Pleasure Island
Copyright© 2022 by MariannaLove
Chapter 3
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Chelsea Miller is a 25-year-old Makeup Artist. She cohabitates with her boyfriend Aston whom she hopes to marry one day. However, Ashton does not have plans to be tied down to any one woman. He feels variety is the spice of life and lives to his motto. One day, Chelsea arrives home early from work she gets to witness her boyfriend of five years sexing two women in their bed. She threatens to leave. Find out what happens when Chelsea heads to Pleasure Island and goes buck wild.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Consensual Romantic Gay Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Humor Cheating Sharing Group Sex Orgy Swinging Interracial Black Male Black Female White Male White Female Hispanic Male Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Oral Sex Squirting Big Breasts
That morning was hard. It’s hard to walk away from five years even if the man I loved was a fuckboy. He was all I knew. And that night he spent working my body over almost made me change my mind. I was so close to forgiving him and falling right back into the same destructive behavior.
Even that morning workout had me second-guessing myself. Did I really want to leave? Most of the furniture in the apartment was purchased by me. Fuck it, I thought. He can have all this shit. I’m about to go out and get my slut on.
I wrote the letter and left him $2000.00. Most women would not have left shit. But see, even in my anger, I still cared about him. I wondered if he knew how much.
I shook my head in disbelief and aggravation. He had no idea what he was about to lose. I was a top-rated makeup artist with brand deals. I never divulged all of my financial information to him because he wanted to keep separate accounts. Every month I would transfer money to his account.
Being a top makeup artist in the area allowed me to meet all kinds of people, football players’ wives, basketball players’ wives, actresses, singers, and musicians. One of my best and favorite clients was this real estate tycoon named M. Nina Howard, whom I called Auntie Nina.
Her husband was a contractor and she was a real estate agent. They worked together for many years acquiring properties and renovating them. Some they would sell, others they’d rent and some they had as vacation rentals.
This woman had money on top of money. Her husband passed away two years ago and she became even more wealthy. And since her husband’s death, she was exploring her sexuality to the fullest. Every time I went to see Auntie Nina, she had a story to tell about some young man she had been with all night long.
She often gave me advice on my situation with Ashton. I never listened to her thinking I knew better. But that morning, I remembered her saying, “If you ever need a place to stay for a time, don’t hesitate to come to see me.”
So, I was on my way to see her.
I pulled up to one of the vacation rental properties. She was standing outside. Her short-cropped silver hair shined in the sunlight and her youthful face glowed. If it weren’t for her silver hair, one wouldn’t know she was in her sixties.
I walked up to her and hugged her, “You’re a lifesaver, Auntie Nina.”
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