la guitarra

"Miguel," I hear Roberto say, and I open my eyes. "I am honored for you to meet my wife Elena."

At the edge of the tub in an exquisite Japanese kimono stands the most stunning woman I have ever seen. She lets the kimono slip off her shoulders and I lose my breath. Her bronze legs rising and rising and rising on her, to beautiful, curved hips, then sloping in. My eyes move up to her breasts, small and tight. Up toward her slender neck, her black hair, long and shimmering almost to her waist, cascades over her shoulders. Much of the Azteca still graces her tropical face-high cheekbones, broad nose, full, moist lips, almond eyes. Her mons is lush and prominent. She steps into the tub and walks to me.

"Hola, Miguel!" she says eagerly. "I am so pleased to meet you!" I am about to extend a hand to her but realize how stupid that would be. I still taste her husband's seed.

She wraps her arms around me, pulls me to her, and kisses me more passionately than I have ever been kissed in my life. I hold her tightly to me and kiss her back. I cup her ass to my hips. I move my hands to her head and suck her tongue. Her breasts feel so full against me. Our kiss lasts minutes-or is it hours? She lightly pushes me away.

"Si, Roberto. Muy bien." She turns to me. "Roberto said you were muy caliente and you are. Tell me, did you enjoy sucking my husband's cock?"

This is a question right up there with when your wife asks "Do you think I'm still pretty?" The answer to either should not involve words! I take hold of Elena's hips and dip into the water. I lick her slit and she spreads her legs. I grab her ass-oh, so tight and smooth-and I tongue her more deeply and flick her clit lightly. She reaches down and presses my head to her, hard, and she grinds her clit on my tongue.

I burst to the surface gasping. She talks with Roberto in Spanish. I took half a semester's worth in high school. I do not understand a word.

"She is hot for you, Miguel! Gringo prick!" He laughs, and walks away, goes to the fridge, and opens another beer! I'm thinking "Meet the Wife" night is a wonderful idea! Roberto returns with a tray and sets it down. There is a bottle of tequila, a glass, a small bowl of salt, a plate of limes cut into wedges.

"Will you drink with me?" Elena asks. I begin to hear a guitar. Roberto?! It is the Paradetas from Ruiz de Ribayaz' "Luz y Norte." Roberto emailed me the file. It is music exquisitely beautiful and hot and passionate.

She pours tequila into the glass, takes a wedge of lime. She looks deeply into my eyes as she sucks its juice. She empties the glass and then lifts my hand to her, sprinkling it with salt. Then, she slowly and oh-so-sensually licks it from my hand. She refills the glass and hands me a lime.

"Cup your hands," I ask. I squeeze the lime into her hands and bring them to me. I lift them like a bowl and extend my tongue to catch the tart juice dripping from her, and cleansing my mouth. I slug back the tequila and feel it burn. Then, I sprinkle salt over her breasts and lick it from them, from her nipples. Elena moans, her head thrown back. We repeat this twice more.

She clasps her hands behind my head and wraps her legs around my waist. She pulls herself to me and grinds her cunt on my half-hard cock. "I like the way you sucked me in the water, Miguel. Very sexy. Very spontaneous!" And she laughs. She lets go of me and disappears below the surface. I feel her suck me into her and her mouth is hotter than the water, moister, more silky, her full lips wrapped around it, clamping on it as she sucks me hard.

Elena comes up for air. She gasps, kisses me, listens to the guitar, and smiles. "My favorite piece for la guittara!" she says. She again wraps her long legs around my waist. "I like you very much, Miguel! You are very much like me! But you are not quite shapened. Now, let us make love."

I feel her guide my cock into her, and I slide in. She tightens her legs around me and I feel her cunt muscles squeeze along the entire length of my cock. Her arms around my neck, she hugs me to her so tightly I can barely breathe. Roberto's fingers fly from fret to fret, tapping the soundhole in a dance, filling the room with the voices of angels, cascading throughout. She has tremendous control of her muscles and Elena's cunt milks my cock, starting at the base and working toward the head. I do not thrust or even move within her. Her mind and her control are fucking me.

I pull her ass more tightly against me. No, now I feel-she is not fucking me. Elena's making love to me. She kisses me and it is so tender and deep. Her lush lips cover my mouth and her tongue explores it passionately. My arms around her waist, she leans backward and rests on the water's surface, still massaging my cock with her cunt, her arms extended. She arches back and I see how taut her torso is, how her breasts and nipples create the topography of her. The Paradetas reaches its climax and Elena's cunt squeezes my cock one more time. I cum into her. I hold her tightly to my hips and cum. Semen flows from me into her like a rushing river. She arches farther back and moans a low but hard moan. She quivers. When I am done, I feel her milk the last drops, but my erection remains. La guitarra is silent. The room is silent. I am breathing too hard.

