Exposing Cindy – How It Began Vol. 01


Volume I – Exposing Cindy: Spring Break

Chapter one: setting the context

I was raised in the Midwest, Ohio to be precise, and my move to south Louisiana, to attend college, was a culture shock of biblical proportions for me. I arrived on the LSU campus, an innocent 18 year old product of an ‘all girls Catholic school’, quite naïve and a bit overwhelmed. I had received a partial academic scholarship to attend Louisiana State, which made this my lowest cost option to get a college education. I was enrolled in electrical engineering at a time when men still dominated this field. That’s right boys and girls, I was not a typical ‘dumb blonde’, I was considered smart by most any standard.

As a very cute, 5 ft. 4 in. blonde with large green eyes and a very petite figure with pert breasts, I immediately attracted considerable attention from the male dominated engineering college.

Coming from a sheltered, all girls private academy in Ohio, I was not used to much male attention, certainly not this level of admiration. Coupled with the fact that the South Louisiana culture is more open, brazen and, to be quite honest, crude, I was a bit intimated.

I pretty much stayed to myself the first few months I was there, until I met Jim, a sophomore Chemical engineer who seemed to sense my discomfort and was smart enough to avoid coming on to strong, too fast.

I will give you a peak at the end of the story up front, Jim and I eventually married, and remain married today, two decades later. But that is not terribly relevant to this particular chain of events. But this story launched our relationship on a unique path, that has made us a stronger couple and more committed to each other.

By Christmas, Jim and I were dating exclusively, having great sex, and were starting to discuss making this relationship permanent some day. I had my 18th birthday in November which Jim said made him feel a little less like a child molester. The story takes place over spring break, during my freshman year.

Chapter two: the drive

During spring break, Jim suggested we take a trip to the beach at Pensacola, FL; which was a six hour drive from Baton Rouge. Having never been to Florida, the trip sounded like fun week of drinking (even though I was not of legal drinking age), beach, sun and sex.

We headed out, east on I-10 out of Baton Rouge after my last class on Friday, hitting the road about 2:30 p.m. Jim was driving his late 70’s Olds Cutlass convertible with the top down. He loved this car; I told him I tolerated it. In truth, I hated it. Driving with the top down tangled my long blond hair and made me feel sweaty and grimy. But Jim loved riding with the wind blowing all directions around us, so I put up with this.

Since the weather was nice and the sun was out, I decided to get a ‘jump start’ on my tan, and wore my bikini under my shorts and tee shirt. With the heat of sun slightly behind us as we headed east, I ‘shucked my shorts and tee shirt’, reclined the seat and sunbathed between Baton Rouge and New Orleans. I was wearing a red and white striped bikini that was very flattering to my figure. While the bikini was not obscene, it hid little. I have small, pert breasts with perpetually erect nipples, which were evident under the thin fabric of the bikini top. The bottom was cut high, and gave me a bit o a ‘camel toe’ appearance as it hugged my vagina. Jim loved me in this bikini.

After we were on the road about 30 minutes, Jim reached over and untied the top from around my neck, and began to pull it down, exposing my tits.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I asked, slightly shocked.

“Let’s give the girls a little sun too”. Jim continued to pull my top free. The tie in the back came free easily as he pulled the top form my chest.

“Jim, people can see!”

“No they can’t. Not when you are lying back the way you are. Not unless they are in a truck looking down.”

“Well there are plenty of trucks on the road!” I protested, trying to grab my top back again.

“Cindy, these poor truck drivers live the most monotonous life on the road. A quick little flash of your pretty titties will be the high point of their entire trip. Give the guys a little thrill. What can it hurt?”

“Jim, I can’t do that. It’s way to embarrassing.” I said covering my breast with my folded arms.

“Just relax and try it. It will be fun. It will break the boredom of our drive. You will enjoy this, trust me.”

I had to admit that the wickedness of such an act had its appeal. And there did not seem to be any harm. It did seem kind of exciting to flash men I did not know with no risk to me. I laid back in the seat, with my arms folded over my chest for several minutes before a slowly unfolded my arms, and felt the warmth of the sun on my breasts.

It took several minutes until we were approaching a large eighteen wheeler, passing him on his left. I felt my pulse quicken as we approached the cab of the truck, realizing some poor unsuspecting truck türbanlı porno driver was going to be subjected to my bare titties. I closed my eyes, too embarrassed to look up at the driver as we passed. I felt Jim slow down as I heard the large truck beside us, and I realized that Jim was maintaining a speed to maximize my exposure. “Jim, speed up! Don’t just stay next to him.”

