Author’s note: Skip to the divider to avoid the **lengthy** backstory! I’ll eventually learn to be less long-winded I promise.
I loved traveling solo.
There were just so many fantasies attributed to it, chief among them the prospect of meeting and fucking hot strangers. I’d read enough stories of impromptu skinny dipping sessions, fucking in the hostel showers, and bar alleyway blowjobs that these possibilities loomed whenever I stepped off a plane. What wasn’t to love about a transient fling where everyone was more or less on the same horny page?
The problem this time though, was that I’d flown 12 hours to Eastern Europe from Los Angeles for far more somber reasons not fit for a sexy story. After a month and a half of seeing nothing but the insides of big white tents and speaking a slavic language I was barely functional in to scores of frustrated refugees, it was safe to say I wasn’t in the most social mood by the end. In fact, I found myself actively trying to avoid seeing people at all.