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Staci in Paradise Ch. 05

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Maria Rios O’Flannery was the admin for the Marketing director, who officed two doors down from me. She was a medium height girl of Cuban descent with long dark hair as black as mine but natural; deep brown eyes, and tan skin.

She dressed well but not in a flashy manner, usually conservative skirts and shirts and jackets and flats or low heeled shoes. Her shirts concealed an ample bosom, at least as large as mine and as I later learned, all natural.

Maria had been with the company for two years before I got there. She was a couple of years older than me. She managed her job with quiet efficiency that effectively hid her hot temper and boiling Latin blood.

Perhaps her most outstanding feature was she was the only woman at the company who was not openly afraid of me.

Oh, I don’t mean the women were afraid I’d hit them or fire them or even yell at them (I never yelled at women. Yelling was reserved for men). They were uncertain of me; I was the first female executive at the company and many felt threatened by my position and title. Although I tried to be open and friendly with everyone and not act “like the boss” women – and men to a lesser degree – still kept their distance.

Maria on the other hand treated me like I was one of the office staff. Not disrespectfully – Maria treated everyone at work with respect – but by obvious warmth and friendliness.

Before long we’d developed the habit of having lunch together in the break room. Maria was always on one diet or another – “My Cuban genes will make me a fat Latino one day” she’d say – usually eating tuna and crackers or celery or carrot sticks.

I on the other hand was blessed with some weird metabolism. Now over thirty, I could eat and eat and eat and never gain an ounce. Regular sessions at health club kept me toned but I never gained or lost, just stayed at 105.

At least twenty pounds of that was probably from my fake tits.

Anyway, in deference to Maria I’d restrict my lunch to a TV dinner, usually Lean Cuisine or some such tasteless drivel. Fortunately I’d go on business lunches fairly regularly; I’d eat like a horse on these occasions.

Sometimes a couple of the men would join us; sometimes one or two women. We were never exclusive and I made a point of never appearing to play favorites with Maria. She didn’t work for me anyway; there was no problem.

Maria was married to a man of Irish descent, John O’Flannery. John was tall and muscular, a former college football player. Maria told me he’d been drafted by the Eagles and had warmed their bench for a couple of seasons before being cut. He was now a successful accountant.

They had a nice house a half mile from mine. No kids: “We’re DINKs,” Maria told me. “Double Income, No Kids.”

Maria and a couple other women went to happy hour every Friday. She invited me several times; I always begged off but finally gave in. One afternoon Shelly, Maria, Lea, and I piled in my Mercedes and drove a short distance to a place called The Captain’s Den.

It was fun in a noisy sort of way. The band started up after we’d been there a few minutes; a couple of men danced with Shelly (the youngest) and Maria (the biggest boobs). Nobody got too drunk. We left around 9; I drove everyone back to their cars. No big deal.

After a few weeks the Friday happy hour became sort of a normal thing. Lea and Shelly would usually go; sometimes a couple of other girls would join us. Sometimes men from work would show interest but since most of the group was married we discouraged this.

One evening Lea and Shelly couldn’t go (date and period). On the way to the bar Maria suggested we go to her house instead and I have dinner with her and her hubby. I was reluctant at first, but she encouraged me. “I’ll just call and have him start dinner,” she said. “We can just leave my car; I’ll pick it up tomorrow morning.”

I bağdatcaddesi escort thought it was a bit odd that John O’Flannery, six foot four, two hundred thirty pound ex-linebacker and successful accountant was “starting dinner” on command from a phone call but I dismissed the feeling. Too sensitive, Staci, I told myself.

Maria’s house was a little bigger than mine, with a neat, well manicured lawn. I parked beside John’s pickup truck in the driveway and followed Maria in.

John was in the kitchen; the smells from various pots and pans made my mouth water. He smiled at me warmly when Maria introduced him then returned to preparing dinner. I followed Maria through sliding glass doors onto a large deck shaded by a canopy beside a small swimming pool. She excused herself to “go get comfortable”, returning in a few minutes in shorts, a halter top, and flip flops.

John brought us drinks, excellent apple martinis, not too strong. We drank and chatted for nearly an hour. From time to time John brought us fresh drinks.

I was a little tipsy by the time he announced dinner was ready. Maria and I went inside, sat at the dining room table. Dinner was enchiladas, salad, tortillas. It was delicious; I ate like a pig! Maria nibbled a bit, obviously still dieting.

