Staci in Paradise Ch. 01


Since this is about me, I’ll start by telling you a bit about myself.

First the personal stuff: I’m female, thirty two years old. I’m employed as an IT manager in Orlando, Florida, a job I’ve held for about two years.

I was born in Texas, on or around April 1st. I say “on or around” because nobody knows for sure. I was abandoned by my mother when I was an infant, about a week old, left at a fire station.

I grew up in foster care in Texas. I was lucky. I had only one foster family I remember, a nice man and woman who at any given time had several other children of various ages in their care.

At an early age I discovered I was good in school, which was convenient as my looks (I was rather plain) and size (always the smallest) meant I was ignored by everybody my age. Books became my refuge; I read and studied and classes in school were easy for me. I graduated high school as valedictorian with a full scholarship at age sixteen to Duke University in North Carolina.

Still short (5 foot zero inches), small (105 pounds if I jumped up and down on the scale a bit) with mousy brown hair and glasses and younger than everyone else I was even more ignored in college. Again I turned to my books. I managed to graduate with a BS in Electrical Engineering in four years and a MS a couple of years later.

A couple of months after my 22nd birthday I entered the workforce. My first job was as a programmer for a company in Raleigh, North Carolina. I did ok, started to make a little money. Got an ok apartment, furniture, a not too old used car.

After a bit I’d accumulated some savings. I didn’t date or buy expensive clothes or jewelry like so many girls my age. One day I took some of my savings and went and got myself a Lasik operation which corrected my vision to 20-20. I pitched the glasses.

Next I went to a good orthodontist and got braces. They hurt and were a pain and I was older than usual for straightening teeth so it took about two years but eventually the braces came off and I had nice, straight, white teeth.

I was sorta flat chested, about an A-cup, which matched my size. I’d always felt inferior due to my small breasts, so just before the braces came off I got a set of implants. Not huge implants – in fact the doctor had to order them specially. C cups, which on my small body made me look like I had really HUGE boobs.

I stared going to a nice hair salon. They put straightener on my frizzy hair and suggested a color other than mousy brown. They were going for blonde, like about 10,000 other girls at work had, but I had a sudden wild urge and had them do it black, jet black, and leave it long and straight. It hung almost to my waist.

Of course one thing led to another. I had to get new bras as I was now a 34-C and my 32-A bras would have to go in the trash. I went down to Victoria’s Secret and had a good old time. In addition to bras I bought panties, slips, camis, even some gowns. Then shoes, several pair. Some skirts and tops and a couple of business suits. I blew a couple of thousand bucks that afternoon.

It felt great.

I’d taken some vacation to get my braces off and have the implant surgery. When it was time to go back I dressed in my new underwear and one of the suits. As soon as I arrived at work I knew things would be different.

The guys couldn’t keep their eyes off me, mostly my new chest which was straining against the new bra, cami, shirt, and jacket. I wore pumps with four inch heels – no more flats for me! The little ‘click, click’ noises they made on the floor made everyone look up when I passed. I loved the attention!

Guys would come by my cube all day and flirt which I’d expected but what I didn’t expect was the reaction of the women. I was suddenly accepted by the women; I had a lot of “buddies” in just a week. They’d invite me to lunch and to go to happy hour with them.

Happy hour was a lot of fun too. I’d been a couple of times and generally been ignored, but now with my super boobs I got lots of attention. I found all I needed to do was smile at a man and take a deep breath and he’d be right there buying me drinks and dancing.

I met some nice men. One guy in particular, Bob, kept asking me out, dinner and dancing. I accepted; the first date went pretty well, he wasn’t too pushy although he wanted to play with my boobs when he kissed me good night. I let him – after all, he’d sprung for steaks and drinks – but stopped him before he got anything unzipped or unbuttoned.

I had a strange feeling when I told Bob good night went inside my apartment, like I was out of breath. I undressed; I discovered my nipples were all tight and pointed – they looked like little pencil erasers and they hurt a bit, like they were real sensitive. Even my satin Victoria’s Secret bra felt uncomfortable. I was glad to have it off.

