Posts Tagged ‘spanish’

I was forty living the good life in the beautiful Republic of Panama. Jena was Latina, dark complexion, petit, fun and beautiful. We met at the party of a friend, a handsome musician, and he mentioned that if I was attracted to her, I should just let her know. He said she mentioned earlier that she thought I was hot. Of course, at twice her age, I appreciated the compliment. So I went up to her and her girlfriend and make a little small talk, all in Spanish, of course.



She was a university student, a young lady from a working class family. She loved music and art and she is very smart and did I mention beautiful? She loved the opportunity to practice her English or at least so she claimed. Well, she and her girlfriend graciously and enthusiastically left the party with me that night but that is another story.



We became lovers and oh the joy and pleasure of her young body and her ardent enthusiasm, not to mention the pleasure of her company and the value of this young Panamanian women’s perspective that extended my intercultural awareness. Always open to suggestion and willing to please and be pleased. So we got together whenever we could. Maybe I gave her a little money from time to time to help with the school expenses. But, there is no doubt in my mind, she voraciously loved sex, as much as I did.



One tropical night, when the humidity hung heavy in air after the late afternoon rains, we were driving around in my beat up 4-wheel drive pickup. I was thinking we should go somewhere and get it on. Jena was game, as usual. We went down by the Panama Canal under the Bridge of the Americas into a large office parking lot, now empty.



I parked in an out of the way space, in the corner, so we could see anyone coming. We listened as the tree frogs chanted outside in the drainage ditch adjacent to the parking lot. An almost full moon slipped in and out of the clouds overhead, casting slivers of silver moon shadows all around us.



I reached over and she slid towards me. We kissed, her sweet full lips on mine. The intoxication of her fine body and sweet perfume always got a rise out of me.



I did not shut the old truck down as we were enjoying the air conditioning and the music. We both liked old rock and roll so the Beatle’s White Album keeps us company. She lifts up here cotton peasant blouse as I played were her breasts. Now Jena is a petit woman, 20 years old, long dark black hair, bright brown eyes, smooth light brown skin, sweet smell of a mix of exotic essential oils, imports from India. Whatever she chose for her neck, I was certain to find a dab down south too. Not that her sweet pussy needed any help in the olfactory department. It had its own natural perfume that was to die for. She has small tits with big, long, dark nipples that harden even at the suggestion of fun.



I pull her closer across the truck seat to suck her tits. She squeals and moans with delight as I suck hard and gently twist her nubs. I inhale the sweet perfume of her arousal. I rub her mons from the outside as I can’t comfortably stick my hand in her tight jeans. She reaches out to rub my aroused cock through my jeans as it strains for release. The tree frogs are chanting a chorus now in tune with Fab Four.



I straddle the center of the truck with the gear shift between my legs and she is so light I lift her up onto my lap. She comfortably straddles me with her back to the windshield. Her red heels in sharp contrast to her tight jeans and tan skin. I am at eye level with her sensitive nubs so I keep up my efforts guided by her enthusiastic moans. Jena loves to express herself aurally. She whimpers, moans, chants, and then at the end, screams. We have to be careful where we do it as she can attract attention from a distance. I hear the tree frogs all together loudly kriking back and forth to one another.



Jena’s pussy is flooding; I haven’t even touched it yet although I can smell it. She is like that. When she gets going … get ready for the flood! So I have her blouse off now. She does not need a bra, her small tits stand high and proud. Her nipples are so big, especially when she gets excited. She likes me to be rough with them too … so I give her what she wants. I twist them this way and that, use my teeth a little too and then suck hard.



She is beyond the whimper stage now and is actively moaning, “aiii aiii aiii … dale duro amor …” She is rubbing her pussy against my hard cock. I gently bite her a little around the back of the neck; she likes that as well and moans to spur me on.



I unbutton her jeans and try and stick a hand in but they are two tight and the angle is wrong. I try and pull them down but she doesn’t help so I reach back and slip my hand inside around her butt. Both hands on her hot ass inside her pants. Her little panties do little to impede me.



“Sáquelas … chica,” I tell her. “Take them off, girl.” She plants both feet on the floor of the truck and starts to peel them off. She slips off her red heels to get the pants down and of course she has to slip them off her long trim legs one leg at a time. …still straddling me. Off the tiny panties come too. I help her take them off and promptly hold them to my face to inhale the exquisite aroma. She reaches down and unbuckles my belt and unsnaps my Levies, tugs them open and I lift my hips off the seat of the truck an she pulls them down with my black cotton underwear with them too. I pull them off and make sure to arrange then carefully on the seat in case I have to put them on in a hurry. That is a lesson learned from experience.



I ask her to put the red heels back on and of course she understands. She sits back down on my lap still facing me with her back to the windshield . She slides her wet pussy against my cock, teasing me … while cooing how hot she is to get it on. “Dale, mi amor … quiero darte mi miel.” “Pongo tu cosa caliente en mi michita. ”



I sit back and she climbs on top. Slowing sliding het wet pussy onto my very ready dick. Her little feet with the red heels planted on the floor of the truck and her legs spread wide to receive me. “Ah cielos,” she says. And I agree.



She leans forward to capture my entire length as her tight, young pussy grips me with passion. I grab her ass with both hands so I can help her ride. Slowly, at first. I stick a finger in her tight asshole. She likes that and moans encouragement. I hear the staccato of the frog chorus adding their cacophony to Beatles tune, “Come together … right now,” they order.



