Carnival Ch 01 2

This is an episodic installment in the "Free Love Universe", a collection of short stories about recurring characters which are designed to be read in any order, unless otherwise numbered.

This episode, like all in the "Carnival" series, is best enjoyed in order within that subsequence.

"Halloween" takes place before the "Carnival" mini-series and makes a good companion read to this.

-

Megan and I lived off the high of our Halloween adventure for weeks. Our sex life was all-consuming and full of experimentation. We tied each other up and enjoyed some light BDSM, we were constantly role playing one scenario or another, and we even filmed ourselves on occasion. As an amateur photographer with a nice camera and a few lights, I even managed to get footage I was happy with. Megan went out dancing with Tara about once a month, but I gathered they kept it all extremely tame relative to Halloween night. I told Megan she had free rein to do as she pleased, but she remained steadfast that it wouldn't feel the same without me there.

Months passed and eventually winter gave way to spring. As the weather turned, we discussed travel options for the summer. We both loved Europe but had already been to France together and were looking for something new. Mexico was always a good option, but sometimes felt like only going next door from our home in California.

"I'm not going to lie, I think I want to go somewhere and be around black people," Megan confessed one lazy Saturday morning while considering options.

Yes - Megan, my girlfriend of several years, is black; and I am white; and together we are a healthy, loving, interracial couple. As a black woman in America, her entire life was mostly surrounded by white people, so I was not caught off guard by her desire to vacation somewhere where she blended in. Of course, she would always stick out for her searingly beautiful good looks, big Disney princess eyes, and bangin' body with perky breasts and an immaculate bubble butt, but that was unavoidable anywhere where we went.

"Wait, I think I have the perfect idea!" I said in a rush of excitement.

"It better be a place with good food," Megan laughed, skeptical of whatever I was about to say.

"We should go to a Caribbean island and do Carnival!" I said.

"Oh shittttttt!"

Megan all but shouted. She shot up off the couch and danced in our living room, shaking her shoulders like a Carnival dancer, which jiggled her breasts underneath her loose t-shirt.

"You like it?" I asked.

"Oh my god yes, we're going!" she replied. She pulled me off the couch and we danced in our living room, running our hands all over each other's bodies. I slipped under her shorts to grope her ass, then up her t-shirt to caress her back, then back down under her shorts. Her hands were just as adventurous, bouncing between caressing my back, tracing the lines of my abs, or massaging my package.

"Is it going to turn you on seeing me basically naked in the street surrounded by hundreds of people?" she whispered into my ear.

"Holy fuck, yes it is," I breathed back into hers. My dick started to surge in my running shorts and, expecting she may be having the same reaction, I ventured a hand down the front of her shorts and under her panties. It turned out, yes she was most definitely having the same reaction.

"I want to stay somewhere with a balcony and an infinity pool and I want you to fuck me out in the open," she said. "I don't care who sees. They can just deal with knowing I'm getting this dick every night."

My whole body shivered at the thought. Collecting myself, I reached down and hoisted Megan into the air. She sat face-to-face in front of me, her ass in my hands, her legs around my waist, and kissed me while I carried her into the bedroom. I sat her on the bed and asked, "You want a little taste of what you'll get on that balcony?"

Megan bit her lip and ran her hands in opposite directions up and down her body, stopping to press on her breasts and pussy through her clothes. I pulled down her loungewear shorts and lifted her t-shirt over her shoulders, reducing her to just a tiny thong. For the five thousandth time, I gasped at the sight of her. Her tits were mighty C-cups and stood proudly on her chest, filling every dress, t-shirt, and sweater she ever wore. Megan also lifted weights or ran - usually both - every single day, and her body showed it. Her arms were lean and strong, her chocolate skin was tight over her torso, and her butt and legs were sculpted yet feminine. There wasn't a living person on earth who could have objected to Megan's nude form.

She shot off the bed before I could proceed further, her breasts jiggling as she landed on her feet. "Wait, I want to take care of you first," she whispered, and dropped to her knees to pull down my shorts. My well-groomed dick hung freely, the textbook definition of half-mast, a few short inches away from her full lips. "Someone's excited thinking about Carnival," she teased.

