Those Spanish Eyes

After I had slipped the panties off her raised feet, her legs came back down onto the bed, and her outer lips closed, covering most of her entrance, except for where the clitoral hood peeked out somewhat. She was fully nude now, on her back, looking up at me with such a vulnerable gaze from those amazing eyes, the fear and yearning as nakedly displayed as she was. I wondered if the fear was evidence of doubts in her mind, doubts about whether continuing was a good idea.

I couldn't in good conscience go on if these doubts were there. This thought, and the realization of how careful with her emotions I had become, baffled me, as any previous sexual encounters had not been so... tender. I admitted my reluctance, "It wouldn't be fair to you at all for you to feel that what we're doing is wrong. I need to know that you have no doubt in your mind."

"Oh, please, I can't get rid of them," she pleaded, "I know I need you so badly right now, but I've been hurt so badly! What if you hurt me, too?"

There seemed to be no way that I could utter any promise that I would not hurt her, especially when Alan had probably given her that same promise. It would just sound so hollow. Finally, since she was so anxious to hear something from me, a promise, a denial, something, I spoke as carefully as I could, hoping to prove to her my sincerity.

"I would sooner die than hurt you."

She was taken aback by my words, and tears stood shimmering in her eyes. I thought I'd said something horribly wrong. She suddenly pulled my face to hers.

She whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "And that is good enough for me."

So, seeing most, if not all of her fear depart from her eyes, I moved down on the bed, until I was level with her hips. She silently begged for me to please her, her hands were in my hair, and she pulled my face to the junction between her thighs. I breathed in the sweet, musky heat of her desires, and pressed my lips to her outer lips. Her legs spread in response, and with that motion, her inner lips were exposed, and her hooded clitoris along with it. Her fragrance became stronger, I noticed.

I kissed along her inner lips, one and then the other, tasting the source of her aroma, a liquid that excreted the more excited she became. I moved up to the top of her inner lips to that little covered clitoris. At that point, it was the size of a tiny flower bud. I kissed the hood that protected it, sending shivers out from her core. With a finger, I stroked the hood back, baring that little bud of sensations to my lips.

As my lips closed around it, she whimpered, "Oh, I'm already getting close!"

I pinched it softly with my lips, and rubbed the tip of my tongue over it, and then again, slowly, side to side, causing it to swell just a bit.

She gasped, her hips rising off the bed, her back arching, as the pressure at her center ebbed and surged, higher and higher, and then like a roaring wave breaking on the surf, the cataclysmic, mammoth pressure broke, and she was gripped in a deep climax.

Wave after wave of near paralyzing pleasure rolled out from her center, enveloping her in a white glow of climax. Her legs tightened around my head as she rode the wave, and I could feel her clitoris pulse against my lips, growing a bit more swollen than before. When her legs relaxed and fell back to the bed, I let go of the bud and tasted the fluid that now coated her outer lips and on down until it wet the sheet underneath her. Liking the sweet-salty dewy flavor, I extended my tongue to catch the rest as it was released from her. Again and again, my tongue bathed, I swallowed it down greedily before seeking more, until her orgasm receded, and she panted, still whimpering on each exhale, trembling from the frantic energy she had expended.

She touched my shoulder, and when I looked up to see her eyes, which shined wetly from my pleasuring.

"Come to me," she pulled me up to eye-level, and without hesitation at the smell and tang of her fluids around and on my lips, she kissed me deeply, passionately, her tongue frenzied against my own.

When her lips left mine, she whispered harshly in my ear, "I need you, now! Hurry, before it drives me mad!"

With that, I moved atop her, yanking my pants and underwear down and off, and she brought her knees up, her legs parting wider in anticipation. As my erection pulsed almost painfully against her outer lips, she put her fingers around it and guided me in just past the inner lips. I eased myself in, shocked at how tight she felt as her vaginal walls gripped me. I gasped as the uncircumcised skin on my erection was pulled tight from the resistance. To help lubricate her and facilitate me into her, I reached down and lightly caressed the bud that my lips had so recently held. She moaned and arched her back. With her arching and the wetness that ensued, I was held tight within her, all the way in, and she hummed with pleasure. I waited as she relaxed enough for me to move, and then slowly slid a quarter of the way out before pushing back in just as slow. After another minute worth of slow and gentle strokes, the lubricating fluids inside her thwarted the tightness, and my strokes lengthened until the only part of my organ that was inside her was the head.

My thrusts became more pronounced as I rocked back and forth, and her hips stayed with mine, matching me thrust for thrust, urging me deeper, her thighs pressed against my hips, her feet on the backs of my thighs. I took her sensitive nipples in my mouth one at a time, savoring their velvety texture and hardness, as her breasts bounced slightly in response to my thrusts. I pushed deeply, barely drawing out before shoving deeper. Her pants and gasps and moans were uttered during each thrust, a rhythmic slapping sound punctuating each utterance.

I could feel my nuts swelling with my seed, and I resolved to slow down until I regained control over myself, but Rosa's urgent cries of pleasure signaled her own impending climax, and I dared not stop now. As her insides began milking at me, and her cries became almost high-pitched squeals of primal lust, I groaned at that split second between critical pressure and most pleasurable release, and again between each spurt of my seed as it unraveled like a thick thread within her. For each spurt, she released more of her juices, and more again, virtually gushing out. I stayed like this, holding myself up with my fatigued arms, still inside her until my erection faded and slipped grudgingly from her.

