by Zane
She pants and says, “Eat me, Marcus. Please, baby, eat your pussy.”
“My pussy,” he replies.
“Sí, bebé. It’s all for you tonight. It’s yours, Marcus. Take it,” she pleads.
Marcus slowly trails down her breast with the tip of his tongue, stopping at the bottom to kiss it with his lips. His pace slows even more as he trails his tongue over her stomach, circling the button, his fingertips gently massaging and tickling her sides on the way down. She giggles and shudders at his touch. It’s unfamiliar territory for the both of them. Marcus’s tongue-travel finally ends at her thatch and plunges deep into the honey pot, tasting her juices. Veronica moans in bliss. Next he trails back up the thin wall of her inner lips and begins to slowly, gently stroke her clitoris. Veronica shivers with each lick. As he continues to tongue-stroke, he picks up the pace and she begins to rock in unison. The rain outside seems to add a certain romantic edge to the action. Veronica’s hands find the back of Marcus’s head as he strokes her gently, now adding slight pressure, intensifying pleasure. He slips two fingers into her hot, wet pussy, searching the top inner wall until he finds the soft hump of the G-spot and then concentrates his finger pressure there.
“Oh God, Mark, baby. Don’t stop! Oh, eat it! Mark, it feels so good!”
Marcus induces more speed and pressure. He thrusts her legs high into the air, forming a giant V shape, while supporting them with his palms at the backs of her thighs. More pressure, more speed. The thunder rolls and the lightning flashes as the rain pounds against the house. She gasps and pants with each lick; every finger-stroke over her spot induces another flutter through her groin. She feels heat, and cold; a wave is starting somewhere behind her groin and she grips his head in a vice lock of legs and hands as her vagina explodes in ecstasy. Veronica’s gasp is instantly silenced as the wave continues to pulse through her whole body. She temporarily loses breath and goes light-headed, basking in the bliss of the orgasm. She’s suffocating him, as she cums hard and slow.
Marcus grasps both legs and forces them to part away from his head as he takes in a deep breath of air. The excitement of the oral sex is stimulation enough to stiffen his dick again. As Veronica lies on the floor with her eyes shut tight, clutching her breasts while still convulsing in the orgasm, Marcus creeps over the top of her and gently but firmly shoves into her sopping wet pussy. She gasps hard, then screams in pleasure as he begins to jackhammer thrust in and out of her, stroking hard and fast while grunting between his clinched teeth.
She grabs hold of his back, edging him on with each deep stroke, and begins gibbering in intertwined English and Spanish. Outside, the lightning snaps sporadically in brilliant flash patterns; thunder rolls and crashes as if God is bowling the game of a lifetime; the rain relentlessly pounds against the brick house’s windows. Veronica is screaming bloody murder as she wraps her legs around Marcus’s lower back. She squeezes her pelvis with everything she has left. In between gasps, she looks Marcus in the eyes with a stare that he will never forget—the cold certainty of that stare brings home the reality of the current situation. He’s seen that stare in the office on many occasions, when business was in order.
She speaks to him in a husky, raspy tone that almost scares him. “Marcus Jackson, fuck me harder, you son of a bitch! Fuck me like you’ve never fucked anyone in your life, dammit!”
Marcus digs deep and kicks into high gear. The tile flooring is beginning to scrape his knees, but still he pounds away like a madman set free of his shackles. Veronica continues to scream at him, her voice growing louder with each hard thrust. Marcus can see by the sweat forming on her forehead that the pelvic squeezing is beginning to take its toll on her, yet she persists to scream and clutch, gasp and pant. His heart is pounding inside his chest so hard that it’s beginning to ache. His lower abdominal muscles are on fire; his triceps are screaming in burning pain, but he refuses to stop. He’s going all the way with this one, until he either explodes or drops dead. He’s determined to tear a hole through this pussy, even if his heart decides to burst through his chest. Sweat drips into his eyes, stinging—still, he thrusts away. His balls spank back and forth against her ass and his own, until they eventually go numb.
