tagMatureSugar Papito

Sugar Papito

byCaroline Covington©

This tale is the second story in the tetralogy Mexican Bedtime Stories. "Sugar Papito" can be read on its own or as a sequel to (1) "The Mexican Stand-off" and as a prequel to (3) "The Three Amigos" and (4) "The Whole Enchilada".

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After telling my husband about a one-night-stand adventure that I'd had before marriage, a door opened through which there was no going back. Chris's hunger for more tales and his positive reaction to them encouraged me to reveal other episodes from my past. Indeed, my recollections excited me, and I took pleasure in formulating the events in my mind so as to tell them smoothly when the time came. We'd uncovered a new vein of sexuality, and we mined it in earnest.

On Saturday morning, the day after my initial divulgence, we visited some nearby Mayan ruins. As we walked among the ancient temples and dwellings, I tried to imagine what life must have been like.

I'd read about the many Mayan ceremonies revolving around bodily fluids. Blood from the penis and vagina had uncommon significance and were exceptionally prized. Indeed, nobles and warriors submitted to having blood drawn from their penises, for it was believed that this sacrifice especially pleased the gods. Women, likewise, had their tongues pierced, and supposedly parallels existed between the tongue and phallus, blood and semen, and semen and saliva.

My mind raced with brutal, erotic scenarios as Chris and I stood in front of the temple of the Moon Goddess. I imagined a young, muscular warrior on the steps of the temple, naked in front of the masses, his penis bleeding, freshly cut by a stingray spine. An old woman leads me up the steps to stand next to him, whereupon I am disrobed. I then kneel in front of him, my mouth and vulva watering with anticipation, for I have been ordained by the nobility to perform the ritual fellatio, to co-mingle the essential elements of phallus, tongue, blood, saliva, and semen. Before the silent crowd, I perform my duties and bob my head on his wounded cock while the warm, metallic taste of blood intensifies. As I suckle him, he hardens like the limestone on which we execute the ancient rite, and the flow of his blood multiplies, filling my mouth and throat.

My womb and vagina burn with desire as I mouth the man's erection, and I pray for the Moon Goddess to bless me when the warrior surrenders his milk to me. She is pleased with my performance and answers my wish, granting me a violent orgasm at the precise moment that the young warrior erupts in my mouth. He and I convulse in unison for what seems an eternity, my lips locking on his pulsating phallus while my vulva quakes and drips its precious fluid into the ceremonial basin positioned beneath me. Stream after stream of thick virile ejaculate floods over my tongue, its taste and texture a welcome respite from that of the blood. As our spasms and groans subside, his cock softens in my mouth, permitting me to swirl the copious fluids with my tongue, marrying them for the gods and noble gathering. Finally, I release his spent manhood from my mouth and turn to the watchful assembly. Carefully, I resist the temptation to swallow the powerful fluids and instead allow the sacred mixture of blood, saliva, and semen to spill over my lips and flow down my chin and neck, demonstrating that the essential elements have been united…

God, I really had to lay off the mescal.

After viewing the Mayan ruins we sauntered back to the resort restaurant for a bowl of sopa de lima and enjoyed the soup in silence, aside from our slurps. When we'd finished, Chris ordered some beer, and as soon as the waiter left, he spoke.

"I know I've asked you before, but tell me about your first time, Catherine, with a little more detail."

"Oh God, Chris, there's nothing to tell. My memory's hazy simply because the sex was forgettable."

He laughed, "You too, eh?"

"Here's what I remember. His name was George, my high school boyfriend. We were both eighteen and virgins. After about a year of kissing and petting, I finally gave in to his not so subtle pressures to have sex. In fairness, my hormones also played a role," I sighed. "Neither of us knew what we were doing. We had quickies in the most unromantic and uncomfortable of places. As for orgasms, he certainly had them, but I didn't. Yet I knew I was capable of them from my solo efforts. And don't even mention oral sex. What on earth was that? Anyway, at least from my young perspective, I became convinced that sex was hugely overblown. Sorry, honey, I'm afraid you picked a rather unremarkable topic."

Chris then told me about his first time. At the age of eighteen, while dating an older girl, he too lost his cherry in the back of a car, apparently a widespread North American phenomenon. However, Chris and Mandy's explorations, unlike George's and mine, progressed far more boldly. Chris, unsurprisingly, was eager for the joys of oral play and inventive in finding places to make love. For about a year, Chris and Mandy sucked, licked, and screwed each other every chance they could.