After dinner she and I returned to the deck with more drinks. I was quite toasty by now, the food providing only a temporary reprieve from drunkenness; and so was fairly receptive when Maria suggested I “get comfortable”.

She ushered me to her bedroom, picked out blue jean shorts and halter top. The shorts were ones she’d worn in high school, she explained, much too small for her now. They were much too big on me but didn’t quite slide off my butt. The halter was a better fit, a little big but not extremely so. Apparently my silicone boobs were about the same size as her natural set. I slipped out of my skirt, jacket, shirt, panty hose, and heels and pulled on the borrowed clothing.

Dressed almost alike, we returned to the patio. I noticed an eight foot fence around the back yard; none of the neighbor houses were visible. It was cozy.

Dishes washed and put away, John joined us. There were only two chairs on the deck. In my half drunken state I didn’t think it weird that John sat on the deck, a bit in front of Maria and slightly to her side. When we’d run out of appletinis he’d go in and make another batch.

Maria and I were laughing and giggling now, telling funny stories – or at least we thought they were funny. We talked about men we’d known, things we’d done in the past. Nothing too personal, just chatting, having fun. John was mostly silent.

Finally Maria looked over at me. “Do you want to see something really funny?” she asked.

“Sure” I giggled back.

“John! Maria barked, “Up!”

My giggling ran down a bit as John towered over us. He was dressed in shorts like ours and a tank top which showed off his rippling muscles. He was quite impressive!

With a “watch this” wink to me Maria told him, “Ok, darling, strip.”

Oh, oh! I thought. I stammered something about having to go now, tried to get up on shaky legs. Maria patted my arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Staci,” she told me, “He’s not going to try to have sex with you or anything. Just watch, I bet you’ll enjoy this!”

Well, ol’ drunk me, ya know? I let her convince me, sat back.

“Ok, John,” she repeated.

With a swift motion John pulled his tank top off and tossed it aside, then unzipped his shorts and slid them off. To my surprise he wasn’t naked. At first I thought he had on dark underwear, but on closer inspection I could see he was wearing something made out of black material and what looked like shiny metal.

He stepped out of his shorts and stood at attention in front of us, hands clasped behind his back.

Maria beykoz escort stood and walked around him. “You know, Staci,” she said in a matter of fact tone, “Men are like rutting pigs. They can’t help it, poor things; it’s their nature.

“But you can’t trust them, you know. I bet you know, don’t you?”

I thought of Bob.

“Anyway,” she continued, “John begged me to marry him, but I knew the first time he went out of town he’d be porking some little bar tramp. So I made certain that wouldn’t happen.”

She ran a finger around the front of the device John was wearing. I saw him shiver a bit, saw goose bumps form on his arms. “I had this made special for him,” the brunette continued. “Measured him, sent off for it. It came all the way from Germany.”

She had him turn around as she explained the device, which she called a “male chastity belt”. I’d heard men at the dungeon ask about these but I’d never seen one. I kept quiet; Maria didn’t know about my time at the dungeon.

The chastity belt consisted of a metal strap and a cage in front. The strap was leather encased and thin; it ran up his ass crack like a thong and attached to the metal reinforced belt in back. In front it attached to the belt. There was a lock in the middle. Maria showed me the key which she wore on a chain around her neck.

“He can pee if he needs to,” she explained, “but that’s about all. The cage holds his little weenie down; it can’t get hard inside the cage. Can it, darling?” She breathed to him.

John shook his head and looked down.

“If he’s really good, pleases me, does all his housework, I let him out once a week for about an hour,” she went on, “but if he displeases me in any way I just excite him myself which makes him try to get hard, poor boy. This is very painful, as you can imagine.”

I couldn’t imagine, I’d never had a dick of my own, only had them inside me. I knew if you bit down or nicked it with your teeth they’d scream like bloody murder. I supposed being confined in a cage, trying to get hard but unable to, would hurt too. I just nodded, fascinated.

“We bought another little addition, “Maria said. She motioned for John to turn around. On the back of the belt was a rectangular mass. “Battery pack,” she continued. “Connects to the anal probe which you can’t see, it’s behind the thong strap.”

Maria held up a small plastic box. I reminded of Bob’s butterfly remote control. “Three buttons,” she said, smiling wickedly. “Push the first one, he feels a little shock, not too intense, but gets his attention. The second button makes it shock him more, hurts – or so he tells me, isn’t that right, darling?”

John silently nodded again.