She rises, clasps her hands behind my neck, and kisses me briefly. "You loved sucking Roberto's cock, the way its curve fit your throat. His seed is caliente and tastes good, does it not? But you love my cunt, too, si? You loved the way I could milk your seed. You love my woman's body? My legs, my breasts, my lips and tongue exploring you, eh? I felt love from you just now. Do you love me?" She laughs. "But you are still hard, Miguel. Are you not pleased?" She looks at me for an answer. "Oh, I see. I thought you might know. But you still lust."

[know what, author? why is it that i never know? why am I always the fucking scarecrow looking to find a fucking brain?!

not the brain, michael. how do you feel in your soul?

in my what?]

"Elena," I say, my head next to hers. "Are you an angel from God?"

"Of course!" she says. "Bueno. You understand that part, Miguel! Si, Roberto is an angel from God too." She pauses and looks into my eyes. "You are an angel from God as well, Miguel. Did you not know that? That God sent you to me today!" She laughs, licks my ear. I still feel my hard cock inside of her. I thrust lightly.

"No, Miguel! You cannot fuck me!" she says quietly and firmly. "I will not allow you to fuck me! You must always make love to me. Fuck somebody else if they want you to. Come with me." She leads me from the tub and dries me off, places a robe over my shoulders. "Why don't you take a drink to Roberto, por favor? For his song. I will be along," she says.

I pick up the tray and go into the other room. Roberto sits in the chair, la guitarra tucked to his chest. I hold the tray before him. "Si," he says, "muchos gracias!" He fills the glass half full, sucks the lime, and chugs the tequila. I wait for him to take salt. "No salt, thank you, Miguel. In Mexico, we do not take the salt."

I set the tray on the coffee table and sit on the sofa, pour myself a drink, and chug it. Roberto looks my way. "Just a gringo," I say, smiling. He nods, and begins softly playing the Bacas from "Luz y Norte."

"You lied," I say. "You play like Segovia!"

"You are too kind, Michael, but thank you!"

He plays, lost in his music. "Roberto, you serenaded us while we fucked!" I say.

"Oh, Miguel, you and Elena did not fuck. I would not play if you fucked. You cannot fuck Elena. Did you fuck or make love?" He pauses. I do not answer. "Bueno! You made love. Of course! That is her way."

"But the act is the same, Roberto. You sat here and played music while my cock was inside your wife, while I shot cum into her."

"It is not the same, Michael. No! It is the difference between a breeze blowing across a pond and a huracan churning the deep sea. You see, Elena has me here, as she has you," and he points to his head. "She has you and me here too." He points to his heart. "The difference is that at the end of this day, you will go home and I will sleep with her, wake up to her, spend all day Sunday with her. You cannot know until you share an entire day with Elena. A year." He pauses. "Now tell me, Michael, do you still want me to fuck you?"

"Si."

Roberto shakes his head. "Then come here and suck me to hardness."

Roberto puts the guitar down, opens his robe, and lies back in the chair. I bring the tray with me and kneel before him. I squeeze lime juice on his cock and suck it in. I pour tequila on his balls and lick it up. I sprinkle salt all over his groin and lick it up. Roberto groans and raises his ass off the chair. I cup it and bring him toward me. As he gets firmer, I suck hard on his cock, suck it full down my throat. I suck in each of his balls. I lick his hood. He is rock-hard, ready.

I stand by the pool table, grab its edge, let my robe fall. Roberto rubs some lube into my hole, probes it, stretches it. I spread my legs wide. I feel his thick cockhead against it. "Roberto, please fuck me!"

He pops the head in and stops. Pain shoots through me. I ease back on him and take him deeper. More pain. I plunge down on his cock and let the flash of light and heat overwhelm me. "Fuck me!" I say. He begins slowly, not pulling back much, not pushing forward. He speeds up some, the withdrawal and thrust a little longer and harder each time. The pain subsides and I feel his massive, hard, hot, throbbing, pulsating, twitching cock fucking me. I hear Roberto grunting with each thrust, hear his body slap into mine. My mind flashes to him tenderly sucking me, to me sucking him, to Elena licking salt from my hand, she making love to me, me licking salt from her breasts, our deep kiss. The pain returns tenfold. The grunts suddenly seem dirty and perverse. I am just a hole for this guy standing behind me to shove his cock in and out of. This is not how I want to feel. I'm about to stop him when he pulls me back hard on him, growls, and I feel his heat pulse into me. He pounds into me more and I want to scream from the pain. He lets go of me and falls back in the chair, head back, eyes closed. I feel terrible. I hurt immensely.

