Latina's Exercise Bike

Tenth Installment in the "Latina" Series of Erotic Tales

Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It has been 20 years since my last confession."

"And that is the sin you wish to confess?"

"No," Latina laughed, "Don't be silly, father. I just have two things to confess."

"Only two in 20 years? I'm impressed. You must be practically a saint."

"Well, I don't know about that. I've recently broken two commandments."

"Which two?"

"Well, I stole something: my husband's undershirt. And I violated the big one, about lust."

"Tell me more."

"Well, let me start with the lust thing. That's been weighing the most heavily on my mind, and it explains the stealing. You see, Father, even after two years of marriage, Frank and I still screw around like little bunny rabbits, every chance we get. In fact, the only reason I stole Frank's undershirt was just so I could have more sex with him."

"And you seek forgiveness for these sins?"

"No."

"Say five `Hail Marys' and -- ummm, excuse me?"

"I said no, I don't seek forgiveness. I seek someone to listen and understand. I didn't start out with `forgive me, father,' but with `bless me, father.'"

"So you want the church to bless your sins?"

"No, I want you to listen and then tell me what you think. I want advise and counsel about what I did, and on what to do."

"I'm listening."

"Well, the undershirt that I stole is the one that my husband wore on our honeymoon night. Frank had bought me this cute little outfit, black bra, black panties, black stockings, black garter belt, even high-heeled black shoes. He really dressed me up like a high-priced call girl that night, and that made me feel so sexy, and so lustful. I just wanted to kiss and lick him all over, which I did, and to feel him thrusting into my every orifice, which HE did! And that wedding night, he wanted to look sexy for me, too, so he wore these sheer, skimpy black satin boxers, and a black undershirt that showed off the top of his chest, his broad shoulders, his strong arms, and his cute and sexy nipples. You know, that undershirt really told me that night that those arms wanted to wrap around me, to hold me, to squeeze me tight. Mmmm!" She started drifting off with the sweet memories of their wedding night.

"And that's the undershirt you stole?"

His question quickly snapped her back to reality. "Yes. Knowing that it had touched his naked body underneath, absorbed his sweat, and even absorbed some of his desire for me, I wanted to wear it. So I swiped it out of his dresser drawer a few nights ago, and I wore only it, nothing else, and I pranced around like that in our bedroom, in front of him. I turned my back to him, so he could see that his little undershirt left my butt COMPLETELY exposed. You see, he just loves the sexy little creases where my ass joins my legs, he loves to kiss and caress these creases, so I KNEW that showing off my creases would get him turned on REAL fast, which of course is JUST what I wanted!"

"He told me that I looked VERY hot and tempting, VERY sexy in his undershirt, but I disagreed with him when he claimed that it looking better on me than it does on him. I mean, he always looks pretty hot and tempting to me, when I can see his bare arms, shoulders, and chest framed in his black undershirt. When he wears that tight, revealing black undershirt of his, I just want to RIP it right off of him, and to POUNCE on top of him, and I hoped that by stealing it and wearing it myself, I could get him to feel and act this same way toward ME!" Latina's voice drifted off into dreamy lustfulness again.

"GLLLAAGGHH! Ahem! Rrrr!" the priest coughed. "Go on."

"Well, wearing HIS undershirt showed off a lot of MY cleavage, and I knew that it would be very easy for him to stretch that shirt out and down, so that he could reveal my full, round 38-C breasts to his hungry gaze, and so that he could lick, suck, and nibble all around my full, firm breasts, my wide and sensitive areolas, and especially, directly on my hard, jutting nipples."

"How did you know that?"

"Because Frank ALWAYS nibbles on my nipples, when they get that HARD from thinking about him."

"No, I mean, how did you know that his stolen shirt could stretch a lot?"

"Oh. Well, I had stretched it out many times myself, to rub my palm on his chest, and then to nibble on his hard little nipples, until he moaned with desire for me. He would ALWAYS buck his hips up and down on the bed, and his deep, baritone moans would turn ME on so much, that I would then kiss, lick, and nibble my way down his sexy torso, my face sliding downward UNDER his stretched-out undershirt, until I would reach his beautiful, hard, lovable, completely-irresistible, oh-so- very SUCKABLE, pulsing and throbbing COCK! And all of this without actually REMOVING his shirt, just pulling the shirt out away from him, like I now hoped he would pull it out away from ME."

