Giethoorn, Netherlands- Erotic Audio for Women #3023

Recently heartbroken, Cornelia takes a solo trip to the romantic village of Giethoorn—a journey she had originally planned with her ex-fiancé. Though love isn't on her itinerary, a charming tour guide named Noa turns her day into something far more intimate and unforgettable beneath one of the village’s most notorious bridges.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:05):
Hey, foxy friends. This year, you'll come with us to
every European country, where we explore the sexual adventures of
each nation and one of its regions. Guiton, Netherlands. I
woke up early to the sounds of the village already
stirring outside. Booking a trip to Gueton during peak season

(00:29):
probably wasn't my brightest idea, but the dates had been
chosen long before, back when I still had a fiance
and an anniversary to celebrate. Now, the idea of spending
this romantic escape alone felt both ironic and a little pathetic. Still,
everything was booked, and I was already here. There was
no turning back. Guiton had been on my list for years.

(00:53):
A village of canals, bridges and quiet charm. It was
the kind of place that called for handholding and stolen kisses. Instead,
I arrived solo, with no romance, no shared laughter, no
one to experience it. With the sadness of that hit me.
But I remind myself I didn't come here to mourn.

(01:13):
I came here to reclaim something, my time, my peace,
maybe even a part of myself. From the window, I
was met with a wave of green, the grass, the trees.
Even the rooftops looked mossy, like nature had softened everything
in a painter's palet. The water was still gently tinted
with green from the plants beneath its surface. Boats passed

(01:37):
by like clockwork. One floated past my house, full of
tulips and every color imaginable. It made me smile despite myself,
even in my disappointment. This place was impossibly beautiful. Today's
itinery had already been set a romantic boat tour through
the canals, complete with lunch and champagne, originally meant for two,

(02:00):
but now just for me. I dressed carefully, a light
white dress, just enough makeup to feel presentable. The boat
was coming to pick me up directly from my rental house,
so all I had to do was wait by the
edge of the water. It wasn't long before a sleek,
dark blue boat approached, steered by a man around my age.

(02:21):
He had ginger hair and neatly kept beard, and eyes
that caught the sunlight in the softest way. He smiled
when he saw me, and I felt something shift, something
subtle but impossible to ignore. He helped me into the boat.
I wabbled slightly, unsure but he guided me gently, reminding
me to keep low in case of the bridges. Some

(02:43):
were low enough that sitting up straight could be risky.
I nodded, tucking that away, and we set off. He
talked as we drifted, stories about the village, little bits
of history. I listened with genuine interest, but my attention
kept flickering back to him. Maybe it was the rawness
of the breakup, maybe the champagne I hadn't even touched yet,

(03:06):
or maybe it was just the quiet magnetism of a
man who seemed to belong here. We reached a quiet
part of the canal where the water widened instilled. He
offered to pause the tour so I could enjoy lunch.
Picnic basket sat at my feet, and the idea of
eating it alone suddenly felt unbearable, so I asked him
to join me. He seemed surprised at first, but then

(03:28):
smiled and accepted. We unpacked the food, sandwiches, fresh fruit,
and that bottle of champagne and shared it as if
we were old friends rather than strangers. We talked easily.
He told me he'd move here six months ago after
seeking peace after years in the city. I shared that
I had recently become single, that this trip was meant

(03:49):
to help me let go of something that had already
fallen apart. He offered quiet sympathy, and something with his words,
simple and kind, made my chest ache in the best way.
As we resumed the tour, the warmth of the food
and the buzz of the champagne lingered in my body.
I spotted a small red bridge we hadn't passed under,

(04:10):
and pointed it out. He hesitated, then steered in that direction.
The space beneath it was low, almost hidden from the world,
and we had to press ourselves to the bottom of
the boat to slide underneath. Suddenly everything fell closer, darker.
The light filtered in through the slats above us, little

(04:31):
thrillats of gold over water. The air grew still, quiet, expectant.
We were alone beneath the bridge, alone, in a way
that felt intentional, I moved toward him without planning it.
I climbed onto his lap, my hands on his shoulders,
my body leaning into his. When I kissed him, it

(04:51):
was soft at first, then fuller, hungrier. His beard scratched
lightly against my skin as he deepened it. His hands
moved out, My legs underneath my dress, and I gasped
quietly at the warmth of his touch. He explored me
with a kind of reverence, as though I was something
he hadn't realized he was hungry for until now. The

(05:13):
rhythm of our bodies fell into place with surprising ease.
We kissed and touched in the shadow of the bridge,
every breath louder than it should have been. My heart
was pounding. When we heard another boat glide into the
same space. There was a couple in it, older content.
They looked at us, unbothered, even smiling. At first I froze,

(05:35):
but then something inside me cracked open. The couple didn't care.
They were caught in their own intimacy, and I wanted
the same. The straps of my dress slid down, his
mouth found my chest, my skin tingling with every kiss.
I rolled my hips against him, the fabric of his
pants between us. I whispered what I needed, and he

(05:55):
didn't hesitate. He undressed, quickly, slipping on protection as I
straddled him again. When he entered me, I lettered a
sound I couldn't hold back. It was raw, needy. The
boat creaked softly beneath us, as I wrote him, the
warmth of his body grounding me in something real and immediate.
The moans around us, theirs ours, became a symphony. We

(06:18):
were strangers, but we were experiencing something together, all four
of us. The climax hit me hard. My body ached, trembled,
broke open. As I gasped. I looked through the wooden
slats above us and caught a glimpse of someone watching. Strangely,
it didn't feel invasive. It felt shared, as if the

(06:39):
village itself had quietly welcomed me into this strange, beautiful ritual.
We dressed again in silence, both catching our breath. The
boat drifted out from under the bridge and back into
the open canal. I didn't speak during the return. I
didn't need to. The moment had spoken enough. When we
reached my house, I stepped off the boat, turned back

(07:02):
and kissed him softly, meaningfully. I knew I would return
for another tour. Thanks for listening, Foxy friends, don't forget
to rate, review and subscribe, and continue to come with us.