Sex Tour Agency

Allow me to introduce myself—Olya. The very same Olya my husband introduced you to in the story "The Beginning of the Sexual Revolution or an Orgy with Virgins." I want to tell you about one of my sexual adventures. In the early nineties, after we had already moved to Moscow and my husband had become a respectable businessman, a friend of mine told me about a very interesting travel agency in the Solyanka district. "You can satisfy all your desires there," she said ambiguously. She knew about my desires, as she had taken part in some of my amusements. She said that if you utter the code phrase "I want to try something new!",

then they will offer you everything you need. And you already know from my husband's story what I need. That year, I wanted to take a vacation in the spring.

Usually, my husband and I vacation together, but he turned out to be very busy buying some factory in the Urals. So, he suggested I go alone and give him a report on how I rested. I remembered my friend's advice and went to Solyanka. In a modest travel agency, they offered me a standard set of tours: Turkey, Egypt, the Adriatic, Bulgaria, Israel, etc. I thought, maybe I should just go visit Lisichka. But, deciding to check all options, I said the code phrase. The girl who was helping me looked at me carefully and led me to another room, furnished much more elegantly. Another employee, without waiting for my wishes, began telling me about the services they could provide. In simple terms, they offered me any sex services: men and women of any gender and color in any quantity, sadomasochism, any animals for sex, etc. I became interested and stated my requirements: a place where I could have sex anywhere with men, preferably black men—I've had a fondness for black men since my youth. Various places were offered to me, but after much thought and hesitation, I chose a very small country located on islands near Africa. On the island offered to me, the population was 8,000 people. I inquired if there was a Russian embassy on the island and other Russians, but I was told that Russian diplomats only visit the main island of the country 2-3 times a year from the mainland, and there were no other Russians there and never had been. This suited me perfectly, as I didn't want anyone to recognize me. I asked about the spread of AIDS on the island, and I was lucky here too—everyone entering the island must have a certificate stating they are free of AIDS, otherwise they simply won't be allowed in. This also applies to the natives who have traveled somewhere. This suited me—after all, I can't stand condoms.

The visas were processed surprisingly quickly. A briefing on the rules of conduct on the island was conducted by some elderly woman who spoke Russian with a noticeable accent. She explained that on the island, they practically don't steal, so money and jewelry don't need to be hidden; sex for the inhabitants borders on something sacred, so refusing sex is a great sin. You have to pay for sex, but this money is considered sacrificial. At the end, she advised me to live on the island under any name, and as she was leaving, she added: "Never allow three men to have you at the same time, or you will have big problems." This only intrigued me, and I decided I must try it.

The flight to Africa was ordinary, then a small plane, and I was already on the island. A taxi—an old Mercedes—brought me to the hotel. The hotel consisted of several separate bungalows and a central office. The office had a reception, a restaurant, a hairdresser, and other services. The bungalow, surprisingly, had all the amenities, air conditioning (an indispensable thing in the tropics), and a minibar. A huge bed occupied half of the bedroom. The bathtub was equipped with all the achievements of modern technology. My tour included an "All-inclusive" condition. During check-in, I remembered the advice and entered my name in the register: "Bladskaya pizda." Written in Latin, it looked like "Bladskaja pizda." They say Russian obscenities are known all over the world. I don't know, but my new name was accepted without surprise, and the very next day I heard the maid chirping "Madame Pizda! Good morning!" By the way, I was very pleased that my beloved husband insisted I learn English. With this language, you won't get lost anywhere.

After sleeping off the journey, I began to explore the surroundings. For going out, I chose my favorite silk dress and put it on my bare body. I don't like underwear, and the climate allows it. A wonderful multi-kilometer beach came right up to the back door of my bungalow, so I could go out to the sea directly from the house. I went to the hairdresser to freshen up my hairstyle. In the small hairdressing salon, a young black man was in charge. By the way, the black people inhabiting the island had European facial features but black skin. This made them even more charming in my eyes. After finishing with my hair, I went to the reception. After flipping through a pile of fresh newspapers from all over the world (except Russia), I turned to the receptionist. Behind the counter stood a young handsome man—a black man in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt (this is how most of the local population and tourists dressed). I was stunned—this is exactly what I dreamed of in cold spring Moscow. I couldn't resist and, without any preparation, declared to him: "Fuck me!" Without embarrassment, he pulled down his shorts, and I saw his cock. (I'm used to calling things by their proper names.) In my life, I had only seen one such cock, and even that was artificial—from the collection my husband gave me for our wedding. I, of course, tried it, but didn't use it too often. And now, with the appearance of electric vibrators and other products in sex shops, that collection gathers dust on the top shelves. He leaned me against the counter, positioned himself behind me, lifted my dress, and began driving his construction into my pussy. His cock didn't settle inside me right away; at first, it was a bit painful, but then, when I took him in completely, he started moving. He did it very skillfully; it was clear he was trying to give me pleasure first. I fell into ecstasy; it lasted quite a long time, then, deciding I had already had enough orgasm, he came inside me with a large load of sperm. Kissing him, I invited him to come to me in the evening, but not alone, with two friends. He immediately agreed. While he was fucking me, some married couple walked by, glanced carefully in our direction, and busied themselves with the newspapers. Satisfied, I walked past them and headed to the hotel beach.

