I smile instinctively as I part the heavy, velvety curtains, taking in the breathtaking view of the shimmering snow-covered rolling hills sparkling enchantingly in the morning sunlight. My hotel, nestled in a charming village below these hills, provides a picturesque escape.

My brother's thoughtfulness in gifting me this weekend retreat as an early Christmas present still amazes me. He thought of everything, providing exactly what I need: an escape from the relentless pace of city life and a soothing balm for the misery of spending my first Christmas without my cheating ex-fiancé. No! We're not going there. Today is all about having fun in this snowy paradise and making new, happier memories.

I swiftly swap my unicorn-print PJs for the skiing outfit I bought just yesterday at a local shop upon arriving here. It's a cute pink and white ensemble, but it fits really tight! Getting into it is a bit of a squeeze, a dance of tugs and pulls, but once I'm in, it hugs my curves in all the right places. What better time to learn to ski than now, in this idyllic winter wonderland?

As I leave my room, my movements become a little robotic because I'm getting used to the snug ski gear. I head for the closest elevator and go downstairs to the lobby. I am welcomed by sparkling lights and vibrant ornaments adorn a joyous Christmas tree in the center of the room. This happy scene brings back memories of my ex-fiancé and me from last Christmas, when I still thought he loved me. I quickly brush that memory from my mind and walk up to the reception wearing a practiced smile. A chic young woman with stylish brown hair greets me at the reception desk.

The receptionist smiles as she greets me. "Good day, Miss! How can I help you today?"

"I'm looking to book a skiing lesson."

She quickly scans her computer before looking up. "I'm sorry, but all our sessions are fully booked for the weekend."

Is she for real? After cramming into this hellishly tight gear and staying at a ski resort, I might not even be able to ski? I can feel my frustration rising. "There's got to be something available, right?"

After a brief pause, the receptionist says, "Well, there are a few spots left in the afternoon kids' group."

Great, just great. The thought of joining a swarm of kids on the slopes makes me cringe. For God's sake, I'm in my late twenties. But what other options do I have? "OK, I'll take it. When does it start?"

"At 3 pm. All I need is your room number, and I'll charge the lesson to it," the receptionist says, her fingers poised over the keyboard.

"It's 403."

"Miss Isabella Leto?" she asks, looking up from her screen, and I confirm with a nod. With a few more clicks, she finalizes the booking. "You're all set. Anything else I can assist you with, Miss Leto?"

I pause for a moment, considering what to do until the lesson. "Actually, yes. What can I do around here to pass the time?" Instead of ruminating on how my ex-fiancé is on a honeymoon with the woman he cheated on me with.

"On the top floor, we have a fantastic spa. Saunas, jacuzzis, and pools are among the amenities. It's a very relaxing way to spend the morning."

I'd never been to a sauna before, but I've always wanted to go. "That sounds perfect."

"Just use the bathrobe and slippers from your room, Miss Leto. Towels are provided at the spa," she adds.

I thank her and return to my room, excited to relax at the spa before my afternoon skiing adventure. After a bit of a struggle to peel off the tight ski gear, I finally manage to slip into my bikini. I make my way to the spa, wrapped in a plush hotel bathrobe.

On my way to find a sauna, I pass by the outdoor pool, visible through the large glass windows. The scene is serene and almost enchanting: steam dances from the warm water into the crisp, cold air. There are only a few elderly couples there, enjoying the tranquil warmth of the pool, which is surrounded by snow-covered trees. Unlike me, most of the guests are probably out skiing.

The aroma of essential oils and tranquil sounds waft through the corridor as I approach the sauna area. A few people in their fifties are relaxing in the jacuzzis, and women are topless, which causes a flush to spread across my cheeks. A stack of clean towels is neatly arranged nearby for guests, and I take one.

As I approach the first sauna, a Turkish one, I notice two bathrobes hung outside. Given my usual shyness, I choose the Finnish sauna instead, where I don't see a bathrobe hanging outside, implying that it isn't occupied. I carefully take off my bathrobe and hang it on a nearby hook outside the door.

