Fantasy Resort – Chapter 6: Soulmates

Woman relaxing in pool wearing blue and white sunhat

Ophelia could not deny there were worse places to spend her vacation. The sun was scorching, yet the burning rays were tempered by the fronds of hunchbacked palms, which stooped over her like servants clutching broad, green fans. The reflection of the pool dappled the walls of her villa in dancing silver patterns, while the cool sea breeze carried with it the distant caw of exotic ocean birds as it meandered through the softly rustling trees. More satisfying still, there was not a voice to be heard; her students were far away – down at the beach or off gallivanting in town, no doubt – and in their absence Miss Leyland realised how long it had been since last she escaped their exhaustingly incessant chatter. It was idyllic.

Nevertheless, despite the serenity, Ophelia could not shake the feeling that there remained one thing missing: someone to share it with.

She sometimes forgot how easy it was to grow complacent. For years she had lived her life amidst the humdrum of student gossip, revision classes and performance meetings, while the rest of her time was consumed by endless stacks of homework to grade and late-night lesson planning, leaving little opportunity for her to pause for breath, let alone relax.

But in this place the relative monotony of her life was starkly apparent. Her career was undeniably rewarding, however it encompassed her existence so completely that choice itself had become a luxury. Were it not for her students planning this vacation, she knew she would never have organised one for herself, neither could she foresee any future respite once the week drew to a close, only the same perpetual routine.  

Even so, she knew she would take this sense of loneliness back with her. In all those years of teaching she had rarely considered the paradoxical isolation which came with being surrounded by so many people: the students had their cliques and parties, the governors were infatuated with their meetings and reviews – even her own colleagues offered little companionship, always far too busy grading papers for such pursuits as a fulfilled social life. Indeed, the closest friend she had made in twenty years of teaching was Stella, but ever since her divorce she had been a shadow of the woman she had once known. In the hope of rekindling their friendship, Ophelia had sent a text inviting Miss Kennedy to join her, though thus far it had gone unanswered.

With a heavy sigh, she took up her wine glass from the lip of the pool. Usually she would not have taken to the bottle so early, however she had decided the previous night that if this was to be her one brief reprieve she had every right to indulge herself a little.

Taking a sip, she wrinkled her nose in distaste: hot wine. Perhaps she would be better to employ her time with a little more indulgence and a little less thinking, otherwise there was no telling how many bottles of crisp white she would allow to boil in the sun.

Pulling herself from the water, Ophelia strode across to the large poolside daybed set beneath a vast grey parasol, disposing the remainder of her drink in the bushes as she went. An open wine bottle nestled in a large ice bucket beside the bed, which she promptly took up to refill her glass.

A quick check of her ageing mobile confirmed that Stella had not replied, prompting Ophelia to take a long swig. The wine went down cold and refreshing and she spent a moment to savour the taste. Chilled by the drink, she suddenly realised how hot she was. Even beneath the parasol the heat was sweltering, and her broad sunhat was doing little aside from soaking up the sweat. Tossing it aside, she ran her hands through her hair and scowled as they came away damp.

As if trying to lure her in, the pool threw up a flare of shimmering patterns, bright ringlets which danced hypnotically across her swimsuit. The cool waters beckoned her, enticing as a crackling fireplace on a winter’s night. After another sip she slipped her glass delicately into the ice bucket to keep it chilled and made for the pool.

Before she had taken a few steps the sun was scorching her neck and back. Without her hat, she realised just how powerful the throbbing sun was. Darting back into the shade, she shook her head. ‘Silly old fool. If you were down at the beach you’d be telling everyone to wear sunscreen. Maybe you should listen to your own advice.’

Her trusty satchel lay at the base of the parasol. Trying to ignore the ache in her book as she stooped to pick it up, she rummaged through the pockets pushing aside crossword books and folded sunglasses as she did so. Producing a bottle of sunscreen, she was surprised to find it was not the familiar budget brand she normally used. Instead, it was emblazoned with the hotel’s logo.

‘Huh, must’ve picked up the wrong bottle: Soulmate Sunscreen.’ Ophelia scoffed. ‘Yeah, good luck finding me a soulmate here. Or anywhere for that matter. You’re welcome to try though.’ She paused, rolled her eyes. ‘I’m talking to a bottle of lotion.’

