Chapter 1

Sometimes, life is strange. When I started this journey, I never imagined where it would take me. At the time my story starts, I was an 18-year-old girl just starting college. My boyfriend was a bit older than me. His name was Paul, he was 27 and we had been dating for a little while. One day, I was in his room, snooping around and looking at his belongings on top of his dresser. I was wearing cuffed jeans and a concert t-shirt that he had bought for me as a reward for completing a dare where I showed my chest to the band at their concert. Feeling adventurous, I noticed a pin sitting on top of his dresser and felt curious enough to ask him about it. We were comfortable enough with each other to be open and honest. “Oh, that’s a sex club that I joined last year,” he told me nonchalantly. But as he spoke, I could see something stirring in the crotch of his shorts.

For a moment, I was speechless. Then, trying to seem cool and collected, I blurted out, “You’re part of a sex club?!” He quickly added, “Not since I met you.” But it seemed about as believable as a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

I stormed out of his apartment without a second thought. It didn’t matter if he was the most attractive surfer dude on the beach; there was no way I was staying with someone who was part of a sex club.

But as fate would have it, I found myself missing him every night. Eventually, I decided to reconcile with him. And being an older guy, he didn’t mind my occasional bratty behavior. In fact, it seemed to make him like me more.

One day, swallowing my pride (and modesty), I agreed to try out his sex club with him. He said he’d be proud to show me off. It took me another week to get over my reservations before finally agreeing to go through with it. Looking back now, I should have known what I was getting myself into when he told me I needed to be “interviewed” by a woman before being accepted.

“I’m Penny,” I introduced myself as I met with the woman, Mariam, at a coffee shop. She insisted on paying for everything and let me order whatever I wanted. The prices were expensive, so I just settled on coffee, while she ordered something fancy like chocolate-flavored coffee.

We chatted about sex. I admitted to her that I didn’t have much experience in that department.

“But you’re willing to try,” Mariam observed. That’s when I learned her name. She looked around 30 years old and was incredibly beautiful with long legs, delicate hands, luxurious hair, and ample bosoms (much bigger than any runway model). I couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated in her presence. Here I was, just a schoolgirl wearing a Metallica t-shirt and ripped jeans. To make matters worse, my hair had been perfectly styled, but then got ruined by a gust of wind while walking to the restaurant. Meanwhile, Mariam had been waiting inside and her hair remained immaculate.

Despite my disheveled appearance, Mariam assured me that I looked “absolutely lovely.” And if Paul chose me, then it must be true because he wouldn’t hang out with anyone who wasn’t cool. After all, I had already beat out a redhead who looked like a Penthouse Pet just to win him over.

After a thorough interrogation about my sexual experiences and unfulfilled fantasies, she handed me a form to sign. It stated that I was of legal age to make my own decisions and wanted to become an applicant member of the Pinewood Sex Club. Despite my mother’s warnings about not signing anything, I signed without hesitation. My relationship with her was strained as she had recently joined the Jehovah’s Witnesses while I was feeling rebellious. As soon as I signed, Mariam took the form away from me and ended the interview. She asked if I needed a ride home (which I declined) before leaving in her BMW.

You may think that I was too young to join a sex club, but at a distance, you wouldn’t be able to tell. I looked at myself in the mirror later that night and couldn’t believe how much I had changed in just a year. My hips were still slim, but I had gained height and my breasts seemed larger than life. My boyfriend even believed that now that I was 18 I could have an Onlyfans tomorrow. He claimed one of his perverted friends had contacts in that world - but I never would have done something like that.

My boyfriend told me that our first party at the sex club would be on a private section of the beach, and all I needed to wear was my best swimsuit. He gave me money to buy whatever I wanted from the bikini shop, saying “the sexier the better” and not worrying about the cost. So, I purchased a skimpy silk number with tied bows. The bra cups were small triangles and the bottoms cut so low they revealed hints of my pubic hair. In the back, it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be a thong or not - constantly wedging itself into my butt crack and keeping me occupied with trying to adjust it. When I arrived at my boyfriend’s apartment wearing it, he was surprised and almost sounded like my father.

“Did you come over in that?” he asked.

“Um, yeah. You said to buy a sexy one,” I replied.

“If someone knocks on my door, don’t answer it. I might have half the beach up here in a minute,” he warned me. He lived in a walk-up apartment on the second floor. I had parked my bike outside and chained it before trotting up the stairs without much thought about my appearance. I always wore bikinis, and I was starting to enjoy the more daring ones like this one that showed a bit more skin than usual. I assumed he was feeling anxious about our plans together, and to be honest, so was I.

As we drove over in his nice pickup truck, he teased me by saying, “Don’t get too attached to that swimsuit. You might lose it.” My stomach fluttered with excitement at his words, but he reassured me that he would buy me another one just like it if I behaved myself, as he put it.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be a brat,” I promised him.

“Good,” was his reply.