“Oh my God, Marcus! Oohh, shit…my God in heaven! Ohh, I’m gonna cum again…oh you fucking Marcus, you…oohh…ohhh…oh. God, I’m…”
Marcus, feeling his own joy juice about ready to flow, roars into a full-blown jungle holler.
“Oh, fuck me! I’m gonna—”
Veronica shudders and reflexively digs her nails into his back, drawing blood. At the same time, she pulls herself into a locked position and bites down on his right shoulder as she explodes in orgasm, sending a hot flush of wet juice flowing from her pussy. Marcus lets loose a violent spray that flickers back and forth between pain and pleasure. His body also locks up and simply shuts down, freezing them both in a weird sort of silent, petrified embrace.
Marcus feels warm, wet juice flow down his scrotum and between his legs as Veronica continues to let loose what she would later describe as the single most pleasurable pee she would ever experience. The wave between the forbidden lovers continues until they slowly relax and embrace each other, breathe together, holding on to each other as if life depends on the strength of the hug. Veronica’s lips let go of Marcus’s shoulder. She slowly collapses to the sweaty floor as she gasps for air. Marcus’s arms give way and he simply falls on top of her, breathing heavily into her right ear. His stomach is performing topsy-turvy flips and his head aches.
“How’d we do, boss lady?” he whispers.
“We were wonderful, Papi,” she whispers.
“Good. If you don’t mind, I think I’m gonna go ahead and faint now.”
“Sleep, hon. My God, you definitely earned a rest and a raise,” she whispers.
As his breathing slows to a steady pace, Veronica gently kisses his right ear, then stares up at the patterned ceiling of her kitchen. A smile draws across her face as she strokes the back of her unconscious lover’s neck with one hand and caresses his shoulder blade with the other.
“Sleep, love. Dream of a different time and place, where we wouldn’t have to hide,” she whispers.
Veronica Torres watches the patterned ceiling slowly begin to gray out as she drifts toward sleep. Just before passing out, she realizes that, outside, the rain has stopped.
Sayulita Siesta
BlissDulce
I had just rolled over to get deeper into Denzel’s arms when the sound of a ringing phone snatched me right out of them.
“Shit,” I mumbled as my heart galloped a thousand beats a minute. “A sista can’t even get fucked in a dream.”
I felt around for my saline container so I could rinse my contacts and see. There might have been a few streaks of light in the sky but I was squinting with dry eyes and wasn’t sure. I squirted a few drops in each eye and everything in the room sprang to attention as my vision was restored. Just what I thought. It was barely light out. Who would be calling me before the crack of dawn? I sat up to look for the phone and it took a minute to remember that it was in the living room. Back when I’d first talked to the current owners about buying this house, it was cool that there were no phones in the bedrooms. I didn’t plan to make any calls from here, and after the deal was done, I only expected to get calls from family, who I hoped would call only when I was awake and out of bed, unless it was an emergency. My secretary Karma had the number and instructions to call me only if she heard my momma and/or sister died and she wanted to make sure I had the news.
I scrambled barefoot into the living room, glad the tile floors were warm and worried that this was an emergency call.
“Hello?” I gurgled.
“Dee, what you doing, girl?” a voice chirped, too happy for this time of morning.
I cleared my throat. “Who is this?”
“It’s me. Ticey.”
“Ticey?” I echoed.
“Ticey, your sis-ter!” Ticey sucked
her teeth.
“Ticey, you done lost your mind. Girl, it’s still dark here,” I lied.
“Dee, you a damned liar.” Ticey laughed. “I checked the time on the Internet before I called you. What? You got some man in your bed and I got you up in the middle of something nasty? Tell the truth, Dee!” Ticey cackled. “What color is his dick, girl? Is it big? Is he circumcised?”
“Ticey, what do you want so early in the morning?” I asked, about to get an attitude. “I had too many damned margaritas last night, the sun is still sleeping, and no, I ain’t got no man in my bed. I’m here to buy this house, remember? I ain’t got time for nothing else.”
I had to laugh at myself then because I knew how stupid I sounded. My sister and I were tighter than tight and she knew nothing stopped me from getting dick. I plopped down on the overstuffed couch and spilled my guts when I stopped laughing.