The real surprise was my panties. bağdatcaddesi escort I’d been wet before of course, had gotten excited but never like this! At first I was so wet I thought I’d peed. I sat on the pot and peed for real then changed into fresh panties, put on one of my new gowns, and slipped into bed.

I couldn’t sleep, kept tossing and turning, remembering Bob’s passionate kisses, how he held me close while we danced, how nice his hands felt on my body. I wondered why I’d stopped him – I wouldn’t do THAT again – wondered what it’d be like to have him in my bed, on top of me, inside me.

I must have drifted off to sleep after all because about that time I came rather violently. Not my first climax, I’d learned to please myself years ago, but a surprise. I was moaning and thrashing and it just went on and on and on. I could feel myself clenching inside over and over and over.

Panting, I finally came down from the incredible climax. I felt soft and wet. I slipped my hand under my panties; sure enough I was soaked again.

I tried to pull my hand out of my panties but I couldn’t. I was rubbing myself, rubbing my clit and couldn’t stop! I came again in about a minute, huffing and moaning and I still couldn’t stop! Again and again I brought myself off until I couldn’t stand it! Finally I had one more gigantic climax thinking of Bob, imagining him inside me taking me holding me down, helpless under his weight, feeling his own orgasm inside me…”Bob, Bob, fuck me!” I screamed as I came, pussy spasming violently, legs thrashing, hips rolling upward.

Finally I stopped cumming and fell asleep suddenly, like I’d been hit over the head with a hammer.

Well, you can probably guess where this is going. Next week Bob and I went out again. I’d decided to fuck him before he even knocked on my door and this time when he kissed me good night I didn’t stop him; instead I pulled him inside and let him have his way with me.

I was nervous and didn’t know what to do but the wetness came back which was a good thing. It hurt a little and I bled a little and Bob was really surprised to find out I was a virgin at age twenty four. After he got over the shock he was all puffed up and proud of himself and strutted around like the king of the henhouse.

Things went on with Bob for about six months. He learned and I learned that I climax quickly and easily and can have about as many as I want. This (Bob told me) was very unusual. He told me some girls couldn’t cum at all – which I had trouble imagining – and others could only have one or two.

One night he gave me fifty.

He’d pick me up after work at the apartment and take out for dinner, usually fast food. In the car on the way he’d put his hand in my lap and start playing with me through my jeans or shorts or under my skirt. I’d spread my legs involuntarily (it felt REALLY good) and in a couple of minutes I’d be panting and moaning, hips bucking as his magic fingers transported me to wonderland.

There’d be one or two climaxes before dinner; then if we were in a restaurant the bastard liked to sit next to me and play with me while we ate (or tried to eat in my case). It was embarrassing; I learned to control my moaning somewhat but people still looked at me funny when we’d leave.

Then in the car on the way back to my apartment he’d finger me again, sometimes driving slow so he’d get to hear me beg on the way back. He really enjoyed the begging and truthfully I did too. I knew it excited him and I’d get what I wanted.

Back at the apartment he’d tease me, taking a long time building up before he’d finally take me. He’d bring me off a few more times orally (I REALLY loved his tongue!!) before climbing on top of me.

He liked to hold both my wrists in one of his big hands over my head then guide himself into me with the other. I felt helpless, knowing I couldn’t stop him, not wanting to stop him.

Now I began to learn a bit about myself. Climaxing in public to build the ego of a male pig was humiliating; often I thought about it and could hardly stand myself. Being made to beg a man to fuck me was similarly humiliating.

But honestly I enjoyed the humiliation.

In a restaurant booth with Bob’s hand between my legs he’d lean over and whisper things in my ear, embarrassing things. He’d tell me everyone was watching me, they could see what a hot little slut I was, how I couldn’t get enough, and bingo, I’d oblige by cumming.

Or sometimes he’d tell me he was going to go over to some guy sitting across the restaurant and ask him if he’d like to come over and get me off a few times, and I’d cum for him again.

But far and away the hottest, most embarrassed, and most humiliated I ever got was when Bob would whisper in my ear that he was going to let several men have me.

He’d whisper that he had beykoz escort five or six or a dozen friends who were meeting us at the apartment after dinner and they were going to take turns with me and I had no choice, I’d have to do them all and they’d get me all hot and make me beg each one of them and I’d get to be the little slut I’d always imagined. And God how humiliated I’d feel and God how hard I’d cum!

