Sebastian's Folley

SEBASTIAN

PLEASURE UNDER THE PALMS

Sun, sea, sand and sex

The whole situation reminded me of one of those Spanish soap operas. Some poor sucker catches his woman cheating on him and he cries passionately "Ah Maria...por que? Por que, Maria!" Except in this case it was Maria who had caught me balls deep in her best friend's cunt. It was no soap opera and Maria wasn't asking why. She was screaming, cursing both of us with that machine gun Spanish that only pissed-off Latinas can muster. I hadn't wanted to hurt her. Hell, in a way it was her fault for coming home early. If she'd kept to her usual schedule the whole ugly scene need never have occurred. And why did she go off shopping and leave me alone with her best friend anyway? We had been together long enough for her to know how weak-willed and oversexed I am. Poor Estelle was cowering in a corner with a sheet clutched to her chin while I was hopping about avoiding flying objects while trying to put my pants on.

I ended up out on the sidewalk with nothing but a flat wallet, my cell phone and the clothes on my back. The few meager possessions I'd had were not worth collecting under the barrage of abuse. I'm no slave to propriety and have used the word fuck as a verb, a noun, an adjective and an adverb but the names Maria spewed don't bear repeating. How easily love can turn to hate.

Maria's face was dominated by the dark intense eyes of her Indio blood. Great legs and a hard saucy ass. She had those apple-sized tits with pointy little nipples that beg to be sucked. She was also a brazen little twist who loved to tease and taunt. Laid out on a towel at the beach I had noticed wisps of pubic hair escaping the crotch of her bikini.

"It looks like you need a little trim down there, baby."

Instead of being embarrassed she spread her legs wide and reached down and twirled that escaped crotch hair. With a wicked little laugh, she humped her pelvis at me. Had it not been for a family of sun-pink tourists with noisy little brats nearby I would have mounted her then and there.

We had gotten together one Saturday night shortly after I arrived in Puerto Rico. It was at a little backwoods chinchoro in Quebrdillas. There was live music and cheap rum. I managed to make myself fascinating enough to be invited home. I'd been snug in her little nest ever since. No rent, great food and plenty of slinky sex.

Now I had fucked myself right out into the cold with a bit of randy foolishness. Maria was remarkable... lithe, tan and sexy, with a great laugh. Now I'd lost her because I couldn't keep my hands off her unremarkable best friend. Of course, it was stupid but we are what we are.

Estelle was a shade lighter than Maria but also Puerto Rican. She's a pleasant peasant of a woman, a smiling simpleton. None too bright but she had that aura of a fecund mare in heat. Great rolling haunches and bobbing breasts barely hidden by thin cheap dresses that accentuated her fat nipples. She came around often to visit Maria. Each time she showed up it raised my prick despite my best efforts to ignore her. The buildup of all those stifled erections had finally overcome my common sense. Maria was out shopping and Estelle was shuffling around the kitchen with me in a chair by the table. She leaned over to wipe away some crumbs and there they were. Those ripe teats and fat nipples jutting hard against the thin fabric. Before I could stop myself I pulled her down on my lap and attacked her lips ravenously. She struggled a bit at first but I got my hand up her dress. She had a thick hairy bush but my fingers soon made their way through to her pleasure pea. It got swampy down there in a hurry and her muffled "No pleases" died away. I kept on diddling her and grabbed a handful of head hair to walk her backward into the bedroom with my tongue still in her mouth. The buttons tore loose from the cheap dress and there was no underwear to deal with. Naked and wetted up she turned out to be one of those urgent ones. Her hand guided me straight in and those meaty legs wrapped around my ass. She was urging me on with her heels and moaning "Rico... Rico Poppi!" That was the scene when Maria appeared in the doorway screaming and the jig was up. Now I was out on my ass with no plan and very little money. Cunts were dangerous. The sharp sexy ones like Maria and the dull simple ones like Estelle. Each and every one of them was dangerous.

That night I slept on a bench in the Pueblo Plaza. I lay down fully expecting to be rousted by the cops but I must have gone unnoticed. They seldom get out of the cruiser unnecessarily these days. I woke up well rested considering but my body knew it had been on boards and my head was a bit crusty. Usually, I'd be rolling over in bed for a "Good morning to you" fuck but I had bitched myself out of that luxury for the foreseeable future.