“Ticey, I ain’t seen a man here yet who looks good enough to get this ass, girl. Can you believe that?”
“Whaaaaaaaaat?” Ticey drawled. “Dee, you lying! Here I am waiting for you to say our Latino brothers are swinging giant dicks. Sis, I swear I was gonna pack my ish and hop on the next thing smoking down that way.” Ticey laughed loudly in my ear.
“Girl, don’t waste your time. I’ve been here five days and ain’t seen nothing worth taking my drawers off for.” I laughed with her.
“Damn, girl. That must be hard for you. Where are you, anyway? I thought you were in Cancún but the operator didn’t say Cancún.”
“Operator? What operator? Ticey, I left y’all a direct number for the phone here at the house. Why you call the operator?”
“Dee, you know I don’t know nothing about calling foreign countries. The operator was cool. It didn’t take her no time to ring you.”
“Chile, do you know operator-assisted calls are the most expensive? ’Bye, Ticey! We been on this phone too long. You gonna be mad when you get your bill and no, I ain’t splitting it with you so don’t ask!”
“Dee, you know you wrong. ’Bye, girl. Oh, wait! Where ya at?”
“I’m in a town called Sayulita. It’s near Puerto Vallarta. ’Bye, Ticey.” I hung up.
Since I was already up, I watched the colorful sunrise from the bedroom patio and did a fifteen-minute meditation. After a warm shower, I dressed for breakfast, ready to step out into another sparkling day. The bedroom mirror reflected my fine chocolate frame, looking voluptuous in my lime-green sundress. I put on matching thong sandals and pulled my waist-length locs up into a high ponytail, glossed my lips, then checked my side and rear views to make sure my dress repped my 36DDs and ass like it should. Perfection!
The restaurant that had become my favorite place to eat breakfast was a block away. It was one of the oldest restaurants in Sayulita and had a panoramic view of the surf. The señora and her husband who owned the restaurant were very nice people. Both spoke excellent Spanglish; I chose their company every morning because they reminded me of my momma and daddy.
The beach beckoned after my leisurely breakfast. There wasn’t much else to do, and since my plan was to soak up as much sun as I could before heading back to dreary DC, I gave in. I would be sorry to leave the beauty and warmth of Sayulita but happy when the house was officially mine. The problem was that I had no clue how long it would take. Mexican laws on foreign property ownership are complicated so I had a mexicano attorney handling this for me. He called me the day I arrived but not since then, so I was basically killing time.
I lay out on my towel under my umbrella and opened one of the juicy novels I took out of my bag. I had to put it down after a few chapters into the book. It made me horny, and why should I be reading about some other woman getting her freak on if I had to walk around with hard nipples and a lonely coochie until I got back home? Uh-uh, I wasn’t doing that. I closed my eyes, stretched out on my back, and let the soothing sounds and aromas of the beach make love to me while I thought about the benefits of having my own house near the beach. My purchase would enable me to take real vacations as often as I could get away and every time I came down, it would be like getting free accommodations because if I handled my business correctly, it would pay for itself with the extra cash I could make by renting it out to some folks I already had in mind.
When I opened my eyes, there was a man standing over me. He startled the shit outta me but I grew up in the hood. I wasn’t scared. We stared at each other, neither speaking. Since he came to me, I waited. In the meantime, I assessed him with a practiced eye. I was squinting into the sun but the brotha was fine from what I could see. His jeans and white T-shirt were nothing fancy but they fit him well. He looked like he was taller than me, had broad shoulders, nice muscle tone in his arms, and a trim waist. He had smooth, deep bronze skin, an angular jawline, and thick, glossy hair that disappeared down his back. I could see that he wasn’t as husky as my usual type but that was trivial. However, I did need to know if he could pass the T-bone test cuz I like my men the way I like my steaks: brown and meaty with a big bone in the middle. He was definitely brown and I was hoping the other two were part of the package as well.