Shaking her head and despairing that perhaps all the years spent drilling basic concepts into thick-skulled students might finally have driven her mad, she rubbed a healthy dose of lotion over her exposed skin before striding off to the pool once more.

The cool water embraced her like an old friend as she waded down the submerged crescent staircase at the shallow end. Kicking off from the bottom step, she sent herself out into the middle of the pool where she rolled onto her back and spread her limbs to keep herself afloat. Her fingers out of view, she failed to notice the habitually chewed stubs of her nails begin to repair themselves.

Drifting on the calm waters, Ophelia let out a weary sigh and did her best to force all the thoughts from her mind. With them she discarded concerns over the unusual weight around her hips, which she assumed to be the water swirling over her midriff.

Over the years she had tried many things to help moderate her stress, a challenge to which she found meditation was well-suited, and she had never found anywhere so well-suited to the practice than her isolated patch of paradise. With a few long, deep breaths, she cleared her mind, closed her eyes and settled into a state of blissful calm.

And with that calm came an equally blissful ignorance to the changes overcoming her body. Her mind elsewhere, Miss Leyland remained oblivious as the effects of the lotion dramatically took hold.

At first it seemed as though she was the subject of some strange time-lapse. She tanned rapidly, pale skin blanched by years spent indoors under office lights shifting to the bronze gleam of an avid sunbather. And she only continued to darken, eventually overcome by an unblemished complexion of deep brown, her ebony flesh contrasting starkly against her bright white swimsuit.

Her figure itself was shifting too. Her flat chest swelled into huge breasts forced into deep cleavage by her tight swimsuit and the weight she had felt around her waist continued to build, a result of her expanding ass and hips. Even her limbs inflated, her frame, scrawny from years of missed meals, filling out into sumptuous lines until every inch of her figure was plush and alluring.

As if dipped in an inkwell, Ophelia’s frayed blonde bob was pervaded by midnight black, cleansing all the imperfections before cascading down into glossy locks that floated like a dark halo around her head, and which framed a face already transformed: Miss Leyland’s hawkish features had melted into purple-shadowed eyes, trimmed brows and full, juicy lips.

Just beneath the water, Ophelia’s neck seemed to glitter briefly, and when the ripples fell they revealed a shimmering diamond necklace clutching her throat. Fresh jewellery likewise materialised elsewhere on her person, from a golden bangle to silver toe rings, gilding her in visible wealth.

Busty black woman in white swimsuit emerges from swimming pool

Once the woman opened her eyes, Ophelia was no more. All the thoughts and memories she had pushed aside to meditate simply went forgotten and a new persona flooded the blank expanses of her mind: Osa.

Wading over to the stairs, she ran manicured fingers through her hair. Her huge breasts were crushed against her sheer swimsuit, the soft nubs of her nipples pushing at the material, and as she rose from the pool glittering rivulets coursed over her stunning figure, droplets like jewels spotting her cleavage.

By the sunbed, Osa snatched up her phone. Two-thirty. She pursed her lips. Where has that little man-slut gotten too? Oh, he’s going to wish he was never born once I get my claws on him.

Her claws clattering on the broad, sleek screen, a brusque message was soon winging its way to her lover. With any luck he might actually be awake to read it, she thought, reclining on the daybed and taking up her wine glass from the ice bucket. Taking a sip she relaxed in the cool beneath the parasol, her thoughts turning to all the sordid punishments she might be able to torment him with once he finally arrived.

Redhead woman in grey cardigan sleeping on sofa

The disgruntled buzzing of her phone dragged Holly from her slumber. Draped awkwardly over the sofa – a position in which she had spent most of the night and all of the morning – she winced as she came to her senses and her aching body began to protest.

Groggy and bleary-eyed she squinted against the bright noon sun shafting through the windows. ‘Ugh. Why can’t people just let a girl sleep?’

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she inadvertently smeared the remains of the prior night’s makeup over her brow, though it went unnoticed as she forced her seized joints into motion. Eventually she managed to drag herself into a seated position. With an exhausted groan she surged to her feet, only for her numb legs to send her crashing to the floor.