"Ummm." The priest made a strange gargling sort of noise, almost a strangling sound, and then said, "Continue."

"Are you all right, father?"

"Yes, my child. Go on with your confession. I assure you, I AM listening to your every word!"

"Well, when I put on his undershirt, it ended just above my thighs, so he could see my entire triangle of thick, dark fur."

"Frank likes me to keep my pubic hair thick and bushy. He says it makes me look more mature and sophisticated than when I used to shave my mound. He says that, contrary to popular belief, a hairy pussy isn't any harder to lick and suck than a bald clam, and judging by how enthusiastic he gets when he kisses, licks, sucks, and nibbles at my burning bush, I guess he's right. I keep it neat and trim, in a perfect triangle, which he says looks very sexy and inviting when I stand up straight, with my legs together, my neatly-groomed curls forming a wedge between my thighs, and pointing like an arrow, straight downward, toward my hidden assets just below.

He likes kneeling in front of me when I stand like that, kissing my furry patch, then slowly spreading my legs apart to kiss me even further down--I mean, kissing even deeper inside of me. His tongue licks around the very edges of my pussy lips first, then his fine, long, strong, eagerly-lapping tongue slowly slides its way inside, to lick the gathering dew from my inner walls. Mmmm! It feels SO-O-O-O good when he does that!" Latina paused in her story for a minute, her head buzzing and spinning, then she regained her composure. "Oops, I'm getting carried away again. Where was I?"

Silence.

"Are you there, father?"

"Hmmm? Uh, yes, I'm listening. You were talking about the sin of stealing your husband's undershirt?"

"Yes, well anyway, this is where I moved on from simply stealing and wearing his undershirt, to starting to break the commandment about lust. I climbed on my exercise bike in just his undershirt, completely naked from my waist down to my cute red toenails, and I started pedaling my bike in front of him. Do you ever watch movies, father?"

Now the priest was confused. What did movies have to do with lust and a stolen undershirt?

"Yes, I've seen a few movies."

"Did you ever see any scenes in movies, where a young woman goes horseback riding?"

"Yes, I think I've seen something like that in a few movies." He wondered where the hell this was going, then he crossed himself for using the word "hell," even if only in his thoughts.

"Did you ever notice that these girls always have big smiles on their faces when they get back from riding."

"Now that you mention it--"

"Good. Did you ever wonder why they are smiling?"

"No, but please do tell me," he responded impatiently, desperate for her to finally get to the point.

"It's because as a woman rides, the bucking and shaking of the horse rubs right through her tight riding breeches. For a young virginal lady, no matter him properly raised, all this rubbing against her female parts just can't HELP but excite her young, hot little pussy. As the galloping horse, and the hard leather saddle, just keep rubbing hard up against her clit, her excited little love button just grows and grows, longer and harder, into a hard little nub, and pretty soon she just can't HELP herself. I mean, NO girl can last very long from such hot stimulation, and she just starts oozing her warm, creamy satisfaction all over the inside of her skimpy little panties, and dribbling her lustful relief all down their thighs. And that's WHY, when a girl is maturing into womanhood, if she has ANY experience with riding horses, when she goes horse-back riding, she will ALWAYS wear riding breeches that are a dark color, because dark colors hide the stains of the slick, sticky juices that the horse's motions has coaxed out of their hot little slit. And she will ALWAYS return from such a ride, with a HUGE, happy, satisfied grin on her face."

"OK, I'll take your word for it, that horse-back riding is an ORGASMIC experience for a woman. But what does ANY of this have to do with your husband's stolen shirt, and you wearing it on your exercise bike?"

"I'm getting to that, father. See, as I pedal that bike, I have to pull the handle bars toward and away from me, like rowing a boat, which makes my hips rock backward and forward along the seat. Meanwhile, the seat rocks up and down. The whole effect is a lot like riding a horse, and it really rubs and stimulates my tingling pussy and my hard clit as I exercise."

"Hmmm."

"The effect was COMPOUNDED this time, because I was naked from my waist down, so I could REALLY feel every inch of the bike's stimulation against my flowery folds. I was getting more EXCITED by the second! By now, my peddling was working me up into a state of DESPERATE horniness for my Frank."

Latina thought she heard a slapping sound, like a hand slapping bare flesh, from the other side of the confessional booth. But she dismissed this as her imagination, and she continued her narrative.