I take a deep breath and walk into the sauna's warm, wooden interior, ready to relax and let the heat envelop me, providing a soothing escape from the morning's frustrations and the chill of the winter air outside.

An unexpected sight immediately overshadows the intense heat and eucalyptus-scented air. A young woman, who I hadn't noticed through the glass door, is lying naked on a towel. She appears to be much younger than me, with a slim, toned body that gleams with perspiration.

I find myself unintentionally fixated on her supple and ample C-cup breasts, much like a deer caught in headlights. They look so soft. Her delicate pink areolas stand out against her milky white skin. Mmm. I want to lick them and feel them peaking beneath my tongue.

"Didn't you see the sign?" the blonde asks, jolting me out of my reverie.

I finally meet her sapphire eyes, which seem to amplify my nervousness, as I try to divert my attention away from her mouthwatering breasts.

"What?"

Her perfectly shaped, light brown left brow arches slightly. "The 'No clothes' sign." 

"Oh." It finally hits me, and I feel like a total moron.

I lay my towel on the nearest wooden bench, hoping not to appear completely inexperienced with saunas, which I was. I try to undo my bikini, but the knots are stubborn, and I struggle awkwardly.

"Let me help."

When she stands up, I try to look at her pretty face, which is framed by damp blonde curls, but my gaze is drawn to her heaving breasts and even lower. I look at her gleaming, smooth mound, her delicate outer lips teasingly embracing her swollen bud. The mere sight causes a searing flush to spread across my cheeks, as if reflecting the intense lust pulsing within me. In contrast to my voluminous protruding inner lips, her folds are flawless, and I feel instantly self-conscious about removing my bikini.  

She walks behind me, her fingers brushing against my skin as she unties the strings of my bikini top. My nipples harden against the fabric, aching to be teased by her delicate fingertips. Oh, God, what is happening to me? I've always been attracted to women but have never had the guts to pursue it. Maybe this is just surfacing now, because I didn't have sex for months.

I gasp as she slowly removes my bikini top, the pulsing heat between my legs threatening to drip.

She leans closer, and her scent fills the air—a sweet perfume with a hint of sweat—and makes me want to lick and taste her skin.

My top falls to the floor, and I resist the urge to cover my bare breasts because I don't want her to think I'm a prude—even though I am. That's why he cheated on me. Stop! I no longer need to be that person—Miss Perfect, goody-two-shoes. She doesn't know me, and nobody here knows who I am, so I can be whoever I choose to be.

"I'm Sasha," she says.

"Isabella, but friends call me Isa."

"Well, Isa, will you remove the bottom, or do you want me to do it?"

I'm taken aback by her audacity, and I want to let her do it, but I can't.

"I'll do it myself."

"Fine," she says with a playful smirk, stepping back to get a better view of me.

Her gaze is fixed on me as I slowly remove my bikini bottom. She circles around to stand in front of me, her lips parting at the sight of my bare mound, and I'm relieved that I shaved the night before.

Sasha takes a seat on my towel—yes, my towel—and remarks, "You have an impressive body for an older woman."

Hold on. Did she just call me old? "I'm only 29."

"You are a decade older than me, but age is just a number," she responds, her smirk softening into a genuine smile.

I have no choice but to sit next to her because she is taking up a spot on my towel. To break the slightly awkward silence, I strike up a conversation. "How long are you staying at the resort?"

"Oh, I'm not actually a guest," she says with a light chuckle. "My father works here, and I'm just here for the holidays."

"Just visiting him?" I inquire, immediately wishing I hadn't.

"Yeah, my parents are divorced," she responds, with a hint of sadness in her voice. "Dad pays for my college, so as part of our agreement, I spend holidays with him."

"Still, it's nice you get to spend Christmas with him," I say, my mind wandering to my own parents, who died when I was in college.

She nods. "That is true, but in our village, everyone attends the Christmas market. Then we all congregate in the grand hall. Tonight, I'll spend most of my time with my friends."

"That sounds nice," I say, picturing the cozy, festive atmosphere. My plan for the evening is to go to a hotel bar and forget about my problems.

"You should come. Everyone is welcome."