Holly made a mess as she fell. First, her feet hooked beneath the sofa, flipping it, which then sent half a dozen partially empty cans clattering away, dousing the tiles in warm beer. Simultaneously, her windmilling arms swept across the coffee table, sending several more cans flying, following which she found herself face down in the empty half of an open suitcase. The other half, however, was laden with clothes – clothes which swiftly buried her as her sudden weight flipped their half of the luggage, bringing it down on her shoulders as though it was trying to devour her whole.

Clawing her way free, Holly crawled over to the wall to allow the sensation to return in her legs and assess what damage she’d inflicted on the room. As it turned out, however, the lounge already looked as though a bomb had gone off inside anyway.

She couldn’t quite remember, but by the looks of things she had attempted to unpack her luggage after arriving back drunk in the early hours. Needless to say, it had not gone well. Crumpled clothes littered the place, a few bras even dangling from the balcony railing, while most of her shoes were piled up against the TV, all apart from her trainers, which she had somehow managed to tie to the ceiling light. The contents of her makeup bag were spread out atop the dresser, which was now smothered in crumbled eye shadows, misleadingly pale powders and lipsticks left ragged after she had used them to scrawl lewd messages on the white plaster walls.

Holly herself looked little better. Still wearing her clothes from the night before, one cuff of her cardigan was practically saturated in drool, her stomach was sodden with beer from the cans she had lain on in her sleep, and one cheek bore livid red marks acquired sometime during the night by sleeping with her face hard against the pillows. To make things worse, it appeared she had slept in some of the spilled beer, too, for thick swathes of her red hair were tangled, sticky and reeking of booze.  

Part of Holly was almost impressed she had managed to impart such carnage all by herself. The rest of her gave a despairing groan. ‘Aw, fuck. I’m gonna be in trouble for this one.’

Once she could feel her legs again, she pulled herself up. The fall had only added more pains to her morning – her head was already throbbing as her hangover sunk its claws deeper, and her body continued to protest with every movement – but with great effort she stumbled across to the dresser in search of her phone. Before she could begin rummaging through the remnants of her makeup, however, a golden glimmer caught her eye.

The walls of the room were dotted with small cubbyholes occupied mostly by exotic plants, from dark wreaths of ivy which spilled over their pots, to bright, flowering things with broad emerald fronds – one of which she realised she had emptied onto the floor and poured beer over the top. The odd tribal mask or driftwood sculpture was included here and there, though this was the first time she had noticed the crystal decanter now gleaming in the sunlight.

Approaching, Holly spotted the hotel logo etched on the neck, and on the face two words carved in an elegant hand: Soulmate Whiskey.

Immediately, her hangover felt a little milder. Holly smirked even while bracing herself against the wall to try and stop the room spinning. ‘Well, one glass won’t hurt,’ she said, snatching up one of the tumblers flanking the decanter.

Besides, she thought, Sia will be in all day trying to patch things up with Benjamin, and Jewel’s probably off somewhere trying to pull some poor unsuspecting skirt. If they’re going to leave me alone I might as well enjoy a party for one.

Holly was no stranger to hard liquor, but even she grimaced as the whiskey went down. It burned like molten rock and for a moment she was certain it had reduced her insides to ash.

‘Fucking hell,’ she coughed, confused by the sudden depth to her voice. Yet before she could ponder that further, she suddenly realised her vision was no longer orange at the edges. Clapping a hand to her head she shrieked as her fingers slid through a short quiff.

All at once, it felt like someone had injected acid into her veins. Doubling over she lost her grip on the glass, which landed in the folds of a discarded shirt at her feet. She tried to scream but all she could muster were hoarse gasps, as though the whiskey had burned out her vocal chords.

Clutching her stomach in the vain hope it might ease the pain, Holly was practically folded in half, her hands inches from her face. As such, she had a perfect view when they rapidly transformed; she stared aghast as pale veins and thick tendons surged to the surface and dark hair swept in a wave down her arms all the way to her knuckles.

Staggering like a drunk, Holly crashed through the villa. She was like a whirlwind, slamming into furniture and walls; several plant pots wound up shattered in her wake, unopened beer cans were kicked across the room to spray their contents like broken hydrants, while the door to her bedroom was knocked open with such force the handle punched a fist-sized hole in the wall, wedging it in place.

