The best vacation

Chapter 1. Morning of Freedom

The first rays of the sun, gentle as a whisper, crept through the translucent curtains and touched her skin. Alyona slowly opened her eyes, feeling the warm light glide over her body, outlining the smooth curves of her shoulders, the slender line of her waist, her soft hips. She stretched like a cat, enjoying the pleasant tension and subsequent relaxation of her muscles.

The bedroom breathed silence and peace. The snow-white bed linen, slightly rumpled from sleep, seemed even purer against the backdrop of her naked body. A light breeze stirred the translucent curtains, letting in the scent of a summer morning—the freshness of grass, the sweetish note of a flowering

linden tree somewhere in the distance. On the nightstand stood a small vase with wildflowers she had gathered last night, anticipating this day.

Her vacation began today. A whole year of work, stress, endless reports—and now, finally, freedom. No alarms, no frantic rush. Just her, this warm dawn, and nowhere to be.

Alyona leisurely rose from the bed, feeling the pleasant tickle of the cool wooden floor on her bare feet. She didn't even bother looking for a robe—today she wanted to feel every movement of her body without extra fabric, without boundaries. She walked to the mirror, briefly smiled at her reflection—disheveled hair, sleepy but shining eyes, a light blush on her cheeks.

The bathroom greeted her with the coolness of the tiles. She washed her face, feeling the water wash away the last remnants of sleep, invigorating her skin. Droplets lingered on her shoulders, sparkling in the morning light before rolling down.

In the kitchen, Alyona turned on the coffee machine, and the aroma of fresh cappuccino quickly filled the air. She sliced a fresh peach, arranged cottage cheese with honey on a plate, and sprinkled a handful of nuts. Simple, but so delicious. And most importantly—no need to rush anywhere.

She sat at the table, completely naked, feeling the sun's rays caress her back. The first sip of coffee—bitter, warming. The first bite of peach—juicy, sweet. She closed her eyes and smiled.

Today everything would be different. Today she belonged only to herself.

Chapter 2. A Spontaneous Decision.

At first, Alyona wanted to spend the whole day at home, lying on the couch and watching some series or other.

Alyona had already sunk into the soft cushions of the couch, lazily clicking the remote. The TV droned something indistinct—either a melodrama or a talk show—but her thoughts were already floating somewhere far away. Suddenly the screen flashed with vivid colors: turquoise expanse, golden beaches, tanned bodies on sun loungers.

"A heavenly vacation for just 29,990!" the announcer chanted seductively.

She felt a pang in her chest. A year in a stuffy office, endless reports, a tyrant boss... And yet she could be lying there now to the sound of the surf, feeling the salty spray cool her heated skin.

— Damn it, — she suddenly said loudly to the empty apartment, — why not?

The phone was instantly in her hand. Her fingers feverishly tapped the screen:

Trains—all seats sold out a week ago

Plane tickets—prices tripled

Bus tours—last seats gone yesterday

— Hitchhiking it is, then, — Alyona grumbled, throwing off the blanket.

Packing

The wardrobe swung open with a characteristic creak. She ran her palm over the racks of clothes, thoughtfully biting her lip.

Panties:

— Lace, wine-red—beautiful, but impractical for the beach

— Cotton, sporty—comfortable, but too girly

She settled on black microfiber ones—hugging like a second skin, but not chafing.

Shorts:

Denim, short, with worn patches on the thighs—the very ones that make her ass look simply divine.

Tank tops:

1. Fitted black—will accentuate the curves

2. Loose white with a deep neckline—for seductive hints

She thought about a bra for a second, but waved her hand—why bother, if nothing's visible under the tank tops anyway? And everyone there goes without them.

Footwear:

— Flip-flops with golden glitter—for the beach

— White sneakers—in case of long walks. I'll travel in them too.

The Main Question

Her fingers froze over the bag with cardboard boxes. Inside lay... let's say, her "personal collection of pleasures."

— Take it or not? — she asked the mirror aloud.