“Aw, let him enjoy the view for a minute, Cindy.”

I opened my eyes and looked up right into the face of a truck driver, I estimate to have been 30 years old. He smiled broadly, gave me a ‘thumbs up’, made a licking motion with his tongue and then gave his horn a long blast in tribute to my bare breasts. I was so embarrassed, but excited too. I admit it was exhilarating. After 90 seconds or so, Jim pulled ahead of the truck, and the driver let loose yet another long blast of the horn.

A few moments later, the same truck came barreling up along side us, matching our speed; the driver clearly wanting another viewing.

Word must have been broadcast pretty quickly on the truck driver’s CB radios, because for the next 45 minutes there was a convoy of trucks playing lead frog to get next to us and see my bare titties. I was scared that I had created this commotion, but the fact that a line of men in trucks were clamoring to look at me was exciting, and flattering. I admit, I enjoyed this.

In the middle of the convoy of eighteen wheelers, a pickup truck with a raised suspension drove along side us, and a young man was getting his share of the “Cindy eye candy” show. He drove along side us for three or four miles. Jim and his driver seemed to have some secret communication going on that I still do not understand. I was getting quite nervous. “Jim, let’s pull away from this guy.”

“OK. We need gas anyway.” And Jim sped up pulled in front of the pickup truck and took the next exit.

This sudden exit took me by surprise. “Jim, what are you doing?” I asked in a panic. “I don’t have my top on.” I pointed out as though this fact was lost on him. As I scrambled to grab my tee shirt, get it turned right side out and over my head, Jim was pulling into a large filling station.

“I need to get gas.” No one can see anything.

I knew that was bull shit, as I managed to get my shirt on just before we arrived at the pumps. I was embarrassed and angry, and excited. Just when I was about to give Jim hell for this stunt, I was shocked to have the driver of the pickup truck that we had just been playing “show Cindy’s titties to” pulled up to the island immediately next to ours.

The driver, who was in his early 20’s, reminded me of Jethro from the ‘Beverly Hill Billies’. He was a big, muscular guy; not really bad looking; but had a redneck demeanor that simply was not for me.

He got out of his truck, started gassing it up and struck up a conversation with Jim, initially ignoring me completely. I did not know I was pissed or relieved at the fact that Jethro had been gawking at my tits moments earlier, did not seem to want to acknowledge that I existed.

“How ya’ll doing today?” he asked in a southern drawl.

Jim responded, “We’re doing fine.”

Jethro’s distant cousin continued the conversation, “That’s a pretty woman you got there..”

Jim response had a strange uncharacteristic drawl to it that puzzled me. “Why thank you. She is kind of cute, isn’t she?” OK, did Jim just suddenly become a red neck? And why were these two knuckle draggin’ morons talking about me like I was not even there?

Jethro kept the conversation going, “There is a rest stop up the road about 4 miles. You and the lady wanna stop and have a few beers there? My treat.”

Jim smiled broadly, shook his head politely, and said, “No thanks, can’t do it. We got to make it to Florida by sundown. But thanks for the offer.”

“OK. Sorry you two can’t join me. We could have had some fun.” Jethro’s cousin then walked over to the driver’s side of our car, leaned in and asked, “What’s your name little lady?”

I answered “Cindy.” Without really looking at him. I could feel me face burning a bright red, I was so embarrassed by this situation.

“Well, Cindy, I want to thank you for the show. You are a beautiful young girl. I won’t forget you. You really are a sexy lady.” Then looking at Jim, he said, “You are a lucky man. A lucky man indeed.”

He got in his truck and pulled out ahead of us. Jim finished gassing up the car, and we proceeded to pull back onto the intestate.

“I have never been so embarrassed in my life.” I was fuming. “That Neanderthal was a jerk.”

“What’s the big deal. He was actually a pretty nice guy, or at least he seemed like a nice guy.” Jim countered. “You made his day. He’ll be telling his buddies about you for years. He’ll probably beat off tonight thinking about your gorgeous titties. You should be flattered.”