The cab of the truck is filled with her aroma and the heavy truck springs vibrate with the rhythm of the motion. She pushes back against the gear shift and I see the surprise on her face. I push her ass against the gear shift and she feels the vibration of the diesel motor from the drive train on her asshole and she likes it. I rev the engine with my foot to give her a thrill as she clamps down hard on my cock with her hot wet pussy while at the same time clenching the gear shift with her ass.



I keep the engine revving as she moans and projects a fast litany of profane Spanish that I don’t quite understand … something about the good vibrations in her ass. I think maybe she could take the gearshift in her ass while I am in her pussy. She is so hot and willing … but then I realize it just won’t fit.



I ask her to turn around so she faces the windshield and we are both facing the same direction. She rubs her ass against my cock. I reach around and gently rub her clit but her hand is already there … She likes to start out gently and end with a bang and she doesn’t hesitate to help things along. She continues to flex her ass against my cock. I gently push her forward until her clit is touching the gear shift. ” Aii aii …que rico … ” she gushes. I push her clit a little harder against the gear shift. And grab her titties with my hands.



She pushes up until she positions my cock against her pussy and slowly lets me have what I have been waiting for. Slowly up and down, she takes her time … While I continue to rev the engine as she grinds her clit against the side of the gearshift. All the while touching herself and I lend a helping hand. She is moaning continuously now and the tree fogs are kriking loudly in reply.



I stick a finger in her ass and she sighs … I stick two in and she says, ” mas, mas mi amor, quiero mas …llename con tu fuerza … ” She milks my cock, while I stuff fingers in her hot Latina ass.



I push her off my cock and push her mons hard against the gear shift. I put a couple of finger in her pussy too, all the while I position her ass over my cock. It has a lot of her juice on it and even more has spilled out of her pussy onto her ass. I grab a little of both and lubricate myself and her culo and position her ass on top of my dick. She slowly pushes back down. In a second or two, I pop in … and I hold still as she adjusts. Meanwhile, her clit is still pushing against the gear shit. It is a hard nub of pleasure, turgid and throbbing; I can feel it. I let her down on the full length of my cock slowly filling her hot ass … She moans in approval. I rev the engine hard and push her clit right against the stick. She yelps in pleasure. Now I get the idea of where to go next.



I lift her up so the head of the gear shift is against her pussy lips; she does not complain, on the contrary she sighs again in pleasure. I rub the shift around a little against her tight pussy. Yes … I think this will work. I push her to accept the shift into her hot conchita. She gets the idea and slowly opens to receive the stick while my cock is still in her ass.



OMG, I can feel the vibrations of the car in her ass through the wall of her pussy. She slowly slides down on the gearshift. I let up on the accelerator so she can stretch out to accept us both. She bottoms out … I can feel the contractions in her ass and the vibrations from the shift in her pussy. It is a fabulous combination. I know I won’t last long if she starts to move.



As if on cue, she rises up and slams down on both of us, again and again. I can see a light shimmer of sweat on her neck and back. I hold her hips to help guide her up and down and she takes my cock for the ride of its life. The Beatles are synchronized with the tree frogs … There are all roaring their approval.



“Aiiii, aiii, aiiii, aiiiiiiiiioooooyeah, dale duro, baby,” she cries. “Give it to me … Que rico, el culo y la chucha, junto, que rico … “She takes a deep breath and exclaims, “Mi michachita esta me quemando.”



I really give it to her now with force. I see she ready … pussy juice is leaking out the sides and onto the gear shift and down her ass … My cock is thrusting hard into her ass … She reaches out to pinch her tits, so I know she is going to come soon. I thrust her up and down … my hands on her hips. The truck is really rocking now. I am cheering her on she is rolling her eyes back now and throws her head back in ecstasy. I am watching her face in the rearview mirror. I know it won’t be long. My seed is gathering in my balls …. A hot torrent, seeking release. She thrusts down even harder now.



I rev the motor with my left foot and the old diesel engine roars. She screams “aiiii aiii damelo ….oooooo fuck me duro, amor.” Then it happens, she start to shake and bounce erratically, she is screaming while she creams the gearshift . Her ass grabs me hard and the contractions in her ass traveling from her pussy calls forth my seed and I come forcefully in her hot ass. I feel the contractions; her pussy is on fire, wave after wave of contractions. She is lost in ecstasy, she pounds my legs with her hands as she clenches my cock with her ass and creams the gear shift some more And them, release! She sighs in a huge breath of release. And slumps down in my lap. I hold her as she starts to cry … her tears turn to sobs and then a full-fledged session of tears and sobs.



I don’t need to ask her what’s wrong, as I know she is crying with pleasure and happiness. I wait patiently, still impaled in her ass. She gathers her forces as she back off both of us. I put her on the seat beside me and hold her in my arms as she recovers. She turns to me, her beautiful, big brown eyes, so bright and deep, “Que rico mi amor, tenemos que hacer eso otra vez mañana, me gusta mucho.”



There is no doubt, I could not have agreed more!

“Vin… please… ohhh… don’t!” she muttered under her breath as her body flexed with discomfort. Her hazel gaze wordlessly begged him to be careful.



He sighed deeply as he eyed her intensely with his own dark chocolate brown stare. He was trying to be as gentle as possible. “Stop being such a baby. You know it’s gotta hurt a little first. You’ll feel better when it’s over. Trust me.”



“Ow! Careful… that’s hurts,” she whined as she fidgeted.



He tried comforting her. This tenseness would only make it worse and prolong the discomfort. “Shhhh… easy… give me a second,” he said soothingly.



She panted loudly, “You’re pushing it in deeper!”