“Button number three” she paused, held up the remote. “Shall we demonstrate number three, John?” she asked.

“No, no, please!” He begged quickly. Obviously button number three was more painful than he’d like!

“We use other methods of discipline,” Maria went on, “but I find this to be most effective.”

“For example,” she said, pressing the first button. As she held it I saw John’s face contort in anticipation. He immediately dropped to his hands and knees, forehead on her feet. She released the button, grinning at me; he remained in place, submissively at her feet.

“He stays in excellent shape physically,” she continued. “We have exercise equipment. I monitor his regime; if he slacks off or acts tired I zap him, which really encourages him to work. Just look!” She felt his biceps, hard and taunt. “Isn’t he beautiful!”

I had to admit, he was beautiful. He was especially beautiful in his supine position, head on his Mistress’s feet like an obedient dog.

Maria explained other benefits of the belt. “He’s improved his oral technique. Being unable to obtain relief allows him to concentrate on my pleasure.

“We have caddebostan escort several dildos that attach to the front,” she explained. “If I want something inside me I can put one on him then have that for as long as I want. He doesn’t feel a thing!”

I was getting excited; all this sex talk was having an effect on me. It’d been two months since I’d used George; I was getting horny again. I felt familiar wetness, a burning in my stomach.

“And I can even ‘loan’ him to my friends for the weekend. They are perfectly satisfied, and I don’t have to worry about him sticking his little weenie in anybody but me as long as I have the key”

She saw the flash of desire cross my face. Smiling, she held out her hand. I let her pull me to my feet, let her lead me to her bedroom, heard John follow meekly behind.

She instructed John to lay down on his back on the king size bed. “This is a little toy called a ‘queening stool’,” she explained. Reaching down, she held up something that looked like a short chair with four short legs and no bottom. The sides were padded thickly and covered with brown plastic.

Maria climbed on the bed, placed the chair over John’s head. He lay back, there was a leather harness that fit under his head. Straps connected it to the sides of the chair.

Maria gently helped me undress, and then helped me onto the bed. I sat in the chair, legs spread in front of me and to the side. John’s magnificent body was stretched out in front of me. Looking down I could see his neck; his head was under and behind me a bit.

“Pull the straps, Staci,” Maria told me. I found the two straps which were connected to the head support. I pulled them, felt them slide in their buckles. I felt John’s breath on my ass as he was raised by the leather.

Unconsciously I jerked back a bit. His mouth was directly under my slit now. I pulled the straps a bit more, drawing him up into the center of my pleasure.

John began to slowly lick me. Maria was right, he had excellent technique! He could have brought me off in ten seconds by an assault on my clit but knew I’d cum harder if delayed a bit.

I felt his tongue slide up my sopping hole, felt him pull it in and out, tongue fucking me. He licked and nibbled around the lips of my swollen labia, drinking my juices.

I gave him plenty to drink.

Licking, tongue fucking me, on and on. I began to roll my hips, bucking back onto his face. I found I was in perfect control – if I wanted my clit licked I’d scoot back a bit. If I wanted my slit tongued I’d scoot up. A bit farther up and I’d feel his tongue on my anus.

It was heavenly! On and on. Finally I couldn’t stand it! With a final backward scoot I positioned John’s tongue directly on my swollen clit and began to hump his face violently. He responded by flicking his tongue across the hard little bud, tossing it back and forth.

I came like a bitch dog in heat! Howling and screaming, head back, I forced myself down onto him, forced his tongue deep inside me. I felt my wetness surging, flowing down me, into his eager mouth. I heard him gulp as he swallowed it greedily.

I raised myself a bit, forcing my clit off his tongue, relaxing, over stimulated. Then I moved up and slowly lowered myself, feeling John’s tongue slid deep into my slid hole. I moved up and down slowly, fucking his tongue.

I was panting, wet and slick with sweat. I barely noticed Maria holding me, naked herself now, straddling John. I felt her hot Latin body against mine, felt her hard little nipples against my boobs.

Then Maria was kissing me, a deep, long, slow kiss. Her tongue invaded my mouth, a live thing, claiming me.

I was momentarily startled; I’d never had sex with a female before – other than a couple of midnight fantasies the thought had never entered my head. For some reason now, the situation seemed quite normal! As I continued to hump her husband’s face I kissed Maria back hard, passionately. I moaned as she sucked my nipples, licking, sucking, following their bouncing as John’s talented tongue brought me to climax after climax.

It was an interesting evening to say the least!

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