Ironically, by the time she was finished the room was barely messier than before.

Despite the agony, Holly somehow managed to reach her bedroom mirror, only to realise the eyes staring back at her were not her own. Her reflection was that of a handsome, athletic man, dark hair cut short and jaw shrouded by the ghost of a beard. The transformation had been so intense it had even affected her clothes: the night’s outfit of skinny jeans, crop top and chic cardigan now swapped out for a pale blue tee and dark shorts.

By now, the burning was searing through her mind, though Holly never had the time to panic about the new personality quickly taking control: one look at her new body and she fainted on the spot. Toppling back into the bed, she landed amongst tangled sheets and a host of lingerie she had left out during her drunken unpacking.

The disgruntled buzzing of his phone dragged Hunter from his slumber. Starting awake with a groggy snort, he fumbled about until he found his mobile among the messy sheets.

Idly rubbing his eyes, he sat up to find himself in unfamiliar surroundings. Immediately his fatigue was gone. The last thing he remembered was leaving Osa at the bar to take a leak, then the night descended into a blur of flesh and moans – just not hers; whoever he’d spent the night with it, they hadn’t been his lover.

God, she’s going to kill me. Frantically checking his phone, Hunter’s gut dropped: missed calls, voicemails and texts. All from Osa. The most recent must have been the one to wake him and as he read it her disapproving glare filled his thoughts: Whenever you finally wake up, you know where to find me. I suggest you don’t keep me waiting – that just gives me more time to come up with suitable punishments for you.

He scrambled to his feet. ‘Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Hunter did not even pause to gather his possessions – not that he could even remember if he had been carrying anything besides his phone when he arrived. Neither did he bother to write a note, though he realised later that was probably for the best given he couldn’t even recall the girl’s face, let alone her name. Instead he charged from the room, stole a pair of pink-sequinned sandals which were sat on the doormat, then sprinted off without even closing the door behind him.

Osa was reclining on the daybed when he arrived. A glass of white wine in her slender fingers she stared at Hunter over the rim of her sunglasses as he skidded into view. Hunter had spent the entire run to her villa doing his best to come up with a coherent explanation, but the moment he arrived he was babbling excuses like a guilty child.

‘God, Osa, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to – there was this girl, you see, and I was drunk and… I was going to come back to you, honest, I just – then we were outside and I couldn’t find my way back… you know I would never have done anything if I was thinking straight. And we didn’t; I mean we did, but it was nothing like you and me do – by which I mean it was worse – of course it was worse: nobody can compare to you… as soon as I woke up I felt so bad and…’

His words ground to a halt as Osa raised a hand for silence. Hunter stood there wringing his hands awkwardly, hoping against hope he hadn’t just blown the opportunity of a lifetime.

For several moments she said nothing, allowing him instead to squirm beneath her withering gaze. It was a struggle not to let her amusement show: he was so delightfully cute when he was helpless.

Very deliberately, she set down her glass, stifling a giggle at his audible gulp. ‘I know it has been some time since we met, but I thought I might have had a slightly longer-lasting impact on you than this.’

‘You have…’ Hunter tried, but she continued without missing a beat.

‘In case it had escaped your notice, back home I’m one of the most influential women in the city. My galas are attended by businessmen and celebrities, even the occasional monarch. Aristocrats and millionaires across the country wish they could spend just one night in my bedsheets, and I could have any man I pleased on his knees with the snap of my fingers.’

Again he tried to interject; again she ignored him.

‘And that makes you perhaps the most envied man in the entire country. I don’t need to tell you how many men would kill to have the privilege of serving me. They hate you, you know? In their small little worlds they cannot fathom how an ordinary man like you could capture my attention so completely. I could replace you in a heartbeat if I wanted – I could go stalking through the same club I found you partying in and invite someone else back to my bed to take your place.’

‘I know. Please, just let me explain…’

‘Oh there’s no need for that,’ she said, waving his words away, ‘I saw it all. You practically bowed down in adoration once that dumb blonde approached you. Then off you went, staggering away to her bed without so much as a second thought for little old me. I wonder, did you make an embarrassment of yourself? Or did you actually deliver on all those filthy promises I heard you slurring into her ear?’

