The late afternoon sun filtered through the half-drawn curtains, casting golden streaks across the rumpled sheets of the king-sized bed. A slow, satisfied sigh escaped my lips as I stretched, my naked body arching like a cat basking in warmth. The air still carried the faint musk of sex—my sex—and the scent clung to the sheets, thick and intoxicating. My fingers twitched against the mattress before I finally turned my head, blinking lazily at the chaos scattered across the floor.
There it was—the evidence of last night’s impatience. My black mini skirt lay in a torn heap, the fabric stretched beyond repair where I yanked it down my thighs in a frenzy. Beside it, my white button-up shirt gaped open, sleeves still half-tucked into the arms as if I had barely had the patience to shrug it off. And then, the pièce de résistance—my pink lace bra, the 36C cups still holding their shape, the straps tangled where I ripped it free with a desperate tug. A slow, wicked smirk curled my lips as the memories flooded back.
I had known this weekend was going to be filthy. The second I stepped into the hotel room—just a pit stop before the real fun began—my body had betrayed me, throbbing with need. The anticipation of the sex mansion, of the endless hours of pleasure waiting for me, had been too much. My fingers had trembled as I unzipped my skirt, letting it pool at my ankles before stepping out of it. The G-string had been next, the flimsy scrap of lace no match for the wet heat between my thighs. I had barely kicked it aside before reaching into my bag, my breath already coming in short, hungry gasps.
The dildo had been a godsend. Thick, veined, the silicone still warm from being tucked against my skin in my purse. I hadn’t even bothered with lube—I was dripping, my arousal slicking the toy as I guided it between my folds. The first press of the tip against my entrance had made me whimper, my back arching off the bed. And then—oh god—I did sink it in, one slow, deliberate inch at a time, my inner walls clenching around it like a vice. The buzz of the vibrations had sent electric shocks straight to my clit, my hips jerking upward as I fucked myself with abandon. It hadn’t taken long. Three, four deep thrusts, the toy grinding against that perfect spot inside me, and I had come with a broken cry, my juices gushing around the silicone, soaking the sheets beneath me.
I could have cleaned up. I knew that. But the clock on the nightstand had glared at me—8:17, and my flight left in forty-five minutes. There hadn’t been time to shower, barely time to wipe the stickiness from my thighs before yanking on a fresh pair of panties—wait, no, had I even done that?—and throwing on the first dress I grabbed from my suitcase. The taxi ride to the airport had been a blur, my skin still humming, my panties (if I had even put them on) damp with the remnants of my climax.
It wasn’t until I had landed, stepping into the airport bathroom to freshen up, that I realised my mistake. My fingers had brushed against the bare skin of my ass when I reached for the hem of my dress, and my stomach had dropped. No underwear. And worse—when I had pressed my thighs together, the slick, warm slide of my own arousal had been undeniable. I hadn’t just forgotten to put on panties. I had forgotten to clean up at all. My pussy was still swollen, still weeping, the evidence of my earlier orgasm coating my inner thighs. The realization had sent a fresh wave of heat through me, my nipples hardening beneath my dress. Fuck. I was a mess. A horny mess.
And now, here I was. The sex mansion loomed around me, all dark wood and plush velvet, the air thick with the promise of debauchery. I hadn’t even made it past the threshold of my assigned room before my clothes had started coming off. The dress—some slinky, clingy thing I had picked for easy access—had been the first to go, pooled at my feet as I toed off my heels. The bra followed, my tits spilling free, the cool air making my nipples pucker into tight, aching buds. And then—nothing. No panties to remove. Just me, completely bare, my pussy already throbbing, my folds glistening with fresh wetness.
The bed was massive, a decadent sprawl of black silk and overstuffed pillows. I didn’t hesitate. One knee hit the mattress, then the other, my body sinking into the luxurious give of the sheets as I crawled toward the center, my ass swaying with every movement. The second my chest pressed into the cool fabric, I moaned, the sensation of the silk against my oversensitive nipples sending a jolt straight to my clit.
I didn’t need to reach far. My toys were already laid out on the nightstand, a carefully curated selection for maximum pleasure. The nipple suckers first—small, silicone cups with tiny vibrating nodes inside. I plucked them up, rolling one between my fingers before pressing it to my left nipple. The suction was immediate, my breath hitching as the vibrations kicked in, a low, insistent hum that made my toes curl. Oh fuck yes. The second one followed, sealing over my right nipple, the dual sensations making me arch off the bed with a gasp. My tits felt full, heavy, the suckers pulling at my flesh in the most delicious way, the vibrations traveling straight to my core.