“I can only pull it out… ughh… if you stop moving so much!” he said exasperatedly.



Sweat began to bead on her upper lip, as she squirmed and gasped again. “I don’t think I can take much more of this poking and prodding. Pull it out already, please! Basta ya!” [Enough already!]



“Easy, now. I… I…. I’ve almost got it,” he said, silently willing her to be still.



“Just leave it in already, damn it,” she sighed weakly. Her dark wispy bangs were beginning to cling wetly to her forehead and the sides of her cheeks. She blew a breath out slowly from between her full pouty lips, trying to let the pain flow through her, willing herself not to stiffen up.



“Ta-da!” his face split into a huge, proud grin with deep dimples framing his smile as he presented the tweezers and the offending splinter to her.



“Whew… thanks, Vin. You know, being a righty, I never could get the hang of removing a splinter from my right hand.” She smiled faintly, inspecting her palm.



Vincent lifted the guilty item, a wizened gardening claw, the guilty item. Examining its beaten-up wooden handle, he suggested, “You could just spring for a new one. This one’s seen better days. All it’s gonna do is give you splinters again.”



Antonia snatched it none-too-politely from his grasp, only realizing his surprise at her actions a bit too late. Sheepishly, she said sheepishly “This was Therese’s. I kept all her gardening tools. I’ll just sand paper the handle or wear gloves when I use it from now on.”



Vincent smiled as he watched her clutch the claw like a priceless object d’art. He was the same with things that he had kept that had belonged to Therese. He could see Antonia’s mind was elsewhere, so he decided to change the subject. “Are you about done out here, Tone? We really need to start looking over this week’s schedule of pick-ups.”



Antonia surveyed her somewhat small, but lush garden. “Yeah, I’m pretty much done with the weeding and picking in the vegetable patch. You can pack up the veggies I picked and put them in your truck. Let me just clip some mint for iced tea. I asked Joy to come by and pick up some mint for the shelter. Actually, why don’t I leave the crates of veggies out here for her too? Joy can deliver them, unless you need to go to the shelter yourself today.”



He thought for a moment, debating what he might need to do today at the shelter. “No. I don’t have to, though maybe I should give Joy a hand.”



“No, Vin… Sheila and Matt are at the shelter today. They can help Joy unload a few crates of veggies.”



Vincent scratched his darkly bearded chin absent-mindedly. “Well, I guess so.”



Antonia raised her clasped hands in a prayerful gesture. “Vincent, listen to me. And I mean this in the nicest way. It’s one thing to be useful. It’s completely another thing to be used. It’s all well and good for you to want to help out your own staff. But you just end up doing more of the work, dude. If you’re going to be a good administrator and manage the shelter properly, you need to learn to delegate more and not pitch in left and right whenever somebody whines a little.”



Nodding slowly, he concurred. “You’re right, I don’t delegate enough. But it’s tough to just stand by sometimes.”



Antonia released her hands and ran them through her disheveled layers of brown hair. He had such a knack for exasperating her with his excessive guilt over whether he did enough. “Judas Priest, Vincent! You don’t ‘just stand by!’ You’re like a whirling dervish sometimes. I swear you make my head spin the way you bounce around at the shelter doing five things at once.”



She took a deep breath and made herself shut up. She was starting to nag him just like Therese used to… well, maybe not as affectionately as Therese used to. She put a smile on her face as she gathered her small gardening shears to collect the mint. She looked down at her white t-shirt.



Ewww, it wasn’t all that white anymore! She was soil-covered and sweaty. Oh well, she thought to herself, time to toss these duds in the hamper, as she distractedly wiped her hands on her cut-off denim shorts.



“Come on, let’s go in and get a drink, I need to freshen up and then we can get started on this week’s agenda. I’m gonna go jump into the shower real quick. I’ve been out here for almost four hours.” She stretched her arms over her head, and then extended them behind her back, getting rid of whatever kinks she could. She slowly rolled her neck from side to side as she led the way into the cool interior of the house, sliding the patio screen aside. As was their habit, they each kicked off their sandals and left them outside on the cement patio.



Antonia’s mention of the mint made a connection in Vincent’s mind that had somehow slipped by the wayside and been lost until today. As he turned to shift the screen door back in place, he asked, “Is that you? You make the fresh mint tea for the shelter?”



She gave him a funny look. “I thought you knew. Mint tea is an excellent aid to digestion and many homeless people suffer from gastro-intestinal problems because their food sources are rarely the best. Face it, dumpster-diving isn’t like eating at a four star restaurant, ya know?”



“I know how good mint tea is, I was raised on the stuff, remember? Tea is as popular as coffee in the Middle East. My folks kept their tea habit when they came here. I just didn’t know it was you making it. I thought it was an anonymous contributor.” He sounded almost slighted or hurt by the fact that he wasn’t aware of this.



“Well, I don’t go around announcing everything I do, Vin.” Antonia laughed lightly, shaking her head.



“I know you don’t… it’s just that I usually know everything that’s going on at the shelter.”



“Vin… it’s just mint tea. You don’t have to worry about me taking over the shelter or anything.”



Now it was his turn to give her a funny look. “I wasn’t thinking that at all, Tone… I couldn’t run the place without all your help, I just…”



Antonia shrugged her shoulders, kindly dismissing Vincent’s concerns as unwarranted. “I know what you were thinking, Vin, and you can’t possibly know absolutely know everything that goes on at the shelter, even if you are the founder. That’s the whole point for having your staff and volunteers to help out, right? Ease up on yourself, compadre.”



