Osa Oladapo Goes To Fantasy Island

Introduction

The seaplane arrives at a luxurious but remote tropical island resort water dock on a small Pacific island around 9:40 am.

Mr. Roarke and his assistant, Tattoo, are at the top of the ramp that leads down to the gangway that connects the dock to the shore. Mr. Roarke shouts to his staff, "Smiles, everyone! Smiles!"

The first people to step out are an English couple in their late 50s, Edgar and Harriet Wellington. Mr. Roarke tells Tattoo that their fantasy is to live during the Renaissance as wealthy aristocracy. They are greeted by a topless girl of Asian descent in a grass skirt and given a flowery lei. Then by a topless girl of African descent, also in a grass skirt, carrying a tray with a selection of 5 different tropical alcoholic drinks.

The second person off the plane is Osa Oladapo. Mr. Roarke tells Tattoo, "Her fantasy is to find and experience the ultimate lover. I have arranged for her to meet with Giacomo Casanova, Tallulah Bankhead, and lastly her very own brother, Adunbi, who is also here living out his fantasy of being an explorer of lost jungle ruins and discovering an unknown treasure."

Tattoo asks, "Her brother, sir?"

Osa is also greeted by the same topless girl of Asian descent in a grass skirt and given a flowery lei.

Mr. Roarke replies, "Yes. While Casanova and Bankhead are notorious for the quantity of lovers they have had, many say there is nothing quite as tantamount as making love with one's closest sibling. It is an encounter that she will need to find the ultimate lover. And as for her brother.. it is having sex with Osa that is his unknown treasure."

Then Osa is greeted by the same topless girl of African descent, in a grass skirt, carrying a tray with a selection of 3 different tropical alcoholic drinks.

Then the African girl takes the 2 remaining drinks to Mr. Roarke and Tattoo. "My dear guests! I am Mr. Roarke, your host. Welcome to Fantasy Island!" He raises his drink in greeting and takes a sip; all the guests and Tattoo follow his lead.

Chapter 1

Mr. Roarke arrives at the depository where Osa is getting dressed for her trip to Venice in 1753. "You look lovely," Mr. Roarke compliments Osa. "Are you ready to begin your search?"

Osa says, "I'm nervous but also keen."

"Your carriage awaits," he says as a Venetian-style horse and buggy pulls up at the door. Mr. Roarke opens the door and helps Osa into the carriage. It enters some thick foliage and a few seconds later exits onto a roadway, entering the "City of Canals."

Appearing in Carpenedo Woods, the carriage takes the pathways to the long wooden bridge that connects the farmlands to the central part of the city. The carriage stops, and the driver, Laurence, says, "This is as far as I can go, Miss Osa. I'm afraid from here you will have to walk." He hands Osa a leather bag with a slip of parchment with an address, official paperwork identifying her, and a sufficient amount of currency within.

Osa gets out of the carriage, walks past the horses a few feet, and stops. When she looks back, the horses and carriage are gone. She continues across the bridge, a 30-minute walk, and is stopped on the far side by the city guard, who asks for her papers. How she suddenly understands the old Venetian language amazes her, but she hands them the identifying papers and directions. They approve her papers and ask for 1/2 pence of passage tax. She gives them a copper coin, which is cut in half, with them keeping 1/2 and giving her back 1/2. They then explain to her how to get to the destination on her second paper. They return her papers to her and turn their attention to the next person waiting to enter the city. Following their instructions, Osa makes her way towards the hotel/mumbling hall that Casanova is known to frequent.

Finally, Osa arrives at the Hotel Metropole, the most upscale lodging and gambling establishment. With the currency Osa has, she can gain a private room, a hot bath, and a dinner. She went to her room, laid out a cleaner gown she had packed, took off the soiled gown she had on, and waited in her petticoat for the bath attendant.

Not long after, there was a knock at her door, and a woman's voice asked if she was ready for her bath. Osa opens the door, and a female servant offers her a Casanova like cloak to put over her petticoat. The attendant notices that there are two gowns on the bed and asks, "Would my lady wish to have her soiled garment laundered?"

Osa replies, "Yes, please."

