Awakened Ch. 03 - Sex Stories

Awakened Ch. 03

I skipped the boutique. I was feeling sort of high on my new look, and with it, the insistent sensation forming between my legs which had an agenda of its own, and one I was becoming increasingly powerless over.

Just a few blocks from home, I happened to walk by Paul's Coffee. I slowed down and looked at my phone, surreptitiously glancing in the window. My Brad wasn't there. So I continued home, but without any intention of staying put. I wanted to put on that second skin that masquerades as leggings, the flesh-colored ones that made no excuse for my fat protruding mound. I was horny and confident, that sort of dangerous combination that leads to bad decisions, morning-after regret, and night-before bliss.

One stop home, change of clothes, two buses downtown, and I found myself at the Powell BART station waiting for the next train. BART is like a subway, and before the days of regular global pandemics, was really the only way to commute around the bay. The Oakland trains were particularly crowded, leaving you wedged in between people for a solid hour, sometimes ass to crotch, or mortifyingly, crotch to face, depending upon the juxtaposition and density of the passengers.

I normally didn't need to be on the BART ever, with the exception of the once-a-month convocation in Berkeley, where we were to make rodomontades about our latest batch of fake burger meat and shoutouts to our "totally amazing and supportive team". But I wasn't there for travel, I was there for the thing everyone typically avoided: the crowd. I wanted to feel strange bodies against my near-naked flesh. I wanted to press my boobs against whoever was in front of me. I wanted to ogled.

Unfortunately, 1pm was too early for any of this. I'd have to wait a few hours. So I went back up to Market street, grabbed lunch, and wandered around downtown -- something I had rarely done since moving here. The city is a mixed bag of amazing architecture, tech companies, homeless encampments, hipsters in North Face coats, backpacks, and a pretty large contingent of people who probably should have been placed under close psychiatric care.

I made my way down a sidestreet, past a CVS, past a Wells Fargo bank, and then a store with what they refer to as a garden entrance displaying a number of shiny plastic objects in the windows called "Veronica's Closet". Curious, I wandered in. An attractive girl with green-dyed hair greeted me cheerfully, "hey, let me know if I can help you find anything!".

So in an end-of-the-week firsts, this was my first foray into an adult toy shop. I found my wide-eyed gaze taking in an array of variously-sized dildos, leather chaps, cosplay outfits, cock rings, handcuffs...I was quite overwhelmed and wanted to exit before I ran into someone I knew. I mean, some people might be comfortable with others knowing they are perverts, but I was a novice in a strange and frightening world.

It was also kind of exhilarating.

As I nervously, slowly, made my way up ...