There is nothing like a hearty breakfast to put a smile on the face of misfortune. Unfortunately, nothing much stirs early on the island and the little cafe across the square was no exception. I took myself down to the beach and watched the sun climb. I just sat on the sand watching the waves roll in and letting the time pass. In another year I'd be able to draw early social security. The check wouldn't be as fat for me as for most. You don't pile up much in the kitty when you spend your working years as an unsuccessful writer. Anyone who spends their life writing thinks they can write, but success is an elusive bitch. I have published a few travel articles and sold a couple of scripts for video promotions. I have 40 years' worth of unpublished pages and polite rejection slips. In a briefcase full of implausible plots and written rants. A collection only valuable to me and thankfully I hadn't kept it at Maria's. It was safe and sound in the soul food kitchen of Chef Jeff down at Jobo's beach.

Instead of giving up the dream and building a career to retire from I continued to type. Only when starving did I skip from one square nowhere job to another. This and that, mostly under the table. I should have plenty of stuff in print. Mine is better than a lot of the successful stuff out there. Maybe I should have invented a kick-ass anti-hero. A cool stud for the violent vicarious fantasies of frustrated readers. A sexy James Bond motherfucker who could kick the shit out of five ugly thugs single-handedly and then charm Queen Elizabeth into giving him a blowjob. I could change a few names and write the same story over and over. Lethal Cock 1 and then Lethal Cock 2. Just feed the franchise and trot to the bank.

Eventually, I was sitting rather dejectedly at a table. My wallet was too thin to bother with the menu. Instead, I was staring at the crust of some toast. I was saving it for last and sipping the dregs of a third coffee. The waitress had developed an air of impatience as if it was time for me to move on and make room for someone who might leave a tip.

I was mulling over the list of whatever friends I could claim after a mere year of acquaintance. I was trying to decide which one might be good for a little touch. It was a short list. As the names rolled through my head I found that I owed most of them a little something already. I couldn't go to Chef Jeff. He was already good enough to front me a meal on the cuff when necessary. Then I thought of Harry. His place was only a few streets off the plaza.

We had worked together doing inventory at a truck warehouse. Just another one of those dead-end jobs. At least it had been for me. Harry still worked there as far as I knew. He was one of those easygoing sorts who didn't expect much out of life. I'd been to his place once, a small second-floor apartment in one of those crammed together row houses.

Harry was one of those guys who liked to drone on about the details of his existence. Only when he mentioned that he lived with his

spinster sister did my ears perk up. Any word of a stray woman always caught my attention so I'd gone home with him. I figured she must be bored out of her skull spending lonely nights listening to Harry and since she was unattached why not have a look?

She had hardly shown herself during my visit. All I'd gotten from the trip was the bland dinner she served before disappearing into the gloom.

All these shoulder to shoulder buildings are much alike. It would have been impossible to tell them apart had it not been that each wore a coat of three bright colors. It cheered up the drab, pock-marked street. I checked the names at the doors just to be sure and there he was - H Snelling - Apt 4. I pressed the button and soon the door buzzed open without even a question. I climbed the stairs from a dim foyer.

The sister answered the door on the second knock. There was something different about her this time. Different and better. She invited me inside smiling. It's amazing what a pretty smile can do for a face. Her teeth were whitely even and drew my attention to ripe very biteable lips. I didn't want to admit that I didn't remember her name. Searching the room for a clue I spied some mail on the coffee table. MS. BLYTHE SNELLING.

"I just happened to be in the neighborhood, Blythe." I said smoothly, "I remember that fine dinner you were kind enough to share and thought why not drop in and see what Harry's up to and also thank his lovely sister for her past hospitality."

It may have been a trick of the light but I think she blushed at my praise.

