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Exuding sensuality in every step, she is, simultaneously, divinity and purgatory in motion. I wonder if her sexual inclinations would be as nasty as my fantasies tell me they would be. Longing to bring a bunch of powerful orgasms from her, the thought of us moving through marathon sessions of mutual pleasure has me squirming in my seat.
Te deseo.
I am dying for her to know. Igniting my flames with her racy repertoire, that she has me lusting after her is insane. I can’t help it: she is tilting my world off its axis with her rapture of twists and turns. Los Bravos, the persuasive percussion blaring from the speakers, agrees with me. The ocean of motion under that spaghetti-strapped red dress waves fluently, back and forth, fucking with me even more. I wonder if the garden under that outfit is in serious need of watering.
Our eyes meet, and hold. Acknowledging the spell cast, she puckers those pouted red lips, then bats an erotic eyelash at me. Pirouetting back into the arms of her partner, the look of a seductress revisits me. Her smile is alluringly spicy. Seeing her cute dimples wink as well, the length of me crawls further down my trousers as I yearn to part her paradise with an active, artful, animated mouth. Mm, I wonder if the taste of her cunny is as sweet as caramel syrup.
Te deseo.
I pray she won’t say no. My goodness, I love the wickedness of the seduction. The light coat of sweat on this temptress blends perfectly with the spinning colored lights overhead, and steady blue background. That it makes her skin glisten further accentuates her mystique.
Knowing every man in the place wants to fuck the sense out of her tonight, I notice her enjoyment of her power, working everyone watching her into a sexual frenzy. Cutting through a thick haze of cigarette smoke on deliciously defined stems, the firmness of her ass is seen by all. If she did a zipper check right about now, the congregation of hard-ons would be solid as steel, ready to pop.
Te deseo.
Would she like my strokes forceful, or slow? Watching her glide on those three-inch black stilettos has me delirious with desire. The thought of hearing her purr “Ooh, Papi” as I massage her bud with my mouth has the throb of my pecker out of control. Scurrying upward in her with my tongue, the exploration of every crevice of her pussy would make her scream praises, as well as the name of her god and son in foreign octaves.
Now, I’m supplanted in wonderland. Invading her insides with an urgent chocolate stick, the electricity at my waist unites with her well-saturated energy. Working myself deep, then deeper, the strength of my lust made her shudder from temple to toes, causing orgasmic overload. Then, as my release built up, she pays tribute to the passionate pounding with strange guttural sounds, vulnerable mutterings and ecstatic rambles. Through these groans of pleasure, she’ll be admitting that no man had ever worn out the kitty like I had.
Te deseo. Te deseo, ahora.
Or shall I say, “Let’s go”?
“Stop with the obsessive staring and go ask her to dance,” Crazy Hec says, disrupting my vision. “Or are you scared to?”
“He’s not scared, Hector. He’s a racista,” B.K. adds, eliciting gales of laughter from our whole crew with his translation.
“Kill that noise, dawg,” I respond. “I don’t discriminate, you know that.”
Crazy Hec’s other half, Martha, begs to differ.
“Yeah right, Coop. How come you never go on our Pocono retreats?”
“Because I don’t want to stand out like a sixth toe, that’s why. Remember, I’m older than you guys, as well as the only unattached one.”
Anthony, always the comedian, sniffs my black silk shirt.
“Is that bullshit I smell?”
Again, laughter.
“C’mon, Will. You know we love you,” Jahira says. “I just think you’re scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Scared that a Latina will put a hurtin’ on you,” B.K. notes.
“Debbie and I have been telling him that for years,” Anthony adds.
Nodding, Debbie agrees.
“Coop, that woman out there will have you begging for mama.”
Nothing liked being roasted by the crew on your first night out in eons. It’s all good, for I love my second family like play cousins. After all, it’s been some time since the crew—Anthony Lopez and his wife, Debbie, Crazy Hector and Martha Gonzalez, Jahira Santiago and B.K. Simpson, and yours truly—convened at Tavola’s, our after-work hangout by the Manhattan Courts. Claudia, the world’s sexiest bartender and model extraordinaire, always brings us steamed clams to go along with her over-the-top Long Island Ice Teas. Buzzing with merriment (as well as tipsiness), our posse is akin to the ensemble that meets at that place in Boston where everyone knows your name.
Now we’re at Cafe Remy, a downtown nightclub near the South Ferry Terminal. In a few, Louis Arroyo and his lovely Torri, Jesus and Aida Hernandez, Mike, Gail Carr, and Icsom and Krista Jones, as well as more party troopers from the legal system, will arrive. Rolling about thirty deep, we usually take over the place, partying the night away.
Or shall I say they do such, as I am so self-conscious about dancing salsa. This is an irony to all who know me, for when it comes to hoofing, steps to me are effortless, like they were to Bojangles, Gregory Hines, Sammy Davis Jr., and the Nicholas Brothers. Full of confidence and expressio
