horny floozy Aniya
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  • Age:
  • I am 28
  • Ethnic:
  • Welsh
  • Tone of my eyes:
  • Bright hazel green
  • Gender:
  • Woman
  • What is my figure features:
  • I'm skinny
  • Favourite music:
  • Jazz


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Cancun, Mexico—the hub of collegiate spring breakers partying until the break of dawn. It is a place my family has ventured to five times. The first four times we traveled to Cancun were virtually free of any hiccups, but the fifth and possibly final family trip was riddled with setbacks that almost rival a Hollywood depiction of a terrible travel experience.

The morning of our flight to Cancun, everything started out running smoothly. We reached the airport in record time and began our search for an available spot in the parking deck. Row after row of red lights awaited us; everyone else must have had the same idea. My dad threw the car into reverse, stepped onto the gas pedal and slammed straight into the car trailing along behind us, presumably on the hunt for a space, as well. Luckily, our big Nissan Xterra managed to avoid any real damage, but the poor guy behind us had a perfectly square puncture from our toe hitch right in the center of his bumper.

My dad feverishly apologized for the accident and began to pull out his cell phone to call the police. Put your phone away. N-no need for police. Before my dad even had a chance to reply, the shady fella jumped back into his car, swerved around us and sped off.

Eventually, we found a parking space, checked in and made it through security without any trouble. The minutes ticked by and eventually our boarding time arrived. One by one, passengers started to approach the airline worker with their questions, but the answer was the same every time. Apparently, the desk agents are not allowed to inform passengers of any delays or issues with their flight until a supervisor has given them the all clear.

At this point, my mom was ed by a middle-aged woman who had clearly indulged in one too many overpriced vodkas at the airport bar. They both stood at the desk wagging their fingers and demanding answers for at least 20 minutes while the rest of the passengers at the gate watched on in sheer delight. Eventually, the nearly incoherent woman stumbled back to her husband and my little leprechaun of a mom came back to my mortified dad and me. After my mom and her blabber mouth had walked around the entire gate and informed everyone about why we were still waiting, a Southwest worker finally decided to make an announcement over the intercom.

We hope to have you boarded and in-flight shortly. It seemed like we were going to be stranded at the gate forever, but then a line of maintenance men came out of the jetway. Everyone assumed that the problem had been resolved and we were about to get the all clear to board. Bags were gathered, last minute bathroom trips were taken, and then it happened. We are working on finding you another flight for tomorrow. According to the U. Department of Transportation, airlines are not required to provide stranded passengers with any kind of reimbursements. Lucky for Southwest Airlines, they made the smart decision to do so anyway.

Another hour standing in line with people pushing and cutting their way to the front for their lodging delegations and food vouchers that had to be used within 24 hours led to finally sitting on a rickety shuttle bus that took us to the hotel we had been oh so generously ased. Three giant suitcases in tow, we pulled up to the 3 Palms Hotel just a few miles away from the airport.

The instant we pulled into the parking lot, I thought my mom was going to start crying. Yes, a strip club. Eat a burrito while you watch some women swing on the pole. As we sheepishly shuffled into the lobby with another family of stranded passengers, a very voluptuous woman with long braids greeted us. A woman with the other group of people piped up and told her about our situation. We stood huddled in the corner of the lobby trying not to inhale the stench of spices and illegal substance while she got in touch with the airline and sorted out our room situations.

Once we were given—tossed to be more exact—our room keys, we made our way to the elevator eager to hide out in the hotel room until it was time to head back to the airport. The elevator doors opened and in we stepped followed by two very tall, very blinged out men. They shuffled to the very back of the elevator, keeping a tight grip on their remarkably saggy jeans. They were evidently the cause of the pungent odor in the lobby. The elevator came to a halt on the third floor and my parents and I got off.

They looked like rappers.

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The TV on the 3-legged table was out of the 80s, the mirror in the bathroom was hanging on to the wall by one hinge in the upper left-hand corner, the shower curtain looked like the bottom had been hacked off by a chainsaw to make it fit and the carpet was damp. I can only imagine what the source of the dampness was. It was going to be a very grueling night. It was 3 am and while my dad was snoring away, probably dreaming that he was lying on a beach basking in the scorching sun, my mom was refusing to go to sleep.

