Jet-lagged from the flight, I drag our suitcases through Ibiza airport. Palm trees whip by in the taxi. Hotel lobby buzzes with tourists. Keycard beeps, elevator doors slide shut. Neutral space, no one knows us. Charlotte’s eyes sparkle, her fresh wax job hidden under summer dress. Anonymity hits hard – one night, then gone tomorrow.
Room overlooks the runway lights. She strips, shows off her bald mound. Smooth as silk, lips peeking. I kneel, breathe her in. Clit hood swells already. We buzz with urgency. Dinner reservation looms. She picks white skirt, mid-thigh, green blouse. No bra, nipples poke through linen. ‘Grand tenue,’ she teases.
The Layover
Taxi idles downstairs. Chain from my pocket – gold links, clips ready. Nipples first? Too pinch-y. She swaps panties for bare ass, clips chain to outer lips. Wet already. Skirt sways, chain dangles secret. Driver eyes her tits in mirror. We roll to beachside restaurant.
Bar stools high, cava bubbles. Her nipples hard, drawing stares. Older guy adjusts glasses for a peek. Chain tugs her pussy with every shift. Dinner divine – lobster, wine. Toilets call. She wipes juices, threads our wedding rings on chain. Heavy pull now, rings peek below hem.
Bills paid, she perches at bar, thighs parted. Chain coils on stool like jewelry display. Servers chat her up, eyes locked low. I linger in men’s room, washing slow. She jumps down – chain swings full length, gold glints, rings flash. Legs spread, pussy clipped bare. She trembles, soaked.
The Transit
Taxi beeps. I take front seat. She sprawls back, hand dives between thighs. I hike her skirt – bald slit exposed, chain taut, fingers circle clit. Driver swerves, parks beachside. ‘Watch only,’ I say. He nods, mirrors adjusted. She pulls lips wide, clit throbs.
His arm snakes back, index traces her gash. Not mine – stranger’s finger. She gasps, bucks up. He tugs inners, pinches clit hard. Brutal squeeze. She screams, cums wild – body shakes, pussy spasms, squirts faint. Recoils, whimpering bliss.
Hotel drop-off fast. She limp, boneless. Elevator dings, corridor echoes footsteps. Keycard swipe, door clicks. Bed swallows us. I strip her – chain still clipped, pussy puffy, red. She clings: ‘Love me still?’ ‘Forever wilder.’ Fuck slow, her moans echo runway hum.
Dawn flight looms. Keycard returned at desk. Suitcases roll out. Her walk tender, chain tucked away. Taxi to airport, her hand squeezes mine. That chained flash, stranger’s pinch – burned in. Transit magic: anonymous heat, gone by takeoff.