The rubber dildo (25 cm, with realistic texture) was immediately rejected:

— Dragging that monster is like carrying a separate suitcase.

But the miniature vacuum vibrator for the clit (pink, silent, with 10 modes) easily fit in her palm:

— You, handsome, are definitely coming with me. Who knows what romantic adventures await?

With a sly grin, she stuffed the toy into the side pocket of her backpack, grabbing a couple of band-aids along the way—"just in case."

47 minutes later (she timed it) Alyona was already standing on highway 22K. Sunglasses hid her eyes, but not the appetizing curve of her lips. Her thumb confidently pointed upward, and the wind caressed her buttocks, visible from her most seductive shorts.

Somewhere there, beyond the horizon, awaited:

— Warm sea

— Mysterious strangers

— And adventures she couldn't even guess about yet…

Chapter 3. Wind of Change

The sun was already high, scorching the asphalt underfoot. Alyona walked along the shoulder, rhythmically raising her thumb at every passing car. Dust settled on her bare shoulders, mixing with droplets of sweat.

"Everyone's traveling with families, kids, dogs..." she sighed mentally, watching another minivan with a "Crimea or the Southern Coast" sticker on the rear window fly by.

Suddenly, brakes screeched on the shoulder. A truck, covered in a layer of road grime, stopped a few meters from her. The cab door clanged open, and a red, unshaven driver's face leaned out.

— Get in, beautiful! — he rasped, adjusting his oil-stained tank top stretched over his belly. — I'll take you to Voronezh... if you suck it deep.

Alyona froze for a second, then slowly turned and walked on, raising her middle finger high.

— Suck it yourself, you junkie! — she shouted after him as the truck roared off, leaving a cloud of exhaust fumes.

Another ten minutes passed. Alyona was already starting to think about going back home when suddenly a low engine roar was heard in the distance. A swift shadow appeared on the horizon, and a moment later a dark blue motorcycle, chrome gleaming under the scorching sun, came to a halt in front of her.

The driver took off his helmet, and Alyona saw dark eyes, short-cropped hair, and a slight smirk.

— Where are you headed? — he asked, swinging his leg over the seat.

— To the sea, — Alyona smiled.

— Where exactly? I'm going to Crimea.

— I just want to go to the sea, — she laughed, shrugging.

The guy gave her an appraising look, then nodded towards the back seat.

— Let's go, if you're not afraid. But first we'll swing by the city—buy you a helmet. Otherwise, the traffic cops won't understand.

Alyona didn't hesitate for a second. She nimbly jumped onto the motorcycle, feeling the hot seat burn her thighs. Her arms wrapped around the guy's torso, her fingers gripping the black leather of his jacket.

— Hold on tight, — he warned, and the next moment the world turned into a flickering stream of colors.

The wind beat against her face, tore her hair from its clip, made her heart pound wildly. She had never ridden a motorcycle before, and now she understood—this was the feeling of complete freedom.

— What's your name? — she shouted, pressing closer so he could hear her over the engine noise.

— Pasha! — he answered, turning his head slightly. — And yours?

— Alyona!

He smirked and increased the speed.

The road stretched ahead, and somewhere there, beyond the horizon, the sea awaited... and something else she couldn't even guess about yet.

Chapter 4. First Stop

The city of Sarov greeted them with a quiet afternoon heat. The motorcycle, slowing down, rumbled more softly, as if also tired from the endless highway.

— You need a helmet, — said Pasha, deftly maneuvering between the sparse cars. — See that shop with the 'Biker Gear' sign?

Alyona nodded, pressing against his back. In the shop window, accessories gleamed with chrome, and helmets of all colors of the rainbow were displayed on stands.

In the Shop

— This one suits you, — Pasha handed her a 'retro'-style helmet with a soft pink stripe and a visor.

Alyona tried it on—light, comfortable, with a soft lining. Her reflection in the mirror smiled:

"I look like the heroine of some road novel."

— How much do we owe? — she was already taking out her wallet, but Pasha deftly intercepted her hand.

