Venetian Fantasy

Standing naked by the penthouse window, Francesca gazed at the stunning city view. The velvety night was embraced by glittering lights that vied with the stars, the softly backlit room the perfect canvas for her body. While she admired the view, she knew that the view admired her, and with every caress of her tapered fingers against her silken tawny flesh, she felt the heat of a hundred eyes devouring her body.

Lean and curvaceous, her full breasts peeking beneath a thick swathe of long chestnut hair, Francesca tweaked her nipples and roamed the hills and valleys of her body until they culminated at the smooth, shaven delta of her pussy. Her breath quickened, and tossing her head back, she closed her eyes as her fingers sought her engorged clit and began to slowly, sensuously rub it in lazy circles. Slick juice coated her fingers, her pussy quivering with anticipation. Francesca felt her heat, smelled the ripe musk of her sex.

Though she desperately wanted to come, she delayed it. Her half-closed amber eyes slid to the purple and white vibrator waiting on a nearby glass table. The latest addition to her considerable collection of sex toys, the quirky wet rabbit vibrator satisfied her in bed, in front of the window and in the tub. Up until now, big and black had been her best friend, but now the rabbit kept her going almost as long as the famous bunny in the battery commercial.

Finally, Francesca couldn’t hold off any longer. Feeling the deep ache in her core, she reached for the vibrator, switched it onto the highest speed and was about to squat down to insert it into her dripping hole … when her cell phone rang from the nearby table.

“Fuck!” she cried, the vibrator’s buzzing head poised and ready for action at her swollen lips.

She thought she had left the phone on vibrate, so she simply ignored it. The annoying ringing briefly stopped, but as Francesca brushed the tip of the vibrator against her gaping hole, the phone rang again with a persistence she knew wouldn’t allow her to plunge the vibrator deep inside her.

Rising to her feet, Francesca grabbed the phone. “I thought I left instructions not to be disturbed!” she snapped without even checking the caller’s identity.

“Ms. Baron,” a calm, masculine voice replied, “the jet is waiting. Shall I have Franklin bring down your luggage?”

***
Standing on her hotel balcony, Francesca gazed at the bustling soul of Venice below her. No matter where she looked the buzz of the famous Carnival assailed her senses with music, laugher, the irresistible aroma of food, and more than a hint of the carnal desires lurking beneath a fantastic array of mythical costumes and stunning masks. The trip had been a last-minute whim, the thought of following her jet-setting clique on yet another yacht cruise or debauched stint at some unpronounceable exotic island filling her with boredom.

Naked beneath an exquisite gold and seed pearl gown worthy of Lucrezia Borgia, her upswept hair dripping with strategically placed ringlets, Francesca slipped on an exquisite gold brocade mask trimmed with diamante speckled feathers. Feeling the growing heat in her freshly shaven pussy, she ached to feel something fill and stretch her hole to the hilt. She had already sensed the scrutiny of many passing by the hotel and lingering at the bridge of a nearby canal, but the moment she turned her masked face to meet those gazes, something shifted, and she could literally smell the sexually charged air.

A breeze scented ripely from the canal rustled Francesca’s hair as she restlessly paced across the balcony. Her eyes swept the faces of her anonymous admirers … until they settled on the tall, muscular figure of a man boldly watching from the bustling square across the way. He stood in the shadow of a statue, his gold-threaded costume complementing hers.

Their eyes held each other, and even as she watched, his gloved hand moved to reveal the outline of his rigid cock before he started slowly stroking it. Francesca smiled and unbuttoned the bodice of her gown, exposing her full breasts and stroking her caramel nipples until they protruded like buttons.

Mesmerized, the man stroked his cock more vigorously as Francesca pulled up her gown to reveal her naked pussy. It didn’t matter who might see. The only thing that mattered was the sensation of her fingers tracing patterns along her swollen lips begging for a good, hard fuck. She was more than wet, her juice literally gushed onto her questing fingers.

With quickening breath, Francesca reached for her rabbit vibrator resting on the table. She had only just used it in the bath, but now she wanted to feel its length sliding into her. Pausing to slip it into her mouth, she ran her tongue along the length to wet it before trailing it across her breasts, down her belly and in between her pussy lips. The tip glistened with her juice, and as she turned it on and felt the first vibrating jolt against her hole, she cried out from the electric sensation of pleasure coursing through her body.

Spreading her legs, her gown bunched over one arm, Francesca worked the vibrator inch by inch inside of her, the rabbit-eared clit teaser working its magic on her throbbing button. Her legs trembled, her hips moving in time with the spasms rising from her core. Her breath quickened, her skin glowing with a damp sheen of sweat despite the cool late night air.

Uttering a cry, Francesca came, her hair a whipping halo around her head as her body jerked and shuddered. Through half-closed eyes she glanced toward the statue to find the man gone, but others, men and women, now stood in his place watching. Withdrawing the glistening, furiously buzzing vibrator, she stepped back into her suite just in time to hear a knock at her door.

Francesca smiled, paused to catch her breath, and went to answer.