"That and eating your pussy right now," I responded.

Megan looked up at me sensuously and said, "Patience, my Padawon," before taking my surging dick in her mouth. It still had some ply to it, so she swished it between her cheeks, bombarding my tip and shaft with her tongue. The feeling was impossibly wonderful and I looked out our bedroom window, imagining people in our backyard watching us like what might happen in the Caribbean. We'd almost, sort-of had sex in front of other people before, specifically this past Halloween, but that night everyone had been a participant, not an observer. We'd never just been

watched

before. Honestly, it felt intimidating.

Megan was working absolute magic with her mouth on my tip, left hand on my shaft, and right hand tickling my balls. I was fully hard, standing completely still, as she face-fucked herself on my erection. Eventually she stopped and let thick spit drip onto her tits, which she rubbed into her skin as she stood. "Come here, I want to try something." She laid back on the bed and beckoned me on top of her, then positioned me in a new orientation as I climbed toward her. When we settled, she was flat on her back below me and my waist was directly above her face, my dick perfectly accessible to her mouth. I supported myself on my hands and knees above her, and she pushed my knees out wide to both lower me closer to her.

"How'd you come up with this?" I asked breathlessly.

"Shh," she scolded, then grabbed my hips and pulled me toward her until my cock was back in her mouth. Her hands resumed their free wandering, including one which began to gently tickle my taint and asshole - which I absolutely loved. I stayed well-groomed back there so she'd always know what to expect when or if she was in the mood for a little ass play.

I started to bob my hips to give her neck a rest. I drilled in and out of her mouth, though I was careful to not go too deep and make her uncomfortable. But then I learned that that was apparently exactly what she wanted because she palmed both of my ass cheeks and aggressively pulled me forward, driving my dick straight into the deepest caverns of her throat. She bobbed her head slightly, holding her jaw as wide open as it would go to keep her teeth off me. The

gawk gawk gawk

sound of aggressive oral sex filled our bedroom.

"Fuuuuuck... babyyyy," I moaned before she had all she could take and pushed me away. Finally able to breathe and close her mouth, she rapidly gulped down air and swallowed her built up spit.

"I want you to fuck me

right now!"

she snapped at me.

"Anything you want, mistress," I answered, a callback to some of our BDSM roleplaying. I scooted backward in a single hop, positioning our hips together, and lifted her legs up to my shoulders. I placed the souls of her bare feet directly on my chest and, kneeling before her, slid my throbbing dick into her sopping wet pussy. I loved this position not for any specific interest in feet, but because their pressure on my chest helped me feel closer to her. My thrusts bobbed her knees toward her face and her moans filled the room.

"Holy shit you're so hard!" she gasped, her fingers clawing at the sheets for something to hold onto, as if that would help the overwhelming feeling of my dick filling her pussy and then some.

"Where do you want this cum?" I asked her after a minute or two of strokes. We were both so turned on and her pussy felt so good that I was already having to throttle myself to not finish immediately.

Megan and I had been dating for years, but had never once used a condom or any other form of birth control. Despite that, we also had no kids and had never had a pregnancy scare. It turns out, if you don't ever let your sperm mix with your partner's eggs, they won't get pregnant! For this reason, I only finished inside her once or twice a year, usually close to her period when she wasn't ovulating, and even then cautiously. This also meant that I had to cum somewhere else every time we had sex. Usually she wanted me to ejaculate straight into her mouth, which she swallowed hungrily like a baby on the teet, but occasionally one or both of us were in the mood for something else.

Megan looked at me with a devious grin and said, "I want you to cum all over my pussy, then eat me out!"

"As you wish, my mistress," I said and continued stroking. I didn't

love

the taste of my own cum, but when I was turned on enough I could tolerate it briefly while I finished licking her clit, and this morning I was turned on enough for just about anything.

My orgasm arrived shortly thereafter and I pulled out, which signaled for Megan to take her feet off my chest and let her legs fall outward. I stroked my dick firmly as I blasted white hot semen all over her pussy and clit. I shook and moaned loudly as my orgasm swept across my body, every cell of my being consumed with pleasure. After I'd covered her pussy and lower tummy with cum, my ejaculation finally slowed to its last few drops and I came to a stop above her.