"You know, all of this talk about my exercise bike, just reminded me," she began, off on yet another new tangent. "After my first husband died, and before I met Frank, another lady and I had our own business in a little store front. I kept my exercise bike in the back room of our store in those days. Sometimes, at the end of the day, after our last client had left, my business partner would go in the back, and she would exercise on my bike. We both used to call my bike our sex machine. I used to hear the bike rocking, and her moaning loudly, even all the way from my front desk. OH!"

"Is that what her moans sounded like?"

"No, her moans were more like 'Mmmmm! O-O-O-O! Aaahhh-wwwooooooo!' as my partner exercised her way to orgasm. But that's beside the point, it's not what I meant. I meant, 'Oh! I just remembered something.' You see, I broke a THIRD commandment back then, about envy, and I had forgotten about that, until just now."

"Envy?"

"Yes, I used to envy the seat of my exercise bicycle."

"You envied a seat?"

"Yes, I used to wish that it was MY face she was rubbing her hot pussy all over. I used to wish that the tongue of the seat was MY tongue, licking rapidly back and forth over her hard, swollen, throbbing little clit, coaxing her moaning orgasm and thick pussy juice out of her. I am not, and have never been, a Lesbian, but her rocking and moaning on my exercise-bike, just DID something to me inside, and made ME want to be the one sending her into a lustful swoon like that."

The priest gave no response, so Latina continued her narration, still half- convinced that she was hearing the sound of a palm spanking against human flesh, from the other side of the confessional. "As I was saying, the effect of my `sex machine' exercise bike is a lot like riding a horse, and it really rubs and stimulates my pussy as I exercise. Especially if I have no panties on, like I did the other night with Frank. As I pedaled, half-naked, I was just getting ever hotter AND wetter, in my desire for Frank now."

"Didn't Frank do ANYTHING about your sinning?"

"Oh, yes, father, he was a BIG help. He stood in front of the exercise bike, pried my fingers off of the handle bars, and pulled the handle bars up out of their receptacle, setting the handle bars down on the floor, away from the exercise bike."

"He did all of that to stop you from sinning any further?"

"Not EXACTLY, Father. You see, once the handle bars were out of the way, and he was still standing in front of my exercise bike, facing me, there was no longer ANY obstacle between him and me, nothing to keep his hands, lips, and tongue from exploring first my mouth, and then every inch of my body."

"So how, exactly, did THAT help the situation?"

"Well, he began with soft nibbles on my ear lobes, and blowing his warm breath into my ear. That was a BIG help to me! I was FINALLY feeling some part of his, paying attention to my growing needs and desires. Then he started kissing my neck, and that ALWAYS makes me melt. Yes, he was being SO Helpful now! His kisses moved around to the front of my neck, then moved down into my cleavage. Even without pedaling the bike, he was HELPING me--to get sweatier. Then he pulled his undershirt--the one I was wearing, the one I STOLE from him--out away from my 38- C breasts, and he moved his kisses over to my nipples. His tongue flicked rapidly against one nipple, then he turned his head to flick at the other one. Yes, Frank was SO helpful just then, Father! When his quick, darting licks had made both nipples very long and hard, he started nibbling on them, and I started moaning very loudly. As great as all his HELP felt to me, after only a few minutes of that, I pushed him away."

"You finally came to your senses, and you decided to stop sinning?" he asked, hoping for a quick end to this story.

"No," Latina replied, surprised that anyone could THINK that she might want to stop when fully-aroused, when she still hot and wet. "STOP my lustiness at this point? No, not at all. Why, whatever do you MEAN, Father? What are you THINKING? STOPPING while still building toward my first orgasm? No, of course not. STOPPING? No, not at all, not at ALL," Latina laughed, amused by the absurd idea of stopping sex BEFORE erupting into one thrashing, moaning orgasm right after another. "It's just that I needed to pull my--I mean his--undershirt off over my head, so that my whole body would be exposed to his gaze, and to his touch. I NEEDED him to see and feel me, ALL over, now."

"I see."

"Yes, so did Frank. He saw EVERYTHING! Well, then he began kissing under the bottom curve of my breast. He knows that drives me crazy, and I just couldn't stop moaning. Only now I also started squirming on the seat of my exercise bike."

"Squirming?"

