Ecuador Ch. 06: Late

Deep in the night between February ninth and tenth, 1937, the last Carnival crowd holdouts in Quito had given up. Tucked away in their beds before Ash Wednesday's liturgical, if not actual, repentance commenced, they mostly hoped for enough sleep to make their inevitable headaches at least bearable. This was not true for Yma Otón, the twenty-year-old Otavoleño native who served as live-in nanny for the young daughters of the city's alcalde, Hugo Alvarez, and his wife. She stared blankly wide-eyed at her slowly rotating ceiling fan as she lay stickily naked under a light sheet, lost in heartfelt prayer that she had dispatched a ripe egg to welcome the seed flotilla that the mayor, barely six hours earlier, had launched into her at the Hotel Plaza Grande.

Yma sighed softly. Twice, and sometimes three times, every week since she had turned eighteen on the day before Maria Alvarez entered the hospital in labor with little Dolores, the alcalde had made love to her. Her fingers twitched beside her bare hips as she did the math while thinking of the multiple ways that she had given herself so fully to her passionate lion. But this last time, the briefest and most desperate that she could remember, was different from all the others.

Hugo Alvarez was keenly conscious of the possible consequences when he enjoyed Yma's sweet sexual favors. Always, he had inquired when she had had her last period. If he thought the risks were too great, he ignored The Church and put a rubber sleeve on his carajo to corral his potency. However, last evening in the hotel suite, with baby Dolores snug in the next room, there had been no time for such a question and so, on her cycle's most fertile day, no protection had been used.

Outside Yma's open window, in the huge tree-like banana plant which dominated the Casa Alvarez inner courtyard, an Andean Potoo perched solemnly on a great stem. As its periodic querulous wails, interspersed with quieter calls, pierced the darkness in her room and registered in her brain, she wondered, "Is this an omen of change, Mamá, as you so often said when you heard the ghost bird's poignant voice? And, if so, what will the change be? Is it my time to become a madre?"

Suddenly a thick green misty haze filled Yma's bedroom. Doubting her senses, she raised up sluggishly onto her elbows and asked aloud, "What is this strange colored fog? Am I awake or dreaming?"

At once, a clear distinct voice answered, "Awake enough, but lay back unalarmed."

Yma did as she was told, as if she had no other option. As soon as her head hit her pillow again, all mobility left her body, but behind her closed eyes she listened intently for more information. The voice was beautiful and commanding; oddly familiar, yet completely unknown. For all its imperiousness, it filled her with confident calm.

Esmeralda Verde, the immortal Green Witch, condensed her illusion form into a small cloud, then hovered near her mesmerized subject's placid face and gently continued, "Yma Otón, I am here to help you fulfill your hope, if that is what you would want. Are you truly seeking change? Will you welcome my assistance?"

Without understanding her excitement, Yma cried out in her mind, "¡Sí! ¡Ayúdame! ¡Por favor!" Inside her frozen frame her heart thundered and her panting breaths rushed in a gale.

La Hechicera smiled her satisfaction and praised, "Good girl! That is all I needed to hear. Ahora duerme un poco..."

Yma soughed quietly as she drifted obediently into dreamless slumber. In the corridor, the sorceress silently shimmered her way to the Alvarez nursery where she discarded her veiling vapor and targeted there the mayor's four young daughters in their beds. Touching their brows and muttering arcane foreign words over each child in turn, she made certain the girls would not wake before their nanny roused them to dress for breakfast.

At the long hall's end, in the master suite, Esmeralda surveilled Hugo Alvarez and his heavily pregnant wife, Maria sleeping soundly in their grand four-poster. Back-to-back, with an air pocket a half-metre wide between them, no part of one's body touched the other. Moving first to Dona Alvarez' head, the magician deepened her oblivion just as she had done for Alba, Beatriz, Carlota and Dolores in their room. Then, she moved around the bed to the curled-up alcalde, leaned close to his left ear and tugged his dark caballero-style goatee with her right hand while she whispered a different incantation.

As his lids fluttered and his glazed eyes half-focused on the enchantress, the forty-year-old submissively rolled a quarter-turn onto his back. Esmeralda dropped her left hand lightly onto his forehead, as if to check his temperature, while she let go his beard and then flipped the linen sheet off him onto his wife. Maria did not notice the new double coverage on her hefty hip, nor the sudden cool draft on her bared shoulders, except, without waking, she swam on the mattress surface closer to its edge, tightened her fetal posture and widened her distance from her entranced husband. Hugo, somnolently unfolding, laid out his arms beside his hips and straightened legs.