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ …25 minutes later… ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Antonia grumbled loudly. “!Coño!!Que jodienda!” [Damn it! This is so fuckin' frustrating!]



Antonia ran a hand through her still-damp hair. Trying to stretch the contributions seemed a lot tougher some weeks over others. It was an hour since they had come inside from the late morning sun.



While Antonia was no longer heated by the sun… the shower had helped to cool her down somewhat… but she was now mentally heated by the frustration of trying to draw out the shelter’s sources to the breaking point.



“!Que dios nos ayuda con este toyo! [God help us with this mess!]



Vincent snickered quietly. Antonia always swore in Spanish when things really annoyed or agitated her. It was a personal trait of hers that he had always found amusing ever since he’d first met her.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~



About six years ago, Therese and Antonia met at a series of art history lectures. Therese was a very pretty, tall, slender black woman, with a delicate lilt to her voice and Antonia would often notice out of the corner of her eye that they always reacted to the same parts of the lectures. During the intermissions, they started chatting over coffee and tea.



Turned out that Antonia was a librarian and something of a detective when it came to finding information. Therese mentioned the shelter that she and Vincent ran and their constant need for information regarding what services they wanted to offer, educational programs, housing resources, getting people to contribute money, time and resources.



After a time, Antonia jumped up on board as the shelter’s resident trouble-shooter and eventually one of the shelter’s produce connections. Antonia also helped design the weekly menu for the kitchen at the shelter and taught nutrition classes there as well.



Upon meeting Vincent, Antonia realized she had found kindred spirits in both him and Therese. The three of them were vegetarian and all three were first generation-born Americans. Therese’s family originally came from Jamaica, Vincent’s family was Middle Eastern from Egypt, while Antonia’s family came from the Dominican Republic. All their parents came to the U.S. in the 1950′s and 1960′s to seek out better opportunities than were available in their native homelands. They had all been raised with very strong altruistic tendencies and they often gave each other grief about how much they did for others, though they rarely seemed to cut themselves slack, until the other two made mention of it.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Vincent watched as Antonia nibbled on her lower lip as she tried to organize this week’s worth of 21 menus based on this week’s contributions. Vincent felt the same way as Antonia did regarding the nuisance of being at the mercy of other people’s willingness to give. He was often frustrated by the nature of trying to keep a shelter running smoothly. But he always made an effort to not get upset over how much others were willing to give or do. That was out of his hands and getting annoyed didn’t resolve the issue.



“…The road of life is rocky and you may stumble too…”



Bob Marley’s “Could You Be Loved?” played on the stereo as they tried to organize the schedule of pick-ups and contributions.



Vincent’s tan, lean frame lay across the full length of Antonia’s sofa, reading the accounts as he held them over his eyes, to block some of the early afternoon sun that lit up Antonia’s living room. His bare feet were crossed at the ankles and rested on the arm of the sofa, waving to the beat of the music.



He said, “Monty’s Deli will have at least 20 pounds of deli meat for us on Thursday.”



Antonia muttered softly, “Yuck,” thinking he wouldn’t hear her.



Vincent heard her and smiled as he continued skimming through the manifests, “When they’re back on their feet, they can become vegetarians like us. But for now, the folks in that shelter will take what we give them.”



She sighed as she placed an errant strand of her feathery auburn hair behind one ear. “I know… I know. They’ll gladly take what we give them. I just wish we could get more fresh produce donated on a regular basis. Just because they’ve been homeless or can’t afford to find three square meals a day doesn’t mean they don’t deserve good nutrition.”



Vincent chided Antonia. “Patience is a virtue, dear.”



She hissed, “I wish I could afford a place with a bigger garden, caramba!”



He gazed at her from over the top of the manifest, shaking his head slowly in amused disbelief. He couldn’t believe that this was the same person that was always telling him that he did too much. Apparently Antonia couldn’t see the forest for the trees, Vincent thought. “You manage to be very generous to the shelter with the space you have.” He tried to defuse her mood by flashing his bright smile at her… which he knew often lightened her right up, but was met with a perturbed look on Antonia’s face.



She snorted in a rather unladylike manner, waving a hand dismissively through the air. “Well, that’s obviously because I only keep enough for lil ol’ me and everything else goes to the shelter. If I could find the extra time and supplies, I’d love to approach Nick at the housing projects on Tremont and see if we could utilize part of their community garden space for produce.” She wrote a note to herself about making that phone call.



Antonia sat on the floor, resting her back against the upholstered base of the sofa, using her bent legs as a desk for her ledger and date book. With one hand she took notes, while the other hand raised a cup of coffee to her lips. She sipped as she watched Vincent pencil in reminders and changes to his own notes.



He reached down beside him for his glass of mint tea and took a sip. As he returned the glass to its resting place, he sighed, “I’ll call Karolina at the dairy farm up in Untermyer and see if she’ll be able to stick to her 45 gallons of milk that’s she’s been supplying us. I need to visit David on the eighteenth and… “



Abruptly, Vincent stopped speaking.



Antonia didn’t turn to see why he’d stopped talking. She knew why. Now she was simply waiting to see if he knew that she knew.



He hastily sat up, his long dark hair swaying about his shoulders as he braced his head in his hands, letting his notes and pencil drop around his bare feet. He grunted, “Damn, sorry about that.”



“Don’t be… it’s just paper,” Antonia muttered softly.



“No, I mean…” Vincent’s voice caught in his throat, unable to work around the instant lump that had decided to appear.



“Yes, Vincent… I know…” she said sympathetically, “Therese will be gone 3 years on the eighteenth.”



