#yaaay late entries up the asss!!!!!

[deada55]

In Kyoto

For Winter Wonderklok 2023 Day 15: Hot Tub in the Snow

crossposting: none

synopsis: Serveta Skwigelf jetted off to Kyoto for Christmas.

cws: R-rated for nudity and suggestive content (no smut)

Kyoto was beautiful.

The snow on the rocks was light. It was just a couple delicate centimeters of dust that shrank from the steamy spring like cotton candy. Every droplet that fell on it fell through it, straight to the bottom. She rose for a towel and a cigarette with her ass in his face.

When she settled back into the water, she fell under Isandro’s arm. Isandro… something. Seven fat rings clung to his fingers, round like cigars. His cologne was Versace Eros, and it was the only problem with him. She’d gotten $5,000 for this trip, as long as she’d go. It was a free ride all the way and only four days, from December 23rd to the 27th. He told his wife he was at a conference, but she was too busy re-organizing her shoes to care. 

His pager beeped on the service tray holding soft yatsuhashi.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re all I have on my mind.”

“I love that about you.” She moved her hand up his chest, until her fingers were stroking spirals into the wet hair stretching across his breast.

“Maybe that’s not true…” 

Servetta put her face against him, gluing the hairs at her temple down with water. Her eyes batted up at his face from below, and she poked her front teeth out with her smile to seem eager.

He closed his eyes and moved his lips down to hers and they locked in a polite, gentle dance of soft, shy touches as the sounds of trickling water veiled sliding doors and polite staff with steamed towels. His pager beeped again and he parted, leaving her face cold and wet. Thank God for waterproof eyeliner and sweat proof stage makeup.

“It’s my daughter. I should probably call her.”

He nudged her off and got up out of the water and the hair on his taint stuck to the back of his ballsack.

“Want anything while I’m out?”

“No-”

“You just wait here, sweetheart. Uh- sir?” He waved over an attendant and disappeared into the resort.

She covered her breasts (and cold-ass nipples) with her arms and looked around through the thin trunks and shoots of the forest that ran through the property. Couples and small groups of balding men occupied the other little wells here and there, sipping champagne. What else would you do on Christmas when you weren’t home? Of course, not everyone celebrated it.

On the plane ride over, she remembered she’d forgotten the “big” present at the end of the advent calendar. Instead of a 24th day, there would be nothing. There was nothing… Her little boy was hopefully asleep by now, after watching Donald Duck and his friends on TV and eating the food she’d marked for him. He was good at keeping himself.

Isandro returned with a towel around his waist and dunked himself back into the water with it on.

“She was fine. Got her checkbook mixed up and wanted to make sure it was OK. I told her almost five times, Servetta! That girl… Do you have children?”

She looked at him and dipped her eyes low, then back up to focus on the man who paid to be there. She pushed her arms together around her chest to make her cleavage climb up to her collar and hide the veins that firming creams couldn’t hide. “No.”