"Gracias, mi mascota," the Green Witch cooed, as she stroked her left fingers into the alcalde's wavy black hair and opened his pajama shirt's top button with her right hand. "Now, let's talk about your mission." Moving to the next button, and the two beyond that, she chuckled thoughtfully as she corrected herself, "Well, I'll talk. You listen."

Esmeralda spread apart Hugo's undone pajama top's plackets and then massaged slow circular swaths from his budding middle-age pot upward to his chest. As she scratched his scalp and burrowed in the wiry thatch between his soft pectoral muscles, she whispered matter-of-factly, "You have been both very lucky and very unlucky in love, my pet. But that is about to change. Your daughters are all darling, however they are obviously not the son that you have always wanted. How unfortunate. On the other hand, you have been regularly fucking their delicious nanny for two years and she has so far remained childless. "¡Hay buena suerte para ti!"

Esmeralda smiled and toyed with Hugo's nipples. He rolled his shoulders responsively while his nerves jangled and a heat began in his gut. His pantaloons tented slightly at the crotch. A low moan emanated from behind his closed lips.

La Hechicera teased, "Oh, yes? You are thinking of Yma now? And how you passionately loved her this evening while I entertained your family?"

As if in answer, Hugo's prick rose and fell behind his cotton stripes. "Well," continued the sorceress. "The vessel waits to be filled again, but I must ascertain if the instrument is up to the task."

Esmeralda's right hand south drifted south to the pajama waistband and loosed its drawstrings' bow. As she deftly twisted the single button through its loop at the top of the central vent, a ruddy round bald bulb peeked from its cave and burped a glistening viscous bead for inspection. Promptly, she poked the dewdrop with her nail and swirled it around the slit from which it came, as she proclaimed, "That's a good sign, for starters."

Hugo groaned more loudly deep in his throat, as his hardening penis pushed its fat glans upward and maximally tightened its foreskin around its pulsing petrified shaft. Esmeralda slid her encircling palm twenty-one centimetres to the wrinkled hairy bag at turgid tool's base and securely cupped its contents. As she gently hefted and squeezed his heavy nuts, she declared, "There seems to be plenty of weight here, but are any of your swimmers little boys?"

The witch traced her index finger along the seam dividing Hugo's fat testicles then closed her fist loosely upon his cock. It throbbed as it grew thicker and filled her hand. "Pues, no te preocupes, mi mascota," she said, sotto voce, as she stroked upward to the swollen head. "I have a sacred talisman for you which will guarantee our success. Oh yes, I do mean 'our' success. The son you make with Yma will be very important to me in another twenty years."

Blood surged in the boner as if the mayor could not wait to begin. Esmeralda laughed lightly again while she tightened her grip on her new familiar's erection. "Not yet, my pet," she said as she teased another drop of pre-cum with her fingernail. Removing her left hand from Hugo's scalp, she pulled from her green satin sheath's bodice an intricately carved platinum ram's head suspended on a fine platinum chain. Then, using both hands, she hung the totem around the mayor's neck and patted the ram against his sternum before returning her warm massaging fingers to their original positions on his two heads.

Hugo's ears burned and his stiff staff reflexively flexed with the magician's renewed touches. She stroked his crown while she simultaneously slid lovingly to his jewels and captured them once again. He groaned helpless and happy as his aching turmoil increased. Applying gentle pressure high and low, she opined, "I think you are ready to fulfill my purpose and to satisfy Yma's fervent hope. She is waiting. Go to her."

The alcalde recovered from his hypnotic torpor just as La Hechicera re-assumed her mist illusion, floated to the ceiling and then evaporated to nothingness. But, nothingness was the opposite of what he felt in her absence. Overwhelmed by an appetite he had not had once in the nearly three decades since his first wet dream, he instantly recalled Yma Otón's request following their frolic at the Hotel Plaza Grande. "Sneak away to my room in the casa later tonight," she had begged. "After Maria is snoring! I want to hold you inside me for at least one hour."

Hugo hesitantly poked Maria's fleshy back and asked, in a low voice which he hoped she could not hear, "¿Estás dormida, mi querida?" He breathed a relieved sigh when she was unresponsive. Slipping off the four-poster, he grinned at his rigid rampant carajo, then stepped out of his fallen pajama bottoms and strode boldly from the master bedroom with his unbuttoned shirt flapping behind him. "Here I come, little bunny," he thought gleefully.