I smiled while listening to his descriptions and realised that I was squeezing my thighs together from arousal, but I couldn't resist teasing him.

"Mandy? Don't tell me I've been living with a closet Barry Manilow fan!"

Chris burst out laughing while assuring me that he didn't have any white grand pianos in secret storage.

At a little past noon, we paid our bill and walked back to the cabana. It was shaping into another scorcher, so I was anxious to get to the beach. With only a handful of days left, I wanted to brown some more and take complete advantage of the clothing optional beach, which I'd promised myself I'd do.

My tan was progressing well; a few more days of all-over tanning could only enhance it. Although I'd packed my bikini tops, I'd yet to wear one. Consequently, the whiteness of my breasts had transformed to a nut colour, blending with the rest of my body. And thanks to the skimpiness and see-through nature of my thongs, my crotch had also coloured instead of remaining a stark pale patch.

Once inside our room, we stripped and applied sunscreen to each other's back before tending to ourselves, smearing the rest of our bodies with cream. Chris grinned as he watched me rub my breasts with lotion and asked, "Which thong are you wearing today?"

Although I'd already determined my attire, I decided to tease Chris. So instead of answering him, I pretended to concentrate on protecting my skin. When I'd done coating my breasts, torso, and arms, I lifted my foot onto the bed and covered my feet, calves, thighs, and vulva. Chris worked some sunscreen into his muscled arms while watching me. Meanwhile, his penis bulged noticeably, and although it pleased me that I still affected him like that, we weren't taking time out for sex. I was anxious to get to the beach. The early nights and accompanying cooler temperatures meant that there'd be plenty of time later for extended, comfortable romps.

Chris repeated his question. "I think I'll go with the lace one," I finally responded. The suit was a dainty little number in powder blue lace that provided minute, yet numerous, visions of bare vulva.

"You look great in all of them, baby," Chris complimented.

I thanked him with a light kiss and then finished glazing my skin with lotion. After slipping into my swimsuit bottom, I readied our backpacks, throwing in towels, blanket, books, sunscreen, bottled water, and several other items. Finally, after donning my kimono, sandals, and sunglasses, we were ready to leave.

We'd taken just a few steps along the path when I exclaimed, "Wait. I forgot something. I'll be right back."

Chris muttered something about women and their endless preparations as I returned to the cabana. I laughed to myself, suspecting he'd be more charitable if he knew my plan: Today I intended to bake in the nude. So once inside, I slid my thong down my legs and kicked it onto a chair. I then refastened my kimono, crowned myself with a sun hat, and exited, locking the door behind me.

"What did you forget?" he asked.

"Can't you see? My hat!" I smiled, strolling past him to lead the way to the seashore.

Once there, we staked a spot on the beach and spread our blanket. I trembled with excitement. My vulva was still silky smooth from my Brazilian wax of less than a week ago. I'd been nude on public beaches before but never with all of my pubic hair stripped away.

Chris laid his body onto the blanket while I remained standing, waiting for his attention. It wasn't long before he looked at me questioningly as to why I hadn't lain down yet. I eyed him, smiled mischievously, and undid my kimono, casting it aside with a flourish. The befuddlement on Chris's face was priceless.

"I thought you were wearing the lace thong? I saw you put it on," he stammered.

With my arms raised, I executed a slow look-at-me pirouette before lowering myself onto the blanket beside him.

"Surprised?" I asked. "I left my hat behind on purpose. That's when I took off my thong," I confessed as I leant over to peck him. "By the way, you said something about women and preparations—care to elaborate?" I teased.

Chris just grinned. "Baby, you look dynamite," he crooned with approval and wasted no time removing his trunks. Several other men on the beach were already nude, but, from what I could see, I was the only woman tanning au naturel.

I lay flat on my belly with my arms by my sides, head turned, examining Chris. He rested on his side, his arm propping his head, facing me. God, he still had it! Although Chris, like me, was forty-eight, he looked thirty-two, whereas even on a good day I might've passed for forty. His dark hair was full with only a hint of grey, unlike mine, which would've been silver if not for the masking properties of Lady Clairol. And his facial features were still sharp, with only minor wrinkling around his eyes, which contributed to his youthful appearance.

