Money well spent. That's what I always thought to myself as I closed the door on another outrageous naughty encounter. They were a treat, a wonderful indulgence that I afforded myself from time to time. But that didn't mean there weren't still wonderfully organic encounters to be had. My exploration took me on a journey one hot evening in summer.
The conference had been exhilarating; vibrant, stimulating, thought-provoking. It had centred around encouraging a sense of play in business to cultivate creativity and innovation. I was merely a participant, and I loved every second of it. Each evening I sat in my hotel room until the early hours collating and archiving every experience and learning so that I could take it back with me to implement and replicate in my own world.
It was the height of summer, and outside the temperature hovered at 28 degrees near midnight. The hum of the air conditioner helped me to grab a few scant hours of sleep between full and rich day time sessions.
I was also happy that we had been housed at one of the most stunning resorts in the state; three amazing restaurants, one gigantic pool that circled them all, and three smaller pools dotted throughout. The whole thing opened straight onto the stunning white sand beaches so renowned in this area of the world.
By the end of the three days I was exhausted but so fulfilled. I was also delighted that I had taken for myself a full additional week of annual leave before I had to head home. I collapsed after the finale dinner on the Sunday night with a contented smile on my face.
On Monday morning I bid farewell to the other participants as they finished breakfast and hustled to be on coaches and shuttles back the airport. They were dressed for transit, I was in a bikini and sarong with the airiness of one now on a much-needed break.
When breakfast was done I put myself through a workout in the gym, then hit the waves to cool off. The surf tossed and pounded me, always a welcome reminder of just where I sit in nature's order. On the way back to my room I plunged into the huge pool, swum two full circuits and ended at the swim up bar a shade short of midday and helped myself to the first cocktail of the day. With white rum and pineapple creeping to my head I drifted lazily back to my room. I had chosen a ground floor room where I could swim up to my sun deck, climb out of the pool and step into my huge bathroom.
In my room I stood under a cold shower, gasping and laughing at the shock of it. With goose pimpled skin and rock hard nipples I flopped on a bed so large I could roll over three times and still have pillow space to spare.
There is something undeniably sexy about a hotel or resort room. There is a freedom that is difficult to replicate elsewhere. It stimulates the mind. Under normal circumstances I would not have had breakfast and a gym session before diving into bed and contemplating fucking myself to orgasm, but here I was. As I considered how the rest of this day would unfold, I decided that some orgasm self-denial would be a perfect way to start my holiday; a wonderful clash of my submissive and dominant sides.
I grabbed my body lotion and spread an indulgent amount over my body. I spent a moment being grateful for my mind, easily my biggest erogenous zone, for quickly painting a mental tableau of what was about to happen. Even the thought of it had exactly the impact I wanted. I massaged the deliciously scented crème into my breasts, rubbing and kneading, offering an appreciative sound from the back of my throat.
I let my hands glide everywhere except for my nipples or between my legs, but let them wander everywhere else I loved to be touched. The nape of my neck, the sides of my tummy, the very top of my pubic mound, my inner thighs.
My arousal amped quickly, fuelled by the wonderful paradox of not touching where I longed to touch. I let my fingertips graze the crease of my groin and I shuddered. I sat up and considered my reflection in the full-length mirror opposite the bed. My skin had a wonderful glow and a delicious sheen from my moisturiser.
"You want to rub your pussy don't you, you needy slut?" I moaned aloud. Even the verbalisation of it made the need more intense.
I could see how wet I was becoming, the heat of my body quickly emulating the tropical temperature outside my room. My reflection was right, I did want to rub my pussy. I propped pillows behind my back, and when I was comfortable, I let one hand continue to caress my thigh, drifting ever closer to my tingling cunt. Then shifting slightly, I exposed my left buttock, and gave it a sharp, stinging smack.
There was an immediate red angry hand print left behind, and that turned me on. I very lightly touched my clit, already hard and throbbing by now, and earned from myself another stinging smack.
Pretence evaporated then and I deposited some of the copious amounts of slick wetness escaping my swelling lips onto my clit. Silky wet, I began to masturbate, allowing myself the pleasure of moaning and panting out loud. Every so often I landed another smarting blow on my arse, until it was pink and hot. I caught sight of myself in the mirror, two fingers noisily finger-fucking me with a thumb grinding against my clit and my behind hot and red, and I very nearly came. Just as the wave was about to crest I slipped my hand away, body flopping around on the bed in frustration and delight.
It was all I could do not to finish the job and grant myself an astonishing orgasm. Instead I returned to the shower, blasted the cold water and gasped all over again at the shock of it, this time with the added contrast of the heat emanating from my spanked bottom.
Towelled off and with my arousal only minutely deescalated, I slipped into a sarong and stepped onto my sundeck to read. I reclined on a lounge and watched people swimming by or floating together, or, in the distance, congregate around the swim-up bar.
To continue my self-imposed torture, I continued reading a lengthy piece of exceptionally well written erotica. I lay there with one piece of fabric separating me from everyone in the entire resort and resisted the urge to part my legs and resume masturbating.
The story finally concluded with the protagonists curling up in each others arms and slipping off to sleep. I rewarded myself with another cold shower and an afternoon nap that was dominated by explicitly sexual dreams.
As the sun began to set I awoke and felt rested but no less in need of release. I rang reception and ordered a hire car be waiting for me in an hour. Though the sun was slipping below the horizon, it was still balmy, and I couldn't wait to slip behind the wheel of the red convertible and feel the wind in my hair. It was already past nine o'clock.
I ate a light salad and made my way through reception. The concierge tossed me the keys as I strode past. If I hadn't missed the catch, watched the keys slide down the front steps and stopped to burst out laughing with her it would have been the perfect movie star moment. Waving goodbye I set off into the gathering night.
I found what I was looking for some forty minutes later, far away from the tropical beach and resort. I pulled into an empty car park in a deserted commercial allotment. There was a single light pole in the middle of the darkened concrete maze, and an armada of moths battled furiously in the single column of light. Every window and every concrete wall was dark and lifeless, save for one which blazed with neon, red and gold.
This was the sort of business that had no legitimate reason for being open. Anyone who found this place would either do so completely by accident or have some dark purpose. I considered my being there somewhere in the middle.
There is only one sort of store that would be open at this hour, in this neighbourhood, in this place. 'Taboos and Dark Desires' shouted the bright neon, highlighting the window display that was a very dated mannequin wearing a corset and heels and holding a faux leather flogger. I suspected this was the same visual merchandising that would have been displayed had I arrived five years earlier.
I stepped out of the shimmering heat of the concrete parking lot and into an atmosphere barely less oppressive. The hardest working air conditioner in the state appeared on the wall above the entrance to be cooling the air a full three centimetres in front of it. Beyond that, the air was not dissimilar to outside. As a tiny bell above the door sung out cheerfully, a few things happened all at once.
At the counter, the young woman huddled next to a small pedestal fan gasped, a hand which had been down behind the counter appeared on top of it, shiny, and promptly disappeared again, and a paperback novel was thrown with far too much vim such that it collected a small stand of condoms, sending them scattering across the floor.