We got kicked out of a couple of restaurants when Bob started this; I wouldn’t be able to control my moaning and once I even cried out, “Yes! Yes! YES!!!” and dropped my fork on the floor and turned over my water glass, spilled it all over the table.

As time went on I became more receptive to Bob’s fantasies; sensing my acceptance he got bolder. He’d sometimes make me go to the lady’s room, remove my panties, and bring them back to him. He’d make a show of examining them, only half hiding the silky material and openly commenting on how wet they were, “You sure soaked these!”

Whenever he embarrassed me I’d flush hotly and look down, imagining everyone had seen and heard him humiliate me, although in truth this was not usually the case. Bob got quite a charge from seeing my reaction, my obvious humiliation.

And sad to say, I got a charge from being treated in this manner also.

My most violent, satisfying climaxes often happened in restaurants after Bob had pulled some stunt to humiliate me. Still hot and flushed from embarrassment I’d succumb meekly to him, spread my legs a bit to afford his fingers easier access to my wet, seething, roiling pussy. I’d squirm as he fingered my, clamping down on his hand as he got me off.

One afternoon Bob showed up at my apartment carrying a brown paper bag. I wasn’t quite ready to go – we were going dancing that evening, I was half dressed, just finishing my makeup.

“What’s in the bag, Bob?” I asked.

“Something special for you to wear tonight,” was his reply. Grinning from ear to ear he pulled a plastic package from the bag. He went to the kitchen and got scissors from the drawer and began cutting it open. Fascinated, I watched, rooted to the spot.

Finally he had all the plastic cut away. He was holding what looked like a small garage remote in one hand and a pink flat thing with straps in the other. Placing both objects on the counter he took batteries from the sack. He pried the flat contraption open first, inserted two “AA” batteries, then closed it. The garage remote took a single battery.

“Bob, what the…” I stammered.

“This part is for you,” he said in a husky voice. “You wear it under your panties. The straps go around your thighs.”

I blushed furiously as Bob explained the device, which he called a “butterfly”. It was a little vibrator that I’d wear. Since I’d have on a short skirt it wouldn’t show. The remote was used to turn the vibrator on and off and vary the intensity. Bob tried it all out first.

I was reluctant but thought what could it hurt? I mean, this couldn’t be as bad as being publicly fingered at a restaurant with everyone watching!

Or so I thought.

Anyway, I slipped the thing on. It took a few minutes to buckle the tiny straps and adjust them. I then finished dressing, panties over the butterfly. It felt sort of weird at first, a little cool but it soon warmed to my body temperature.

The vibrator had a bulge that rested against my slit, not actually inside it. It had a few small bumps near the top – “for friction” Bob told me. When I moved it rubbed against my clit ever so slightly. Overall it wasn’t uncomfortable. I soon forgot I had it on.

We went to dinner and for once Bob managed to keep his hand off my twat. After he paid the check we got in his car and drove to a club nearby. Bob parked and we went in.

The club was dark, illuminated mostly by subdued red and blue lights. Bob found us a small table a couple of rows back from the small dance floor. A band was playing rock music.

We had drinks and danced a few times. The band was ok, switching from fast tunes to slow ones, throwing in some oldies and even some country. Soon I was enjoying myself, a little toasty from the drinks, not quite drunk.

After a couple of hours Bob and I’d danced a few times. I was attracting attention from other men. I could see them stare openly at me when they thought Bob wasn’t looking, leering at my boobs and my ass. I was wearing a low cut top with spaghetti straps, my black bra straps plainly visible. Four inch stiletto heels accented the natural tightness of my ass which was nicely displayed by the short tight skirt I’d picked out.

Bob and I sat down after dancing several times to fast tunes. We were both a little out of breath. One of the men who’d been watching me dance came over and asked Bob, “Would it be ok if I dance with your wife?”

“She’s not my wife,” caddebostan escort Bob informed him, “but sure, go ahead, dance with her.”

I shot Bob a look that said, “What the…?” but the man was already holding out his hand. Without thinking I took it, let him lead me onto the dance floor. The band had started a slow song.