The attendant says, "I'll send up a maid to collect your soiled clothes while you bathe. Follow me to the bathing room." In the bathing room, there is an empty tub and a tub of steaming hot water. The attendant tells Osa, "Remove your petticoat and other undergarments, and then get into the tub of hot water. I'll be back with soap and a washcloth shortly." The attendant then leaves through a back door. Osa strips and is getting into the tub when the attendant returns with another woman. The second woman collects Osa's clothing and leaves through the front door. The attendant pulls a stool out to the side of the tub, dips the rag and soap into the warm water, and instructs Osa to lean forward. She then washes Osa's back and neck and then asks Osa to lean back and wash Osa's hair and scalp. The attendant rinses Osa's hair and hands Osa the rag and soap, saying, "There is a fee if you wish me to wash more of you."

Osa takes the cloth and soap and says, "Thank you."

The attendant says, I'll be back before the water is cold," then leaves. Returning about 30 minutes later with a pair of large towels... One goes on the floor for Osa to step on as she exits the tub, and the other is wrapped around her body for her to dry herself off with. Once dry, the attendant ties the towel off on the side and helps Osa put on the cloak, and then escorts Osa back to her room. The attendant takes the cloak and leaves. Osa gets dressed in the clean gown, with a built-in slip to puff up the dress. After brushing and pulling her hair into a bun, Osa traversed the uneven stones of Campo Santa Margherita and made her way toward St. Mark's Square. Because of the season, the corners were empty of gelaterias, and a spindrift haze made the air glow with a luminous mist. And at night, the Rialto Bridge arched over cold, dark water illuminated with wavering globes of reflected light. Everywhere she looked, Venice was a glittering feast.

She gazed at the Byzantine mosaics luminous in the pale morning light and spoke only to the sleepy vendors who sold her cappuccino. Looking at the Basilica of St. Mark's, Osa felt as though she was looking through a glass of pale champagne, and in those comparatively lonely hours, Venice had all the mystery and silence she had imagined.

The Venezia Trionfante was the most famous "bodega da caffe" of the 1720s. Since its opening, it had been frequented by an illustrious clientele. Nobles, ambassadors, and merchants patronized it. Because it was then the only coffee shop to admit women, Casanova went there in quest of companions.

As Osa sat at her small table, warming her hands on a coffee cup, she noticed a man writing energetically on a piece of yellow paper. His hair was windblown and fell slightly over the collar of a black topcoat.

A man walked up to her and said that her kind doesn't belong in this establishment. She suggested she believed the establishment was open to women as well as men. He responded to her that people of her color have no place in such an upscale place and she needs to go to where her people are, back to Africa. Casanova gets up from his table and says that this exquisitely beautiful woman is with him and extends his hand to Osa. Osa accepts Casanova's hand and follows him to his table. The man leaves with a huff, and a small round of applause erupts from the patrons.

Casanova introduces himself, and Osa introduces herself. Casanova apologizes for the American's bigoted comments, assuring her that Venetian men enjoy the pleasantries of women of all nationalities. Osa thanks him and reassures him she also enjoys the pleasantries of men of all nationalities. Casanova tips down the remnants of his coffee, as does Osa, then invites her back to his hotel, stating that it is near to the bottega. Hands up, she takes his hand, and they walk briskly through the crowded streets.

They arrived at the hotel, climbed the magnificent staircase, and entered his room in silence. It was a silence, however, that vibrated with the current of attraction between them. Once in the open doorway, he stood still, deliberately awaiting a sign of her disposition to come into the room. She did, closed the door, and began the unbuttoning she had pictured in her head all the way to the hotel. When his lips met hers, they were cool, but as soon as they parted, the kiss became deeper, and the warmth and wetness started a hot pulsing that banished reason from her mind.

Osa was hardly aware of how they moved from the foyer to the bedroom, but moments later, there they were. She needed a moment to calm her roaring pulse, so she left him on a chair and escaped to his dressing room to collect herself. While she was there, she looked in the mirror and saw audacity and recklessness in her reflection. She went with it. She was feeling adventurous, and she could only blame the espresso and Venice. Her scarf and gloves were in disarray, her dress already half-unbuttoned, so she set her deshabille to rights by removing both and exiting the dressing room.

She stood in the doorway. She was wearing only a pair of stockings and nothing more. He inhaled, eased off the chair, and began kissing the decorative banding at the top of the stockings. Then the tops of the stockings, where they turned to soft, brown thigh. She gasped, moving slightly, as Casanova made a trail of kisses around the tops of her stockings.