“I am anything but flattered. I am mortified.” But in reality, I was excited, nervous, a bit scared, blowjob porno and yes, even a bit flattered. I just took a bit of a stroll on the wicked side of the street. It was dangerous, or so it felt; it was definitely exciting. And, although I would not admit it to Jim, now that it was over, I did kind of like the exhilaration of the experience.

Jim had the good sense not to ask me to remove my top again for the remainder of the drive to Pensacola. And within an hour, I had gotten past my ‘mad’ and was talking to him in friendly terms once again.

We got to the hotel, which was fairly ‘low budget’ but clean. Our room was directly across a busy street to the beach. The more upscale hotels and condos actually backed up to the beach themselves; but they were clearly out of our price range. We checked in and I immediately showered to rinse the dust and sweat off. I dried and dressed, put on my make-up; ready to meet the spring break crowds.

There was a large bar, Slippery Dick’s, that was open on the beach 2 blocks down the way from our hotel, and we decided to go there for burgers and beer for dinner. We walked to the bar so that drinking and driving would not be a concern.

At Jim’s encouragement, I wore a pair of white daisy dukes, sandals and a pale blue sleeveless shirt, sans bra. As we walked along the beach to ‘Slippery Dick’s’, Jim told me I looked fabulous. He reasoned that the truck drivers on I-10 should not be the only ones thinking about my luscious body tonight. I must admit, I enjoyed the admiring and lustful gazes I received from the guys passing us by.

The night was fun, but mostly uneventful. We ate, played pool, and we drank just enough to feel good, but not enough to feel bad the next morning. At about midnight, we left the bar and walked along the beach. We removed our sandals and shoes and walked ankle deep in the waves.

Jim took hold of me and kissed me deeply as the waves massaged our feet and calves. His hand quickly found my breast, tweaking my already erect nipple. I felt the bulge in Jim’s short throbbing rhythmically against me belly. After a brief moment of necking in this very romantic situation by the waterfront, Jim broke off the kiss and said, “Let’s get back to the room.”

“Now that’s my big guy talking, sounds like a plan.” And we walked up a boardwalk to the pier headed to our hotel room for some torrid fucking. Along the way we past a topless bar, The Shingle Shack, that advertised college girls as exotic dancers. The billboard sign by the front door caught Jim’s attention: ‘Amateur Night, $100 first prize, Saturday, Tuesday and Thursday nights’.

“Cindy, you have got to enter this contest tomorrow.” Jim said with obvious excitement.

“No way. You are out of your mind. I am not going to strip for a bunch of drunk, howling college students.”

“Bunny, it would be so hot. You would win, no doubt about it. It would be fun. What what’s the downside?”

“Why would you want me to do this? This is weird.” I asked in obvious confusion. I really did not understand why someone who claimed to love me would want me to strip in front of a room full of strangers.

“I don’t know. I guess I think you are so gorgeous, so sexy, that I get a charge showing you off a bit. I like having all these guys lust after you, and I know, and they know, you belong to me. That you are mine.”

“”It would be too embarrassing. I couldn’t do it.” Deep inside, the thought of dancing topless in front to a strange group of college guys did have a naughty, bad girl appeal to me. I could not help by think what Sr. Mary Pius from my all-girls Catholic high school would say if she knew sweet little innocent Cindy was dancing in a Pensacola tittie bar! The thought of shocking the habit off Sr. Mary was almost reason enough to do this by itself. “What if there is someone I know in the bar?”

I think Jim realized that I was wrestling with this and if he was persistent enough, he’d have me on the stage. “What are the chances that someone you know will be in the same bar you are dancing in tomorrow night. We are 400 miles from school.”

“I don’t know.” Clearly I was wavering.

We were in the parking lot of our hotel at this point of the conversation, and our attention shifted from tomorrow night’s potential amateur contest to the carnal pleasures of tonight.

I was slightly drunk and quite tired; and as I suspected, those two factors combined to eliminate any hope of my having an orgasm on the first night in Pensacola. Jim and I made love, and I enjoyed the closeness and affection. Although Jim did enter and cum inside me, he was disappointed he could not get me over the hump, so to speak.

Chapter three: the contest

We spent the next day at the beach, playing in the surf, and drinking margaritas. It was a great day. We returned to the room around 3 p.m., made love and took a nap. We awoke around 7 p.m., tired, a bit sunburned and hungry.