The guy was handsome, tall, a bit over six feet. As he pulled me toward him I felt the hardness of his chest and arm muscles, thinking he must work out regularly. He smelled great, a slight whiff of cologne mixed with clean male scent.

As he began to lead me, slowly swaying, that damn Bob turned the vibrator on.

It surprised me, I jerked a bit away from the man holding me, looked at Bob. He had a huge grin on his face. The man looked down at me, confused.

“Excuse me,” I said, “Dang heels trip me sometimes!”

Apparently accepting my explanation that I’d stumbled he pulled me closer. “Oh God,” I thought, “What if he feels the vibrator?” but he didn’t break his rhythm or indicate he could sense the vibrations.

I had no choice, all I could run off or relax. He was holding me, guiding me he smelled so nice…with a sigh I relaxed, laying my head against his chest.

The vibrations increased in intensity. I knew Bob had noticed my capitulation and was now ramping up the intensity of the butterfly. The tiny knobs thrashed about on my clit, teasing it into an excited state. I couldn’t be still, couldn’t stand it, but couldn’t escape. I began to squirm, trying to escape the maddening sensations.

Feeling me begin to writhe the man moved his hand down and cupped my ass, pulling me tight against him. I felt his hardness through the thin fabric of my skirt. Thankfully because of his height and my shortness it was pressed against my abdomen; he couldn’t feel the vibrations which were driving me wild.

We danced on and on. I knew I’d climax soon but was fighting it, fighting not to embarrass myself with this stranger. I felt myself getting wetter and wetter, felt my nipples harden, felt his breath as he kissed and licked my neck, my ears.

The dance was almost over, I was going to make it, I thought! Then Bob, damn him, turned the butterfly all the way to high.

I held onto the man tightly as I climaxed, eyes half closed, head back. I managed to moan softly and not scream which was something of a victory but he knew I’d just cum the dance floor, in his arms, melting into him.

“Damn…” he breathed in my ear.

That was all, just that one word, then the dance was over and he was half carrying me off the dance floor but not back toward Bob. I dimly noted that he was leading me out the door. I wanted to protest but no words would come from my lips; I offered no resistance as he led me outside.

We walked a bit, toward the back of the lot. A blue pickup truck was parked there, a large one with a crew cab. He opened the back door and lifted me inside.

I lay back on the seat. His hand was under my skirt, pulling off my panties and the butterfly. He didn’t seem surprised by the flat plastic sex toy — or maybe he just didn’t care. I felt his massive bulk above me, felt him guide himself into my sopping pussy, obviously ready for him.

He took me like that, in the back seat of his truck, still mostly dressed. Over stimulated from the vibrator I came almost immediately as I felt him enter me, this time crying out, screaming as loud as I could, no longer afraid I’d be heard, pulling him to me, begging him to take me hard, roughly, without mercy.

Laughing, he said, “Lets see those tits!” I felt him slip my top over my head, felt sudden freeness as his expert hand found my bra clasp and freed it. Tossing it aside he stared in open admiration at my twin mounds before sucking and licking my nipples.

This was too much! Again I felt my hips begin to buck and roll, urging him on. He responded with long thrusts, burying himself deeply in me. Suddenly, too soon, I felt him stiffen, felt his seed spurting deep inside me. It felt so wonderful!

He lay on me for a minute, panting, then pulled out and zipped up his pants. I gathered my bra and top and slipped them back on. I found the vibrator; now still, out of range of the remote. I stuffed it in my purse.

We walked arm in arm back into the club. Looking around I couldn’t find Bob. One of the waitresses told me he’d left. I went outside and looked; sure enough, his car was gone.

The man who’d recently had me – I never learned his name – offered to drive me home. I agreed, thanking him. When we got to my apartment he was obviously rested and was feeling frisky, ready for another round of lovemaking. As he kissed me passionately in his truck parked outside my small apartment I thought, “What the hell?” and led him in, into my bedroom, into the bed I’d only shared with one other man ever. And we made sweet, slow, satisfying love.

Later, much later, I woke to hear the front door close softly. I slipped out of bed and flicked the lock, watched the lights from his truck recede then vanish as he turned out of the parking lot.

And this was how I had my second man.