She felt unsteady on her feet as he kissed the firm, brown insides of her thighs above the stockings, but she balanced precariously. Then the sensations moved as he kissed the outsides of her thighs above the stockings. He rubbed his lips lightly on the inside of her thighs, and his action sent another shiver straight up. But when he scraped the skin harder with his chin, the sensation of roughness mixed with pleasure and transformed her into a creature of unmitigated craving. She wound her fingers through his hair and gripped hard.

There was an intake of breath as his kisses glided over her tummy. Osa had trouble holding still as tiny kisses fell on her skin. She shivered as his lips, gentle but insistent, contacted her exposed left hip. Then she murmured "ooh" as his kisses became tiny nibbles. Her hips seemed to move involuntarily. Then she felt his tongue on her tummy, drawing lines on the tender flesh.

Casanova felt a rush of cold air and realized that he had left the window slightly open. The wind died, and heat replaced the brief chill. He clawed for the cool reason he usually found so readily in scholarly discussions of money supply. But the reason was gone. As he kissed along the softness of Osa's flesh, he was reminded of delicious chocolates sometimes available on St. Valentine's Day. Chocolates that could be consumed in a single bite, but so succulent that he ate them in four small portions to savor the taste.

He wrapped an arm around her right thigh and saw, as if through a glass darkly, her chocolate skin. He glanced up, swept his hair out of his eyes, and looked over at the mirror. He could see her firm, brown hips, exposed by her nakedness. He gently turned her around and kissed her lower back. Her wickedly seductive nudity entirely exposed her hips. Casanova bent his head and kissed her right hip. But it was moving, almost in a rhythm, and it proved no easy task. Osa shivered as his lips, gentle but insistent, contacted her exposed hip.

He sensed he could not savor the moment if he kept on with the kissing, so he made himself slow down. For a long moment, he paused, driving Osa almost to delirium. She turned around and pulled him up so that they were facing each other. Looking directly into her eyes, he grazed her breasts with the flat of his hand, and she caught her breath. His fingers explored her bare skin. When he touched her nipple and squeezed ever so slightly, her breath came out in a tiny moan.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she undid the buttons on his shirt with frantic haste, needing to feel the weight of his body on top of her. Or, she imagined, sitting astride him with those hands cupping both her breasts. Somehow, she found they were next to the bed, then on it, and their limbs were intertwined as his lips never left hers. He extricated his own arms from his sleeves, and then there was nothing between them.

She arched upward against him, and when he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, she gasped again. While his one hand held her arms, the other slipped from his fingers, where he found her warm and wet. Just as she thought she could stand it no more, he withdrew his fingers and stroked her on the outside, and she felt she would explode. A pulsating heat grew in her loins and threatened to consume her. When he touched her bare skin again, she quivered, and then the heat spread throughout her entire body like a volcanic eruption, leaving her shaken and breathless when it finally stopped.

But the night was young. Osa felt his hands, one on each hip. She writhed as his hands, large and strong, caressed her hips. When his hands moved to the side-ties of the thong, she elevated her back, and his kisses burned over the front of her honeypot. She could feel his breath as he kissed her down there.

Shuddering in pleasure, Osa twisted sinuously on the bed. Half-turned, and then she was fully turned, face-down, down, on the bed. But the kisses did not halt as Osa squirmed. The kisses meandered over her spine. She imagined a butterfly as his kisses teased her firm hips. She twisted again, turned, and his kisses were on her tummy. As they drifted lower, she felt his hands gently slide down. She experienced another frisson of pleasure.

His movements were not abrupt or spasmodic. Although Casanova hated to note its departure, he was delighted to discover Osa's devotion to waxing. However, he was not taken aback by this revelation. Even at the cafe, there had been an undercurrent of sensuality.

As if drawn by some unknown force, Casanova had no ability to resist. He had no capacity to resist a warm cinnamon pastry either. And he knew it would not be merely prudent, but necessary, to test the success of the wax. Was it really smooth? Osa moaned as his tongue traced the outline of her outer labia, realizing that she was now expecting her second orgasm.