I never know what will set me rutting after a woman. Not necessarily beauty or cleverness, although those are always attractive. But there are plain uneducated women who radiate raw sexuality. The sensual way they move, a certain feral gleam to their eye. Sometimes there is no rational reason. Nothing to stir the mind but an invisible aura that stirs Johnny Cock to attention. There are also those women I don't care for at all...arrogant, selfish, waltzing through life trailing superior airs. I may not care for them but I usually have an intense desire to fuck them too. I like discovering what's under the posh attitude and the hate couture drapery. And if I find that their armpits are a bit stinky and their cunts turn fishy...so much the better. Of course, I am not averse to attacking a powdered, rose-scented pussy. The whole point of rutting is to get primal. I love to watch a woman lose control, to touch and taste her. I want to run my fingers through her hair and suck her little toes. I want to hear her heartbeat, I want her noise filling my ears with sighs and moans. And the smell of sex. Once a room reeks of our mingled scent I know it's been good. It is not horse racing that's the l sport of Kings.

" I'm sorry," she said, "my brother is away to San Juan for the weekend.,"

Any hope of an immediate loan was in the toilet. However, with Harry out of the way and his sister blushing and nibbling a plump lower lip with those fine little teeth... well...new possibilities sprang to mind.

" Oh, that's a shame!" I said, " I was hoping for some more of his stimulating conversation. Well just tell him I stopped in."

"You needn't rush off." she said, "There's fresh coffee in the kitchen. Please join me in a cup."

"You needn't rush off." she said, "There's fresh coffee in the kitchen. Please join me in a cup."

I could sense a bored and lonely air behind the invitation. If she was in no hurry to get rid of me I was in no hurry to go.

I settled at one end of the sofa. She was soon back with two cups of coffee. She avoided the friendly spot I'd saved for her and sat in an armchair across from me but I noticed happily that she'd taken the time to let her hair down and fluff it a bit.

"How long have you been on the island, Blythe?"I opened.

She launched into the story of a broken engagement and how Harry had invited her to come to live with him until she got herself sorted out and so on and so on. I sipped my coffee and studied her. I am good at mentally undressing a woman while smiling and nodding now and then as if I'm all ears. The sun had turned her light brown hair blonde. The place was not in an area favored by ex-pats so I'm sure her Puerto Rican neighbors referred to her as la Gringa Rubia. Her nose and jawline were long and her face was a tad narrow. It was saved from homeliness by a pair of lively eyes and a good smile. It was hard to tell about her body. She wore a baggy man's shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. She sat with one leg tucked under but the other one was long and tan and ended with a set of cute little unvarnished toes. All together very fuckable I decided.

"Has it seemed to you warmer than usual lately?" I heard her say.

Once the conversation got down to the weather enough was enough. It was time to find out just what was what.

"Come sit beside me, Blythe. I have a confession to make."

She looked startled and hesitant but after a brief moment came across to me. I took both her hands in mine and leaned close.

"You must have guessed that I did not come here to see Harry at all."

"You didn't?" there was a slight tremor in the question.

"Do you remember when Harry introduced us months ago?"

"Yes..." again there was a bit of a quaver.

"You and I barely spoke that time... Yet all these months since I have not been able to get you out of my mind."

"Oh my!" those pretty teeth were busy at her lower lip again. I leaned in until our faces were inches apart with me gazing into her eyes intently.

"Blythe..." I whispered. When her lashes fluttered and her eyes closed I knew she was mine. I kissed her softly at first but when I felt her mouth soften I became more aggressive. I invaded her with my tongue and kept us welded together until she finally drew back for air. I didn't want the mood to fade so I stood and pulled her to her feet.

"Where's your bed?" I made it a forceful command and she immediately took my hand and led me.

Blythe's bedroom was a very feminine affair. Frilly curtains and pastel walls. I left her standing expectantly in the middle of the room and settled myself on the edge of the bed with a sigh of contentment. After my harsh turn of events, I'd managed to find a soft place to land. I fully intended to enjoy my good fortune. Unlike yesterday's hurried and rudely interrupted snog there would be plenty of time to enjoy this fuck. With Harry safely out of the way I intended to make a slow, delicious meal of his sister. She was still standing in the middle of the room as if waiting for instruction. A firm tone seemed to work well with her.

""Take off your clothes, Blythe.",

The first button came undone slowly but her fingers quickened and when the shirt hung open she shrugged it off. Without pause, she dropped her shorts and kicked them off with her flip-flops. I had expected some very pedestrian underwear but her matching bra and panties were skimpy black and lacey. She hadn't worn those for me or been expecting any other man. I began to suspect that dear Blythe had a very active imagination. That was a good thing.