I thought about last night and the pleasant soreness in my pussy due to Chris's prolonged exuberance. My husband seemed to be reading my mind. He groaned and rolled onto his stomach to hide his burgeoning cock. His hand inched towards mine, found it, and started drawing light circles on my palm. Soon his fingers enclosed my middle one and began a slow, suggestive stroking motion. I eased my legs apart as much as I dared. At the basest level, I wanted him to make love to me right there, on the beach—to hell with conventions—but that was out of the question.

Instead, we spent the afternoon lying naked, people-watching and whispering sweet promises to each other. As the afternoon went by, the sun and tropical drinks worked their magic, unlocking my thighs as I tanned. On our blanket, I sat or lay in positions that were comfortable, not caring whether my insouciant attitude exposed my labia to the other beach goers. Indeed, my poses had quite the opposite effect; the public baring of my waxed vulva thrilled me, so from time to time I even sat cross-legged or with my knees scrunched up and apart, facing the ocean and enjoying both the light breeze that cooled my body and the stolen glances of passer-by's that ignited it.

A woman in a blue bikini bottom, perhaps in her forties, wandered by several times that afternoon. Her bare breasts—round and heavy with large, dark areolae—matched her curvy body, and her erect carriage conveyed confidence. Her well-tanned skin, highlighted by a blonde ponytail, featured numerous large dark freckles giving it a leopard-like appearance. The overall package was undeniably sexy and intriguing. At first I assumed she was ogling Chris, but then I sensed that she was also peeking at me, which both confused and excited me.

In either an act of bitchy possessiveness or daring display—I'm not sure which, perhaps both—I clambered onto my hands and knees and pointed my ass towards her while whispering into Chris's ear as he lay on his back.

"Don't look. You have an admirer. But you're mine."

I kissed him and then let my mouth drift to his nipple to suck on it. As I did so, my back arched downwards, raising my ass in the process. My knees were well apart, so my pose afforded her a clear view of my ass and pussy. The whole act was brief, no more than several seconds, but when I returned to my sitting position, the woman had vanished. Although one part of me was pleased by her departure, another was disappointed.

I continued sitting, my legs bent and thighs apart, my arms propped on my knees, revelling in the kisses from the sun. A little time later, a gentleman who appeared to be in his sixties walked along the shore and stopped about fifteen yards in front of me. Despite his grey hair and ageing body, he was a handsome man. His outward interest in the landscape didn't fool me; I knew he was pilfering peeps of my pussy.

While I debated whether to improve his prospect, Chris lazily rolled over and whispered, "You, too, have an admirer. That’s his fifth or sixth stroll to this end of the beach."

"Really? This is the first time I noticed him," I said with genuine surprise.

Inspired and flattered, I lay back on my elbows and, as nonchalantly as possible, widened my knees, eventually flopping them to the sides while keeping the soles of my feet together. It was an impulsive, brazen manoeuvre that unfurled me, providing the man with an explicit view of my vulva. Indeed, I was so aflame that I lost control and, before I even knew I'd done it, slid a finger through my thickened lips to separate them. I then left myself in that position, thighs apart, exposing my rifted labia to both the sun and the stranger with the intention of outlasting the latter.

My pussy churned with excitement as the man's eyes now openly probed me, and I wondered whether my wetness was visible, if it glistened for him. After several minutes of staring, he squatted and ran his hand through the sand. He then rose, smiled at me, and left.

"Catherine, you naughty girl," Chris chuckled quietly as I adopted a more modest position.

"I can't help it," I giggled, "Besides, he's quite handsome."

Now it was Chris's turn to express surprise. "Really?" he said, taking a quick look at the retreating man, "So you like older men? Did you ever… you know?"

"Have I ever been with an older man? Is that what you're asking? Yes, I have."

"I feel another story coming on," he said in a singsong voice. "Tell me about it, baby!" Chris pleaded.

"When we get back to the cabana, sweetheart. I'll tell you there."

It was a sweltering day; Chris announced that he was going for more drinks. I encouraged him with enthusiastic nods. In the meantime, I longed for a skinny-dip, so I rose and walked to the lagoon's edge.