Next, the rabbit. I had splurged on this one—dual motors, adjustable speeds, the ears designed to flutter against my clit while the shaft pulsed inside me. I clicked it on, the low buzz making me bite my lip as I guided it between my thighs. The first touch of the silicone ears against my swollen clit had my hips jerking, a broken whine spilling from my lips. I didn’t tease myself. Not this time. I was starving. The tip of the rabbit pressed against my entrance, slick with my own arousal, and I sank it in with a shuddering moan, the stretch perfect, the vibrations already making my vision blur at the edges.
But I wasn’t done. Oh no. My fingers groped blindly for the last toy—the big one. The dildo was a monster, easily nine inches of thick, ridged silicone, the base flared to hit that deep spot inside me. I had bought it on a whim, wondering if I could even take it. Now, with the rabbit already buried inside me, my pussy fluttering around the intrusion, I wasn’t sure I should. But the thought of being stuffed, of having my cunt stretched to its limits, was too much to resist.
I pulled the rabbit out with a wet pop, my inner walls clenching at the loss. A whine escaped me as I lined up the giant dildo, the tip pressing against my soaked entrance. Breathe. I had to breathe. The first inch was a struggle, my body resisting the sheer size of it, but I was dripping, my arousal easing the way. I sank it in slowly, my free hand flying to my mouth to stifle the scream as my pussy stretched around the girth, the ridges dragging against my inner walls in a way that made me see stars. Fuck. Fuck. I was full. So full. The dildo bottomed out inside me, the base pressing flush against my lips, and I could feel it, the way it filled me, the way my cunt pulsed around it like it never wanted to let go.
The rabbit found its way back to my clit, the vibrations sending me into overdrive. I rocked my hips, fucking myself on the dildo, the deep penetration making my belly flutter. My fingers trailed down, circling my belly button before dipping lower, teasing the sensitive skin just above my mound. The pleasure was everywhere—my nipples, sucked and vibrated into tight peaks; my clit, throbbing under the rabbit’s relentless attention; my cunt, stuffed to the brink, my inner walls milking the dildo with every roll of my hips.
I came with a broken cry, my back bowing off the bed as my orgasm crashed over me. My pussy clenched hard, my juices gushing around the dildo, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath me. The rabbit kept buzzing, the vibrations prolonging my climax, my body shuddering with aftershocks. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. My hips kept moving, my fingers digging into my tits, pinching my nipples through the suckers as I chased another high.
The second orgasm hit me like a freight train. My vision whited out, my mouth falling open in a silent scream as my cunt flooded, my release dripping down my ass, pooling beneath me. The dildo slipped out with a wet squelch, my pussy gaping, my folds swollen and glistening. I was done. Ruined. My body twitched, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I collapsed onto the bed, my skin slick with sweat, my chest heaving.
I didn’t even have the energy to remove the toys. The nipple suckers still hummed against my tits, my nipples throbbing in their grip. The rabbit lay abandoned between my thighs, its vibrations slowly winding down. My fingers twitched once, twice, before my eyelids fluttered shut, my body still trembling with the ghost of my climax.
Sleep took me like that—naked, spent, my pussy still throbbing, my skin sticky with sweat and arousal. The last thing I registered was the faint scent of sex in the air, the knowledge that this was only the beginning. And God, I couldn’t wait.
The first thing I noticed when my eyelids fluttered open was the dull, insistent throb between my thighs—a reminder of how thoroughly I’d wrecked myself the night before. The black silk sheets clung to my skin, damp in places where my body had betrayed me even in sleep. My nipples ached, still swollen from the relentless suction of the clamps, the faintest ghost of their vibrations humming through my nerves like an aftershock. I stretched, arching my back just enough to feel the pull of my own weight against my sensitive flesh, and a slow, wicked smile curled my lips. Fuck, I was still horny.
I rolled onto my side, fingers already tracing lazy circles over my stomach before drifting upward. The nipple suckers lay discarded on the nightstand, their silicone cups glistening with dried spit—I must’ve drooled all over them in my frenzy. I picked one up, running my thumb over the ridged interior, remembering how it had clamped down on me like a hungry mouth, sucking until my nipples stood out obscenely, dark red and throbbing. My free hand slid between my thighs, fingers parting my folds without hesitation. I was dripping. Not just wet—flooded, my pussy still weeping from last night’s abuse, the sheets beneath me sticky with it. A shiver ran through me as I circled my clit, already swollen, already begging for more.
I sat up with a groan, the movement sending a fresh wave of arousal through me. The air in the room was cool against my bare skin, my nipples tightening into stiff little peaks the second they were exposed. I leaned over, grabbing the other sucker, and without preamble, I pressed them both to my breasts. The silicone sealed around my flesh with a wet schlick, and I hissed as the suction kicked in, my back arching involuntarily. God, yes. The pressure was perfect—just shy of painful, the kind of bite that made my toes curl, and my cunt clench around nothing. I fumbled for the remote on the nightstand, thumb hovering over the vibration settings. One tap. A low, rhythmic pulse hummed through the cups, and I gasped, my head falling back as my nipples turned into live wires, sending jolts straight to my core.