The beach was equipped according to all modern rules. Sun loungers, umbrellas—everything was ultra-modern. After getting a towel from the boy at the tent, I took off my dress and, as I was, with sperm running down my legs, went into the sea. The sea was wonderful. Coming out of it, I dried off and lay down on a sun lounger under an umbrella—I wasn't planning to get sunburned. Yes, indeed, this island suited me. On the beach besides me, there were several dozen vacationers in varying states of undress. I and a few other women were sunbathing naked, some were topless, men were in European-style swim trunks. In general, the day started well. How would it end?

After dinner, I strolled along the embankment, where one of the men I had noticed earlier on the beach spoke to me—a tall, fair-haired German with a good athletic figure. On the beach, he was with a skinny lady and a son who looked exactly like him, aged 16-18. I willingly got acquainted but didn't rush things—I was waiting for my black treats. Five minutes after returning to the hotel, there was a cautious knock on the door. "Did Madame invite?"—I heard from behind the door. I flung the door open—on the threshold stood the handsome black man from the reception. I stepped back, inviting him in. Behind his back, I saw my morning hairdresser and the boy from the beach who handed out towels. I made a welcoming gesture, and they entered the bungalow. It was clear this wasn't their first time—they felt confident. We introduced ourselves. The hairdresser's name was Manuel, the boy from the beach—Antonio, and their leader—Mario. I offered them drinks from the bar, but they limited themselves to cola. They were waiting for a signal, and I didn't make them wait long. I fell back onto the bed, they surrounded me from all sides, and began what my husband calls a fucking marathon.

They carefully pulled off my shorts and top and began caressing me with their hands and tongues. When Antonio first inserted his not-child-sized cock into me, I began to mutter "Kiss me!" I love kissing very much and expected kisses on the lips, but something unexpected happened. Antonio immediately pulled out of me and gave way to Manuel. He pressed against my pussy and began caressing it with his tongue and lips. He was a master, and within a few minutes, I was in seventh heaven. I hardly remember what happened next. I remember that all my holes were worked over by young black cocks; they only gave me one in my mouth when I myself reached out to taste Mario's sperm. When my husband called, it was around midnight. With a slurred tongue, I said I was being fucked and put the phone on the nightstand by the bed without turning it off—let my husband rejoice with me. They were truly tireless. I can't say exactly who came how many times inside me, on me, on the bed. I was only satiated by three in the morning. I called the maid and ordered the bed to be remade. She showed no surprise at the sight of our company. We agreed to repeat the meeting the next evening, I shoved ten dollars at them, and fell into a blissful sleep like a child.

In the morning, after putting myself in order, I went to the hairdresser and asked to be shaved. As you might guess, I don't grow a beard, so I need to be shaved elsewhere. Generally, I get laser hair removal, which doesn't need to be repeated often, but I wanted to show off. But Manuel didn't fail. He rolled out something like a gynecological chair from the back room, sat me in it, having first lifted my skirt. Here I couldn't stand it and simply moaned "Fuck me!" He lowered his shorts and fulfilled my wish. As if in a fog, I felt him come, cover my legs and what was between them with foam, and start shaving, inserting a finger inside when necessary. When I came to my senses, that same German with his son was gawking at my open crotch through the open window. When the shaving procedure ended, I looked into the reception. Mario was on duty again. I ordered him to fuck me in the ass, which he diligently did. If before I was afraid of his size, after last night, I felt like I could handle anything. Then I went to the beach, where Antonio worked. Paying no attention to those around, I pulled down his shorts and began to suck. After a few minutes, he came in my mouth. The taste of his sperm was the most delicious in my entire life—it was the forgotten taste of cream soda, the drink of my childhood. I took towels from him and plunged into the sea. Coming out of the water, I saw that same German nervously hovering around my sun lounger. I pretended not to see him and lay on my stomach, exposing my butt to the sun. The German suggested we continue our acquaintance. I invited him to visit me at 6 p.m. He beamed and thought the deal was done. When he returned to his skinny lady, I called over his son. Turning onto my back so he could see all my spicy details, I invited him to my bungalow at 5:45 p.m. He promised to be there on the dot.

