Clouds are looming over Key West, and the hot, sticky day would soon turn to the promised tropical storm. Sharon zips across to the sex shop.
Her eyes are quickly drawn to the vast array of dildos lining the shelves. They came in various colours, from fiery reds, sultry purples to sleek blacks. Textures from glassy-smooth silicone to ridged veins that pulsated like throbbing cocks. Shapes bent like eager tongues; others stood rigid for deep, punishing thrusts.
She peppered Dave, the shop assistant, with curious questions about vibration patterns and how they’d hold up during frantic pounding. Clearly turned on Dave, fumbled over his replies, sweat beading on his forehead. Sharon thought someone working in a sex shop would be used to these kinds of questions, but maybe not.
After some deliberation, Sharon opts for a fiery red dildo and a bullet vibrator. Then a petite pink object catches her attention: a tapered plug with a heart-shaped base.
“Tell me about that,” she asks, quizzing Dave once more.
He clears his throat and describes it as a butt-plug, meant to stretch the asshole gradually, heighten stimulation, and prep for fuller anal penetration.
Sharon’s heart races. She’d mastered deep-throating cocks until they erupted down her throat, jerking shafts until hot cum splattered her heaving breasts, and riding dicks that slammed into her pussy until she screamed in release. But her ass remained untouched, except for fleeting moments of self-pleasure: circling her puckered asshole while finger-fucking her sopping cunt, or, on the brink of climax, shoving a single digit into that tight ring to amplify the explosion.
As she picks up the butt plug, a strand of silicone anal beads also catches her eye—five graduated spheres, each larger than the last, connected by a flexible cord ending in a pull-tab handle. She adds it to her selection along with some water-based anal lube.
The drive home tests her restraint. Her cunt aches, juices soaking her panties as she drives. She grips the steering wheel with one hand, her dark hair cascading in loose waves over her shoulders, framing her sharp, sultry features. She looked every bit the seductive vixen in her tight black dress, the thin fabric clinging to her full breasts and curving hips, the hem riding up her toned thighs as she shifted in the driver’s seat. Her high heels clicked softly against the floor mat when she pressed the accelerator, the red polish on her toes peeking out.
As forecast, the sky cracks and the rain comes down in relentless sheets. Sharon’s road is busy, and she has to park the car down the road from her house. Desperate to get inside and play with her new toys, she jumps out of the car and darts down the road. Her thin black dress clings to her skin like a second layer, outlining every curve of her mid-20s body. Water streams over her long, bare legs, soaking her high heels; she feels beads of water running between her toes. She lets the rain claim her, cold droplets racing down her neck, between her breasts, teasing the hardening peaks of her nipples through her wet fabric.
Water drips from her dark brunette hair, plastering her shoulders, as she fumbles with her keys. Once inside, the warmth of her place wraps around her, but it only heightens the contrast—the hot flush building in her cheeks against the cool cling of her soaked dress. Her heart pounds with anticipation; she can feel the wetness between her legs, which wasn’t just from the rain. Kicking the door shut behind her, she drops her bag with a thud. The mirror in the entryway catches her reflection: the dress moulded to her body. She runs a hand down her thigh, feeling the slick fabric slide against her skin. Her palm glides upward, tracing the inner seam where dress meets flesh. She pushes her dress up her legs and slides her wet panties all the way down her legs and steps out of them as they drop to the floor. She looks at her soft pussy, looking back at her. Her fingers dip briefly to brush her swollen labia; she watches her own touch, the way her chest rises faster, breasts straining the wet cloth.
Emboldened by her reflection, Sharon peels one strap of the dress down her shoulder, exposing the pale skin dotted with raindrops. Her hand ventures lower, cupping her breast and rolling the nipple with her fingers. She pushes the dress down her body, and cool air kisses her flesh. She picks the blue bullet vibrator out of her bag, powers it up and pushes it against her pussy.
Wet and naked apart from her heels, Sharon catches her breath as the bullet buzzes relentlessly against her clit. Her fingers plunge deeper into her dripping pussy, stretching her walls with each thrust. The mirror captures every detail.
Sharon’s feet arch out of her heels, curve gracefully, thrusting her hips forward and her ass back, turning her naked form into a vision of raw, predatory sexuality.
She twists slightly, admiring how the heels ground her amid the chaos of pleasure, as her bare pussy clenches around her invading fingers. Cum trickles down her inner thighs as she drags the vibrator lower, pressing it into her folds alongside her hand, the dual assault making her knees quiver. The red-soled black heels catch the light as she raises onto her toes, pushing harder into the sensations, her dark hair whipping across her back. Lightning flashes outside, illuminating her through the window. But here she is, the storm—naked, empowered, and utterly unashamed as she orgasms.
Sharon puts her bag in the bedroom, grabs the dildo and kicks off her shoes. She then goes into the bathroom, steam begins to rise as she twists the shower knob, the sound of cascading water fills the room as she steps under the spray. The pressure is exquisite, a rhythmic pulse that makes her knees weaken. Sharon feels true pleasure as she angles it closer, the jet hitting the sensitive skin just below her pussy. She spreads her legs wide as water jets between her thighs, lashing her exposed pussy. Her fingers dive in without hesitation, two plunging deep into her soaked heat, the walls clenching greedily around the intrusion.