I almost stepped on it before realising what it was. Written in the sand at the spot from where the elderly man had contemplated my cleaved cunt, in neat printed letters, lay a simple message: Danke. I smiled while thinking about my high-definition exhibition for the gentleman and was glad that I'd done it.

My nipples tightened in response to these thoughts and to the cool, soothing water into which I waded. Once I was waist deep, I swam out energetically and then floated on my back, looking up at the clouds and savouring the coolness caressing my body. After a while I trod water and touched myself to reconfirm my excited state. My finger ran the length of my mucous slit with ease, splitting apart the puffy lips. I sighed but stopped my probing and gazed towards the shore.

From the water, I saw Chris holding two drinks, standing and chatting with the buxom blonde who'd cruised by us earlier. She was still topless, and I wondered if Chris was keeping his eyes from wandering. Knowing him, he was failing miserably. They spoke for a few more moments before he returned to our blanket and began fumbling with his backpack. Eventually, he excavated his camera and then scanned the water, presumably searching for me. I waved at him and smiled, suspecting that he was getting ready to film me emerging nude and wet from my swim.

When I'd finished my skinny-dip, I walked up the beach towards Chris, pausing every few steps. After posing for a few shots, I re-entered the lagoon to wash away the sand that clung to me from lying in the surf for Chris and his camera.

We continued tanning, enjoying the sounds, sights, and smells of the beach. Chris, while rubbing some lotion onto my back, commented that I'd started a trend—several women now lay nude on the sand. He then massaged the fluid into my bum and the backs of my legs, which I eased apart so that he could cover their insides.

"In fact," he elaborated, "You know the woman who ogled you earlier today? The blonde in the blue bikini bottom?"

"Don't forget her big tits, Chris," I said in an attempt to make him squirm and then lied, "And I'm sure it was you she was ogling."

"Yes, you're right—she does have nice tits. You noticed them too, huh? But it was you she was watching."

Before I had time to react, he said, "Flip over and I'll do your front."

I chuckled at his deft escape as I spun onto my back and was immediately squirted with lotion. Chris worked the sunscreen into my skin, starting on my legs. His hands swirled across my thighs, progressively inching their way upwards. I tensed, expecting him to rub my pussy, but instead he moved to my arms. As he knelt beside me rubbing my skin, I watched his familiar genitals dangle like tropical fruit: a brown banana cock and a pair of passion fruit testicles… I guess I was hungry.

"Anyway," Chris continued, "what I wanted to say was that she made a point of telling me that she admired your bravery and that perhaps she'll work up the nerve to go nude tomorrow."

My husband's hands were now busy on my torso, smoothing the cream over my tummy, shoulders, and breasts. I watched his arms and shoulders work, admiring their thickness and width.

"Good," I said, "We could do with a few more nude women on the beach."

"Well, I won't argue with that," he responded and then ended the massage by saying, "You do your pussy. I'll watch."

I sat up facing Chris, opened my legs, and spread a dollop of lotion over my vulva and inner thighs while listening to my husband groan. Once I'd finished coating my pussy, I shut my legs and lay on my side, looking at him. Chris turned onto his front to hide and smiled contentedly. He too, it appeared, was enjoying the vacation.

We continued relaxing on the beach, but by late afternoon, I'd had enough sun. We scooped up our belongings and shuffled through the sand back to our cabana. Chris stopped on the path, squeezing my ass under my kimono as he hugged me.

"You were fabulous today," he said. "Thank you!"

"My pleasure," I murmured once I'd returned his kiss.

Upon entering our room, we dropped our belongings on the floor, disrobed, and headed into the shower to remove the sunscreen, sweat, sand, and salt from our bodies. I especially wanted to wash away the cream that I'd applied so liberally to my pussy. Chris's talented mouth was on my agenda, so I cleaned myself well.

We giggled and whispered while soaping each other, our hands slipping, sliding, and gliding over backs, breasts, buttocks, legs, and loins as the water sprinkled over us. After a prolonged rinse, I towelled myself down and lay on the bed. Chris, meanwhile, dug into his suitcase and, with much fanfare, produced a bottle of red.

"Where'd you get that?" I exclaimed. Wine wasn't the strong suit of the little palapa bar at the resort.

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byCaroline Covington© 4 comments/ 51326 views/ 4 favorites

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