Then he moved, and Osa realized that she was sitting astride him. His hands were caressing her hips, and she was moving slowly, her eyes partly closed, teeth clenched. He reached up and teased her right nipple, his fingers lightly flicking it. The combination of sensations was exquisite. Osa bent slightly and began teasing one of his nipples. Turnabout was fair play, and the empty evening in Venice seemed to turn into a sensual exchange par excellence.

He caressed and massaged her breasts while she sat in his lap. When he sucked, she pressed her breast against his face and gently held his head. Then his hands traveled up and down her sides and ended up holding the soft mounds of her ass as he pulled her onto his dick for another orgasm that she felt curling down her spine, stretching around her pelvis, and then forcing her to squeeze tight around his cock.

The sound was so soft and relaxed and full of pleasure that it pushed him toward the edge, and he almost came inside of her then. Her body was brown and warm, smoothly wrapping around her curves, puckering and deepening at her nipples. His hands seemed so white and even cold as they cradled her hips.

Osa sat erect in his lap, dazed from the force of pleasure and dreamily focused on his lean body. He caught her watching him, but instead of glancing away, she held his gaze as she reached a hand behind her to cup his balls. They were round, soft-skinned, and heavy. She weighed the fruit's fullness in her palm and began to stroke it. He lifted his hips in response. Her hand was firm, coaxing, and pleasing, but not enough to bring release. For long minutes she sat there in his lap, cupping and massaging his balls, but he resisted release.

She reached between them and began to play with her clit, but he soon pulled her hands away and pumped her body deep and slow. Osa squirmed on the sheets, whispering and begging for him not to stop. To keep fucking her, keep filling her with his cum. The lubrication made it easy for him to move in and out of her, reaching deep inside.

The wet slapping sounds echoed in the quiet room. Osa felt like her mind was losing all control of her body. She was rapidly spiraling into a climax. She was fucking her man; they were now real lovers.

Casanova discovered a renewed strength and utilized it to compel Osa with intense desire. His hips moved with the fluidity of a machine. Time and again, he immersed himself deeply, causing her essence to splash onto his thighs and groin, with audible sounds accompanying the impact against her body.

Her body trembled, and fireworks exploded behind her lids.

He reached his peak and began to release his seed into Osa. Squirt after squirt poured from him and into her, filling the tight hole until it gushed. He could feel her body tense as wave after wave of ecstasy took her to a place of primal gratification and celestial bliss that she had never been to before. Life-giving sperm continued to surge into the depths of her womb.

The thought of being filled with sperm was too much for Osa, and she began to climax again.

Interlude 1

Mr. Roarke takes Edgar and Harriet Wellington to a present-day French-style mansion, explaining to them, "For the next week, you will live in this mansion as master and mistress under the watchful eye of Laurence, the butler. Anything you wish, Laurence will provide, be it food, entertainment, aristocratic outings, or more perverse desires. Laurence escorts the Wellingtons into the mansion to change clothes. As soon as they go inside, Mr. Roarke disappears and the grounds staff appear out of nowhere. When Laurence gets them each to their private room, the house staff appears from a side room and begins their chores. Once dressed, they are ushered to the dining hall for a leisurely hour-long luncheon.

Chapter 2

It was a foggy night in Venice when Osa left Casanova to head back to her lodging. When the fog lifts, she comes out of the fog in Hollywood of 1932. A 1931 Dodge DD Sedan nearly struck confused and disoriented, Osa stumbles onto the paved street and. The driver stopped inches from striking her. A woman leans out of the rear window and shouts, "Are you alright, dear?"

Osa responds, "I'm sorry. I'm lost and confused."

"Where are you trying to get to?" the driver asks.

"The Hotel Metropole," Osa replies.

The lady in the back laughs, and the driver chuckles. Then the lady says, "My dear, that's in Venice. We're in London."

Osa is dazed by the explanation. The woman sees the serious confusion on Osa's face and becomes concerned that something nefarious may have happened. "Come on, dear, get in." The back door opens. "You can come with me, and we'll figure it out at my hotel."

Osa gets in the car. "Thank you for your hospitality. My name is Osa." Osa offers her hand to the other woman.

"Driver, continue on, please." The car moves. Taking Osa's hand, she introduces herself. "I'm Tallulah Bankhead."

Osa's eyes widen, and she realizes it was Mr. Roarke who brought her here. "The famous American actress?"

Tallulah smiles. "You have heard of me in your country... Nigeria?"