"Yes, just moaning and squirming with the sheer PLEASURE of it all. SQUIRMING in my desperation, to feel his tongue against my clit. But he just continued to IGNORE all of my moaning and squirming, to IGNORE my loud squishing noises, already emanating from my very hungry pussy. He just continued to tease me, kissing my ribs, and slowly kissing his way down, past my belly button, down my stomach. Just when I thought I couldn't STAND one more SECOND of his exquisitely sexy torture, Frank FINALLY planted a hot kiss, right ON my thick patch of pussy fur. That's when I begged him to stop teasing me, and to kiss and lick my pussy."

"Did he?"

"No, not right away. He moved his mouth away, and all the way down to my toes, before starting to kiss again. He slowly kissed his way from my bright-red toenails, across my feet to my ankle, then up my leg, up my calf to my knee, then he moved inside, between my legs, kissing his way up my inner thigh. Then he stopped."

"And that's when you finally stopped sinning?" he asked again, hopeful that this time the answer would finally be yes.

"No, Father. Neither of us could stop any more. We were just total, lustful ANIMALS by now! No, he was just pausing, pausing to suck in his stomach, catching his breath, preparing himself to stop teasing, and to finally get SERIOUS with me. That's when he straddled the frame of the exercise bike, sort-of squatting, and he bent his head down. His tongue slowly, lazily rolled out of his mouth, and across my pussy lips. He then placed his index and middle finger right ON my pussy, to pry the lips apart. But just his touch there got me so excited, that my pussy lips now parted by themselves, not needing ANY persuasion from his fingers. This let him slip his tongue into my deepest, gooiest depths, and he began licking my wetness off of my inner walls. Being a priest, you probably have no experience with this, but just inside a woman's hole, there's a little cliff where the opening narrows, and it's very sensitive. Some people think that's the G-spot. All I know is, when he licks me there, I go crazy, sliding my hips forward, wanting to press that spot as close against his tongue as I can. That's how I felt that night on the exercise bike, when he licked me there."

It was a good thing that the confessional let the priest hear her without seeing her, because at the memory of this, Latina simply COULDN'T resist sliding her hand inside the waistband of her shorts, slipping one finger into her pussy, and rubbing another finger back and forth against her clit. Her hand playing under her shorts, seemed to be echoed by that ongoing, faint slapping noise, from behind the confessional partition. As she began to play with herself, Latina continued her narration, but now with a lot of panting pauses, to catch her breath in the midst of the growing horniness, which her retelling the story was now building inside of her.

"Anyway, as good as his tongue felt there, I wanted it somewhere else. I grabbed both sides of his head, almost squeezing him like a lemon, and pulled his head up about an inch, positioning him so that his tongue would flick directly over my clit. As he licked, I began rocking on the seat of my exercise bike, as if I were rowing with the handle bars that Frank had already removed. By now, I was just letting out one loud moan after another. Now I wrapped my legs around his neck, and over his shoulders, using the force of my feet against his shoulder-blades, to pull his face closer and his tongue harder against my clit. That's when Frank started softly nibbling on my clit, and he sucked my hard little love button all the way up into his mouth, his teeth nibbling on it, and his long tongue swirling all over it."

"And this was helping you with your sinning problem?"

"Oh, YES, Father. Now he was REALLY helping me, even more than BEFORE! It only took a few minutes of my clit being sucked all the way up into his mouth, before I began to shake from head to toe. I let out a very loud scream, and I literally EXPLODED my hot, thick, creamy, sticky pussy juice, ALL over his lips, teeth, and tongue. He kept my clit firmly in his teeth, he kept nibbling and licking, and I kept screaming, shaking, and coming by the bucketful. I lost count after my fourth orgasm."

"And that finally got all the sin out of your system?"

"Oh, no! No, it didn't. But in one way, I wish that my wonderful release HAD gotten it all out of me, because I was starting to get a little tired, from being so excited, from coming so much and so hard. But when my orgasms finally ended, I noticed that my excitement had made his cock VERY big and hard. It was now its full eight inches long, and that incredibly wide two inches across. His manhood was SO long, thick, and HARD -- it just looked so charming, so irresistibly mesmerizing, and SSS-O-O-O tempting."

"I don't suppose you resisted that temptation?" he asked, glancing at his watch, fearing that her long story would cut into the time he had allotted himself to write next Sunday's sermon.

"How could I, father? What kind of a person would I be, to let a man thrill me for hours, and not at least TRY to return some of that kindness to him? I mean, he had just given me so much pleasure, and his cock was so big and hard, and by now, I wanted it inside of me so desperately. So how COULD I turn away from that?"