After lunch and rest, I began to wait for the German guests. First, as I had planned, the son appeared with a bouquet of tropical flowers. After a short introduction and a glass of wine, five minutes before daddy's appearance, I pulled down Hansi's shorts and began to suck, but I didn't let myself relax and controlled everything that was happening. Exactly at 6:00 p.m., the father entered with exactly the same bouquet, saw me sucking off his son, roared something. The son immediately pulled his cock out of me, pulled up his shorts, and they both left. I remained disappointed and, as my husband says, "under-fucked." With even greater zeal, I fucked in the evening after my black friends arrived. Perhaps it became hard for them, because I really got going and demanded more and more. Finally, I remembered the warning "Never let them fuck you in three holes at the same time." I decided to try it. Before that, there had been a "sandwich," and simultaneous sucking and fucking. But when I demanded all three holes at once, I noticed my boys exchanged glances and began to position themselves. Mario lay on his back, I sat on him and directed his cock into my ass, then straightened up, lying on him. Manuel inserted himself from above, and Antonio knelt behind my head and gave me his cock in my mouth. Then they started fucking me, first slowly, then faster and harder. In such moments, I'm carried away. They said something to each other, but not in English. When they came inside me simultaneously, I was in seventh heaven from happiness. But something changed in our relationship. The black men, pulling on their shorts, carefully took me by the hands, feet, and waist and began to carry me out of the bungalow naked. From astonishment and incomprehension, I was silent. They carried me about 200 meters from the house, where there was a car—an old wreck with an open top. Carefully placing me on the long hood, they tied my hands to the side mirrors and my legs, having first spread them wide, to the bumper. I found myself crucified on the hood. Spotlights installed on the grille behind the cab were directed at me.

The guys got into the car and slowly drove off. The oncoming breeze blew over me in the hot tropical night, cooling and exciting me at the same time. Where are they taking me? What will happen to me? They drove me slowly, allowing random nighttime passersby to examine me. Suddenly, the car stopped. A local policeman in uniform shorts, a shirt, and a helmet was slowly walking towards us. He spoke with the guys in the local dialect, slowly took out his cock, and positioned himself with me. After fucking for a short while, he came inside me, adjusted his shorts, threw a small coin into the car, and made a "Drive on!" gesture. I understood they were trading me. They bought me for a small coin, me, whose husband could buy this entire island. This turned me on; I wanted to be fucked and fucked. The car slowly drove through the town. It was stopped three or four more times; I was fucked without being untied or taken off the hood. Finally, dawn began to break. The car turned towards the hotel, they untied me, and with all precautions, carried me into the bungalow. Despite the fact that I didn't want to be a prostitute and please men against my will, I liked it, and I demanded the guys give me the money. With a bow, they gave me a few pathetic coppers.

In the morning, I decided to repeat the entire ritual. Again, Manuel sat me in the chair, but instead of "Fuck me," I ordered "Kiss me." And Manuel licked me until I came. And again, the German with his son were at the window, clearly not by chance. Then the fucking in the ass by Mario and the sucking off of Antonio were repeated. When I approached Antonio, some hotel employee was scolding him. Paying no attention, I, as yesterday, pulled down his shorts and began to enjoy sucking him off. When we finished, the employee started shoving his cock into my mouth for me to suck him off too. But I yelled at him. How dare he behave like that with a hotel guest! I threatened that he would be fired. How he apologized! How he begged for forgiveness, explaining that he mistook me for a completely different woman. I graciously forgave him on the condition that he forgive Antonio.

On the beach, the Germans approached me, the whole family immediately, led by the mother. They politely apologized for yesterday's misunderstanding and invited me to visit them. Here I was taken aback. What do they want? But I agreed. We had lunch together. In the hotel restaurant (all-inclusive!) at a large table, Wolfgang, Hans, and Anna shared their problems. It turns out their whole family is sexually unsatisfied. Could I help them? They see I'm a sexually liberated woman. Maybe my experience could help them? Anna even teared up here. It turned out that Anna had only tried sex with Wolfgang, and her attempts to change (with his consent) led nowhere. She simply couldn't spread her legs. And Wolfgang, not getting satisfaction from Anna, doesn't know what to do. He is only satisfied

by prostitutes. And they are also afraid that Hans will repeat their experience. But they agree to any experiments. I promised to think about it. I began to think about how my sexual liberation began, something I don't like to remember. The fact is that in my last year of school, I was raped by a group of scumbags. The police, as always, didn't find anyone, and even tried to make me guilty of what happened, saying I shouldn't wander around in the evenings. Despite the disgust at what happened, it was during the rape that my sexuality awakened. I decided to test what happened to me on Anna. In the evening, my trio came to me to continue our games. After three hours of fucking, Mario agreed to help me and mobilize his acquaintances to carry out a "rape." I myself planned to observe the process and, in case nothing worked out, interrupt it.

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