Her invitation takes me by surprise, but in a good way. "I'll think about it."

The idea is appealing, but I'm not sure I'm ready to dive into a vibrant social scene just yet. The thought of being surrounded by happy families and cheery friends while nursing my broken heart is overwhelming.

"Let's take a quick break," Sasha proposes.

"You've been in here quite a while, especially for your first sauna experience, I'm guessing." 

"What gave me away?"

She glances at my abandoned bikini on the floor, then gives me an amused smile.

"Ah. Right," I reply, smiling as I realize that my being a newbie is more obvious than I thought.

I reach for the towel as she stands up, but Sasha insists on leaving it behind, assuring me that we'll return.

"But there are people out there," I object, remembering the people in the jacuzzis.

"Yeah, they're naked, too," Sasha says casually. When she notices my hesitation, she jokes, "Come on, let the old men enjoy the view. It's all in the spirit of Christmas."

Despite the oddity of the situation, Sasha's cheerful demeanor is contagious, and I find myself laughing as I follow her out. The moment I step outside the sauna and meet the gazes of three men, I turn crimson. I grab my bathrobe and wrap it around myself quickly. Sasha laughs at my reaction and strides confidently across the room to get her bathrobe.

"Let's go outside," she urges.

Clad in only our bathrobes and the slippers provided by the hotel, we walk past the automatic glass doors, separating the indoor warmth from the biting cold of winter. As the cold air hits me, I feel an urge to plunge into the jacuzzi, despite its current occupants, who are definitely naked in there and my father's age.

Sasha walks confidently to the railing, and I follow close behind. She pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of her bathrobe. The cigarette, which appears to have been hand-rolled, is lit, and I immediately recognize the distinct scent—it is not tobacco.

She turns to face me after a few deep inhalations and offers me the joint. "Want a smoke?"

"No, thanks. I don't smoke anymore," I reply with a nervous smile.

"Come on, you're on vacation. Have some fun," she says, her eyes twinkling with a daring glint.

One smoke couldn't hurt, I rationalize, tempted by the combination of curiosity, as I have never smoked weed before, and Sasha's carefree attitude, especially intrigued by the intense aroma promising a high to take me away from my worries. I take the joint from her and draw in deeply, but it surprises me. It's nothing like the cigarettes, and I cough, much to Sasha's delight.

"Just breathe slowly, Isa."

I acknowledge her advice with a small nod and take another tentative puff. This time, I handle it better, and a sudden sense of relaxation washes over me. With her easygoing nature, Sasha's unexpected company is proving to be a refreshingly liberating influence.

"Give me a puff," she says. I extend the joint towards her, but she shakes her head slightly. "I want it from you."

I suddenly realize what she's asking for, which is something I've never done before. I hold the smoke in with a deeper inhale, watching as she leans in close. As I exhale, tendrils of smoke flow from my lips to hers, and she breathes it in, pulling the intoxicating fumes deep into her lungs. Our lips are only a few inches apart, and I have an unexpected desire to kiss her. But Sasha pulls away and puts out the cigarette before I can act on my impulse. 

Her eyes lock onto mine as she exhales slowly, the smoke dancing across her full lips before vanishing. "It's cold. Let's go back inside."

We return to the warmth of the indoor area, and Sasha removes her robe casually as we walk back towards the sauna, where our towels are. "It turns me on, you know."

Puzzled, I ask, "What does?"

"Strangers watching me naked."

It's refreshing to see someone embrace their desires without shame or inhibition. I wish I was more like her.

"Sorry, weed makes me horny," Sasha adds, and I chuckle at her unabashed honesty.

As we near the sauna, I take off my robe and hang it up before entering. The sauna is still empty, which relieves me but also makes me nervous about being alone with Sasha.

Sasha relaxes on her towel, the wooden bench creaking as she stretches out her naked body. The atmosphere feels more intimate and charged in this small space. I settle myself on my towel, choosing a spot across from Sasha.

"Come closer."

I hesitate and stay where I am, prompting her to quip, "Are you scared of a little girl like me?"

