Hey, there, handsome! I'm Samantha Sanders, young, hot, blonde, and ready for just about anything. Why don't we sit down, order a drink?
Okay, so if you already read the first Paradise Park story, which is mostly about me, you know a little. You don't have to read it if you don't want to. It's mostly boring stuff about how I had to give a sloppy blowjob to John, the manager of The Park, as part of my job interview.
There's also a little about how my new friend, Cheryl, gave me a bath and made me come. That was a surprise! How much I liked it was even more surprising though.
So, anyway, I'll tell you a little about my life story, since you asked. You can rub your dick while we talk, if you feel like it. I might even do it for you later, if you get permission from John.
The fact is, I was born with hot pants, and my parents never knew what to do with me. They went to church like eight times a week, and made me go with them, and even though I was real popular with the boys I somehow managed to graduate from high school with my virginity intact.
Then, just after my 18th birthday, they sent me to this snotty religious boarding school, and that was the end of that.
I had a good time for the first year, but it all ended when Sister Mary Agony walked in on my weekly counseling session with Brother Peter and noticed that his cock was halfway down my throat.
She fainted when he pulled out and accidentally blew his load all over my face. I guess she got a concussion when she hit the deck, and when they started mumbling about charging me (Me!) with reckless endangerment, I knew it was time to leave.
Obviously I couldn't go home so I borrowed some cash from a few guys who had good reasons for not wanting me to talk to cops or newspaper reporters and I bought a bus ticket to the farthest away good-sized city I could afford to go to.
I really should have asked for more money. Dumb. But live and learn, I guess.
My friend Cheryl gets $500 for a blowjob! Plus tip! Of course, she's an expert, but if she can do it I'm sure I can learn. I want to be just like her.
During the overnight bus ride I decided that, since I didn't have anything other than the clothes on my back, I was going to have to try to get some guy to help me out for at least a few days until I could get up enough money to rent a ratty motel room and buy some clothes.
I wasn't entirely stupid though. A couple of obvious pimps approached me in the bus station but I knew better than to talk to them.
After awhile I saw an older guy in an expensive suit, carrying a fancy briefcase, and I asked him if he knew of a decent boarding house where I might get a clean room.
He looked me over, checked his watch (gold Rolex!,) obviously liked what he saw, and invited me to have coffee with him.
He bought me a ridiculously expensive cup of coffee and a huge muffin, which I devoured in like five seconds, but when I started hinting that there was a strong possibility that he could get into my pants if he played his cards right, he shook his head.
"I hope we will meet again, under more comfortable circumstances," he told me. "I just don't have the time right now, but I'll do what I can."
He pulled a $100 bill out of his wallet (leather trimmed with gold!) and handed it to me together with a business card from Paradise Park.
"I recommend that you talk to John at Paradise Park," he said as he stood to leave. "It's a private club, very clean, very discrete, pays well, and offers room and board. It's a ways outside of town, but most taxi drivers will know where it is. Good luck!"
