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“And I think someone like you will be interested, too.” He pulled a business card out of his back pocket and handed it to her.
Sonja stopped herself from smirking as she took it, expecting to see the standard DJ-for-hire services, or a blurb about handmade hip-hop gear. But then she glanced at the embossed, fancy and official lettering, and her eyes popped wide when she saw the business it advertised. “Bungee jumping?” she sputtered.
“Yes, brothahs and Latinos do it, too.” He chuckled.
Not any brothahs or Latinos she knew. Was she that old, or just that chickenhearted?
“You said someone like me? That would mean…?”
He licked his lips again, looked her up and down, and there was no mistaking his intent now. “A fine Latina who likes to stay in shape. A woman not afraid to take risks.”
Obviously, since she was talking to him with lust in her heart and pussy juices already spilling into her thong.
¡Ay, Dios mío! She hadn’t realized she was so bellaca until she’d laid hazel eyes on him. Horny and hot to trot.
Sonja crossed her legs and squeezed them together, hoping to stem the tide and her already swollen clit, but trying to restrain it only made things worse. “So, are you inviting me on an excursion?” she asked.
Bungee jumping? There had to be better ways to get with a man, even a young one, than—
“Are you game?”
She was game; she just didn’t think she was for leaping off a bridge with her life in the strands of a few cords. “I’m game,” she said.
FIVE…Sonja stood at the edge of the bridge, sheer canyon walls rising around her, mouth dry, palms perspiring as she grasped the rail, all trussed up in the requisite gear and harnesses, and feeling like a turkey on Thanksgiving Day for more reasons than one.
FOUR…She stepped out onto the platform mounted on the catwalk railing, glanced at the churning waters at least fifteen stories below, barely heard the encouragement of the other prospective jumpers behind her as they counted down.
THREE…Warm spring air rifled her wavy brown hair flowing loose beyond her shoulders under the helmet—like a helmet would do any damn good if that three-quarter-inch cord broke!—sunlight reflected off of the surrounding mountains and the surface of the lake below, almost blinding her.
TWO…For the life of her, she couldn’t remember now why she’d chosen the swan dive. She wasn’t exactly scared of heights, but she wasn’t too crazy about looking down from them either. When she did something, she had to do it up, go all out, especially now.
ONE…Her heart drummed and Sonja had a second to wonder whether it was only the male hormone that triggered the need to show off for the opposite sex, before she quickly discounted the theory altogether.
JUMP…She leaped off the platform, arms outstretched, plunging into nothingness, an enormous charge of adrenaline surging through her body as she free-fell and accelerated from zero to seventy miles an hour in less than five seconds.
I better get some bicho out of this!
Sonja survived, her fellow jumpers throwing down a rope and pulling her back up to the bridge so that she could do another solo jump with the body harness.
She had several moments after her second jump to take a breather and prepare for her next and final jump.
A tandem jump. Connected with ankle harnesses. To Kaj.
He murmured in her ear as he stepped to her and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re already a pro, Mami. I’m proud of you.”
Her pussy responded immediately as cream flowed out of her cunt—a testament to his flattery.
She thought a solo jump was gut-wrenching, but standing belly to rigid hard cock, the adrenaline doing double-time through her veins—now that was a rush!
The countdown behind them started again.
Kaj squeezed her tight against him. She wondered what it would feel like to be in his arms, naked, moist heated skin to moist heated skin, his spicy male scent heavy in her lungs, long thick cock heavy between her copper-tone thighs.
“I’m twenty-four,” he said.
Not as bad as she’d thought, but still so young. “You know I’m not.”
“I know. It doesn’t matter.”