Convinced that she was going to catch some sort of fungal disease or that we were going to be robbed, she had opted to watch an all-night marathon of Keeping Up with the Kardashians while sitting fully clothed, shoes and all, on the edge of the bed. The shuttle bus that carries passengers back and forth from the hotel to the airport began running at am. You better believe we were standing in the lobby promptly at ready to get the hell out of there. Another seamless trip through security and we were finally sitting on a plane that had fully functioning lavatories.

We were finally in the air and on our way to Cancun.

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Normally, an act of affection such as this would have bothered me to no end, but I tried to remain calm. They kept up their childish game for a little while longer and then began to discuss their plans for Cancun. Some may call it being nosy; I call it taking in my surroundings.

It sounded like a fairly standard first day on vacation plan to me. Naked pool party?

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At this point my ears perked up and I, as inconspicuously as possible, leaned closer to catch their every word. Definitely my favorite couple—so sexy.

tight lady Aubree

I sat paralyzed and wide-eyed trying to internalize what I had just subjected myself to hearing. Their colorful conversation continued as I battled with whether or not I should continue listening. Yeah, swingers. Again, it might work for some people, but definitely not for me. For the rest of the flight, I tried to draw as little attention to myself as possible.

The plane eventually landed at the Cancun International Airport and I set the world record for the fastest deplaning of all time by scooting past the couple—bumping knees and stepping on feet—as quickly as possible. Copious amounts of food and alcohol were consumed over the next six days and many lazy hours were spent napping on the beach. If anymore problems had arisen, I honestly think we would have been too relaxed and too buzzed to even care at that point.

I, as always, was way too sunburnt by the second day to sit out in the sun anymore, and of course by the final day I was back to being pasty and white.

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I hope we do go somewhere, though. The Vineyard has always been a very special place for me since I starting coming to this beautiful place, over 10 years ago. After a week in the Vineyard, I left there feeling inspired and motivated. Martha's Vineyard, and in particular Oak Bluffs, has always served as safe space for African Americans to get away from it all. But this trip was a little more magical and a little more special. Oak Bluffs, MA is a historic African-American resort community that should be experienced by all, both young and old.

cute lady Everlee

It's miles in total, and includes the jaw-dropping landscape of Big Sur. Hello, and welcome to day three. If you're new, I might suggest going back to read my first two posts I am keeping a public journal to try the 30 days of self-discovery and giving my opinions on these entries just to give other people an idea of if they are actually helpful or not.

Thank you again for following along!

damsel mom Laylah

My quote for the day is; "To write means more than putting pretty words on a ; the act of writing is to share a part of your soul with the world. I guess before I talk about how I survived, I have to give a little information on how I got there right? I kept marching on. It was day four, and I could not for the life of me think of anything else we could do in Barcelona—which sounds rather daft.

Surely in a big and vibrant city like Barna there's enough to keep you occupied for longer than four days, right?

lonely mom Lyla

A Toilet, a Mexican Restaurant and Swingers. Scene 2: The Gate Eventually, we found a parking space, checked in and made it through security without any trouble. On this day, the supervisor was M. Scene 3: 3 Palms Hotel Another hour standing in line with people pushing and cutting their way to the front for their lodging delegations and food vouchers that had to be used within 24 hours led to finally sitting on a rickety shuttle bus that took us to the hotel we had been oh so generously ased.

Why would they be staying here?

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Scene 4: The Plane Another seamless trip through security and we were finally sitting on a plane that had fully functioning lavatories. Kayleigh Leadbetter A little bit of this. A little bit of that. Kayleigh Leadbetter. Vineyard Magic VLS. V Lynne Smith. Olivia Picton. Journal Entries for Self Discovery - Day 3. Michelle Schultz. Surviving a Third World Hospital. Alyssa Renee.

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Admittedly, we've taken you on some pretty weird nakations in the past, from nude beaches and nude resorts , to the world's kinkiest festivals , naughty ski trips , and erotic vacations , but even we had to stop for a second upon discovering swingers resorts.


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