Jim selected my outfit esmer porno for the night. He instructed me to wear my pale green shear bra and panties, a beige wrap around skirt that buttoned up the front and a ivory silk blouse that accentuated my breasts perfectly. I chose to wear some high heel FMPs (fuck me pumps). I suspected; no, actually I knew Jim was expecting me to enter into that contest tonight. And I loved him enough to do just that. Besides, Jim was right; ‘what’s the downside?’

I was nervous, anxious, and a bit scared. Over dinner, I broached the subject, “Jim, do you really want me to enter that contest?”

“Cindy, I think it would be such a turn on to see you dance tonight. I would be so proud of you. It gets me hot just to think about you up on the stage like that.”

“If I do this, I am doing it for you. Are you sure you can handle seeing me virtually naked in front of all those guys?”

“Baby, I know I can handle it. I know I will be busting with pride, knowing you are mine.”

“OK, I am not saying I will do this, but we can go by the place to check it out tonight.”

The smile on Jim’s face beamed, and my pulse quickened. I drank two more margaritas after dinner to garner up the liquid courage I would need to even enter the ‘tittie bar’. I remember thinking that it is strange that these bars were so lax about serving underage college kids alcohol. I was 18, and the legal drinking age was 21 in Florida at the time. But I was served nonetheless. And I had a nice buzz on when we headed to the topless bar.

We got to the ‘Shingle Shack’ around 9 p.m. With the exception of the stage, the room was dimly lit and the music was too loud. There was a bar at one side, and a small stage opposite it.

Jim led me to a couch against the wall. I sat down still surveying this place, still trying to take it all in. There was a young girl on the stage as we walked in, dancing in a halter top and panties. She had a lovely body, but quite honestly, she was not that pretty in the face.

The waitress came up to take our order, Jim ordered a beer and a margarita for me.

“I’ll need some ID.” The waitress said in a ‘matter of fact’ tone.

Jim pulled out his driver’s license demonstrating that he was the requisite 21 years of age, and nonchalantly said, “my girlfriend left her ID back a the room.”

“I am sorry, but I can’t serve her alcohol if she doesn’t have ID.”

To this day, it pisses me off when people talk to Jim about me in my presence with the implication that I am not there, I don’t exist, or I am too stupid to answer for myself. “I’ll just have a coke then.” I interjected. I had been drinking all afternoon, still had a nice buzz going from the two margaritas after dinner, so this was not a major problem for me.

Next to us, a dancer was in a deep conversation with three college aged kids. She was wearing a shawl, tied at the waist, as a wrap-around ‘skirt’ of sorts and a halter top. The ‘skirt’ was open in the front as she sat there exposing her panties to the guys. I watched for a moment and saw her continue to place her hands on the guys thighs as they talked in a blatant flirtation. Part of me admired her for the way she controlled the action; she really had these three guys eating out of the palm of her hand. I looked at Jim and said, “I’ll bet they are discussing politics or the stock market, huh?”

“Probably not.” was Jim’s response.

By now the girl on the stage had removed her top and was dancing with her breasts swaying to the enjoyment of the crowd. Her breasts were large, firm and impressive; much more impressive than my sized 34, B-cup little titties. “Jim, these guys do not want to see my itty, bitty titties when they have jugs like that to gawk at.”

“Cindy, you have the cutest figure, and the perkiest breasts in here. These guys are going to go wild over you. Trust me on this one. A lot of guys like small, pert breast better than big floppy ones.”

I accepted his comment without response; listening, but not necessarily accepting what he had to say.

Jim called one of the waitress/dancers over, “My girl friend wants to enter the contest tonight. What do we need to do?”

“She’ll need to speak to the manager.” She looked at me and said, “Come with me sweetie.” I hesitated momentarily before realizing that the decision point was here; I could either protest and refuse to do this, or I could comply with Jim’s request and bare myself in front of this roomful of strangers. I got up and followed her to an office behind the bar.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” she asked. I was guessing she was in her late 20’s or early 30’s.

“Cindy. What is yours?”

“My stage name is Erica, but my real name is Dannie.” I was curious why she felt the need to have a stage name, but chose not to ask. She opened the door to the office behind the bar and I stepped into a cluttered office with an overweight, balding man behind the desk. “Sam, this is Cindy. She wants to dance tonight.” And she closed the door behind me as she left. I felt my pulse increase as the door closed leaving me alone with this less than attractive manager.

“How old are you?”

“18” I responded.

“I need to see your ID.”

“It is in my purse with my boyfriend” I responded.

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