Authors's hint (Lena and Dave writing):
Janina accepted to recount her last wild evening before leaving Bali. It is recommended that the reader reads 'Janina's fantasy' first, to fully understand her story below. This story, however, is also a stand-alone. Thanks to the kind readers who left an evaluation, making her last story gain a red H.
"Oh, so it was indeed worth the time," she remarked with satisfaction, when she saw it.
Janina writing:
Janina's wildest desire in Bali.
A couple of days after the emotion-charged party in the rice field cottage, I went surfing alone at Uluwatu beach. My friend Lena had gone for her final yoga classes before her certification. The Australians had left the hostel and the Danish girls had flown to Singapore. Lena and I had booked to return to Switzerland in 3 days and nostalgia was already setting in.
The past days of basking, surfing and swimming in a barely-there thong bikini had left me heavily tanned. In addition to my athletic petite frame and imposing tribal tattoos, I had gradually transformed to the typical blonde surfer babe one finds everywhere on IG profiles.
The beach was not very busy when I got there. End of january meant the New Year holiday-makers had already returned home.
After doing several waves, exhaustion slowly kicked in. Sitting astride on my surfboard as I paused to rest and watch the beach, I dreamily relived the events of my thrilling stay on the island so far: the surfs, temple tours, kecak fire-dancing, walks through the monkey parks, rice fields, my acquaintance with australians and their very distinct accent, my first sexual encounter with a mature couple, my first double penetration.... And most especially, my excitement to watch my prude best friend Lena fuck an absolute stranger in the midst of other strangers.
I recalled the scene vividly: that rockhard penis gleaming with her juices as he pulled out from her. And how impassioned and impatient I became, trying to get him fuck me too. Although it did not come to pass, I'd brought myself to climax several times thinking of that moment.
Inadvertently, a familiar urge between my legs returned there and then. This was typical of my holidays so far. The extreme emotions, lust and nostalgia combined with hot tropical sun charged my liquids to overflow easily. Fully aware I was sitting on a board in the shallow waters just off a busy public beach, I controlled my surroundings for any potential on-lookers.
The closest people to my right were a group of British intermediate surfers. They appeared deeply involved in laughing at their mishaps and chatting among themselves. The surf direction was to the right, meaning further away from the point I was sitting in calmer waters. To my left, a giant rock concealed me from any turbulent waves and rest of the beach.
Feeling reassured by the discretion, I slowly sent my left index and middle fingers under my blue bikini thong, while my right hand played with the piercing of my right nipple under my long-sleeve speedo top. With the slimy drench from my needy hole, I pulled, patted and gently slapped my pierced clit. My idea was to pinch it back to reason and self-control in order to save me from an embarassment. But I had long lost control over lust.
Within a short while, I was overwhelmed by a shattering orgasm that forced my eyes to roll, while my legs trembled uncontrollably in water in my attempt to swallow back my imminent convulsive scream. On-lookers would have probably thought I was fighting off a shark attack, I imagined.
Coming down from my orgasmic bliss, I slowly reopened my eyes and then balanced both of my hands with a loose grip on my board. Lifting my head in a blur, as I heard clicking and laughter, I caught sight of a voyeur photographer with a professional telescopic lense, standing on a deck on the giant rock to my left. It occurred to me then, that in my lust-ridden urgency, I had only checked my sides at eye-level and had remained fully oblivious of the deck on the rock.
For my readers who have never been to Bali, these massive rocks protruding into the ocean are indeed extensions of the geological fold that spans the entire island. Here, the rocks run parallel to the irregular Uluwatu coastline. I recalled that standing on the deck above the rock, one enjoys a sensational and unrestricted panorama view of the beach and the surfing beneath.
With exposure on social media, Uluwatu has rapidly become a treasure spot for amateur and professional photographers. They do mostly surf- and beach-themed scenic series on the island. Even I had shot an IG video on the narrow path leading to the deck on the day of my arrival, albeit standing from a different angle.
As the awareness of my action hit me, I progressively became overwhelmed by shame. I imagined the photographer in a mad search for likes, sharing on an adult website like PH whatever trophy video he might have shot of me. Any vulgar title would be fitting: Tattoo surfer slut on Bali beach,...blonde surfer babe looses control after cumming on surfboard,...teeny surfer slut satisfying herself in public etc.
Despite being endowed with a strong exhibitionist side, I have always felt more comfortable in sharing nude content of myself in a manner that gives me a feeling of control. For instance, on my way to the beach I had walked along the main road holding my surfboard, cladded in a speedo top that barely concealed my bum. Underneath, nothing but a thong. I was fully aware my butt curves were exposed. Looking from behind, imaginative minds would think I was going commando. The provocative perception of my voyeurs was what excited me. Obviously, I was conscious of the looks; lust or disgust, it did not matter.
As the thoughts and the possibly consequence of my self-satisfaction in public preoccupied me however, I clenched my teeth in disappointment and self-directed anger. I had clearly exaggerated.
Sitting up, I quickly paddled to the shore. For a brief moment of reflection, I lied back on my board on the sandy beach, making sure I adjusted my face cap over my face. From this position, I could keep an eye on the uninvited camera above me. Looking to the deck, I met grin from my voyeur friend as he gesticulated an approving hand sign.
He had now returned to the activity that brought him there. From where I was lying, he appeared to be shooting a heavily tattooed blonde model who seemed to have physical similarities to me. The elegant model wore a short white tennis skirt that exposed her tanned slender legs and sports bra that barely held-in her full breasts. Safe her pretty face, most of her exposed body seemed to be covered with tattoos.
After every second or third click, the photographer adjusted her position, often taking the liberty to touch whatever part of her body he intended to portray in his pictures. The model on her part looked unperturbed and giggled relentlessly throughout the shoot. She clearly seemed to be having fun. Out of curiosity, I asked myself whether they were professionals and where one could admire the final
results.
It was close to midday and the overhead sun was now leaving a burning sensation on my skin. After what had just happened, I did not intend to lie on my belly. Despite how interested I was in his shooting, my voyeur was irritatingly too close above me. I thus packed up my things, put on my mesh dress over my speedo and headed up the path leading to the beach road.
The distinctive aroma of the local Balinese cuisine that met me upon hitting the busy road reminded me that I was starving. My best bet was to get some street food from one of the roadside vendors. Fortunately, Bali does not follow any specific eating schedule for their street food. Traditional cuisine can be found anywhere at any time of the day.
At one of the stalls, a dish of crispy pork called babi guling was served to me with a bottle of soda by a broad-smiling vendor. As finished my food, I heard footsteps close behind me.
"Hello there, pretty," a stranger called from behind.