I laugh nervously. "Scared? Not at all," I say, trying to match her lighthearted demeanor.

I stand up and take a few steps closer to Sasha. The heat of the sauna embraces my body as I get closer, and the high from the joint I smoked earlier starts to amp up the sensations. Sasha grins, clearly aware of what is going on with me.

As I settle down next to her, Sasha sits up, our bodies almost touching. Her mischievous smile widens, and she leans in closer, her warm breath brushing against my cheek.

"You're so pretty."

I blush, feeling a rush of both flattery and insecurity. "Thank you," I stammer, my heart racing. "You too."

"Want to make out?"

"Yes," I hear myself say, and her lips press against mine before my high brain can process it.

As our tongues dance, her delicate fingers sink into my fiery, melting core, and I part my legs eagerly, inviting her to go deeper. Sasha moans into my hungry mouth, sliding her fingers in and out, sending waves of tingles through my body. 

"Lie down," she whispers against my lips.

"But someone might come in."

She smiles mischievously. "So? That's part of the fun."

I've always been a good girl, but what have I gotten out of it? I lie down slowly on the warm wooden bench, allowing the heat to penetrate my skin as her fingers continue to search for my G spot. When she finds it, I gasp and feel my nectar erupt from my throbbing softness.

Sasha giggles excitedly and lowers her head. Her hot, wet tongue brushing against my swollen bud almost tips me over the edge, but I fight back, wanting to savor this sweet torture just a little longer. My walls clench around her fingers, pulling her deeper inside me as her tongue teasingly flicks against my swollen, sensitive bud.

The threat of being caught only heightens the pleasure, and she knows exactly how to tease and please me, drawing out pleasure from my quivering body with each stroke of her wet tongue and thrust of her fingers.

As I surrender to the wave of ecstasy crashing over me, I arch my back, moaning uncontrollably. My mind drifts away, and the moment seems to last for hours. The waves of pleasure continue to wash over me as I lose track of time and my body transforms into a vessel for pure bliss.

"My turn," Sasha whispers huskily as she lies back and spreads her legs wide, inviting me to explore her.

My fingers dance across her thighs, and her breath hitches as my touch inches closer to her petal-soft folds. Her body trembles, and I can feel her growing wetness against my fingertips as I slip two fingers in, her walls tightening around them and her hips bucking against my hand. Her moans intensify as I curl my fingers inside her, finding the sweet spot that drives her insane.

I move in closer, nervous about my first taste of a woman. With my fingers nestled deep inside her, I tentatively stick out my tongue and brush it against her soft inner lips, slowly licking upwards. She tastes divine—sweet and sinfully delicious. Her body quivers with each flick of my tongue, and her wanton moans drive me wild with lust.

The room fills with the intoxicating scent of our desire as I feast on her. While my tongue strokes her swollen clit, my fingers massage her sensitive spot, causing her to tremble and writhe with pleasure. With each flick of my tongue, her moans grow louder and more desperate. I alternate between gentle licks and firm sucking, luring her closer to the edge until she screams in ecstasy, her body convulsing from the force of her orgasm. I continue to please her as she rides the waves of pleasure, extending her blissful release.

Her body relaxes as she comes down from her orgasmic high, a satisfied smile on her lips. I raise my head and look at her, admiring the pink blush on her cheeks.

"That was fun," Sasha says as she stands up. "I have to leave. Will you be at the party tonight?"

I nod, still trying to catch my breath. Sasha exits with a playful wink, leaving me alone in the sauna's intense heat. After a moment of reflection, I wrap the towel around my waist and exit the sauna.

When I return to my room, I immediately jump into a cool shower to wash away the sweat and heat from the sauna. After that, I raid the minibar, indulging in a variety of sweets and snacks. Feeling tired from the events of the day, I decide a quick nap would be ideal to recharge before my afternoon skiing lesson.

❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅

Startled awake, I glance at the clock and realize I'm late for my skiing lesson. Frantically, I squeeze into my skiing gear and hurry out the door, trying to get there as fast as I can. I arrive at the slopes, breathless and flustered, and rush towards the group, hoping I'm not too late to join in.

