Airbnb Shines at Display
I awoke from a captivating dream this morning. This recollection possesses more specific details than my previous tale. I hail from the land down under, Australia, and my narrative might include some colloquialisms and Aussie spellings. Feel free to relish it.
For about a week, Carrie, my girlfriend of forever, and I had been residing at an airbnb vacation rental in Surfer's Paradise on the Gold Coast. February was the month of our stay. Our funds were dwindling, and we had to return to Victoria in a couple of days due to the approaching commencement of university.
In contrast to Carrie, I was utilizing my time swimming, stand-up paddling, learning to surf, or taking long walks and indulging in reading. Carrie, on the other hand, was busy "exploring local delicacies and customs," to put it delicately, necessitating that her room be predominantly empty unless she planned for my presence or entertained "girls' night out" gatherings.
I adore Carrie. Ever since we attended the same school during our seventh year, we've functioned inseparably. It's astounding reflecting on our dynamic. Although we contrast significantly—I'm orderly, rational, and may be referred to as pedestrian—Carrie, on the other hand, caters to everyone's desires, is lively, the life of any party, and exudes alluring magnetism.
Carrie's adventurous sexual life is freely shared. As a matter of fact, she suggested I alter my persona when we attended nightclubs, either "Samara" or "Samantha." Irrespective, I identify as the former or latter. To me, I'm just Sam. Carrie is cognizant of my yearning for unexpected domination and exhibitionism. Revealing our adolescent secrets reinforced my inability to hide anything from her.
...
While I was reclining in the sun-soaked reading nook, deep into "The Tempest" for the fifth time and enjoying the waves hitting the shore outside our airbnb, Carrie was engrossed in her activities. I heard a man's voice, somewhat muffled, uttering something like "Come on, you nasty slut. Get going, already." I paused mid-sentence, setting aside Shakespeare and crossing my legs as the play's plot intensified (I find Miranda and Ferdinand enthralling).
Circling the apartment, I considered that my roommate might be home, perhaps with a companion, but her room remained vacant. I heard a chair scooting, which piqued my curiosity. I returned to the lounge, dining, and kitchen area, where my peaceful reading nook was situated. I observed no rearranged chairs; instead, I contemplated if the place was possibly subject to a poltergeist's antics. This rescheduled my suspicions.
At this point, a helicopter swooped by outside, illuminating something strange near the television. Upon closer inspection, I realized I was gazing at a hidden camera.
"Dammit" was uttered as my hand flew over the lens, instantaneously realizing that the camera system allowed for two-way audio communication. Recognizing my intruder's clandestine intentions, I absorbed they were explicitly spying on me.
Thrilled and aroused, my nipples pressed against my bra, and my vagina begged for greater attention. Bound by a dilemma, I had two choices: relish the moment and let go of my inhibitions, or report the airbnb host for blatantly shattering the law—to both the host and law enforcement.
Opting to succumb to my whims, I pretended to thwart the peeping Tom by depositing the remote in front of the camera lens, while hoping for him to gain satisfaction from my actions. I then continued reading "The Tempest," allowing the intoxicating fragrance of my arousal to linger nearby.
I forwarded a message to Carrie: "Let me know if you're on your way back, Samara is waiting here 😉"
Seconds later, Carrie texted in response: "Have fun! I'm on my way back."
Contentedly sure my girlfriend and her newest target would not intrude to find me, (even though it could be tempting, I wasn't prepared to completely embrace Samara just yet!), I released a tiny moan as my fingers ventured beneath the lengthy hem of my dress... With one hand keeping my book facing me so I could view the camera, my other hand started to explore the fragile folds, compelling my nectar with their touch.
There was once more a masculine voice:
"Yes! Who's Daddy's excellent straight A lady?"
I heard a zipper and what seemed to be a shaft being abused. I was emboldened; I raised my skirt up, just as I'd done many times before while we'd been there, however, this moment was different - I was aware and thrilled that I was being enjoyed and watched by an unidentified person/people!
My fingers made their way into my now deluged conduit, and I flung off my shirt, uncovering my impatient nipples in a matching lacy bra - the once-discarded panties now secreting beneath my unbuttoned top. "The Tempest" was no longer on my mind, I had transformed into an alluring vixen, a voracious wanton, engulfed by endless yearning and overwhelming desire. I was utterly lost in the joys of passion, so overwhelmed I didn't realize I had been crying:
"Fuck me! Use me! Turn me into your cum-master, I am your slave and I'll do whatever you demand!"
"Yes you will, you little tramp Sam. You'll maintain what I stipulate"
What???
I was stunned but relentlessly teetering on the edge of awareness. However, I was too far gone to realize I'd been conned. Somehow, he knew my deepest lowly thoughts and desires, cravings, even requirements!
The climax swept over me, so violently my essence drenched the carpet, oozing everywhere and the scent of me floated in the air.
I may have blacked out, as when I clutched my senses back, it was dark, and I was shivering; cold goosebumps lashed my skin and my hair stuck to my face, wet from sweat and also from what seemed to be drool, with my pussy still exposed, except for my hands - my left dangled above one leg while my right was still partially stuck in my soaked hole.
I detected slow applause, maybe the sound that had awakened me. I started to rearrange my position, planning to head to the bathroom to cleanse up when I heard:
"The university discount: you meet me tonight, and you girls can stay for a second week for free!"
...
I mulled, I wanted to say for a few seconds, but more like 1. I contemplated revealing to Carrie that her dream to "Heaven," as she abbreviated it, could perhaps not have to fade...
...
To be concluded, or is it?
Read also:
- Neighborhood Observation: Prologue
- A Surprise for One's Birthday
- Dillon's Harem: Chapter Nine in Summary
- Amelie's Day Zero
Source: www.nice-escort.de