Bashful, Hunter analysed the tiles at his feet. ‘I… I don’t remember.’

Osa pursed her lips. ‘Yes, well, that’s probably for the best. Something tells me you were hardly a Casanova after all that drink. Then again, maybe you did something right – why else would she offer you such flattering shoes?’

Hunter had forgotten about the stolen sandals. Blushing furiously, he kicked them away. His shoulders slouched then and he wore a miserable frown. ‘I’ll pack my bags.’

The beautiful socialite raised an eyebrow. ‘And why would you do that?’ She chuckled at his frown. ‘Oh you really are a naïve little thing aren’t you? I’m not going to cast you off just because you spent a night with someone other than me. For one thing, when you’re not drunk out of your mind you’re an excellent fuck, but for another that would be letting you off far too easily.’

‘But… I cheated… how can you trust me now?’

Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. ‘You can’t cheat on a woman like me. All this time you always thought we were exclusive, didn’t you? Did it never occur to you that I’m nothing like any woman you’ve ever met? Darling, if you’d simply had the sense to introduce me to your lady friend I would have given you my blessing to spend the night with her. More than that, I’d likely have joined you; I’m not a jealous woman. ‘However, that’s not to say there won’t be consequences for this. Like I said, you can’t cheat on a woman like me, because there’s no woman who could compare. You can have some casual fun, even keep some long-term lovers in the wings, but no matter what you do you will always come back to me. You have no choice: I command your entire existence. I think it is about time I reminded you of that.’

Busty black woman in white swimsuit pours oil over her breasts while white man in blue shirt watches

Patting the daybed’s mattress Osa produced a clear bottle with a slender nozzle as Hunter scurried over to sit by her side. Oil the colour of honey swirled inside, gleaming like liquid gold.

Without delay, she squirted the contents all over her copious breasts.

The oil cascaded over her bosom, coursing down her cleavage to saturate the material of her tight swimsuit. Soon the whole bust was rendered entirely sheer, her massive tits as clear as if they were naked, shiny and soaked in the oil’s glossy glaze. Even then, she did not stop. Rolling her sumptuous body she encouraged the oil to work down further, spreading across her entire swimsuit until it was little more than a veil. By the time the bottle was empty the excess was pooling beneath her, smearing her thighs and drenching her towel.

Hunter’s jaw was slack with astonishment. He could not tear his eyes away from her slick rack and his shorts were beginning to tent.

But she was far from finished. Spinning around, she swung one leg over his lap and straddled him, burying his erection beneath her enormous thighs. With her arms looped about his neck she tossed her hair and batted her eyelashes innocently, even as her gleaming breasts bounced barely millimetres from his nose.

‘You remember our rule, right babe?’

Hunter nodded slowly and he suddenly found himself wishing he had stayed in that messy villa, for she was eyeing him with the hunger of a predator stalking her next meal. ‘I do as I’m told,’ he said, his throat dry.

‘That’s right. And right now I’m telling you this: don’t touch. Don’t even raise a finger. Since it seems you’d rather spend the night groping a basic bitch clearly you’re not interested in this body, so you don’t get to touch it.’

Busty black woman exposes her oiled breasts while grinding on white man's lap

Her smile grew to a wicked grin as Hunter gave a desperate whimper. Keen to torment her plaything she began to roll her hips, grinding her thighs against his erection as though jerking him off and drawing out his breathless moan. She chuckled as he began to shudder, all his efforts going into restraining his twitching hands.

Naturally, Osa’s only goal was to break him. Peeling down her swimsuit, she unleashed her colossal tits. A sultry pout on her lips she rubbed the oil in, making sure to squeeze and squash her breasts as seductively as possible. Her deliberately orgasmic groans broke over him like the ocean surf, eroding his strength and fuelling his arousal; soon the tendons in his neck were rigid and every muscle firm as he as he struggled desperately to resist the need to touch her.

To his credit, he remained resolute. Unfortunately for him, she was just getting started. She had spent a lifetime practising the art of seduction and for all his determination Hunter was no match for her. She was simply toying with him – his will was hers to shatter whenever she pleased.