I had no idea what to expect when we arrived. Maybe a huge mansion shaped like a penis with creepy old men leering out of every window? Instead, we pulled up to a modest house on the beach. Mariam greeted us at the door with an admiring glance at my revealing bikini. Without any suggestive remarks, she led us to her private backyard.

The party was just beginning, with a spread of delicious food including fresh fish and veggies for those of us who preferred not to indulge in meat. The yard was surrounded by palm trees on three sides, providing shelter and privacy from the neighboring houses and beach. A hedge added an extra layer of protection from prying eyes. The carefully manicured grass was dotted with colorful flowers that added to the pleasant atmosphere.

The age range of the girls at the party varied from slightly older than me to women in their early thirties. Most were wearing bikinis, while a few opted for t-shirts to separate themselves from the younger crowd. Mariam was wearing a t-shirt, but her ample bosom jiggled freely, and I suspected she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath.

The men at the party were all older than me, ranging from Paul’s age to well into their forties. They were all handsome in their own way, with the younger ones being particularly cute and the older ones exuding a sense of power and confidence that I found attractive.

I chatted and mingled with the other guests, feeling welcomed and accepted by everyone. I almost forgot that this was a sex club party. It felt more like a casual gathering with friends.

Then, out of nowhere, as I was walking across the lawn with a drink in hand and munching on some cheeseball, someone untied my bikini top. I nearly spilled my drink trying to cover my breasts before my bra cups slipped off completely. I stood there in shock, exposed to all the friendly eyes like a Polynesian girl. Mariam appeared beside me and slid her hand up my back to undo the tie holding my bikini top in place. In an instant, my top dropped to the ground, leaving me completely bare-chested in front of everyone.

Mariam’s voice was gentle but filled with longing as she complimented my breasts. My boyfriend, Paul, picked up my bra and stuffed it in his pocket, much to my embarrassment. He jokingly told me to enjoy the party while I stood there topless. I begged him to give my bra back, but he refused and told me not to make a scene. So, I was left to socialize with my bare breasts on display for all to see. Despite feeling self-conscious, the girls at the party were kind and tried to make me feel comfortable. The men, however, couldn’t take their eyes off of my chest. It wasn’t long before I found myself enjoying the party and trying not to think about how exposed I was.

As the night went on, Mariam approached me with a can of whipped cream and asked if she could use it on me after filling another girl’s panties with it. Without waiting for an answer, she positioned me and filled my own panties with the cold cream. It was a shock, but I managed to keep my composure. Looking around, I noticed that more and more girls were ditching their tops and revealing their beautiful, firm breasts. It felt like a celebration of natural bodies and I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Eventually, I joined in and let go of any insecurities about my body. It was freeing and empowering to be surrounded by confident women who embraced their bodies without shame or judgment.

As if the whipped cream in my panties and lack of a bra weren’t stimulating enough, the men began to strip down to their Jockeys. Some were wearing fashionably small underpants instead, which I didn’t mind at all. Brianna and I couldn’t resist staring as they unveiled their toned bodies. Mariam, always ready with her whipped cream, playfully sprayed the men as well as us ladies. The party continued on, even though everyone now had a little extra something in their shorts. Despite the sound of people playing volleyball on the nearby beach, we were thankful that our backyard was hidden from view. Imagine seeing a group of topless girls with cream-covered bottoms! As a distant roll of thunder sounded, I held out my hand and felt a few raindrops land in my palm. Mariam quickly rushed me inside with a newspaper over my head to keep me dry, despite my protests that I was wearing a bikini and didn’t mind getting wet. But she insisted on sheltering me and the other girls from the rain. Once we were all safely inside Mariam’s house, two men started a fire in her fireplace while the rest of us huddled by it for warmth. I couldn’t help but notice the wet spots on their swimsuits from the rain hitting them, and realized it wasn’t just water causing those damp patches. Did they orgasm? I couldn’t help but wonder as I touched the puffy bulge in my swimsuit from the whipped cream. Was this how men felt when they ejaculated? Meanwhile, Mariam busied herself brushing my hair as if I were being prepared for dinner. In the midst of all this, Brianna asked Mariam if she should get the clamps, and I couldn’t quite fathom what she meant by that.

Mariam smiled and gently caressed my breast, sending shivers down my body. Her fingers were like scissors, but they seemed to have a surprisingly gentle touch as they toyed with my nipple. I couldn’t help but watch her every move. When she finished with one breast, she moved on to the other, making me even more aroused than before. My panties were becoming damp with anticipation.

To my dismay, Brianna returned with two small clamps that resembled oyster shells. She opened one up to reveal a soft felt lining and a weight hanging from the other end. I couldn’t believe she was going to replace my bra with these painful contraptions. Would they distort my breasts? I had heard of African women who wore disks around their necks to flatten their breasts, but I loved the fullness of mine. Mariam stroked my left nipple and lifted it with her finger so that Brianna could easily attach the clamp. Just as I was about to swoon from Mariam’s teasing, I suddenly let out a scream.