When I get there, I'm struck by the sight of the instructor. He's a tall, fit man with dark hair and a beard, probably in his early fifties, and looks dashing in his snug ski gear. His ease with the kids is endearing, but when he sees me, his face changes to one of displeasure.

"Miss Leto?" he asks sternly.

"Yes," I respond, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You're an hour late! Get over here," he commands.

I know I screwed up and should feel bad, but all I can think about is how hot he is and how badly I want to jump his bones. Oh, no! I'm still high!

He helps me with the skis and hands me the sticks, telling me to join the kids. The experience is humiliating. I keep falling, doing worse than the fourteen-year-old kids, and earning frustrated looks from the instructor. His annoyance at my tardiness and lack of progress is evident, as he constantly reminds me to keep up with the others. When the lesson is finally over, I make a hasty exit, vowing to myself that I will never attempt skiing again.

Back in my room, I order a quick dinner, feeling a mix of disappointment and exhaustion. With the evening still young and nothing else to do, I decide to take up Sasha's invitation to the party. Dressed in a tight red dress, complemented by a black coat and UGGs, I head out. The receptionist provides directions, and soon, I find myself at the celebration.

Festive Christmas decorations create a lively atmosphere in the hall, where food and drinks are plentiful. I check my coat at the door and start looking for Sasha. When I see her in a dimly lit corner, intimately engaged with a boy, I sigh and decide to go to directly to the bar instead.

After a few drinks, I begin to feel light and warm, the tension in my shoulders easing. Just as I'm about to mingle, my gaze is drawn to the ski instructor from earlier. He appears more relaxed in tight jeans and a light gray sweater that draws attention to his eyes. When our gazes meet, I notice a slight pursing of his lips. I quickly turn away, hoping he won't approach, but he takes a seat next to me in less than a minute.

"Miss Leto, would you please look at me?" His voice has softened, compelling me to look him in the eyes. I do so reluctantly.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot today," he says, extending a hand. "I'm Michael."

 "Isa," I say, shaking his hand.

As I gaze into his hypnotic chocolate-brown eyes, a warm sensation spreads through my body, and my insides melt. I blame the alcohol.

"So, Isa," he breaks the silence, "are you enjoying the party so far?"

"I am now," I say, my confidence fueled by all the tequila shots I've had.

Michael leans in closer, his voice barely audible over the holiday music and chatter. "I'm glad to hear that," he says, widening his smile. "Would you like another drink?" 

Life is too short to hold back, and playing it safe hasn't worked out so well for me, so I nod and say, "Sure, why not?"

Michael orders two whiskeys on the rocks for us, and we clink our glasses together. We engage in light conversation as we sip our drinks, a surprising ease settling between us. His tone is flirtatious, and I respond in kind, my mouth uninhibited by alcohol. With each sip, he becomes more attractive, and I become hornier. It's been six months since I've had a cock inside of me, and Michael has the potential to penetrate those cobwebs.

"Do you want to dance?" Michael asks, extending his hand toward me.

"I don't dance," I say, and I see the disappointment on his face as he pulls back his hand.

I shouldn't refuse him, but I'm not in the mood to dance when all I can think about is relieving the ache in between my legs. This could, however, be an opportunity to receive another early Christmas present.

"But we could do something else," I say, slowly licking my lower lip.

As he considers my suggestion, a mischievous smile appears on his face. "Well, I'm open to suggestions."

I lean in closer, pressing my hand against his chest, and whisper, "How about we go somewhere more private?" 

"My place?"

I nod, and he gently takes my hand in his, guiding me to the exit. We put on our coats and walk out into the cool night. A light breeze caresses our faces, and the streetlights around us cast a soft, romantic glow, heightening our excitement as we strolled hand in hand towards his house, just a short distance away.

The welcoming warmth of the small and cozy house contrasts with the crisp outdoor air. Michael wastes no time, his muscular hands pressing me firmly against the cool wall as his lips press against mine with a fiery need. Goosebumps spread across my skin as his body grinds against mine and his erection presses against my thigh.

