Passion desire Lust

Story 3 Like Never Before

The number of cars scared me as I watched from the cab’s window. We had been driving for more than an hour and it was bumper to bumper on the highway into LA from LAX. I was dead tired after the flight and the jet lag was coming on. I yawned and then leaned back in the seat. Finally, I was here, America. I had dreamt about this trip for years but never had the money. I didn’t believe my luck when I entered an online competition to win a one-week all-paid yoga seminar. Back in Reykjavik, Iceland, where I am from a friend and I own a Yoga center. This was a fantastic opportunity to see LA and learn new techniques. My friend has a family and couldn’t attend, but I, being single had no problem packing a suitcase and taking a cab to the airport.

The traffic became better and after a while, we turned off the highway and entered Pasadena. I was to stay in a motel close to the seminar according to the brochure I had been sent.

The car drove past shopping malls, and fast-food restaurants until it finally turned into a parking lot and stopped in front of the hotel lobby, I paid and got out.

“Hi, I’m Lisa Bjornsdottir, and I have a reservation,” I said to the receptionist. She was in her late thirties and looked stressed.

“Ms. Who?”

I sighed, my last name wasn’t easy. “Bjornsdottir,” I said again and then wrote it on a piece of paper she handed me.

After some typing on her computer, she looked up and smiled at me. “Here you are. Welcome, I hope you had a nice flight.”

“Thank you, it’s good to be here finally.”This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

I had taken off my thick winter jacket in the cab and now I opened its pocket and handed her my passport. When I left Reykjavik it was ten degrees. I was sweating under my sweaters and heavy pants. She must have noticed my suffering because, she said, “There is a pool in the back if you want to cool off.”

“Thank you.”

“Here is your key. You are in room 205, just take the elevator to the second floor and turn right. Here is your name tag for the seminar which begins tomorrow. It will be held across the street at the convention center.”

I thanked her again and picked up my bag and made my way to the bank of elevators. While I waited, I looked around and realized the hotel was much nicer than I had thought. There was a lobby bar, a restaurant, and some kind of cafeteria. The elevator arrived and I rode up alone.

The room had one queen-size bed, a bathroom, and a small sofa group by the French windows that led out to a tiny balcony. First things first, I needed to relax, and there was only one way I knew how to do it properly. I rummaged through my suitcase until I found what I was looking for. Then I took off all my clothes and lay down on the bed.

The eight-inch vibrator buzzed in my hand as I slowly let it run across my nipples and down my belly. When it reached my cunt I slid it back and forth a few times before gently pushing it inside me. My pussy is tight, not because of lack of cock; I was just made that way. The eight inches eventually slid in. I gasped as it stretched me wide. Once I got used to it, I began to fuck myself with slow movements, and a steady rhythm. Once I felt that warm feeling spreading out from my cunt I pulled my legs up toward my boobs and increased speed. I let out a quiet moan as I peaked and then lay there catching my breath. My eyes were closed through the post-orgasmic bliss, I heard laughter and splashing. After a few minutes, I got up and pulled my sweater over my head. Then I looked out the window. Below me was the pool, and it was bigger than I had thought. There were eight people in it and several more sitting in plastic chairs or lying on sun beds. I went back to my suitcase and realized I didn’t have a bikini. It never occurred to me to pack one. “Fuck,” I said to no one special.

Back in the lobby, I asked the receptionist where I could buy one and she gave me directions to a shop just around the side of the hotel. I found it and bought a red and black bikini.

Back in my room I put it on and checked that my bikini line was good, and of course, it was. I only had a tuft of blonde hair above my clit. I am a natural blonde and my eyes are blue as ice. I’m neither short nor tall, and my favorite part of my body is my ass. I’m very proud of it and I like to show it off. My tits are quite big for being an Icelander; I have no clue where they came from because my mother and both my grandmothers are flat as a board. Maybe some Viking ancestor fucked some slave girl in a country where the women had big tits and the genes jumped all the women until I was born some one thousand years later. Anyway, they are big, firm, and have light pink nipples. My skin is white, what I mean is that it’s white, white. We don’t get much sun in Iceland so being able to get a tan was a luxury for me.

When I came out to the pool area wearing my new bikini, heads turned, and eyes almost popped out of their sockets. That was the male reaction. The female reaction was upturned noses, whispers, and a lot of measuring with their eyes.

I found an empty sun bed and lay down my towel. I had no sun lotion, but I didn’t intend to stay too long. I was hungry as a wolf, but I just needed sun on my skin for a while.

“Hi, are you here for the seminar?”

The voice was deep and soft. I opened my eyes and through my sunglasses, I saw a black man and I automatically moved away and fell off the sun bed. I hit my ass and my elbow and swore loudly in Icelandic.

“Are you OK?”

I collected myself and sat up, still on the ground. I felt like a complete asshole. Why had I jumped like that when I saw him? I had seen black men before, well at a distance at least. There weren’t many back home and none in my circle of friends. He held out his hand and when I took it in mine, it covered it completely, his hands were huge. He pulled me up as if I was a feather. When I sat down on the bed, he said. “What did you say before?”

“You don’t want to know, trust me.”

“Where are you from?”

“Iceland and you?”

“I was born in Dallas, but I live in San Diego. My name is Damon.”

“Lisa, nice to meet you.”

“Maybe I’ll see you later,” he said and gave me a wink.

I watched him walk away towards a group of men, some black and some white. I had never seen someone so big in my life. He was at least six feet, five if not taller. His chest was enormous and so were his biceps and thighs. He had a six back that my grandmother would have loved to use for laundry, but what I had noticed the most was the bulge in his Speedos. He must be hung like a horse, I thought. His skin was that coffee color, no milk, more like an Espresso. I had never dated anyone who wasn’t as white as me, or even whiter. I lay down again and wondered what it would be like to have a man like that on top of me. Would he smell different, would he fuck different, or would it be the same as a white guy? His cock must be at least as big as the vibrator lying on my bed. I wondered if I would be able to take him, then I blushed. What was I thinking? I was here for a seminar, not chasing men, and defiantly not a black man. I stayed on my sun bed for a while longer and then made my way up to my room. After a long hot shower, I crawled under the sheets for a snooze before dinner. I was too tired for lunch. Before I fell asleep the image of Damon walking away from me made me open my eyes. I had never seen a man with such a firm ass.