Hi,
We've been working on a short novella based on one of our swinging/hotwife experiences, and we're braving the world of self-publishing with it.
Anyway, here is the first part of the story for you all to enjoy (hopefully you do)!
Three Nights in Barcelona
1.
Do you know those warm Mediterranean nights, the kind with just the right kind of heat, the kind that makes wearing anything feel pointless? Those kinds of nights do things to me; they cut away at all the stresses pushing me one way or the other. More so when on holiday. Being away from home, from work, and everything adds to this effect. I'm sure you know what I mean. There is a gentle freedom to stroll down the beach. A breezy liberation that comes with the escape of your daily routine. It's magical, but it's also dangerous, and it's not hard to see why infidelity and summer sun are so commonly coupled.
These are some of the thoughts that went through my mind as I stood on our hotel room's balcony. Looking across an unfamiliar city. Wondering what life was like for all the people in the houses that dotted the hills. It was early in the morning, and I couldn't sleep. My boyfriend dozed quietly as I slipped from the bed and padded over to the balcony doors then slipped outside. The night air that still carried a hint of the previous day's heat tickled my skin. I was completely naked, that's how I sleep, and I felt no motivation to put anything on as I caught some fresh air.
I'd packed things to wear, of course, but the late summer night air was so perfectly warm that it felt natural to be naked. That's probably how this whole thing got started. There's so much freedom in being naked, especially when you're on holiday. It doesn't matter if someone catches a glimpse at the window or some hotel staff sees you. They don't know you, don't know you're self-conscious about your thighs, and even if they judge, so what? I bet they don't though, and I'd bet my story isn't too different from countless other women who cut a little loose in the summer sun. So who cares if people see, who are they going to tell anyway?
Hi, my name is Kara, and I guess I'm telling you all about the first time I cheated on my boyfriend. That's right, the first time. Sure, I might have some other stories to tell one day, but don't get too excited right now. I'm going to have to tell you what my boyfriend said the first time I sucked another man's cock in front of him, "slow down, honey; we got all night after all."
Besides, I'm not sure cheating is the right word. Is it still cheating if your boyfriend says it's ok? If the thought of it turns him on? It's probably better if I just tell you what happened and then you can decide if I'm a good girlfriend, a bad one or, maybe, a bit of both.
I'll start with our flight getting into El Prat Airport, just outside Barcelona, on a late August night. It was fully dark as we landed, well into the night but still so warm and the sight of palm trees – oh my god! I adore the heat, and there's no more seductive scent to me than tanning oil. No more welcoming sight as the sun, the sea, and sand. It's where I belong.
As I stepped from the plane, I could feel the heat stored in the concrete beneath my sandals still seeping out well into the night. I could taste it in the air.
It's funny, all these years I'd lived just a few hours away from Spain. Still, neither myself nor my boyfriend had even been before. I'd bullied him into booking us a last-minute getaway because work and life, well life wasn't too great back home. I don't mean between us. No, a lot of people, when they imagine this stuff, assume something is missing in the relationship, or there are problems. No, that wasn't us. I hated my job and most of the people there. I spent most of my time trying to fit in with them, and yet it was never enough. I repressed myself and who I was, and I don't think it's worth saying more about that here. This story is all about fun times. About the first time, I truly let go of what other people thought and did what I wanted to do. About the long dirty weekend, we had nearly two years ago. The one long weekend that neither of us could have imagined and how much it would come to change our lives.
The taxi to our hotel had all the windows down and, the cab took a route along the seafront. I could almost hear the waves over all the bars, clubs, and other traffic. It was a Thursday night, but already the weekend had begun it seemed with the streets full of people drinking and having a good time. This tease of the fun to come was enchanting, and I could feel all the stress of work and everything else just whip away with the wind and out the windows as we drove across the city.
Neither of us knew much about Barcelona before that weekend. It just seemed like the ideal city break location where we could laze around and still see some sights. We didn't know just how big a city it is! Our hotel was on completely the other side of town, and the only thing more surprising than the distance was the taxi fare - ouch!
My boyfriend rolled out a few notes to pay, telling him to keep the change. The gruff driver just tapped a sign on the glass, which said there was a twenty euro airport surcharge! That one taxi ride cost us nearly a quarter of our spending money so as we lugged our bags up to the room we had to think about cutting down on the things we wanted to do. Maybe, we said we'll just look at the Sagrada Familia from the outside instead of taking a tour. I said I'd be happy if we just spent time at the beach, but my boyfriend wasn't much of a beach and sun kind of guy. I knew he'd eventually get bored of reading on his lounger and he wasn't so much in love with the sun like I was. So I promised at least one day of sightseeing. Something cultural, so we'd have photos to show for our time here. The sudden depletion of our fun money though brought the mood down a little.
Our room, though, was a pleasant surprise and brought us both of our spirits right back up; it was more like a studio apartment than a hotel suite! Rainfall shower, kitchenette with a breakfast bar, and a massive bed right in front of the balcony. As impressive as the room was, though, I was too distracted by something I'd read in the elevator to take it in, Two words: rooftop pool. Or is that three words? It doesn't matter, what matters was that there was a mother f-ing g-damn pool on the roof! As soon as we'd dumped the bags, I grabbed my boyfriend by the hand and dragged him back to the elevator and hit the button for the roof so fast we nearly left the keycard for our room behind.