Megan ran her finger tips through my cum, tracing it up her stomach and toward her breasts, but most of it remained where it had landed.

"Fucking eat my cunt,"

she commanded me.

"Yes, my queen," I said in a silly Jon Snow impression, and got in position on the side of the bed. I placed both hands under her well-muscled ass, open-palm gripping her cheeks. The smell of my own cum was heavy, and though I preferred the taste of her pussy without it, I dove in all the same. I felt its smoothness on my nostrils as my tongue deftly navigated her folds to find her clit. I went straight to her favorite move, rhythmically sucking her clit into my mouth only to immediately push it back out with my tongue. It was soft but fast, my jaw and throat muscles working together to keep her pussy moving at a steady drumbeat.

Megan had never once orgasmed from penetration alone - not just in our time together, but in her whole life. Her last boyfriend had claimed that was her fault and that she should "get that checked out". Luckily, she had the good sense to leave him for someone who actually cared about her experience. Just as luckily, I obsessed over eating pussy, so we were a glove fit in bed.

Megan ran her fingers through my hair and squirmed on the bed while I worked. I looked up at her body the whole time, my out of focus strands of cum right in front of my eyes and her in-focus breasts just a foot or so away. Her breathing was heavy and her tummy heaved. After only a few minutes of licks she began to orgasm. Her body curled upward off the bed, her every muscle tight and contracting. As expected, she was quickly too sensitive for more licks and tapped my shoulder to signal that she was done. I released her and stood straight next to the bed. I wiped a thin layer of my own cum off my nose and fed it to her.

"Oh my god, I am such a lucky girl," she breathed wistfully. "Come here and cuddle with me."

I laid behind her as the big spoon, neither of us worrying about my cum surely running down her belly and toward our bed. It was laundry day and we had to wash the sheets anyway.

"Carnival will be so fun," I said a moment later. My voice was at the lowest whisper it could manage, what with my lips resting on her ear.

"I cannot wait to wear those costumes," Megan said in agreement. "And you will look so good in what the men wear! It's basically just tight shorts and some jewels."

"Let's research what to do and where to stay later this afternoon," I proposed.

"Sounds good. But for now, just hold me."

I was already completely encasing her, but I squeezed her ribs and breasts a little tighter and she nestled the tiniest bit further back into my embrace. Combined with the afterglow of our orgasms, we drifted off into a brief nap.

-

Our research yielded decisive answers and we booked accommodations without much hesitation. It turned out, Barbados was the safest and most fun Caribbean island and its early-August dates for Carnival worked for both of our schedules. Barbados' version of Carnival was called Crop Over, but to our untrained eye looked like any other Carnival. We booked a coastal Airbnb with an infinity pool for ten days - a full week before Crop Over's grand finale and then three more days to relax afterward. The location seemed fairly secluded, meaning we weren't likely to be seen by any strangers while fucking by the pool, but I told myself that had probably just been dirty foreplay talk anyways. Either way, we were SO excited to be heading to Barbados!

-

DAY 1 - WEDNESDAY

Come late July, our trip finally arrived. We landed at the airport on the island's southeast side and caught a taxi to our Airbnb. Our driver was a delight - he was so happy to see outsiders excited about Barbados. He gave us a long list of recommended places to eat, some bars for the best nightlife and drinks, and even his favorite strip clubs. Megan and I had never been strip club people before, but it was on our list of possibilities for this trip.

The Airbnb we booked ended up being a half-condo, half-hotel situation owned and rented by individuals but connected to a centralized area with a bar, restaurant, and shared pool. Our unit was a standalone building, separated from its neighbors by thirty feet of thick undergrowth. The private infinity plunge pool was as advertised, which was the main attraction for us since we wanted to spend significant time in and around it completely naked. The whole compound was lush with tropical plants. Its connective tissue was grassy fields that were sliced up by cute pathways of colorful, hand-placed paving stones. In the middle of the central grassy field was a circular tiki bar staffed by a single bartender. By the time we reached our unit, we'd passed several neighboring ones on our way in but could no longer see them through the thick wall of broadleaf plants and technicolored flowers. In all, it nearly felt like we were staying at a resort but for checking in over the app instead of at a front desk.