Our coats fall to the floor in a heap as our tongues explore each other's mouths with an insatiable hunger. His hands work deftly to unzip my dress, while mine fumble with the buttons on his shirt.

"Wait," he says abruptly, his breath catching. "Let's move to the bedroom."

We agree with a nod and pause to remove our shoes. Michael gathers our coats, neatly hanging his but, oddly, taking mine along with my boots as he leads me to my bedroom. He casually tosses my things onto the floor once inside.

As he rips his shirt off, revealing every inch of his chiseled chest, the urgency returns. My dress falls to the ground, revealing my lacy underwear. I stand in front of him, exposed and vulnerable, yet incredibly turned on. He smirks confidently as he unzips his jeans, teasing me with the promise of what's to come. In one fluid motion, he drops them and his boxers to the floor, standing fully naked in front of my hungry gaze.

His impressive erection stands tall and proud, and I'm getting wetter by the second at the mere sight of him in all his glory. The soft light in the room illuminates every ripple and groove of his toned body, making it impossible for me to resist reaching out and running my hands over every inch of him. I can feel his desire for me growing stronger as our eyes lock in a heated stare. He moves closer to me without breaking eye contact.

His hot breath tickles my neck as he whispers, "I've wanted to fuck you since the moment I laid eyes on you."

My inner walls pulsate as I wait for him to make a move. His fingers unhook my bra delicately, the fabric gliding down my arms and onto the carpet with a whisper-soft thud. He takes my hand in his firm grip and leads me to the bed, where he sits, his gaze never leaving mine as he seductively slides off my panties. He reclines on the soft bed, motioning for me to join him. I crawl onto the mattress, feeling my nectar dripping down my thighs.

Overcome with desire and need for this man, I straddle him, feeling his thick, pulsing member slide into my soft wetness. A low moan escapes my lips as I lower my hips to meet his thrusts, and the heady aroma of sex and the sloshing sound of our bodies colliding fill the room.

Ridding his throbbing cock with feverish abandon, I chase the ultimate bliss, our heavy breaths mingling as we succumb to the primal urge that consumes us both. His body tenses beneath mine, his hands gripping my hips, guiding me in rhythm with his savage thrusts.

"I'm cumming," he groans, his voice strained.

As he spills his hot, creamy release inside me, I realize we forgot to use the condom, but the fact that a stranger's sperm is gushing inside me only adds to the forbidden excitement, sending me over the edge. My walls clench around him, milking him for every last drop of cum. 

I collapse onto his chest, breathless, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. We lay there in blissful exhaustion, his arm tightly wrapped around me, holding me close. As we lie together, catching our breath, I feel his heartbeat against my cheek, gradually slowing from its rapid pace. Snoring soon fills the room, indicating that Michael has dozed off.

Taking this as my cue, I decide to leave. Fortunately, the room is dimly lit, allowing me to see as I quietly gather my clothes. His seed pours down my thighs as I tiptoe out of the bedroom, careful not to wake him.

Once in the hallway, I dress quickly, but quietly. As I approach the front door, it swings open abruptly, causing my heart to leap into my throat. Sasha is standing in the doorway, her face expressionless.

With wide eyes, she blurts out, "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" My voice is a stammer, reflecting the surprise that mirrors hers.

"I live here." She notices the lingering smell of intimacy in the air and my messy hair. "Hold on... Did you fuck my dad?

I manage to utter only "Sorry..." as I rush past her, eager to avoid the awkward exchange, acutely aware of her eyes following my every move.

As I rush back to the hotel, a whirlwind of emotions, including guilt and embarrassment, race through me, but the intense pleasure still hums through my veins, overriding any negative feelings. For the first time in my life, I have allowed myself to indulge in a forbidden desire. The thrill of breaking the rules and experiencing something new has left me feeling exhilarated and alive.

"Merry fucking Christmas, Isa," I say, congratulating myself on having the courage to pursue my desires regardless of the consequences.

With its unexpected encounters and revelations, this trip has turned into a Christmas holiday I will never forget. Even though I'm relieved to be leaving in a few hours, I can't help but wonder what might have happened if I had stayed a little longer.

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