I was all giddy, but as soon as the doors opened, and saw the view, I was taken away. I gasped and ran over to the edge for a better look. The lights and the skyline stole my heart. It is a beautiful city, from the sea to the hills and with so many pretty buildings, new and old. At night all the lights against the blackness of the ocean made it gleam. I had my boyfriend take a few photos for my Instagram before running over to the pool.
It wasn't much, maybe four foot by six, and given the nearby bar, it was probably more for sitting in and cooling off with a few drinks than actually swimming in – which was fine by me. It pulsed blue and purple neon from lights hidden beneath the water. Before I knew what I was doing, I'd stripped down to my underwear, and my boyfriend only noticed when he heard me slipping into the water. It didn't take much convincing to get him to join me, and I watched as he pulled his t-shirt off and hopped around, getting his shoes off. He jumped in with his denim shorts on which was probably a mistake, but neither of us cared.
The water was chilled, but the air was still so warm that it was refreshing rather than abrasive. Whisps of steam wafted over the surface of the water and looked mystically coloured by the hidden mood lights. It must have been such a hot day before we landed.
I played with my boyfriend, teasing him and making him chase after me till he caught up and swept me up into his arms. He carried me through the water, spinning us around while I laughed. I was so profoundly appreciative of him arranging this holiday for me that all I wanted to do was kiss him. So I did. I only stopped kissing him when we heard the ping of the elevator arriving.
I felt a little disappointed that others were about to intrude on our small private paradise. Then a naughty little thought came over me and, I don't know where it came from. It just wasn't like me. I'd always been the kind of girl who kept public displays of affection tame and respectable though not for want of desire. I felt this dirty desire to show off, and my usual restraint couldn't be found. I wanted to let these strangers see us having fun and being all sexy. So I giggled like a pornstar and kicked my feet. I wanted the water to splash, and whoever was there to know what was going on. I demanded my boyfriend kiss me again, and he did.
Imagine my embarrassment when it turned out not to be other hotel guests but one of the concierges instead. He told us, in an apologetic but stern tone, that the pool is supposed to be closed at night, for safety, and asked us to leave. Even though he was kind of telling us off, he couldn't bring himself to look at me as I climbed out of the pool and gathered my clothes. Once we were in the elevator and saw myself in the mirror, I realised why, of course. The water had made my bra completely see-through and all the horny fun, plus the chilled water, had made my nipples super hard. He might as well have seen me naked for all my now transparent underwear hid, and you know what? I didn't care. I face, I hoped it was a story he'd tell his friends.
I haven't told you what I look like, have I? Kind of hard for you to imagine all the things to come if you don't know. Well, I'm a shorty for sure. Just into my thirties but people always say I look like I'm in my early twenties. Good genes, I guess? Or people aren't really good at guessing the ages of other ethnicities because my family never lets me forget my age and the fact that I'm not married yet. Even in heels, I'm barely five-four, and I mostly only wear heels when I'm not exactly going to be walking around in them. My mixed heritage means that I have year-round tanned skin, dark hair naturally curled hair though I rarely wear it what way. And a bum. I mean a BUM. It's a thing with women from where my family came from. We have wide hips and big butt's but not so much the boobs if you know what I'm saying, and yes I do enjoy being spanked.
So, back to Barcelona. After our little bit of exhibitionism, we were all over each other in the elevator. While I looked at myself in the mirror, and somehow worried more about my messed up mascara than my see-through bra, my boyfriend came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I enjoyed watching him lean in and kiss my neck, and my hand instinctively went up, into his hair, to hold him in place. One of his hands pushed down through the elastic of my panties. I felt his fingers glide across my wet skin towards my pussy. On any other occasion, if he tried to do this in an elevator, I'd have playfully brushed him off. I'd have been too worried about whoever was on the other end of the security camera seeing us. That night though, I didn't resist. I parted my legs and let his fingers explore my pussy, wet from both the pool and all the excitement.
His fingers had just started teasing the little hoop piercing I have down there when the door pinged for our floor. Quickly, I slipped the room key out of his hand. I told him to come to get me and ran down the corridor with him in close pursuit. Giggling, I managed to get the door open before he reached me and make it over to our bed just as he followed me in the door. Out of breath but still raring to go, I took my bra off then slipped my panties down. He took the cue and unbelted his shorts. They fell to the floor this a wet, heavy thud, and his boxers went with them.
I rested my bum on the edge of the bed. Then brought one leg up so that my foot rested on the corner. I opened my legs and told him to come fuck me.
We kissed, and I could feel the tip of his cock pushing its way inside me. It was passionate, with deep strokes, as our bodies pressed tightly together. Despite the rooftop shenanigans, the elevator ride and the corridor chase, we were exhausted. Physically and mentally. All he had to do was keep his hard cock inside me. That was all I needed right then: that and his lips on my neck, the sharp little nibble on my ear. I came with him deep inside me, with no barriers between us, and it was beautiful.
Sorry. I know that's probably rather anti-climatic after everything that proceeded it, but that's the way it happened. That's the way it is sometimes. I'm going to make a point to share with you my real, intimate experiences and thoughts, so I hope you understand.
We fell asleep together, our bodies entwined, but my sleep was only surface level. My mind was racing, and when I finally caved in and got up, I felt like I'd been having a discussion in my head for hours. About what I couldn't say, but whatever it was it didn't bother me. My mind was abuzz with anticipation, and I wanted some fresh air to calm it. That didn't really help though, and as I stood there on our balcony, naked in the moonlight, I felt like I was presenting myself. It was almost a communion, as though I was telling the world that I was ready for whatever was to come. |