Unable to hold myself up any longer, I relaxed one arm and fell most of the way on the bed. I lay against her, still trying to catch my breath, and she also struggled for breath. It was a long time before either of us spoke, since neither of us could formulate a sentence that would do anything but break the tremulous feeling that bound us even after I'd slipped from her. In fact, I'm fairly sure that we both dozed for a good half-hour. When I finally slipped into full consciousness, I opened my eyes to find her gazing at me. I lost myself once again in the depths of her eyes for a few minutes before she broke the silence.

"I have to pee," she blushed.

I smiled, amused by her announcement, and slid off of her side. With what seemed like considerable effort, she slid off the side of the bed and onto her feet, and disappeared into the bathroom next to the bedroom. I heard water running in the sink for a moment, and then silence. I waited for her to return, and the minutes felt like hours. After what was an eternity to me, I too left the bedroom. I stood outside the bathroom, staring at the closed door. I almost didn't hear the weeping, and I was a little worried that if I knocked I would find that her weeping was for her only.

I waited longer, paralyzed with indecision, until I heard her softly sigh, "Are you out there?"

I hesitated before answering softly, my cheek against the cool wood of the door, "I'm here. Is it okay for me to come in?"

Only a beat of silence issued before I heard her speak gently, "Please?"

I eased the door open to find Rosa perched on the toilet, her knees drawn up against her chest, fresh tears beginning to dry on her face.

My breath caught for a second, and then I managed, "I hurt you."

She laughed weakly, "No, I'm not hurt. It's strange. I came in here to clean myself up a little, and then I'm crying. But I'm not hurt... well, maybe a little sore. It's been a few months since, you know, and you were so big inside me. But that's not why I was crying. I've never felt so much...pleasure before. And then you're here and I feel it twice in such a short time. I think I got overwhelmed, that's all."

She took a shuddery breath, and was silent, gazing at me as if unsure if I was even there, as if I were a dream. I waited for a minute or two, and then suggested a shower. She smiled beatifically at me, making my heart skip a beat.

"A shower sounds wonderful," she stood up, swaying, and I put my arms around her to keep her from falling. Her legs seemed unsteady, as if they would spill her to the floor. I thought about the shower, and then rethought it. I thought a bath would work much better for her, so I turned the faucet on, adjusting the water temperature until it was just short of unbearably hot. I twisted the drain plug and it fell onto the drain, sealing it shut. As the tub filled with water, I looked around the bathroom until I found a little basket with what I thought might help. I dropped two bath-oil balls into the running water, and helped her in. She hissed, wincing when her feet touched the hot water, and she had to slowly ease herself into the water. Once she was immersed to her breasts, she relaxed.

As she soaked in the water, sighing with relief, I plucked a washcloth from the towel bar, dipped it in the water, and softly scrubbed her back for her. She yielded to my gentle washing, sitting hunched over her knees to better bare her back for me. I rinsed her back off, then her arms, which she held out for me when I reached for them. She leaned back, stretching prettily when I used to washcloth to wash her breasts, which were all the more attractive when they were wet, the nipples poking out proudly. I washed her breasts slowly, one, then the other, before washing her stomach. From her stomach, I lavished attention on her legs, even taking the time to bathe her feet, which she absolutely loved.

I continued back up her legs, stopping before reaching her center. She looked at me, waiting, saying nothing. She draped one leg over the edge of the tub, and propped the other up on the corner. I slid the washcloth up her thigh, reached her sore sex, and began scrubbing lightly, taking care not to apply too much pressure. She leaned back and willingly acquiesced to my ministrations.

Her eyes closed, and she didn't move for a time, thoroughly comforted by my gentle scrubbing and the lilac-scented, hot water that enveloped her up to her neck. I dipped the washcloth under the water, wringed it out a bit, and folded it in half. I placed it on her forehead, and, with her eyes still closed, she smiled sleepily. While she drowsed, I stroked her hair.

For a time, we stayed like that. I continued to stroke her wet hair, thinking almost amusedly about my sudden change that seemed solely fueled by my overwhelming desire for her to not be hurt anymore. The sunlight that filtered through the window in the living room was steadily turning a red-orange as it moved across the floor. I could see it through the open bathroom door. Gradually, as the light became crimson and slipped up the wall, the water grew colder, and Rosa eventually opened her eyes and removed the washcloth from her head.

Looking up at me, she smiled, "Now that I feel better, how about that shower?"

I half expected that our shower would be erotic, but that wasn't necessarily true. Yes, we kissed for a while under the hot spray, but it was slow, more sensual than passionate, taking and receiving comfort. We stayed in the shower for a while, washing, being washed, holding each other, being held. When we emerged from the shower, we quickly dried off and retreated to the bedroom to dress. As she pulled a fresh shirt on, I pulled my pants and underwear on. She looked so serene as she languidly slid a new pair of shorts up her legs, and then buttoned them.

Dressed, we cuddled on the couch as the second of the three movies played. I leaned back on the couch, with my legs splayed, and Rosa leaned back into me, her head on my chest, her hand stroking my face. I couldn't concentrate on this movie either, though this time for different reasons. I only noticed that she hadn't really been watching when she looked up at me, a new nervousness in her eyes. I returned her gaze, waiting, and she wondered aloud, "I know that what we experienced was something awesome. But, if I tell you my fantasy, I don't know what you will think of me."

I assured her, "You can tell me if you want. I've got a pretty open mind to most things, unless it's anything involving me and another man."

She shook her head, "No, I don't want to share you with anyone else. It's just you and me. Besides that, it's pretty complicated. I'm not even sure I can explain it."

"Just explain it as best as you can."

As she began sharing her fantasy with me, my eyes grew wider and wider. What she explained blew my mind. I had only heard about it from stories about other people, but never firsthand...

To find out what Rosa's fantasy was, please write your comments down, and anything I can do to improve upon the story...