A long weekend was approaching, and I was wondering what to do with my time. I didn’t want to just sit around bored at home, though the idea of spending the whole day indulging in my feminine side was quite tempting. Eventually, I found a relaxing getaway package online for the long weekend. I checked the reviews, which looked pretty good. I debated whether or not to book it, but the thought of staying in a guesthouse with a hot tub, a balcony, and a beautiful, large bed was simply irresistible. The prospect of taking an evening stroll, fully embracing my feminine persona, was also very appealing. So, that was that—a few clicks online, and it was booked. I was leaving in a week. I spent the time leading up to it getting ready, gradually preparing for the trip and packing. I thought carefully about what to wear—what to wear in the hot tub, out on the balcony, in bed, and, of course, for my walk and the rest of the day. I picked up a few extra things, and on Thursday evening, I gave myself a thorough shave. Then, I packed my bags. I could barely sleep from the excitement of what was to come. The next morning, I got into my car and headed to the destination. Upon arrival, I went to the reception to check in. I received my key and some instructions, then headed to the cottage where I would be spending my time off. Everything looked exactly like it did in the photos—I loved it. I started unpacking; naturally, I had brought only feminine items and things for a lady to enjoy. I put on some music and turned on the hot tub—had to make sure it was working, after all!
Lovely bubbles, accompanied by a pleasant musical atmosphere. However, I couldn’t seem to turn on the lights in the hot tub—perhaps they weren’t working at all. I hesitated, wondering what to do: just leave it be, or report it to avoid any potential issues later? I decided to head to the reception and let them know. I’d be back in no time, and then nothing would stand in the way of my relaxation. They assured me everything would be fine and that they’d take a look. I didn’t really listen, though—I was too busy imagining myself slipping into the hot tub like a true lady. Back at my cabin, I undressed and painted my nails. I put on my breast forms and a gaff, followed by a stunning, sexy, two-piece black lace swimsuit. I added a long black wig and earrings, and touched up my lips with a bit of red. I set a bottle of wine and a glass by the hot tub, along with a small towel, a somewhat sheer lace robe, and a pair of heels. And then—into the hot tub I went! It was a wonderful sensation: bubbles all around me, music playing, the cabin bathed in soft, dim light, and a glass of wine in my hand. Pure beauty and relaxation at weekend. I was so glad I’d decided to come out instead of staying home. I let myself drift away, carried by the passion of the bubbles and the warm water.
… long weekend
The wine adds to the atmosphere, too. I watch how my swimsuit clings to my breasts and bottom, and notice my toenails turning a rosy red. I’m lying in the hot tub, soaking up the relaxation. I wonder what the evening will bring—where I’ll go, and, more importantly, what I’ll wear. Suddenly, a noise at the door interrupts my thoughts. Before I can react, a man is already standing in the room, looking right at me. “Forgive me—I thought no one was here. I’m here to fix the reported issue with the hot tub, as arranged at the reception.” He stands there, looking at me with a rather peculiar expression. What now? He’s bound to figure out who I am. What will happen? My mind goes blank, so I just stay in the hot tub and say, a bit shyly, “Oh, right—I was the one who reported the problem.” He immediately offers to come back later. But I think to myself: he’s already seen me, and what’s meant to happen will happen. So, I blurt out, “Actually, you can take a look at it right now.” I stand up in the hot tub, revealing myself in all my glory in my weekend swimsuit. I lean over to reach for a small towel. He rushes over to hand it to me, apologizing for the intrusion, all the while keeping that slightly mysterious look in his eyes. “Thank you,” I say, drying off a little. I climb out of the hot tub and slip on a robe. Putting on my heels, I smile at him and say, “The hot tub is all yours.” “I won’t keep you long,” he replies, and begins his inspection. …the hot tub. At first, there was an awkward silence. I don’t know how he took it, seeing me as a woman, but gradually we started talking. He asked how I liked it here, where I was from, and so on. I felt a bit tense, knowing he saw me this way. I must have shown it—or perhaps he just read it on me—because he smiled and told me there was nothing to worry about. He said he’d met others like me before, but that I looked the best. I smiled and thanked him. I relaxed a little and began to explain that I’d come here to unwind and just be a woman. He smiled and said, “There you go—everything’s working exactly as it should.”
“And don’t worry about appearing before me like this. You are—if I may say so—beautiful. And just imagine how lovely you’d look with makeup on, all dressed up in an evening gown! I suspect we men would turn to look at you—and perhaps do a bit more than that.” With those words, he headed toward the door. He was quite a handsome, well-built, older man. I don’t know what came over me, but I blurted out, “Well, if you’re here this evening, you’ll get to see me. I’m curious to see if you’ll turn to look then,” I added with a smile. “I’m Lenka,” I said, extending my hand. “Milan,” he replied, shaking it. Then, he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. With a smile, he turned and walked away. I closed the door behind him and leaned against it. Good God, what was that?! I began to tremble—from excitement, strange sensations, and a jumble of thoughts. What else might be in store for me here? I still have three days left. … at long weekend.