I didn’t bother easing into it. I cranked the intensity up halfway, and the world narrowed to the relentless buzz against my tits, the way my nipples swelled even more, trapped and tormented. My free hand was back between my legs, two fingers plunging into my soaked hole without resistance. I fucked myself hard, knuckles pressing against my clit with every thrust, my breath coming in ragged little pants. The dual sensations—my nipples being milked, my pussy being stretched—sent me spiraling fast. I could feel the orgasm building, a tight coil in my belly, my thighs trembling as I worked myself over. Not yet. I gritted my teeth, forcing my hand to slow, denying myself the release my body screamed for. The denial only made the ache worse, the pleasure sharper. I whimpered, my hips jerking up, chasing the friction I’d just stolen from myself.
Time blurred. I lost track of how long I stayed like that—perched on the edge, my body a live wire, my skin slick with sweat. The nipple suckers never relented, their vibrations turning my breasts into erogenous zones so sensitive that even the brush of my own fingers made me gasp. I added a third toy—a small, bullet vibe—pressing it against my clit while I fingered myself, the triple stimulation too much, too good. My vision whited out as the first orgasm crashed over me, my back bowing off the bed, a broken cry tearing from my throat. My pussy pulsed around my fingers, gushing, my thighs slick with it. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. The aftershocks were still rippling through me when I reached for the rabbit vibrator, its dual motors already humming to life.
I didn’t bother with the dildo this time. I was too far gone, my body a mess of overstimulated nerves and desperate need. The rabbit’s shaft slid into me effortlessly, my cunt greedy for it, and the moment the clit stimulator made contact, I screamed. The nipple suckers were still clamped on, their vibrations synced with the rabbit’s pulses, and it was too much—too fucking much—but I couldn’t stop. My hands flew to my tits, squeezing, pinching, twisting my nipples through the silicone, the pain and pleasure twisting together until I couldn’t tell them apart. Another orgasm hit me like a freight train, my body convulsing, my pussy flooding the sheets beneath me. I came so hard my vision blacked out for a second, my fingers digging crescents into my own skin.
When I finally collapsed back against the pillows, my chest heaving, my body felt like it had been wrung out. The nipple suckers had fallen off at some point, leaving my nipples raw and throbbing, the skin around them flushed dark pink. My pussy ached, oversensitive, my folds swollen and glistening. I lay there for a long moment, boneless, my skin tingling everywhere. Fuck. I needed to clean up. Eat something. Rehydrate, at the very least. The thought of moving made me groan, but the sticky mess between my thighs was starting to get uncomfortable.
I dragged myself out of bed, my legs wobbling like a newborn foal’s. The en-suite bathroom was a godsend—all black marble and gold fixtures, the shower big enough to fit four people. I turned the water to scalding, stepping under the spray with a hiss as it hit my over-sensitized skin. The heat soothed the ache in my muscles, but it did nothing for the persistent throb between my legs. I washed myself slowly, my fingers lingering where they shouldn’t, tracing the outline of my pussy lips, teasing my clit until I was breathless again. Pathetic. I was insatiable. But the water was running cold, and my stomach growled, so I forced myself to step out, wrapping a plush towel around my body.
The mansion’s kitchen was a dream—sleek, modern, fully stocked. I pulled on a robe I found hanging in the closet, the silk sliding over my skin like a lover’s touch. I made toast, scrambled eggs, poured myself a glass of orange juice, and ate standing by the window, watching the world outside. That’s when I saw it. The snow. Holy shit. It had started while I was lost in my own little world of pleasure, and now the ground was buried under at least a foot of white, the flakes still falling in thick, lazy spirals. A laugh bubbled up in my throat. Of course. The universe had a sick sense of humor.
My phone buzzed on the counter. I wiped my fingers on a napkin before picking it up, my smile faltering when I saw the notification. Flight canceled. Rescheduled for tomorrow evening. I stared at the screen, the words blurring for a second. No. My unknown partner—the one I’d been fantasizing about, the one who was supposed to fuck me senseless—wasn’t coming. Not tonight. The disappointment hit me like a physical blow, my stomach twisting. I set the phone down with a sharp clack, my fingers curling into fists. Fuck. I was stranded. Alone. And after working myself into a frenzy, my body was still humming, still needy, still empty.
I turned back to the window, watching the snowfall, my reflection staring back at me—flush-cheeked, lips slightly parted, eyes dark with frustration. The robe had fallen open, revealing the curve of my breast, my nipple still red and puffy from the suckers. I reached up, pinching it between my fingers, a sharp gasp escaping me as the pain flared. Fine. If my partner couldn’t make it, I’d just have to take care of myself again?! No, I wasn’t prepared for that, and I wasn’t sure what was in store for me.