He shook his head softly in incredulity, “It kind of snuck up on me.” He rubbed his beard with both hands as though trying to wake himself up from a disturbing dream. “I mean I still think about her all the time… but the date just kind of hit me, ya know?”



Antonia sighed sadly. “I figured as much… you’ve completely buried yourself in the running and organizing of the shelter. She wouldn’t approve, you know, working yourself like you do till all hours.”



He nodded absently at the point she made. An ardent tone entered his voice. “Yeah… maybe… but she would’ve understood. There’s a need for this shelter, you know that as well as anyone, and it certainly won’t operate itself. Therese herself pretty much kept herself in the thick of it, until the chemo got the better of her.”



Vincent gazed out the window as he recalled both the good and bad times he’d shared with his Therese. Sometimes it felt like it was just yesterday that they had received the news about her illness. Other times it felt as though decades had passed by since he’d last heard her throaty laugh or seen her start her day off by selecting a matching caftan and head wrap, humming as she danced around their kitchen with him as they prepared breakfast together.



He heard more than saw Antonia rise up from the floor to gather the fallen papers. She sniffed several times, as she bent and scooped up the pages. He could sense her trying to stem tears before they got away from her. He turned away from the window, asking innocently, “Catching a cold?”



“Yeah… I guess… maybe allergies,” she murmured unconvincingly. She made a motion with her hand to wipe a tear from her cheek. He moved towards her and grabbed her hand before she could wipe the tear onto her dark green summer dress.



He smiled sadly at her, his concern for her obvious in his dark brown eyes. “You’re as lousy a liar as she was. I’m sorry… I tend to forget that Therese wasn’t just my wife, but your friend too.”



Her voice shook with more unshed tears, “God, Vincent… sometimes I miss her so much. And I really wish she were still here to tell you to ease up and enjoy life once in a while.”



Vincent’s eyes darkened with emotion as he recalled his wife’s playful badgering about him needing to lighten his load on occasion. She often mentioned that by doing different things, she was able to recharge her batteries. Which was one of the reasons that she had always made time for her art history lectures. Right now he couldn’t help but play the role of nagger himself.



“Well, Therese would probably tell you the same. When was the last time you went out with your girlfriends to a concert or something? Or the last time you visited your brother Jose and hung out with him? You and that Nick guy seem to have a lot in common. Why don’t you ask him out on a night on the town?”



“Uhhm… Vin? Nick’s gay.”



“Oops, never mind.” Vincent had the common sense to look sheepish over Antonia’s response.



Antonia chuckled sadly as she tossed the fallen papers and pencil onto the coffee table. “That’s ok. He’s a great friend. Therese said the same thing, she thought we were two peas in a pod. Sweet Therese, always playing… match maker.” Antonia’s voice hitched on the last words.



Vincent pulled her towards him to hug her, comfort her. Hell, who was he kidding? He wanted to be comforted as well… needed to be comforted was more accurate. He couldn’t recall the last time he had hugged someone or been hugged himself. After Therese’s illness, where he had to touch her constantly as he cared for her, once she had passed away, he had unconsciously withdrawn from human contact.



Being close to people hurt him too much, but contact is a human necessity you can only put off and ignore for so long.



He softly admonished Antonia as he squeezed her shoulders. “You slave away in that garden for six months or more out of the year, growing vegetables and herbs for the shelter, while you pull a 40 hour work week at the library and another 20 hours at the shelter. Not to mention you’re always trying to locate us some grant money or get temporary housing or free medical attention for someone. Therese would beat you into submission and make you take some time off or something.”



Vincent draped his long strong arms around Antonia’s waist as her tears dampened the front of his denim workshirt. She was nearly a foot shorter than him, so he easily tucked the top of her head under his chin. Her hands rested on his slim hips as she tried to breathe deeply and compose herself.



He closed his eyes when his own tears seemed imminent. He tried not to shake, but his body betrayed him. Antonia clutched at his back as she felt the wave of emotion wash over him. She began to rock back and forth in the hopes of soothing him, whispering softly, “Ya, compadre… shhh… no sufres, [Enough, friend... shhh... don't suffer...]



She slid her hands up his back, distractedly toying with the curly ends of his black, silky shoulder-length hair. Antonia’s own tears dissipated as she started humming along with Bob Marley’s earnest voice. She rubbed Vincent’s back in soothing circles, trying to both calm him and allow him his release.



Vincent pulled away from her slightly to gauge how she was fairing. He wiped his shirt sleeve across his eyes. Placing his hand under her chin when she wouldn’t meet his gaze, he tilted her face up towards his. He smiled down at her, his tough little friend. Trying to make her laugh, he arched an eyebrow as he asked, “Do you know how green your eyes get when you cry?”



She grimaced as she tried to pull away from him. “I’m sure they’re more red than green right now. Let me go throw some water on my face.”



Softly he spoke as he kept his grip on her, “No… let me.” He took the hem of his shirt and dabbed at the moisture resting on her skin.



Antonia giggled as she stood obediently in front of him. “Thanks… you’re a prince.” She cast her eyes down as she leaned towards him to leave a lighthearted peck on his cheek.



Not knowing that she planned a kiss, he moved towards her and her lips landed on his own for an instant. Her eyes shot open as she stepped away quickly, realizing that the soft warm skin beneath her lips had been his own lips. Her fingers brushed against her lips, still feeling the warm impression and the slight electric shock his lips had given hers. She could still feel his moustache brushing against her top lip as she gazed at him, frozen to the spot.