As my upper-half collapses on the pool table, Roberto's cum drips down my leg. I feel Elena up against me, pulling me to her. I fall into her arms and she holds me. She wraps the robe around me and then leads me to the sofa.

She holds me in her arms, hugging me. "Did you like getting fucked, mi Miguel?" I shake my head no. "Why did you let yourself be fucked? What did Roberto do to make you want him to fuck you? Do you think he enjoyed fucking you?" Roberto begins to play "Espanoletas." "Do you like letting your lust control you?"

"Oh, shut up! Just fucking shut the fuck up!" I scream to myself. "Self-righteous fucking cunt-bitch! Who the fuck are you with your fucking moral-ass questions!" I do not weep but I cry, inside. She rocks me like a mother.

"The lime awakens the mouth. For the tequila. Then, you drink the tequila for its heat that radiates throughout you, that makes love to every pore, every cell. The salt is the spice afterward, the spice that settles the heat into a glowing ember. Roberto does not take the salt, is not ready for the spice. I saw you drink the tequila in this room to get drunk. To get the courage to be fucked.

"In Cabo San Lucas, in Baja, I lusted to be fucked. I used to let men fuck me for money. I would take their money and their semen and then I would give the money to my pimp and all I had was semen and I lusted for more. I danced on their backs and pissed on them. They would ask me to. I satisfied their lust and mine, but never the heart. I was never satisfied. Lust is like thirst--you can only quench it until it returns, then it must be quenched again...then again...then again

"A man vacationing from Wisconsin saw me on the street. He looked at me like no other man had. I felt shame and looked away. He turned my head to him and he looked into my eyes. He wanted me for the night and I said he couldn't pay. He could. He put his arm around me and held me. He took me to a very nice place for dinner. People laughed when they saw me--a prostituta in a restaurant! Someone asked the maitre d' to tell us to leave. Bret ordered him to please serve us our vina. We drank Rioja. We did not talk much. I went to his room to satisfy his lust and mine, and to thank him. He showed me the bathroom and gave me a pair of his pajamas. I bathed. I came out holding the top so he could see my breasts. He touched them delicately and then took the top for me to put on. He told me in broken Spanish to just sleep.

"That night I dreamed I was on a ship that was on land. All on board were craving food. We had not eaten for days. The captain dangled a loaf of bread before us and we rushed toward him, crushing each other to satisfy our hunger. But the bread was out of our reach. Many in the crowd died. I turned to walk away and a man in a robe offered me honey and olives. He caressed my hair. I ate.

"When I awoke, the man from Wisconsin was sleeping naked on the covers by my side. I kissed him and he turned to me. 'Fuck me,' I said. He asked 'Why would you want me to do that to you?' Then he made love to me for hours. He touched everywhere it hurt. The first person to do that. My lust left." Elena pauses. "I have never let anyone fuck me since."

Elena stands. She is so radiant in her kimono. "I feel so stupid. Immature. So selfish." I shake my head. "I just want to disappear," I say, staring at the floor. "You really are an angel, aren't you?"

She laughs. "No. I lied to you before, Miguel. I am no angel. Some people live and act because they do not want to go to hell. I live and act because I have been to hell--and do not want to go back." She smiles. Then, thinks. "You should get dressed."

She is right, but I do not want to leave. I am on the ship she dreamed about and she dangles bread before me. I sigh, deeply and wearily, and dress.

"Will I-?"

"See us again? What do you think, Roberto? Will we see Miguel again?"

"Why would we not, Elena?" he asks.

"It would be your choice, Miguel. It is always your choice. You must learn that, as I had to."

"I want you to love me!" I almost plead to her.

"Oh, Michael, oh Miguelito! I do love you! Roberto loves you too!"

"Here," I say, pointing to my heart.

"Where else would I love you, Miguel?"

Roberto strums his guitar, slapping the soundboard with his cupped hand, like the click of castenets. He has the expressive touch of a virtuoso. Elena walks up to me. She reaches for my hands and cups them in hers. She pulls me toward her and kisses me lightly but with no less sensuality than before.

"Vaya con Dios, Miguel," she says quietly.

"I will, Elena. Promise!"

[drive home, now, michael. i have some questions for you.

a pop quiz, author? fire away!

how do you feel?

empty. i learned too much about what I do not know, but i think i can learn much from elena. roberto too.

do you think lust is good or bad?

is thirst good or bad? lust is what it is. Lust is the face of desire that cannot ever be satisfied.

can you control lust?

yes. i think so. i must learn to let it go.

will you control your lust, michael?

i don't know. elena says it is always my choice, so when that time comes, I will have to choose.

what else did you learn in school today, michael?

i think i learned something about love. i learned i love elena.

and what is love, michael?

oh, author, i'll only tell you if you put me in another story with elena!

bueno! very clever, michael! we'll see.]

Command + S