Osa took her time in exhausting him. Adjusting her position several times she alternated between rubbing up against his chest and bouncing her ass on his lap, all the while running her hands over his arms, his chest, his face, even his cock, which she would rub through his shorts without warning before pulling away almost immediately and giggling at his grimace of agonised arousal.

Eventually, she knew he could resist her no longer. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were practically translucent, body shuddering as if just out of an ice bath and breath coming in tremulous gasps. He looked on the verge of madness.

In truth she was impressed he had lasted so long and part of her wanted to see how much longer he could withstand. Still, she wanted to see him break. So, pivoting around to face him, she went in for the killing blow and pulled his face into her oily cleavage.

Just as she’d expected Hunter’s hands flew up instinctively, eager to grope her tits. They never reached their goal. Instead, Osa caught him by the wrists and glowered at him with a mixture of rage and mischief. ‘I told you not to touch! This new amour of yours might let you do what you please with her body, but when you’re with me you do as you’re told or you face the consequences.’

Hunter opened his mouth to beg forgiveness, but before he could speak her finger was on his lips. ‘Oh no, no excuses. You disobeyed my order. Now you pay the price.’ With that she drove him down onto the daybed wearing a malevolent grin.

Black woman licks cock of white man

In a heartbeat his clothes were off: Osa’s fingers were deft and experienced in the task.

Spread out on the mattress, Hunter withered as he met her gaze and found it swamped with malicious hunger. Her embrace was that of a lover, her hot body pressed up against his own and her hips grinding against his rigid cock, yet in her eyes he saw the truth: she was a cat, he a frightened mouse in her claws to toy with as she wished.

And Osa was quick to confirm his fears.

Her lips closed over his neck without warning. Were they in a horror movie Hunter might have expected her to suck his blood in such a position, but instead she kissed him, stamping a perfect imprint of her lips just below his ear.

Next she was at his collarbone, tongue running along the bone to send shivers down his spine. When she came away she left an identical marking, branding him with her dark lipstick.

Inch by inch she descended leaving a trail in her wake. Every time she came away Hunter’s breath caught in his throat, for despite the scorching sun the air felt cold in comparison to her lips, and all the while their eyes were locked in an unblinking stare – hers scheming and seductive, his borderline terrified.

Osa felt his heart stutter as she pressed her lips against the shaft of his cock. His pulse was like a drumroll, throbbing through his veins and across her tongue, which she ran up his cock painfully slowly. Feathering the tip over the contours of his meat she watched him writhe where he lay, his hands gripping the mattress with white-knuckled ferocity.

Once she was tracing his sensitive tip his head toppled back and his body fell limp; from Osa’s position it looked as though he had been beheaded.

A moment later though he was seizing again, every muscle stiff, as though he was carved from pure marble. With great effort he heaved himself onto his elbows and peered down at her, his brows knitted together in an orgasmic frown. Her tongue circled his head like a shark drawing in for the kill, each time following a tighter path and drawing ever closer to the crown of his twitching cock.

Every time tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until…

Like something from an erotic horror movie Osa surged up from between his legs so she was atop him again, her face barely a hair’s breadth from his own and an almost manic expression twisting her pretty features. ‘I don’t think so, lover. You need to earn my affections again. If you want me to suck that juicy cock of yours, you have to remind me why you’re worth keeping around.’ Rolling down next to him she pulled aside her swimsuit to expose her shaved pussy, slick with oil and her own juices. ‘Get to work,’ she commanded.

Busty black woman in white swimsuit with exposed oiled breasts is eaten out by naked white man

Compelled by both an urge to prove his affections and a well-founded fear of what Osa might do should he deny her, Hunter practically dived from the bed to kneel over the mattress and bury his face between her thighs.

Her groan was long and sensual, though at first she barely felt his lapping tongue; instead it was the sheer urgency with which he followed her command that set her loins burning. Truthfully, she didn’t need his oral skills to boost her libido. She was already dripping wet – this was merely an exercise in control. In her opinion there was no greater pleasure than to hold her lover’s very soul in the palm of her hands, to manipulate their desires and corrupt their thoughts until their only need was to worship her. To the many lovers she had seduced over the years she was more than just a beautiful woman. She was a goddess, the very concept of lust made incarnate; her words were bewitching, her body hypnotic, and she could drive them to their knees with a single glance. In bygone eras she might have even been considered a witch.