“Tone,” his nickname for her escaped as the softest whisper from his lips as their eyes met. She bit her lower lip as he pulled her into his arms again. Somehow she couldn’t resist, she had to confess to herself that she didn’t want to resist. She sank into his deep brown stare, those beautiful eyes, surrounded by his warm olive skin. He brought one hand up to her face and cupped her cheek, her eyes closing at the feel of his hand. She turned her face into his palm, planting a kiss in its center. He drew his other hand up to the back of her head, running his long fingers through her softly layered hair.



Vincent shifted his head down to hers as she turned hers upwards, cutting the distance between them into the smallest span of space. She could feel his breath on her lips for a moment before their lips touched again. She moaned against his lips as he gently gripped her head, drinking her in. Antonia raised her arms up, her hands heading to the back of his jeans and slid them into his back pockets.



Vincent growled in his throat, alternately stroking and tugging at Antonia’s hair, deepening the kiss as he felt her body respond to his lips and hands. He nipped at her full lower lip, then sucked at the tender spot he had created. She tasted like the coffee she’d been drinking, earthy and sweet.



Antonia squeezed his ass, first gently and then more earnestly as her knees seemed to turn to liquid thanks to Vincent’s gifted lips. He escalated the kissing further by licking the length of her lower lip, hearing yet another moan escape from her just before his tongue pressed forward into the velvet warmth of her mouth. Vincent nearly crushed her to his chest, as his hands slid down from her face and hair.



Antonia sucked on the tip of his tongue, her breathing becoming more erratic as their embrace pressed their bodies together from head to toe. She gasped and trembled as she felt the growing bulge in Vincent’s jeans against her.



She softly bit his earlobe and whispered, “I can’t stand… you’re making my knees weak.”



He kept her in his embrace as he stepped backwards towards the sofa. He gracefully sank heavily into the thick cushions and pulled her onto his lap, having her straddle his thighs, facing him. She rained soft kisses all over his caramel-colored skin, running her hands against the soft faded red t-shirt under his work shirt as she planted her knees on either side of his strong, lean thighs.



Vincent ran his hands up and down her arms, lightly scratching her sun-kissed skin, feeling the goose bumps making her shiver against him. He had nearly forgotten how much fun it was to touch someone and feel them react and respond to his caress. He was having a difficult time kissing her while he smiled at her reactions.



“Mmmmm… Tone… you’ve got such soft skin” Vincent murmured softly in her ear as he captured her hands in his own. He proceeded to slowly explore her neck. He kissed a trail down her neck along the length of one tendon. He held her hands to her sides as he kissed her shoulders, working back up her neck. She stiffened when he nuzzled the spot right above where shoulder and neck met.



He chuckled in a husky tone as he whispered into her ear, “I think I hit pay dirt.”



He proceeded to run his closed lips across the sensitive skin under her ears. She gasped aloud when he began to nibble on her neck, her hips involuntarily pivoting against him. She threw her head back as a small shudder of pleasure coursed through her.



Only then did he latch on and begin to apply pressure.



She spoke hoarsely, “Vincent… stop… don’t… I’m gonna… oooohhhhhh… Vin.” He held her as still as he could while he licked the side of her neck, planting wet kisses along the length.



He grunted between licks and kisses, “I’m not… stopping… so get used to it.”



He said nothing more as he held her close to his chest, their fingers laced together as he planted his warm full lips on the delicate cords in her neck. Antonia made a humming noise that sounded suspiciously like purring.



Antonia squirmed in his lap and he tightened his grip on her hands. She could feel her nipples puckering in response to what he was doing to her. That and the idea that he was only giving pleasure and not receiving. It was as though he couldn’t concentrate on her if she was touching him. As much as she was enjoying the current stimulation, she couldn’t help but think how much better it would feel to have his mouth on her breasts and to feel her hands running along his back, rubbing his bare skin.



Antonia’s body tightened and shuddered as he continued to make love to her throat. Her begging words became incoherent babble as the impending climax released itself. “Ay, Vin… coño… ay, dios mio… uhhhn… ay, si!”



She slumped against his body as he freed her hands and hugged her tight, waiting for her body to recover.



She nuzzled her face in his neck, as she slowly caught her breath. “Wow… I forgot how sensitive my neck was.”



He laughed huskily, “How could you forget something like that?! He brushed her hair away from her face as he gazed intently at her. “I don’t intend on forgetting that choice piece of information.” Vincent lifted her face from where she rested on his shoulder to kiss her softly.



She sighed as she raised her hands to idly rub his chest through his t-shirt, “Well, it’s been a while. I guess I’ve put parts of my life on hold… like you have.”



She raised her head to look into his eyes as she spoke, “Oh, Vincent… I don’t care how cheesy it sounds… I want you so bad it hurts.” She ground herself rather wantonly against the now ever-present stiffness in his jeans. Vincent smiled shamelessly as he pressed himself against her, feeling her shudder against his length. “I want you too… but this sofa isn’t the place. Hang on.” He held her by the waist as he stood up and she wrapped her legs around him as he maneuvered them towards her bedroom. She hung her arms around his neck and kissed him along the length of his bearded jawline.



Vincent maneuvered them onto the bed, his forearms taking most of his weight as Antonia scooted herself to the center of the bed. He laid his body full-length against her as she stroked his jean-clad legs with her bare calves, trying to reach his bare feet with her toes. He leaned down and kissed the valley between her breasts.



She stroked his neck with her fingers, caressing his back. He arched his back to meet the movements of her small hands. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to be touched. Vincent settled his dark glossy head of hair between her breasts, inhaling her scent. He rubbed his hands up and down the length of her short summer dress. He slid his hands past the hem to reach the smooth skin of her calves and proceeded to squeeze them gently as he kissed the skin along the neckline of her dress, her blissful sighs making him harder by the minute.



