Vinyl Tease: Sissy's Tattooed Record Store Siren

The bell above the door gave a soft, reluctant chime as Alex slipped inside the record store well after closing. The place was dim, lit only by a few low-hanging pendant lamps that cast warm amber pools across rows of wooden bins. The air smelled of old paper sleeves, dust, and something sharper—black coffee and the faint metallic tang of ink. His heart hammered against his ribs.

The tight black vinyl mini-skirt clung to his ass like a second skin, barely covering the tops of his fishnet stockings. A cropped band tee hugged his slim torso, the hem riding high enough to show the delicate ink that curled over his hip bones and down the front of his smooth thighs—delicate script and tiny stars that disappeared under the hem of the skirt. He felt exposed, ridiculous, and achingly turned on all at once.

Riley was behind the counter, sorting a stack of new arrivals. She looked up slowly. Twenty-eight, tall, with sharp cheekbones and a confident smirk that made Alex’s stomach flip. Her arms were covered in full sleeves of vivid color—snakes, roses, broken vinyl records, and occult symbols that disappeared beneath the rolled sleeves of her black button-up. A silver ring glinted in her tongue when she licked her lower lip. Her black jeans were tight enough that the thick, unmistakable bulge along her left thigh was impossible to ignore.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just watched him pretend to browse the punk section while his eyes kept drifting back to her crotch. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face.

The lock on the front door clicked shut with a heavy metallic sound.

“Store’s closed, sweetheart,” Riley said, voice low and smoky. “But you don’t look like you’re here for the music.”

Alex’s breath caught. He turned, cheeks burning. “I… I was just—”

“Looking at my cock while you flipped through those records,” she finished for him, stepping out from behind the counter. Each movement was deliberate, predatory. “Don’t bother lying. I saw you. Saw the way your pretty little mouth parted every time you glanced down.”

She stopped a foot away. The heat rolling off her body made the air feel thicker. Alex could smell her—something dark and sweet, like leather and clove. His cock twitched helplessly inside the lacy panties hidden beneath the vinyl skirt.

Riley’s pierced tongue clicked against her teeth. “You’re dressed like you want to get fucked, baby. That skirt… those fishnets… the way your tattoos peek out like little invitations. You’re a walking tease.”

Alex swallowed hard. His voice came out small, breathy. “I didn’t think anyone would still be here.”

“Lucky for you, I am.” Riley reached out and ran one fingertip along the hem of his skirt, brushing the sensitive skin of his thigh where ink met fishnet. “I’m Riley. And you’re going to tell me your name while I decide how hard I’m going to ruin you.”

“Alex,” he whispered. Then, because the hunger in her eyes made him brave, he added, “But… I like it when people call me a good girl.”

Riley’s grin turned feral. “Good girl it is.”

She moved past him to the old turntable in the corner, selected a record from a private shelf, and set the needle down. Slow, sensual trip-hop filled the store—deep bass, breathy female vocals, a lazy, grinding beat that seemed to pulse straight between Alex’s legs. The music wrapped around them like smoke.

Riley came back and pressed right up against his back, her breasts soft against his shoulder blades, her hard cock nestling boldly against the curve of his vinyl-covered ass. She reached around him to pull a rare pressing from the bin, holding the sleeve in front of them both.

“Ever seen this one?” she murmured against his ear, lips brushing the shell. “Limited. Expensive. Kinda like what I’m about to do to you.”

Alex shuddered. He could feel every inch of her thick bulge grinding slowly against him in time with the music. “Riley… I’m so fucking hard already.”

“Yeah?” Her hand slid down his front, palming the front of the skirt. “I’ve been rock-hard since you walked in. That little sissy outfit is doing terrible things to my self-control.”

Alex’s head fell back against her shoulder. “I want you to use me,” he breathed. The confession tumbled out before he could stop it. “Please. I want you to treat me like your dirty little vinyl slut.”

Riley groaned, the sound vibrating through both of them. “Careful what you beg for, princess.”

In one smooth motion she spun him around, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and walked him backward behind the counter. The moment they were out of sight of the windows, she shoved him to his knees on the worn rug. Alex went willingly, eagerly, eyes already glassy with lust as he stared up at the thick ridge straining against her black jeans.