Underwear off I let her stand there nervous and naked while II openly inspected her. Her cheeks redeem again. I saw that her hand-sized breasts were rose tipped. Unlike Maria's hairy bush, Blythe's was trimmed up neatly as if waiting to be presented. She had been hiding a secret sexy self under her daily rags. Her fingers must have been very busy on those lonely nights.

"Get over here and undress me."

After she got my shirt off I lay back to help her with the shorts. Her eyes widened with the discovery of no underwear and an already stiff prick. She looked very precious on her knees fumbling with my sandals. When I kicked my feet free she started to rise but I held her down with hands on her shoulders. I liked her down there between my spread thighs looking up with eyes all wide and expectant. Not a word had been spoken and none was needed. When she started to speak I hushed her lips with a finger. Just a hint of pressure and she took it into her mouth and with no prompting began sucking like it was the most delicious thing ever. She was a hungry one. I played with her tongue and lips.

"All those lonely nights, Blythe... and now here we are together. My cock all hard and twitching with you wanting it. I'll bet your cunt is soaking wet." l whispered it in her errand she gave a tiny shudder.

I took my fingers out of her mouth and it hung open, expectantly. I cupped her face with both hands and drew her to my crotch. She was eager and it was nice. Her mouth was noisy and wet with slurping sounds. Now and then her teeth scraped me. Just a lack of practice no doubt. I reached down and gave her a smart little slap on the cheek.

"No teeth." I hissed. Things improved immediately. I reached behind her and pushed an experimental finger up her tight back door. I wiggled it about. She jerked a bit and gave out a muffled little gasp but didn't complain. Maybe she liked it okay or maybe her mouth was just too full of cock to object. I felt close to peaking so I lifted her face and pulled her up onto the bed beside me.

The last thing I wanted to do was spill into her mouth and then say ' Thank you very much. Where's my hat?'. I was going to satisfy her first and as many times as she liked. At times I've been accused of being a narcissistic misogynist who has unfeelingly used women with a complete disregard for their feelings. Yet here I was... putting a woman's pleasure ahead of my own. Of course, it was also good business. I was going to need more help than a fast shag. With Harry's wallet unavailable Blythe might have a few bucks of her own stashed away. If I made her happy she might give me a ladder out of the hole I'd put myself in.

I held her in another long kiss and then began working my way down the length of her body. I gave her engorged nipples a good tongue-lashing. I could feel her pulse as I licked my way down her belly. She must have defined my destination because she started squirming in anticipation. When I began to dine on her pussy she became very noisy. The sounds a woman makes when she's lost in pleasure are more honest than anything she might say before or after. Not that I'm one to talk.

I nuzzled and nibbled at her folds and stroked from the bottom to the top with my tongue. and she became louder I made it a duet with slurps and grunts of my own. when I judged the time was right I finally captured her clit and worried her into a screaming orgasm. when I crawled up to join her she flopped her head on my chest still panting. "Ohmigod!" she gasped, "I've never had that."

"I can't imagine why not. The taste of you is delicious."

"I didn't know. I mean I'm not very experienced..."

I shushed her and drew her hand down to my still-hard cock. She thought I wanted her to go down on me again but instead, I urged her up astride me. She was still dripping so I slid into that warm heat effortlessly. At first, she was savoring that full feeling but soon she began to rock. I had to hold her hips when she started bouncing and slamming our pubic bones together. The noise started again. I listened as she climbed toward another finish. I was almost bursting when she finally let out a yowl that released us. It turned out she was a squirter and when she groaned and slumped forward in relief we were left stuck together on soaked sheets. The whole room smelled of a good fuck.

She shifted us to Harry's bedroom. We lay down under the useless twirling of a ceiling fan. It was a humid Puerto Rican afternoon but she insisted on spooning me. Compared to a park bench it was a sweaty but very satisfying siesta.

Blythe made me a lovely dinner and then set out a bottle of Harry's rum. Surprisingly it was Barrelito, the good stuff. she poured me two fingers and then did the same for herself.

"I don't usually drink but this seems like sort of an occasion." she laughed.

"Salud!" as I raised my glass I stared at her over the rim. I was not about to be tricked into saying ' I love you' but hopefully she could see some unspoken love brimming in my eyes. I decided it was the perfect moment to launch into my story.