever. It soon became obvious that either I knew what he was up to, or I was just the dumbest woman on the face of the earth.

I think Bob knew that I knew what he was up to. As a result, he became a very accommodating boss. He was strict with everyone else, often berating employees for breaking the slightest rule. But whenever he gave me a "stern talking to", he'd usually have the conversation with my C cup tits while he practically begged me to follow the same rules as everyone else.

Working for Bob was the perfect scenario my dad thought it to be, but not in the way he figured. Once I realized how to use this to my advantage, my job became about as stressful as a warm, bubble bath.

People tend to not think of cheerleaders as athletes, but that's because they're blinded by the way the world sexualizes us. We have tight, limber, lithe bodies that can catapult us into the air with grace and ease. We make defying gravity look easy.

Why is this important? Because being an athlete gave me a slim, muscular body, yet I kept all the perky curves of a young woman who'd just finished blossoming.

The store's uniform were black bottoms (jeans, shorts, skirts, etc.) and black shoes of my choosing, but the white T-shirt had the store's logo on it. Once I realized that teasing Bob equaled an easy paycheck, I made sure to use my "assets" to my advantage. I started dressing the part of the tart. I either wore leggings or my tightest jeans to show off my pert butt. The store's shirt was tied up at the hem so that my midriff showed.

So, I took advantage of my boss' lust for me. I was habitually late. I left early. I took long lunches. And even when I was on the clock, I barely did anything.

Whenever I sensed Bob getting frustrated with me being the world's worst employee, I'd do something to remind him of why he put up with me. I'd bend down in front of him to get something from the bottom shelf, or I'd accidently flip my hair in his face so that he could smell my shampoo. I made a habit of sitting on his lap when we both had to look at his computer screen together. It was really more on his leg, but I might as well have been giving him a lap dance. I'd innocently rest my hand on his thigh and giggle to myself as I felt his pants start to tent.

Two of us could play that groping game.

Nothing between me and Bob escalated beyond this. This story isn't about Bob. Like I said before, I had zero attraction for him. This story is about two other guys who worked the late shift.

Bob had a nephew named Casey. He was about my age, maybe a little older. Unlike me, Casey had no designs on going to college. He still lived with his mother in her basement.

However, Casey wasn't a bad guy. He was genuinely nice, if not a bit shy. He had a dark sense of humor; droll and sarcastic. And on top of that, he was generous when sharing his weed. I caught him smoking out back one day when we were transferring shifts. You would think that he'd look at least a little guilty about being caught at work with a blunt in his mouth, but he didn't. Instead, he just asked, "You want a hit?"

And then, there was Anton. When I first started working at this store, he wasn't a part of the staff. He must have been hired while I was away at school before I returned home for that second summer.

I have four words to describe Anton. OH MY FUCKING GOD! Anton was like instant sex, or sex concentrate. Just add water and you have automatic wet pussy.

I'd never thought about dating a black guy. Not that I wouldn't, I just never thought about it. But with him, I felt myself go all gushy inside. He was tall with a nice build, had a smooth bronze complexion, and short dreadlocks that hung down to his shoulders. He wasn't a huge, hulking weightlifter, but his body was slim with broad shoulders. His arms were toned, and his right one was covered in a sleeve of tattoos. He made that T shirt with the company's logo on it look so good they should've paid him royalties for wearing it.

And that smile! Those perfect white teeth! Uhh! Be still my heart!

Anton and Casey worked the late shift (11 pm -- 7 am). There was also a third guy named Ralph, but he's not important to the story other than the fact that he died, which began my adventures. But we'll get to that.

So, upon first meeting Anton, I was instantly floored. I wanted him from the first moment he shook my hand. Now, I've never chased a guy before. They usually chase me. But Anton was the first guy I just had to have.

Initially, my only contact with him was the brief time between us changing shifts. I'd be coming on as he was getting off.

To say I shamelessly flirted would be lying because the word "flirted" is a pale shadow of how I practically threw myself at him whenever I saw him. Within a couple of weeks of meeting him, I was hugging him every time he left for the day like we'd been the best of friends for years. I pressed my tits into his chest, just so he could feel how soft they were. I let him smell my white girl hair. One time, I even jokingly dared him to grab my ass to see if it was as soft as a black girl's ass.

I really just wanted him to grope me.

Unfortunately, he had a girlfriend; a fiancé, actually. And wouldn't you know it? He was faithful. As frustrating as it was for me to continually be politely shot down, that just made him even hotter to me!

Now, as much of a crush as I had on Anton, Casey had on me. He wasn't obvious and pervy like his uncle, but I could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at me, talked to me, or walked by me.

While I liked Casey as a person, I just didn't see him THAT way. And at first, he seemed okay with that. But when I came home that summer to resume my job and saw Anton, everything seemed to change. I couldn't hide the fact that it was

him

I wasn't attracted to, because I was all over Anton like a drunken prom date.

There was a weird triangle of sorts brewing between the three of us. I was oblivious to it at first. Or rather, I was too blinded by my infatuation with the Bronze god to notice.

And now comes the part where it gets interesting. Ralph, one of the night shift guys, died suddenly in his apartment. Heart attack I believe. This is significant because there always had to be at least two people in the store at all times, especially during those late/early hours. Casey, Anton, and Ralph were the only three people willing to work that shift. The schedule always worked out with three of them because at any time two of them would be working. Once Ralph died, it threw the balance off.