(This is the first part of a series in regards to country founded by porn addicts, gooners, edgers and etc. All names used are purely coincidental, all characters are 18+. This series is heavily geared towards people who follow the gooner subculture, porn addiction, and etc)
"Ladies and Gentleman, this is your Captain speaking. It's ughh 8:30AM right now in Samarasa. The temperature is about 75F, there should be no chance of rain today. We should be landing at Melody Breeze International Airport in about 15 minutes. I want to thank you all for flying Fantasy Airlines."
The loud announcement from the intercom awoke Joan Carter. As she still struggled to open her jet lagged eyes, she opened the window shade. As the bright sunlight stung her eyes, she saw the plane descending into the Samarasan capital of Orgasmia. Joan, a 26 year old graduate student, from Miami, Florida, came to Samarasa to conduct research for her thesis on the Samarasans for her PhD dissertation in "The Anthropological Study of the Illusive Nation of Samarasa''. As the plane landed and began to make preparations for arrival, she wondered if the rumors about this country were true?
"Do people really worship pornstars as actual gods?"
"Are people really free to indulge in any perversion they wish?"
"Is pornography considered an actual religion here?"
She collected her suitcase from the overhead and left to the arrivals section to find her guide, the Samarasan embassy appointed her to help with her research.
"Tracey Blair" she read from the crumpled piece of paper she kept in her pocket. She scanned the area until she found a name card stating "Joan Carter". When she looked up at the person who was holding her card, her eyes nearly burst from their sockets:
She gazed about a voluptuous Caucasian female. Her jet black hair tied back into a ponytail that hung slightly below her left bosom , her velvety eyebrows complimented by her impeccably sharp contoured eyes, as if she took the eyes off Cleopatra herself. Her pixie nose, and seraph ears were more perfect than any Renaissance sculptors ability to craft. She had to be at least 40C breast size when looking at her chest. Her curves clinged to every inch of her flowery Maxi dress, down to her wide hips. Her smile showed her rosey pink lips , but more importantly her pearl white teeth free from any imperfections. Her smile shines brighter than the sun.
"Hi you must be Joan! I'm Tracey your guide and new friend to help guide you in your research" Tracey exclaimed. She oddly spoke in an old timey transatlantic accent, but her voice was a euphony, as if a million songbirds in a choir spoke at once.
"Hi Tracey I'm really excited to explore your country and learn as much as I can for my thesis, but I'm a bit jet lagged. You mind if I rest at the hotel first?" Joan said.
"Yes of course follow me, I parked in the parking garage nearby", as she turned Joan noticed Tracey's long flowing jet back ponytail almost beckon her like a finger asking to follow. They came upon Tracey's car, a 1965 Ford Mustang Convertible who had the top already down. As Joan placed her luggage in the trunk, Tracey asked:
"You mind if I change? I changed my outfit for the airport due to our international tourists."
"Umm.. yeah sure" Joan said awkwardly.
"Perfect!", Tracey undid the hook that held her Maxi dress in place, and it fell to the ground. Joan looked with her mouth wide open, at Tracey's firm and impeccable 40C breasts. Tracey's voluptuous body did not have an ounce of extra body fat, or cellulite. The dress hid Tracey's smooth, glowing caucasian complexion. It's as if Tracey magically rubbed oil into her skin, but her glow was purely natural. Tracey had a trimmed, thin bush around her upper vulva. From the glovebox, Tracey retrieved what appears to be a dildo, and switched the bottom switch to "Max".
