Enrique

She turned the phone off and was immediately off the sofa, in a whole new frame of mind. It was as if she had forgotten about me entirely for a few minutes. At last she came from the hallway, brushing her teeth, and said to me, "He needs to come and see me tonight, so, maybe you should make sure the trash cans are empty, okay?"

"Of course," I said, and set about doing just that. Enrique was occasionally annoyed to see a waste basket which was too full. Especially the ones in the bathrooms, and the large one in the kitchen. In fact, only a few days before, Zelia let me know that I should put the kitchen container in the closet under the sink, instead of keeping it outside. La basura was no friend of Enrique's, not the sight nor the smell of it. Even a sink with soiled plates or glasses inside could give him a sense of displeasure. Not only did I remove all the trash cans and put fresh liners in them, I picked up the odds and ends in the living room, and on the kitchen counters, and made sure the sink was empty and clean.

After brushing her teeth, Zelia took a shower and washed and groomed herself rigorously. She was in for a full twenty minutes, until the hot water had begun to run out. She stood with only a towel around her hair in front of the mirror, and when I passed through our bedroom, I glanced in and saw her nude, leaning into the steaming mirror, as she applied some mascarra. Her full breasts depended voluptuously. When she saw me looking, she instinctively raised her forearm to cover the areolaes and to stop the seductive swing of her breasts with her left arm. Their suppleness was not for me this evening, and was never for me when Enrique was in the house, and it wasn't for me to be looking at her in such a manner. I moved away and chided myself for this untoward, ungentlemanly behavior.

I checked the refrigerator and was glad to see that we still had almost a full case of beer. It could very well be that, since tomorrow was Saturday, he might decide to stay overnight, in which case, since he would not be driving, he would more than likely drink several bottles. He was quite the drinker, our young guest, and liked nothing better than the company of a good woman, a good beer to drink, and cigarettes to smoke. Recently he had come on a Friday evening and stayed until Saturday evening, and consumed nearly twenty twelve- ounce bottles in that time. Strangely, his intoxication caused no difficulty when it came to romancing a woman and love-making. Zelia told me there was no debilitation or lessening of his urge or his ability to spend himself.

As it happened, our young guest was quite intoxicated by the time he arrived. Zelia greeted him at the door in the clothes he had requested: a fine nylon panty and camisole set, made of translucent mesh, so that the dark areolas of her breasts, the nipples, and the flesh of her breasts were virtually unconcealed. He wasted no time, in the condition he was in, and I watched him take my wife's big breasts in his hands and caress them as he pleased through the slippery fabric, while his fine dark eyes looked down at the nipples and areolae nearly coming through it as he squeezed. Zelia smiled and looped her hands behind her back while he enjoyed her breasts, her dimples deeply indented. She arched her back inwards to jut her breasts forward for him, glad to see him appreciate and take pleasure from the sensation of her breasts in his hands.

When he had had enough of that, he lowered his head and kissed her neck while his hands went to her backside. He was not very tall, not much taller than five foot-six or seven, but still he towered over my petite wife, who was all of four foot-eight. He relished her neck, under her ear, and around her collar, under her jaw, while his hands cupped and caressed her behind. It was apparent that he was very much in a mood for romance and that his need was urgent.

His hands caressed Zelia's bottom vigorously, and at times he compressed her flesh so strongly that I was certain it caused my wife a little bit of discomfort, but she knew of his nature and his necessity, and it was not for her to raise a cry or to complain if his handling of her became aggressive. She was a good girl and kept her peace, and stood willingly and ably while he went from her neck and collar to her lips, at which point she opened her mouth and responded to his kiss as a woman ought to respond to a man like Enrique, her lower jaw working up and down, her tongue pressing against his tongue and allowing his tongue into her mouth.

After several minutes of this affectionate petting, Zelia took the young man's hand and led him down the hallway and behind the door of the bedroom. When my wife and her cousin are behind the door, in the privacy of the bedroom, I have nothing to say of what occurs there. It is none of my business, unless my wife gives me some knowledge of it, which she usually does, very often in detail, after the fact.

to be continued...