Then my conscience kicked in: You’re on business in a foreign country, girl. Cool your hot ass down! it hollered at me as I stared curiously at him. But unlike my conscience, I have no shame when it comes to sex. Am I a bad girl because I like my business to be as pleasurable as possible? And why should I make an exception just because I was out of the country? Shit, I’ve been here a week and he’s the first man I’ve seen who ain’t too light, too skinny, or too ugh for my tastes. It might take a little ingenuity to get the dick, but it’s alright. If I can’t do this, it can’t be done. I can play this game in my sleep. I giggled aloud as I visualized the kinky possibilities.
My laughter ended the staring contest and he spoke to me.
“Señora, you should cover up more when you are sleeping on the beach. Some in our town do not consider it proper for a lady to expose her…to expose herself in such a way in public.” Then he left abruptly. I watched him disappear into a restaurant I’d eaten in a few days ago.
Well damn! Not even a polite hello. I didn’t know what to think about that. I hope all this body didn’t offend the dude. I know not every man can handle this much woman but I love every inch of me and I’m not ashamed to flaunt my assets. Maybe I dozed off and my legs were open or a titty fell out. I considered myself attired conservatively in my white two-piece. A sheer orange pareo covered my booty so what was the fuss about? It wasn’t one of those itty-bitty, dental-floss-in-ya-crack bikinis either. I got tits and ass to spare and I fluctuate between a big size 14 and a smallish 18. I never could find an off-the-rack swimsuit that could keep all my goodies wrapped in the package. I have my bikinis custom-made to gently support my lusciousness while allowing my sexiness to play a peekaboo.
I thought about my visitor. I didn’t see him when I ate in that restaurant earlier in the week. Did he work there? Hmmm…I had an idea about lunch. I stayed at the beach another hour before flouncing off to the house to get ready for the midday stunt I intended to pull.
Showering and putting on fresh clothes and makeup killed a half hour on my clock. It was too hot for too many clothes but a full-figured sista can’t roll without the proper foundation. I wore black lace panties, a matching bra and a black half-slip under my turquoise crinkled-cotton dress. My makeup was minimal, just eye shadow and tinted gloss on my lips.
The restaurant was cool and dim in contrast to the midday heat and glare. I sat down at an empty table and waited for my waiter. He appeared at my elbow almost before I could put my legs under the table. Was it a coincidence that he was the guy from the beach? His name tag said RODRIGO and his eyes were sexy, what people used to call bedroom eyes. Mmm…my pussy threatened to heateth over.
“Buenas tardes, señora. I am Rodrigo, your waiter today. How are you today, señora?” he sang in a perfect blend of English and Spanish.
I looked up at him through my eyelashes and
flashed what I hoped was a sweet smile. I was saving the drama for later. “I’m doing well today, Rodrigo. ¿Y tú?”
“Muy bien, señora. Gracias. What can I get you to drink today?” He put napkins and a straw on the table in front of me.
“I’ll have a lemon Perrier, por favor.”
“Gracias, señora. Would you like to order now or wait until you have your drink?”
“I’ll order now, thank you. I will have the rice and beans with plátanos maduros and house salad, please.”
“Gracias, señora. I will be right back with your Perrier. It will be a few minutes for your meal. In the meantime, please, if you prefer, you can sit on either of the outside patios. There is the one out front or the one upstairs, on the roof.”
“Gracias, señor.” I smiled demurely at him again. He smiled politely at me and walked away. I watched his ass as he headed toward the kitchen.
I had no intentions of sitting outside. It seemed to get hotter in exponential increments here, from 10 A.M. until the sun set, and although the restaurant was almost on the beach, the air was still today. I looked around at the other diners, noting that I was the only person there solo. I was also bored. I spotted the antiquated jukebox near the bar and recalled hearing it last time I ate here. I sashayed over and dropped a few pesos into the slot, closed my eyes, and picked random songs. I nodded my head and swayed to the upbeat tempo of my first choice as I returned to my seat to enjoy the music with my Perrier.
The waiter who brought my food from the kitchen was not Rodrigo. He was much younger, couldn’t have been a day over sixteen. My disappointment must have shown.
“Is everything okay, señora?” he asked politely.