Antonia massaged Vincent’s shoulders and arms, cradling his dusky head between her full breasts, feeling his warm breath caressing her skin, feeling the prickly hair from his beard graze against her. She kissed and licked the outer edge of his ear and nibbled on the lobe, feeling him shudder above her as his hands convulsed around her calves.



He blew warmly at the silky skin between her breasts, as his hands drifted slowly up her legs to undo the buttons of her dress. Antonia let her nails trace small tight circles on his back, sighing deeply as his lips kissed each newly uncovered patch of skin. Vincent pulled the dress open, letting the weight of the material part all on its own. He bent over to kiss Antonia’s hot skin along the stretch of dark teal-green lace encasing her breasts.



Antonia was torn between pulling Vincent’s face up towards hers to nibble on that lower lip of his, but what he was doing to do was quickly clouding her brain. He cupped both breasts gently in his hands to get used to the weight and lifted them slightly, pressing them together firmly. Slowly he lingered over to the left one, breathing hotly onto the skin before pressing his lips to it to kiss along the edge of the fabric. Delicately with his teeth, he tugged the cup down, to expose Antonia’s nipple to his eager mouth.



Unhurriedly he traced the outline of the pink areola wetly, taking care to make it as slick as possible. Vincent then exhaled quickly to chill the newly wetted skin. Antonia clutched at his head as she gasped loudly from the sensation. He watched closely as the nipple darkened, filling with blood and tightening from his attention. He raised his gaze slightly higher to view Antonia’s head slumped slightly to one side, her lips parted in another gasp of pleasure.



Returning his gaze to his work, he then kissed the taut nipple warmly and nursed it gently, flicking his tongue at the tip, up and down rapidly. Antonia’s breath caught in her throat occasionally as she gasped more and more as the wetness of his tongue made her warm skin cool instantly.



She braced her hands against his shoulders, his touch making her sway back and forth. Not wanting to leave the right one feeling neglected, Vincent traced light circles around that nipple with his index finger. Sucking more firmly now, Vincent drew his head backwards and let the weight of Antonia’s breast pull itself free of his lips. He returned his lips to her nipple and did it again. Antonia’s body arched with the sensation of being played with between gravity and Vincent’s sensuous lips.



As she lay beneath him, she brushed her closed thighs against his front, purring like a kitten as his lips and tongue played on her breasts, making her nipples stiffen to a degree she never thought possible. It was pleasure almost to the point of discomfort. Her body was aching from his attention.



She couldn’t remember the last time she’d made love and frivolously wondered the same about Vincent. Once again, his attentions brought her mind into a cloud of pleasure from which there was no escape… everywhere she turned, the cloud, heavy with presence, weighty with pleasure… the cloud rested upon her limbs like a physical essence.



Before turning his interest to the right nipple, he slid his hands behind Antonia’s back and unclasped her bra. Once she raised her arms to remove the bra, he slid her out of her dress as well. He then bent his head down and licked the valley between her breasts, softly nibbling on the underside of each breast for a moment, before quickly nursing the right nipple, unable to wait any longer, needing to feel the soft bud harden into a pebble on his tongue like he had done with the left one.



Placing one leg between hers, he offered her a place to squirm against. Antonia flexed her legs open and embraced Vincent’s broad thigh between her own, hissing at the sensation of his body-heat against her hot center.



Sucking gently on the right nipple, he hummed as his tongue met her flesh, sending vibrations from him through her. Antonia’s body shuddered as she slid her hands up from Vincent’s shoulders into his hair, to bring his face up to hers.



She softly brushed her cheek against his beard, sliding herself up close to him, running her tongue along where his lips met one another, tasting him, tasting her own skin on his lips.



They both moaned into one another, their tongues sparring sensuously with one another. Vincent returned the kiss softly, slipping his arms under and around Antonio’s waist. He pivoted his body and rolled them both over, so that now Antonia was on top of his body. He ran his nails along her bare back and down over her cheeks, running his large hands up and over her round ass again and again.



Antonia sucked on his tongue, tracing long thin lines along its length with her own, as she pressed herself firmly against him. Deepening the kiss along with their embrace, she cradled his head with one hand and pulled on his shirt with the other.



She moaned into his mouth, getting more and more aroused by his strong hands on her rump, caressing her, his fingers tugging at the lacy obstacle. She nibbled on his lower lip as she rocked against his strong, lean legs, knowing that he could feel her moist heat through her panties. She was certain she was leaving a slight trail of proof of what he was doing to her



Antonia ran her hands up the sides of Vincent’s body, tugging the t-shirt out from his jeans and slipping her hands under the fabric, against his bare skin, feeling his muscles shift and flex under her hands. His beautiful olive skin was like velvet, with a small trail of dark coarse hair leading downwards from his navel into his jeans. He sat up slightly to help her remove his work shirt and t-shirt.



He ran his fingers up her bare back and into her hair pulling on it just firmly enough to make her head roll back. Now, with her neck exposed, he ran his teeth along the length of her neck and sucked firmly. She hissed and arched her back, brushing her breasts against his bare chest, feeling skin against skin. She could feel her nipples pebbling from the sensations from his lips on her neck.



Vincent took one hand and placing it between them searched for the warm spot on her panties, sliding up and in past the lace, to feel her wetness unhampered. She gasped and sighed as she felt his hand working its way between them, she leaned towards him to kiss him fervently on those invitingly full lips of his.