A naughty chuckle pervaded her moan. She liked to think maybe there was some truth to that – perhaps there truly was a little magic about her.

Soon enough her naughty daydreams were dashed by Hunter’s increasing devotion. His tongue played her delicate sex like a harp, caressing her folds and clit to fill the air with a melody of groans, gasps and giggles. He was surprisingly tender, though she suspected he was exerting a great effort to control himself – he had already disappointed her once today and he had no desire to do so again.

Her eyes fluttering, she spread her legs wider. Without warning, he opened his mouth wide, clamped his lips over her own and plunged his tongue deep into her pussy.

Osa’s scream seized in her throat; all that came out was a hoarse rasp. It felt as though countless firecrackers had been tied along every nerve and were all going off at once. As Hunter’s tongue delved ever deeper her body sang with ecstasy, the scorching heat blossoming through the vulnerable pink walls of her insides.

The unexpected invasion made her suddenly aware how desperate she was to be fucked. Hunter’s cock was second to none and in truth she was deeply jealous that he had spent the night giving it to some slutty blonde instead of her. Now it was time he finally made amends for his mistake.

Still, she had no intention of alerting him to her desperation, so she did what any self-respecting seductress would do: she made him beg.

‘You know I’m not sure you deserve to use my holes after what you did. I don’t think you deserve my forgiveness.’

Hunter pulled back with a pleading expression, his face smeared in her pussy nectar. ‘Please, Osa, I’ll do anything. I’m so sorry, I would never hurt you, you know that. It was an accident, a stupid, drunken accident. Please, please forgive me – you’re the only woman I want. Please, let me prove how sorry I am. I won’t let you down again.’

Lifting one leg to expose her saturated pussy, she fixed him with a piercing stare. ‘In that case, I suggest you get started.’

Busty black woman in white swimsuit with exposed oiled breasts has sex with naked white man

Hunter was immediately behind her. His chest pressed against her back he raised his own leg to support her position before slipping the head of his cock between her tight folds. Then with one smooth thrust he was inside.

Osa gasped as he filled her. Fixated as she had been on tormenting him, she had almost forgotten why she craved his devotion: he was the most intense lover she had ever known. His cock was a steel rod, his body a factory of desire.

And he was hers to control.

‘Mmmh, that’s right big boy, fill my naughty cunt with that hard cock.’

‘Fuck, you’re so tight,’ he grunted.

‘And no wonder – you were too busy with your slut last night to stretch me out. That’s the first night I’ve gone without a cock in years: my body is in shock.’

Now they were tangled in romantic embrace Hunter seemed to regain a little of the roguish bravado she loved him for. Leaning in close he ran his tongue up her neck before growling into her ear. ‘Then let’s make up for lost time, shall we?’

So that’s exactly what they did.

Four images in which busty black woman in white swimsuit has sex with hung white man

Moan after orgasmic moan, Osa and Hunter descended into a sordid rhythm of lust and passion. The air soon echoed with their shrieks of pleasure, though in their secluded pocket of paradise, far removed from the rest of the resort, nobody could hear them scream.

Driven by pure arousal, all bluffs and pretences crumbled to expose the true deviants beneath. Each as devilishly filthy as the other they nonetheless contrasted wildly: Osa was a woman compelled by sensuality, twisting and pitching with the elegant poise of a ballerina and the intoxicating allure of an exotic dancer. Hunter, meanwhile, was a force of nature. Grunting and growling, he pounded into her relentlessly, the power behind every thrust knocking Osa’s breath from her lungs.

Despite their differences, the lovers were perfectly in tune with one another, rolling and writhing in unison, alert to every twitch and shiver of their partner.

Barely a word passed their lips, yet they knew on instinct when to shift into a new position. Flexible as a trained acrobat after years indulging her libido, Osa soon found herself contorted into all manner of salacious shapes, all the while skewered on Hunter’s magnificent cock.