Sharon reaches out for the red dildo. The toy is cold at first against her heated skin but warms quickly under the shower as she presses its bulbous head against her entrance; the water easing the way as she shoves it inside.
“Yes, fuck me,” she groans, imagining a real cock claiming her under the downpour.
The stretch is exquisite, filling her up, her pussy lips gripping the shaft as she rams it deeper. Her other hand keeps the showerhead trained on her clit, the dual assault building the coil tighter, emotions crashing with the sensations.
She fucks herself hard under the water, the toy pistoling in and out with wet, obscene sounds that drowned in the shower’s roar. Her ass is clenching with each thrust. The climax came fast, shattering through her pussy, spasming around the toy, juices gushing to mix with the endless flow. Waves of it ripped her apart, body convulsing, a scream tearing from her throat as ecstasy bloomed hot and relentless.
Steam curls from the shower door as Sharon steps out and grabs a fluffy towel from the rack. Naked and still damp, she pads to the bedroom, her bare feet silent on the carpet. On the bed sat her outfit for the evening: a slinky silver cocktail dress, shimmering with subtle sequins. But first, the fun part. She picks up the string of smooth silicone anal beads, each one larger than the last, graduating from a teasing half-inch to a satisfying two inches in diameter. Sharon grabs the lube bottle and climbs onto the bed on all fours, knees spreading wide, ass lifted high. She reaches back, smearing the slick lube over her asshole, circling the tight ring until it relaxes under her touch, then she dips one finger inside to coat her inner walls. She then positions the first bead at her entrance, the smallest one pressing against her lubed hole. With a steady push, it pops in, stretching her just enough to make her gasp, her pussy clenching in response.
One by one, she works them deeper—second bead sliding in with a wet squelch, third following as she rocks her hips back, the pull on her asshole sending jolts straight to her core. She plunges her fingers into her pussy while she feeds the fourth bead inside; the fullness making her asshole throb around the invading string. The largest one took effort; she bore down, lubing it again for good measure, then thrust it home with a sharp moan, her body shuddering as it settled deep in her ass, the pull-tab dangling between her cheeks like a promise of later pleasure.
Satisfied, she rolled off the bed. The beads shifting inside her with every movement, a constant, delicious pressure against her sensitive walls. She dries her hair and styles it before applying her makeup. Finally, she slips into a silver dress. The fabric barely covers her dignity, showcasing her perfect tits, the hem riding high on her thighs. No panties tonight; the beads were enough. Sharon then slides her feet into a pair of silver sandals, which arch her feet perfectly, the thin ankle straps locking them in place.
Walking tests her as the beads tug gently in her ass, making her pussy drip and her nipples strain against the dress. She glances in the mirror, turning to admire how the heels elongate her legs, the dress clinging to her ass where the beads hid. She almost can’t believe she is going out like this; in that short dress, it wouldn’t take much to flash her pussy. Maybe she should wear underwear, but the pressure of fabric on her ass will take things out of control. A quick adjustment as she pulls the hem down slightly, and she is ready; the internal fullness a wicked thrill fuelling her anticipation for whatever the night may bring.
The tropical night in Key West hung heavy and humid after the storm. The strip is busy, and the bars are full. Picking her usual spot, Sharon slides onto a stool beside a tall, tanned stranger with sun-bleached hair, his eyes devouring her.
“Tequila on the rocks,” she says, crossing her legs and stifling a moan as the beads tug deeper.
“Something’s got you worked up,” the guy asks.
“I did something naughty,” Sharon answers.
“What’s that?”
“I came out wearing some beads, and they aren’t around my neck,” she exclaims.
“In your…”
“Yes, my ass,” Sharon finishes his sentence.
“Do you have a thong or panties pushing against them?” the stranger asks excitedly.
“No, I am not wearing underwear,” Sharon answers, smiling.
“Maybe I can help you,” the guy replies.
He guides Sharon to a vine-shrouded alcove looking out to the ocean. Turning her round so she faces the beach view, he hikes up her dress, exposing her bare ass and the dangling tab. Dropping to his knees, he spread her cheeks, thumb teasing her rim. The hot night wind blows through them as he tugs the first bead free with a pop, her whimper mixing with the ocean’s crash. His tongue laps at her hole as he pulls the second, then slides two fingers into her pussy, thrusting in rhythm. The third bead drags out, her walls clenching as he curls his fingers against her g-spot. The fourth stretches her wide before bursting free, his mouth sucking her sensitive entrance. Finally, the thickest one slides out with a rush of lube, her asshole snapping shut. Sharon bucks against his hand, pussy squeezing his fingers as she comes hard, juices soaking his wrist, body trembling in her heels.
Sharon grips the railing, her silver dress still round her waist, ass bare to the night air. The stranger’s thick cock presses against her slick hole. She arches back as he thrusts in deep, stretching her tight ring until his balls slap her pussy.
He grips her hips and pounds her ass, pulling out halfway before slamming back in. Sharon moans, rubbing her swollen clit as his shaft drags along her walls, building fire in her core. Her asshole clenches around him as she comes once again, juices squirting from her pussy. He thrusts through it and buries his cock deeper, unloading hot cum into her depths.
He pulls out with a pop, cum leaking down her thighs. They turn and face each other, sweaty, hot and sticky in the humidity. Sharon was no longer an anal virgin as she feels his gift in her ass.
“What’s your name?” she asks.