We unlocked the door and stepped into a pristine space. The main room was mostly whites, reds, and pinks, and was decorated like a typical beach house. The kitchen and living room were open concept and connected, with an island for eating and cooking and a nearby typical TV-and-couches arrangement that we definitely weren't going to use. A hallway extended to the side toward the bedrooms and bathrooms and the far wall, facing the beach, was all glass with two large doors left open by the cleaning crew. A wonderful, warming breeze shot past us the second we opened the front door and connected the front and back of the house. Megan's see-through linen sundress flared up in the gust, revealing her bare legs well past her knees. For our travel day, she'd chosen a dress with a waist-high slit on one side, permanently revealing her left leg in a way she knew drove me wild. Still, I thanked the wind for showing me her other leg, too.

Through those open glass doors was untarnished paradise. Palm trees and tropical bushes encased a large sundeck that sported two umbrellas, two tables, and four recliners arranged around the pool. The pool's top was flush with the deck, meaning it was "in-ground", or more accurately, in-deck. The infinity / no-lip side faced westward over the ocean and backed up against a 15 foot drop, creating the sense of being on a second story balcony. Our orientation meant the sun would rise behind us and set over the water, ensuring great sunsets all week. String lights hung between the house, umbrella tops, and deck - promising perfect mood lighting after the sun went down.

"Can we move here?" Megan asked, dropping her bags and twirling to take in the room.

"Well we're never leaving, so I guess that means we have to buy," I mused back to her.

"Want to get a drink at that bar?" she asked.

Of course I wanted to get a drink at that bar, so we locked up and walked over. It was essentially a circular gazebo made out of dark brown wood with a thatch roof and several concentric circles. The innermost layer of the bar was a three foot thick cylinder with a mirror surface. Surrounding that were tiers of shelves and counters which wrapped the mirrors and hoisted the bartender's computer terminal and all the liquor bottles. Next came an empty ring where the bartender maneuvered. Outside that was the final circular countertop where customers sat on inward-facing stools. The only person anywhere in sight was that bartender, dressed in all white and staring up at the cerulean sky.

"Welcome to

The Circle Bar"

he said as we sat down, and right then I noticed an irregular, hand-drawn circle scrawled on the top of the drink menu. It was a simple name, but I supposed it accurately described the place.

"Thank you," we said in unison, and then I asked, "What's good to drink around here?"

"Of course we have rum punch, but I can also make anything you like. You can also have food delivered here or to your room from the restaurant."

"What is rum punch?" Megan asked.

"Ahh, first time in Barbados, I see!" the bartender exclaimed. "Rum punch is our signature drink! Are you here for Crop Over?" he asked, and we confirmed that we were. "Amazing! Well then, you'll have plenty of rum punch before you're done. Want to try it now or save it for the road?"

Megan and I looked at each other and tentatively nodded, feeling out each other's thoughts. "We'll each do a rum punch," I said a second later.

"Okay, coming up!" he said before rotating out of view to fetch the ingredients.

"I just LOVE the Caribbean accent," Megan said as she leaned into my shoulder. If you listened closely, you could hear the evolution of accents stretching from Jamaica, down through the various Caribbean islands, and eventually jumping over the Atlantic all the way to their source - West Africa. Barbados, as the southeast-most island, truly felt like a blend of the two.

The bartender handed us two glasses of pink liquid and a small plate of sliced fruit. We thanked him and clinked our glasses.

"Cheers - to Carnival!" Megan said.

"To Carnival!" I echoed.

"Mmmm, that's so good," Megan said after taking her first sip.

"And so strong," I added. "There's no doubting the

rum

part."

We finished our drinks and debated ordering a second round, but realized we were already pretty drunk and might end up crashing at 8pm if we attempted more rum punches already. The bartender recommended food, so we ordered some chicken and rice from the local restaurant. That came out and was nearly as brown from seasoning as the wood of the bar, and oh my god was it delicious. Megan and I just about melted into our bar stools as we ate and I felt like crying after taking my last bite.

"Is this what every meal is going to be like here?" I asked.