At the long hall's opposite end, Yma lay plank-straight and supine under a thin, nearly threadbare, sheet in her simple iron hoop-framed bed. Her head was scarcely visible on her dented pillow. She lay so serenely still that the shroud's slight vertical movement with her regular breaths was the only clue that she was alive. In her heart and mind, however, she was more than alive thanks to the Green Witch's intervention.

Hugo entered the nanny's room, quietly bolted the door, then crossed swiftly to close and latch the heavy louvered doors to the balconette. His girls, like their mother, were famously sound sleepers and Yma's delighted orgasmic squeals had never before disturbed the household, but his precautions were more than architecturally important. The sealed privacy eased his mind and liberated his spirit to be more vigorous himself. Satisfied that all was as it should be, he moved to the bedside table and switched on the small lamp there.

As always, Yma's reposed form and youthful innocence took Hugo's breath away. Somewhat surprised that she was asleep when she had particularly invited him to come to her, he was still happy for the opportunity to gaze upon her at leisure. He gave his stiff erection an encouraging stroke, then carefully folded the sheet onto itself, away from her petite chin, to expose thirty centimetres of her lovely throat and upper chest. A slim smile broke in her brown face, but her eyes remained closed and she seemed not to wake.

Hugo licked his lips as subsequent tugs cleared Yma's hills, lithe midriff and blossoming hips. The shaded lamp glow warmly illuminated her smooth mahogany skin. He marveled for the umpteenth time at how the dappled smattering of rosewood freckles across her breasts naturally drew his attention to her similarly brown areolae and nipples which seemed forever to be perked up begging for kisses. He leaned in and sweetly answered their call.

Yma opened her eyes and pulled Hugo's head snug to her right tit as she breathed into his scalp, "¡Oh! ¡Mi león! ¡Estás aquí!"

As Hugo nudged his way across the shallow valley to her other mound and nuzzled its dark nub, he answered, "Yes, conejita, here until the dawn... just for you." She sighed her pleasure as he finished climbing onto the bed and hunched more ardently over her aching tips. Widening her thighs, she ranged her fingernails over his spine under his pajama shirt. He dipped his pelvis and accommodated her coño's tight lips; dredging them from bottom to top with his soft-nosed bone.

"Yes! Oh, please, yes!" Yma purred as the mayor's bulb flattened onto her clitoris and sent shocking life sparks straight to her cerebrum. Arching her back, she thrust her bottom upward to meet his pressing prick and growled, "¡Mi amante, fóllame toda la noche! ¡Nunca te vayas!"

Hugo could not help chuckling as he felt his carajo slide home while Yma bracketed his lower back with her legs; locking him tight. "Of course, bunny," he soothed, before lifting his mouth to hers and making further talk useless. She humped up and fell back rhythmically as he plowed through her squeezing vagina. Each stroke was a step ascending to heaven.

While he drove them both on toward their pinnacles, Hugo added calculated odd pauses and flexions in Yma's channel. He knew the syncopation would heighten her thrills. She gnawed his lips, crabbed her fingers into his ribs and writhed nearly uncontrollably as her every nerve clashed. Her throaty whimpers, presaging her ultimate crisis, edged him dangerously close to his own climax.

Just when Hugo realized he could no longer withhold his essence, Yma broke their kiss, clutched him in an unrelenting vise and cried into the night, "¡Ya voy! ¡Dame un bebé!" Whether or not his brain registered the import of her screeching words, his tight nuts got the message and delivered themselves up. As he collapsed in her gripping trap, he fired volley upon volley of seed-packed semen into her thirsty fertile field.

Nor did Yma release him when Hugo felt he had already given her his all. Her Kegels sucked his straw and drew yet more vital spurts. As she coaxed him more and more, his laggard sperm, regretting their laziness, leapt joyfully into the egg-hunt. He groaned with helpless delight as she utterly drained him.

Outside in the Alvarez courtyard, the potoo wailed once more, while, in her bed, retaining her hold on her lover, Yma burbled, "I said I would keep you inside me for an hour, and I meant it." Less charitably, she thought, "And unlike your hag wife, I will give you a son!" Unseen in the dark, the ghost bird flapped away from the great banana plant, slowly circled the big house twice, as if it were a homing pigeon getting its bearings, and then flew off in the direction of Casa Vázquez.

At four in the morning on February tenth, it was still pitch dark with only a sprinkling of bright stars and a disappearing moon sliver. A drab solitary bird and a three-toed brown sloth converged on the gates to the Casa Vázquez's walled garden. All the household was asleep; some for as little as half-an-hour, others for more than two hours. No one saw the creatures transform or heard Esmeralda Verde spring the locks to allow her and Principe Argot to stealthily enter.