“Open your mouth,” she ordered.

He did. Riley pressed the hard length of her cock against his lips through the denim, letting him mouth and lick at the fabric while she rocked her hips in lazy thrusts. The taste of her—faint denim, heat, the musk of aroused cock—made him whimper.

“Fuck, look at you. Such a hungry little sissy.” She unzipped slowly, dragging the metal teeth apart. Her thick cock sprang free, heavy and flushed, veins standing out along the shaft. The head was already glistening. A silver barbell pierced through the frenulum caught the low light.

Alex moaned at the sight. “Please… can I taste you?”

Riley tapped the pierced head against his tongue. “Worship it, baby. Show me how bad you want this dick.”

He did. Sloppy, hungry strokes of his tongue from balls to tip, swirling around the piercing, sucking the head into his mouth with wet, obscene sounds. Riley’s hand tightened in his hair, guiding him deeper until his nose pressed against her trimmed pubic hair and her cock nudged the back of his throat. Saliva spilled down his chin, dripping onto his fishnets.

“Goddamn, you’re good at that,” she growled. “Made for sucking cock, aren’t you?”

Alex hummed around her, eyes watering but never breaking eye contact. The music throbbed around them, bassline matching the pulse in his own neglected cock.

Riley finally pulled him off with a wet pop. “Enough. I need to be inside that tight sissy ass right now.”

She hauled him up, spun him around, and bent him over the glass-topped record display counter. Vintage sleeves slid across the surface as she yanked his skirt up and ripped his lace panties to the side. Cool air kissed his exposed hole. Riley spat into her palm, slicked her cock, and pressed the thick head against him.

“Tell me you want it,” she demanded, voice rough.

“I want it,” Alex gasped. “Fuck me, Riley. Please—use my ass.”

She pushed in with one long, relentless stroke.

The stretch burned in the most perfect way. Alex’s mouth fell open in a silent cry as she buried every inch inside him, hips flush against his ass. The counter was cold against his chest; his leaking cock smeared precum across the glass. Riley gave him only a few seconds to adjust before she started moving—deep, pounding strokes that rocked the counter and made the records rattle in their bins.

Her tattooed hand wrapped around his throat from behind, squeezing just enough to make his vision spark. “This what you needed, sissy? Getting fucked like a whore in my store?”

“Yes—fuck—yes,” he sobbed, pushing back to meet every thrust.

Riley fucked him harder, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing beneath the sensual music. Then she pulled out, flipped him onto his back atop the counter, and hooked his fishnet-clad legs over her shoulders. The new angle let her drive even deeper. She leaned down and claimed his mouth in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss—tongues sliding, her piercing clicking against his teeth, spit shared between them.

Alex’s hand flew to his own cock, stroking frantically. The pressure inside him was unbearable, perfect. Riley’s hips snapped forward again and again, pounding his prostate until his eyes rolled back.

“Gonna feed you this load,” she growled against his lips. “And you’re going to swallow every drop while you cum for me.”

She pulled out at the last second, climbed up onto the counter, and straddled his chest. Alex opened wide just as the first thick rope of cum lashed across his tongue. He swallowed greedily, moaning as his own orgasm crashed over him hands-free. His cock pulsed hard, painting long streaks of white across his black vinyl skirt and fishnets.

When it was over, the only sound was their ragged breathing.

Riley climbed down carefully. She disappeared into the back for a moment and returned with a warm, damp cloth. With surprising gentleness she cleaned his face, his spent cock, and the mess on his skirt. She leaned in and kissed him—slow, possessive, almost tender—tasting herself on his tongue.

From a locked drawer she pulled a rare, signed record still in its shrink wrap and pressed it into his hands.

“Take this,” she murmured. “Something to remember how hard you screamed for me.”

Alex clutched it to his chest, legs still shaky. Riley typed her number into his phone, then walked him to the door.

“Store closes at the same time every Thursday,” she said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “If my good little vinyl sissy wants to come get used again… I’ll be waiting.”

She unlocked the door. Alex stepped out into the cool night air, glowing, sore, and deeply satisfied. The record was warm in his hands. Behind him, the shop lights dimmed.

The street was empty. The only sound was the soft click of the lock sliding back into place.

Then silence.