Landed in Athens, hopped a prop plane to the island. Taxi rattles down dusty roads to the cliffside villa. Drag my heavy suitcase up narrow stone stairs, sweat beading under my tank top. Jack swipes the magnetic keycard, unlocks my room door with a beep. ‘Welcome, Chloé. Pool view’s killer.’ Unpack bikinis, sundresses. Room sandwiched between kids’ and parents’ – thin walls, old remodel vibes. Crack open wardrobe door for hangers. Voices echo from next door: Jessica’s giggles, Jack’s low growl. Peek through hairline fissure. She’s on knees, lips stretched around his thick cock, throat-fucking like a pornstar. Saliva drips. He calls her ‘slut,’ grabs ponytail. I finger myself quietly, aubergine from kitchen drawer slick in my pussy. Anonymity hits hard – no one knows me here. Repatriation flight in a month, but this week with their Swedish boat friends? Pure transit freedom.
Swedish couple docks yacht in the cove. Ivar’s 55, ripped Viking bod, ponytail swinging. Ingrid, tall blonde bombshell, curves glowing bronze. Dinner in village, they eye me like fresh meat. Back late. Kids asleep, baby monitor hums. Naked swim under full moon, pussy tingling in cool waves. Dry off on lounger, rubbing clit to visions of Jessica riding Jack. Baby cries – nightmare. Rush naked to kitchen for water. Voices: Ivar and Jack, nude, asses flexing – bronzed Viking cheeks vs. Jack’s pale globes. Champagne bottle clinks. They head poolside. I creep to terrace edge. Jessica bounces on Ivar’s massive cock, moaning ‘He fills me!’ Jack watches, sips bubbly. She sucks him off mid-ride. Ingrid whispers behind me, nude body presses hot against mine. Fingers tease my nipples, then clit. ‘Watch them DP her.’ Jessica screams as Jack slides into her ass. Ingrid’s digits plunge my soaked slit. I cum hard, juices dripping. Flee to bed, heart pounding.
The Stopover
Next morning, boat invite. Jessica: ‘Take the day, explore.’ Snorkel gear, picnic cooler. Ivar strips first. ‘Freedom!’ Ingrid winks. I ditch bikini, dive nude into turquoise shallows. Fish dart past bare tits. Back aboard, oil up pale bits. Ivar climbs ladder, cock swinging long and thick. Ingrid strokes him hard under my stare. ‘Join us, little French flower.’ Kneel, taste his salty shaft coated in her spit. Lips strain around girth, tongue swirls balls. She spreads legs: ‘Lick me.’ Pussy tangy, clit throbs under my mouth. Ivar fingers my gash, then rams in doggy. Fills me balls-deep. ‘Fuck this French whore!’ grunts in Swedish growl. I cum screaming into Ingrid’s cunt. He flips me missionary, pounds endless. Snowballs his cum kissing her. Against helm wheel, bent over, he rails me while she films. Ass cheeks clap, thumb probes virgin rosebud. Explode together, sweat-slick under sun. Back at villa, Jessica confesses: knew about the spy crack, set me up. Rage fades watching boat vid – me cumming like a slut.
Evening terrace. Dress sheer, no panties. Women grind dancing, tongues duel. Strip me slow. Jessica eats my pussy ravenously. Ingrid sits on face. Jack rims my ass. His cock spears me first – familiar from peephole, now real, stretching perfect under their eyes. ‘Your slutty au pair!’ Ivar throat-fucks. Swap holes, hands everywhere. Cum floods me. Bodies pile, moans echo off cliffs. Dawn nears. Pack suitcase. Keycard beeps return at airport shuttle. Cliff fades, pussy aches with memories. One-night transit? Nah, week of sin. Jet engines roar – back to France, forever changed.