Vincent moaned wantonly when he found short trimmed fur between her thighs and began gently rubbing the soft, nearly bare skin there. Her entire body in sync against his, her pelvis gently rocked against his hand, as his lips rested against her neck, nibbling softly. He removed his lips from her neck momentarily and took his time to suck on his moistened index finger and taste her.



Antonia smile lazily at him as she watched him taste her. She slid her own hand down, reaching for him. As rigid as he could be. Skin feeling taut to the touch as if it couldn’t get any harder. He inhaled deeply as he felt the touch of her hand along the length of his cock. His hips slid forward to meet her caress. She grasped him gently first, running her fingers along his rigidness, tracing the shape of the tip with one finger, feeling his blood pulsing, feeling his body heat even through the thick denim.



Vincent groaned deeply, almost a growl, as he lay back and let her feel his excitement trying to rise to the occasion in spite of its confinement. He reached out and took a firm hold of both breasts in his hands, content to cradle them while she felt his hardness, trying to control his eagerness and slow himself down.



Antonia made her grip on him tighten slightly. She then loosened it, stroking his length, feeling his skin shift as she ran her small hand over him again and again. He gently massaged her breasts, not simply concentrating on the nipples, watching closely as they continued to please him, knowing how sensitive they were to his tongue and his touch.



Antonia moaned as she continued to stroke Vincent, making him harder still as she rocked her body closer to his, gasping when he caressed the sensitive undersides of her breasts. “Oh… Vin… I’m so…”



Vincent slid his hands around Antonia’s waist and flipped them over together, with him now on top. She felt his girth stiffening further, as they moved with him atop her. He eased her backwards onto the bed. Spreading her legs wide, he hovered over her, casting a dark shadow onto her body. Bending down, he whispered huskily in her ear, “Would you like to feel what my tongue can do somewhere else besides your neck?”



She gasped as her weakening legs were forced to use different muscles from their previous position, looking up at him, begging him to close the gap between them with her eyes. She hissed a wanton “God, yes!” into his own ear as she undulated under him, prompting him. He raised himself off Antonia and shimmied her stretch lace panties down her full hips and along her shapely legs.



Vincent whispered roughly, “I cannot hear you, love.” His fingers glided slowly between her lower lips rubbing them gently as she cried aloud. He smiled to himself as he began kissing down her stomach slowly, down past her navel. She rubbed her legs together around his fingers, trying to attain whatever friction she could, whimpering loudly in delicious frustration. Vincent kissed each side of her thighs, careful not to kiss any of the petals of the flower in her center until he was ready. He felt for both her hands and brought them down there with him. His breath was directly centered on her and she could feel it when he inhaled and exhaled. He took Antonia’s hands and placed them on each side of her pussy. One long lick between them reminded him of the small taste he’d had moments ago.



“Ay dios, I LOVE that, feeling my hands held in yours, feeling you place them… ohhh… on me… where you… mmmmm… want them.” Antonia’s voice cracked with desire and need.



Vincent murmured, “Now spread your flower for me so I can see the bud.” Antonia used both her index fingers to gently separate her outer lips, letting him see the smaller folds deeper inside, sighing as she opened herself for him, feeling his heated breath on her tender skin.



He pressed his face to her center and surrounded himself with her moisture, making sure he gorged himself on her, snaking his tongue inside her. Vincent gently pumped her core with his tongue for all the wetness he could swallow. He hummed as his tongue trailed inside her, sending vibrations all over the inner walls of her cunt. His hands gently glided up Antonia’s sides and gently pinched her nipples as he licked deeper.



She held herself apart for him, feeling his hot breath and tongue pressing deep into her, she gasped aloud as he hummed against the hot liquid center of her pussy. He snaked his tongue north and found her clit and sucked it gently, loving the slickness he had created for it, his tongue sliding over it effortlessly. Antonia arched against his face, pushing her hot moist slit against his tongue, her little pearl of nerves throbbing against the silky wet roughness of his tongue.



He spoke to her pussy like a parent scolding a child, “I am not going to let you have me until you cum… so you are going to have to give me what I want.” Vincent then leaned forward again, reclaiming her clit and bobbed up and down on it sucking gently, smoothly. With the bud held in place by suction, he moved his head back and forth tugging playfully.



He removed his lips and sucked gently on one of her fingers that was keeping her sex open for him. Antonia moved his hands down her thighs so he could pull her against his ruthless tongue, as she caressed his head, wiping the sweat from his efforts to please her, her other hand came up to her own face so she could stifle her loudening gasps.



Vincent pulled her hand down, saying gruffly, “I want to hear you.” He delved deeper downward sucking gently on the delicate folds of skin. Antonia raised her head and looked down to where his handsomely tan face was flanked by her thighs and said, “Don’t stop, hold my hands… I’m so close…”



Holding her hands firmly, he said softly, “Then give me what I want.” He slid his tongue deeply between her thighs and up and around her clit, and began to suck rhythmically.



“Oh God,” she could feel that tell-tale tingle, his tongue on that tender piece of flesh, as she rocked her hips against his skilled lips and tongue. He sensed her orgasm beginning to crest, so he continued licking at the hot flesh before him, holding her hands and tugging on them gently. She could practically feel her essence bubbling out of her from everything his tongue and lips were doing to her.



With his tongue trailing between her folds, back and forth, she peaked, feeling the edge approaching her faster and faster. His few final kisses and nuzzles pushed her over, her head rocking from side to side, “Ay, dios mio… si… ay, que bueno!” [Oh my god... yes... ohh, so good!]

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