La Hechicera's first destination was the domestics' quarters at the rear of the ground floor where she cast a spell on the sleeping old houseman and his plump wife. Assured they would not revive for another eight hours, she moved on. Next, upstairs in the master suite, she looked upon Germán and Isabella Vázquez laying cuddled in their oversized carved rosewood sleigh-bed. Without waking them, she stole their inhibitions and free-will, then bade them to stay as they were until she gave them instructions.

Outside Alejandro Vázquez's room, the witch said, "Go to Cumandá's chambers, Principe. She will not know you, but you will be welcome. Warm her up without despoiling her. I'll join you soon."

The albino dwarf clapped his hands excitedly at the surprise treat, then scampered down the hall without a word while Esmeralda slipped through the son's door. Enhancing her aura, she bathed the dark room in feathery copper-green glow and looked around. The shutters to both balconettes were open wide and a light breeze moved against the silk curtains which were drawn about the large canopy bed. She smiled at the snuffling snores she heard coming from within them.

Quickly parting the curtains and placing her palm on the twenty-year old youth's forehead, Esmeralda spoke a few unearthly words before calmly congratulating him in his native language. "You did well to initiate your sister's lust, Alejandro. And your friends were very helpful, too." Then, as if he had had a choice in the matter, she further praised, "Your self-restraint and protection of her virtue were chivalrous acts worthy of the highest reward. Are you ready to claim it, and to complete her transition to womanhood?"

Alejandro, exhausted from carousing and arriving home with Cumandá only forty minutes earlier, had had no thought other than sleep. He had stripped naked, pulled the bed's curtains closed and flopped into slumber immediately. Now, as the Green Witch elevated his subconscious and exercised her control, his lax penis stirred on his fat balls and he mumbled, "Sí... listo..."

Fifty feet down the corridor, Cumandá's beautiful new strapless gold lamé gown lay on the floor in a wrinkled shambles while she lay abed, all but nude, wearing only her ten-deniere black silk stockings attached to a black-and-gold guipure lace garter belt. Casually reposed, she looked like a sleeping version of Francisco Goya's La Maja Desnuda. Principe wasted not a moment. Pouncing upon her, he pushed apart her knees and kissed her prepuce as he hoisted her hips with shoveled hands beneath her bottom.

Roused, but deliriously still under La Hechicera's spell, Cumandá groggily wondered, "Am I dreaming? Is this real? If I dream, how does it feel so wonderfully real? But, if a man really is kissing me, why can I not see his features and know who he is? Did Esteban or Mateo follow us home?" The questions she peppered herself with received no answers, but her body livened as her attacker ardently opened new fronts.

While Principe slithered his tongue in Cumandá's slit, he burrowed his shoulders behind her hams and freed his hands from holding her weight. She clutched his ears with her inner thighs and rolled her head on her pillow as liquid fire raced from her pussy to her throat. Reaching upward, the dwarf clamped onto both her heaving creamy breasts and mashed them tight into a single mound. She sang out as she came squirting onto his face, "¡O! ¡Apriétame más!"

Principe laughed into Cumandá's dripping coño and sat up. Releasing her tits, he dropped his suspenders and wriggled out of his trousers as he answered, "Squeeze you more? Why, I shall squeeze you as hard as you can suck!"

In an instant the little man was on his knees, surrounding Cumandá's face. His shins pinned her arms to the mattress. His chicken-egg nuts bounced in their hairless leathery bag under her chin. His bald-headed hard-on stretched from her lips to her eyebrows.

Cumandá was still beleaguered to know her assailant, but oddly, that no longer mattered. Having only recently tasted semen for the first time, she was captivated by the huge fountain in front of her and she craved to drink from it. Tears of joyful anticipation sprang into her eyes as she warbled, "Sí, te la chuparé duro. ¡Pero apriétame!" Then, tipping back her head, she opened wide like a nestling clamoring for a worm.

Principe rose on his haunches to achieve his best angle, then pressed his ruddy knob to the back of the eighteen-year-old's mouth. Surprised, but pleased, that she did not gag as he slid his full twenty-one-and-a-half centimetres into her cavity, he held her head steady with his left hand while he reached back with his right and again seized her left breast. She drew her cheeks tight to his great girth and pulled with all her strength on his length. He rocked his hips and rolled his balls over her chin to her lips as he slowly fucked her throat.