Air B and D Part 1 [F33][solo]

This was supposed to be a relaxing long weekend getaway. Away from the city, the noise, the daily bump and grind traffic into an office where I sell my soul to Big Corp International. To be fair, work isn’t all that bad. I get to suck Rodney’s cock in the mailroom when no one’s around. But even he can get annoyingly loud, grunting and pulling my hair when he’s about to explode. Sometimes a lady needs her peace and quiet.

I’d booked this place online. “Private. Perfect for writing or meditation.” It’s a quaint cottage with an English garden, one of a few little retreats spaced far apart on an estate. Tall oak trees surrounded it save for a stretch of grass that extended up the large property. I look past it and see the main house not too far away. It’s big and old, like a Rockefeller mansion.

I love finding gems like these online. Best of all, I don’t have to talk to anyone. There’s a combo lock on the door and the emailed numbers work fine. I open the door and the smell of cedar and a long extinguished fireplace wafts past my nose. Inside, it’s decorated simply with a muted palette on the curtains and walls. No distractions. The bedroom is no different. A full size bed takes up most of it but there’s room for a mirror, dresser, and a side table.

It’s perfect, and that’s the problem because nothing ever is. I open my phone to a special app that can spot hidden cameras. I’ve traveled enough to know that people are nosy. Hell, I look in open windows any chance I get. I hold the phone like I’m recording a video.

“Check out this cool place. It’s so cozy,” I squeal as I pan around the main room. Nothing there. But when I move into the bedroom the phone app lights up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh my god, this bed is so soft, I just want to burrow into the sheets right now!” I keep up the act as I note the holes in the wall, the odd dot on the mirror, and another on the bedside lamp. Whoever did this wanted all angles covered. Perverts. I wonder if they’re cute?

I put down my phone and decide to run a test. Some people just have dumb devices; picks up motion and just starts recording. Other people, people with money or without patience, they’ll set up a CCTV or stream via wifi. I remember this one four-star hotel that was even miked for sound. There’s the good way to test this, with the right radio sensors and network sniffing tools, and then there’s my way.

Opening my bag, I pull out a pair of red lace panties and matching bra. I was saving it for a night on the town but now works too. I strip out of my sweatshirt and tights, then peel off my underwear. I stand naked in front of the mirror and pretend to check myself out. My light freckles look like a galaxy of faint stars whorling over my face and body. Or maybe God sprayed me with wine and never wiped the stains. *Let’s give them a show,* I think. I play with my hair, then my breasts. Little circles with my thumbs while my hand plays with my ample tits. My nipples perk up and I smile. “Settle down, girls,” I say to no one. No one there at least.

I turn around and bend over the bed to reach for my panties, making sure the mirror gets a perfect shot when I remember all the other cameras are getting me already. I can feel a little warmth between my legs and wonder if whoever’s on the other side is as turned on as me. Crawling on the bed, I prop myself with a pillow and stare at myself in the mirror, knees bent and legs spread. I look utterly fuckable. I’d promised I would touch myself, at least not until I had sex someone first. Of course that was before I knew someone was watching me. Instead of being good I slide a hand over the tuft of red hair over my mound and begin to make slow circles.

It’s getting warmer. My cheeks are on fire and my clit starts to swell as the motion awakens all my senses. I close my eyes and try to imagine who’s watching, if anyone. I think of Rodney, my mailroom fuckboi with his stellar penis. Nah. Too young, too impulsive. He wouldn’t have the patience to set this up. A woman perhaps. That’d be a pleasant surprise. It’s probably an old codger, some dirty ex-CEO type with money and time and needs. That’s it. A gray fox in a bespoke suit sitting in a room full of monitors like the fucking Bat Cave, jerking off to me masturbating from five POVs. I sigh as a tingle of electricity radiates from my pussy and follow it with faster circles.

I can hear me gasping for air, each breath sounds like desperation. I’m so fucking wet. I wonder if they can hear it too. Sliding two fingers into my entrance is enough to get me moaning, rocking my pussy into myself. Soft slaps echo in the room. There’s no need to draw this out so I go in with both hands playing with my pussy, my clit, my wet folds. When I go over the edge, I squeeze my thighs tight around my hand, bucking once before letting it all go with a satisfied moan. I take a lick and love how I taste.

The test is set.

I clean up and get dressed in an oversized sweater with a low scoop and yoga pants. I’m putting away my old clothes when there’s a knock at the front door. There’s no peep hole so I sneak a look through the window and see a man dressed in a hunting jacket.

I open the door and get a better look at him. He’s tall and broad shouldered. Either used to work or working out. Maybe he’s an investment banker who retired early. God help me if he’s a tech bro. His face is clean shaven with just the tiniest sheen of sweat under his jaw. His thinning brown hair is parted neatly to the side. More suspiciously, he’s panting a bit, like he ran here. “Hello?”

“Hi, sorry to disturb you, Connie, is it?” he asks. “I got a text that the door was opened and I forgot to stock the fireplace with wood. Something I do for guests.”

“You weren’t disturbing me,” I say, opening the door wider. I look him up and down and give him a wry smile. “Where’s your wood?”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/11u3awz/air_b_and_d_part_1_f33solo