He used her hard, slamming her tight cunt as though his life depended on it – and in a way, she supposed in his mind it did. She had never actually planned to give up such an incredible lover, but it served her purpose to let Hunter to believe the privileged life he lived by her side was at risk should he disappoint her: that fear kept him well-behaved. And never was that more apparent than today, his desperation to please driving him to fuck her harder and deeper than he had in months – so hard her heavy tits ached as they bounced, and so deep that it felt as though he might burst out through her belly at any moment.

The sweltering afternoon air seemed chilly compared to their steamy passion and in their ardour all concept of time slipped away.

Busty black woman licks white man's cock after he has cum over her breasts

Even in her sex-addled state, Osa paid close attention to the imminence of Hunter’s orgasm. Her lover possessed admirable stamina at the best of times, however today she had no interest in letting him finish inside her. She couldn’t let him get away with things that easily. Sensitive to the tell-tale signs he was approaching the brink, she repeatedly shifted position just as he was preparing to fire his load, ruining his orgasm and reducing him to a quivering wreck for several minutes thereafter.

She, on the other hand, lost of count of how many orgasms she endured on that soft daybed. Every time she came, she howled her release, groping her plump body like a mindless whore, all of which only served to catalyse her lover’s infatuation. Torn between his desire to satisfy her and the terrible erotic agony of each fresh orgasm denial, his brain slowly melted to a useless mush as he became little more than an empty drone for her to use.

To Hunter it felt like an eternity before she at last let him cum, though even then Osa defied his lust to fill her pussy. Sliding herself free at the last moment she squatted down before him, thrust out her breasts and laughed as he fired his load over her fat tits.

He grimaced at the denial, drawing a laugh from Osa’s dark lips, but the release struck him with sudden clarity and it felt as though his soul was being poured out through his dick. His cock bucked wildly and by the time he had finished streaks of pearly cum decorated her chest, stomach, thighs and chin.

Licking the sticky remnants from his cock, she peered up at him with a wicked grin. ‘Sorry, babe, but you’re going to have to earn the pleasure of filling my pussy again. Last night might be forgiven, but it’s certainly not forgotten. If you ever want to fuck me properly again you’re going to spend the rest of the week doting on me like my own personal butler. Well, a butler with benefits I suppose.’

Struggling to regain his composure, Hunter stroked slowly. ‘Whatever you want I’ll do it.’ Osa rose to her feet and licked her lips of his seed. Her grin broadened as a truly naughty idea came to mind. ‘In that case I suggest you come and help me get cleaned up. We’re going out again tonight, but this time I’ll be the one bringing a slut back home. Me and her are going to spend all night fucking like animals while you watch – and if you’re very good we might even let you join in…’

Meanwhile, in Lucia and Tammy’s villa…

Close-up shot of tasselled sandals on wood flooring

Thanks for reading!

The models in this scene are Osa Lovely and Jessy Jones.

I first found Lovely’s work about a year or so ago, and I’ve been in love ever since. As readers of my blog have probably already surmised I have a real thing for busty black women and for quite a while the main model who filled that niche was the inimitable Diamond Jackson. And while Jackson is definitely still the top of that list, I genuinely think I adore Lovely’s body just a little bit more. I honestly can’t put into words how astoundingly hot I think she is, and it’s frankly criminal she doesn’t have more recognition. Granted she’s not the prolific model in the industry, but if you check any model out as a result of this entire series, I’d recommend it be Lovely since I feel like she flies under the radar of most porn fiends and that should never be allowed to happen.

Jones, meanwhile, is one of those male models who most people don’t really know the name of but is still consistently stellar in any scene he stars in. Unlike the big names such as Danny D or Kieran Lee, for example, Jones isn’t as well-known, but if you’re looking for a stud who can keep a hot bitch satisfied he’s still an excellent choice. I know for a fact there’s at least one of his scenes I actively want to write a piece for – though if I ever will is another matter entirely – so hopefully he’ll show up on my blog again, but either way you should definitely go over to his channel and take a look at his awesome content.

Come back on Monday for chapter seven!

I would love to hear your thoughts on my work, so please leave me a comment!

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Twitter: @Fetish_Fantasy_


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