— Keep it. Let it be a souvenir of the trip. And the fine for not having one would cost more, — he winked at the salesman, who nodded approvingly.

Next stop—the local "Pyaterochka" store.

— A hungry biker is an angry biker, — Pasha joked, loading the basket:

Two chocolate croissants;

Fruit, cheese, bread, and jerky—"for later."

They got 2 coffees from the vending machine.

They settled on a bench by the entrance. Alyona broke off a piece of croissant, watching as Pasha tilted his head back, taking a sip of coffee. A drop lingered on his lip, and she suddenly had a wild urge to wipe it away with her finger.

— We'll have lunch later, we need to ride—said Pasha.

— Long way to go? — she asked, looking away.

— If no adventures—two days. But... — he smirked, — with me, adventures are guaranteed.

On the Road Again

The helmet fit snugly on her head. Pasha started the motorcycle, and the vibration of the engine resonated somewhere deep in her belly.

— Hold on tighter! — he shouted, and they shot forward.

Alyona hugged him around the waist, feeling the wind grow stronger and the city houses give way to endless fields. Somewhere ahead, the sea awaited them…

And something else—something you can't buy at "Pyaterochka" and can't put in a backpack.

Chapter 5. The River and Revelations

Four in the afternoon. The sun, though leaning towards sunset, still burned mercilessly. The motorcycle, turning off the main highway, dove into the green tunnel of country roads, where the air smelled of cut grass and the special scent of farms.

— The M4 now is like a conveyor belt, — Pasha shouted, deftly avoiding a rut. — But here…

Alyona didn't hear the end of the phrase—the wind carried the words away. But she understood: these roads were a different life. No billboards, no lines of trucks—just endless fields, occasionally interrupted by flocks of chickens near village fences.

Stop by the River

The water gleamed unexpectedly—a narrow ribbon, crossed by a bridge. Pasha slowed down:

— Lunch?

Alyona nodded, feeling her stomach demanding sustenance. They set up an impromptu camp on a sandy spit.

Preparing Lunch:

✔ Pasha deftly sliced the bread with a hunting knife

✔ Alyona skewered bacon on twigs—improvised skewers

✔ Tea from the thermos smelled of mint and something else, sharp—"My special blend," — he winked

They ate standing, their bare feet sinking into the warm sand. Conversation flowed as easily as the river:

— I run away every year, — Pasha brushed the hair from his forehead. — Save up for half a year, live on the road for three months.

— And in winter?

— In winter, I fix motorcycles and dream.

Alyona told him about the office, about the boss who considered overtime the norm. About the apartment where she lives alone.

Swimming

— Freshen up? — Pasha pulled off his T-shirt, and Alyona involuntarily let her gaze linger on his stomach—defined, with a dark line of hair disappearing under the waistband of his shorts.

— I… don't have a swimsuit, don't want to get it wet. Don't feel like carrying it wet in the bag later.

Pasha laughed:

— What, you've never swum in camping conditions?

He turned around, and a moment later his shorts and underwear were lying on the sand. His back—tanned, with a dragon tattoo—tensed for a second before the jump.

— Come on in! I won't look. — his voice came from the water.

Alyona bit her lip. Her fingers trembled, unbuttoning her shorts. "He's not looking…", — but that knowledge didn't stop her heart from pounding.

The water turned out to be a bit cool, a burning contrast.

— Well? — Pasha swam breaststroke, and droplets sparkled on his shoulders.

— Awesome! — she snorted when a wave splashed her face.

They raced to the opposite bank. Alyona lost, but laughed desperately, spitting out water.

Pasha got out first. Alyona, pretending to adjust her wet hair, watched furtively:

— How he dries his chest, making the muscles play under his skin

— How droplets run down his stomach… lower…

— And how his cock, semi-erect, sways with every movement. Yeah, he wasn't small even in a non-working state. Alyona thought he'd probably be thicker than her rubber one if he got hard.

— You have… a beautiful body, — said Pasha, handing her a towel and demonstratively looking away.__