Sensuality

by Zane

  Quinton moved his hands down her body to massage her clitoris. The sensation of his hand and his shaft pleasuring her was too much. She bit her tongue in an attempt to suppress her screams. She had her best friend, Francine, who was visiting from out of town in the next room.

  Quinton bent his head down to suckle her Hershey’s Kisses nipples. His cool tongue licked her areola. Then his teeth scraped her already hard peak. The contact sent rippling sensations throughout her body. She pierced his back with her nails. He shoved deeper inside of her. Her back arched in response. This time she could not contain herself.

  “Quinton! Quinton!” she panted frantically, chanting his name. “Don’t stop!” she breathed.

  Her lips became dry from all the panting. She licked her lips. Quinton’s salty pre-cum still lingered.

  Francine stood in the doorway, peering inside the partially closed door. She should have been quietly sleeping off her alcohol consumption. Although Marisela and Quinton tried to be quiet, the seductive music was a dead giveaway to their “activities.” Francine couldn’t lie still in the bed, knowing what was happening in the next room. She wanted to watch. Actually, she really wanted to join them. She sauntered from her guestroom and opened Marisela’s door. She moved it just a crack, enough to enjoy the free sex show.

  Francine had met Marisela’s boyfriend earlier that week. He was tall, muscular, and handsome, with a smooth coffee complexion. He was exactly the kind of guy Francine liked. She and Marisela had always had the same taste in men.

  Quinton seemed like a nice guy. Francine had only met him that week. However, Marisela talked about him all the time. From what Francine had observed, he was an attentive boyfriend. He listened, opened the doors, and made love to Marisela like he cared first about her enjoyment, then his own.

  Marisela seemed to like him. That was all she could talk about lately. Francine was happy Marisela had found happiness. She was also a little jealous that Marisela could attract such a good-looking, nice guy. There was no real difference between her and Marisela. They looked similar enough. Francine thought she looked better, even more exotic, with her mixed heritage.

  Francine continued to watch them fuck. They did not have the gentleness of “making love.” Her nipples hardened, her breathing became shallow, and her pussy wept with neglect. She reached down to touch herself. She simply wore her normal bedtime attire—panties and bra. She rubbed her hand down her belly, reached inside her panties, and let it travel to her clit. She was already drenched. She moved her hands in the same circular motion as Quinton’s hips. She imagined it was her, instead of Marisela, beneath him. She slid her middle finger inside her wetness as she massaged her nub of pleasure with her thumb. She let out a slow, silent, contented breath. Though her body wanted Quinton’s fingers, she massaged the need.

  Quinton abruptly stopped and withdrew his still-hard member from Marisela. He flipped her over and drove into her from behind. Francine bit her lip to stifle the moan. Francine enjoyed watching Marisela’s new position.

  Marisela’s hands clenched the sheets. Her head was buried in the pillow, muffling her screams. When Marisela turned her head, Francine saw a tear of sheer ecstasy roll down Marisela’s face. Francine froze. If Marisela opened her eyes, she’d be staring dead at Francine. Thankfully Marisela’s eyes remained closed.

  Francine closed her eyes, imagining she was in the bed with them. She slipped another finger inside her dripping cunt. The intrusion caused her eyes to roll back and flutter open. She didn’t want to miss any part of the show. From the grunting noises and the constant screams of “I’m coming…” Francine knew their session would soon come to an end.

  Quinton and Marisela were both close to their final climax. Francine wanted to cum with them. She ferociously dug in and out of her wetness, bending her fingers, massaging the spot she knew would bring her over the edge. A tingling sensation crept through her body. She continued to watch them, but could no longer support herself. She slid along the opposite wall, until she was seated on the floor. She could still see their love play through the crack in the door. She spread her legs, giving her better access. She then took her fingers out of her slick folds, and focused solely on her sensitive spot. She couldn’t help moaning, but it blended with the music. The lovebirds in the next room did not notice.

  “Oh, shit!” Quinton’s deep rumble vibrated throughout the room and out into the hall. She vigorously rubbed her clit. Her body shook. Her leg convulsed involuntarily. Her head bent back and she whispered their names. As Marisela and Quinton came, she felt her liquid ejaculate rush from her punani and onto the plush blue carpet of Marisela’s apartment. This was the hardest she had cum since she had started masturbating only five years ago at the tender age of sixteen. She was too spent to get up and return to her room.

  Quinton had just had the best fuck of his life. After he came, he slapped Marisela on the ass and she collapsed onto the bed. He followed suit and collapsed on top of her, careful not to put the full weight of his body on hers. Damn, she was so tight. He loved fucking her. Although she was a virgin when they first met, she was a quick learner with very few inhibitions. He liked being the first and only one inside of her. Her pussy was molded for his dick. When he gained enough energy, he moved off her. He spooned Marisela’s back into his front. Quinton watched the slow rise and fall of Marisela’s chest. Her light snoring sounds were the ultimate compliment to his already large male ego. He smiled.

  Quinton thought he heard a whimper. He got up, careful not to wake Marisela. He padded naked across the room. Marisela had company, but he didn’t care. He opened the bedroom door and saw Francine on the floor. Her hand was down her panties. She leaned her head against the wall. Seductive eyes looked up at him and she smirked. She smelled of sex. His member rose and he responded with a devilish grin. He bent down to her level, helped her up, and escorted her out of the hall.

  Marisela awoke alone in the bed. She heard the shower running. Immediately she knew Quinton was in there. Already her body craved him again. She decided she would join him. She picked up his discarded polo shirt off the floor. She put it on and walked to the bathroom. When Marisela opened the door, she was torn between vomiting and committing acts of extreme violence.

  The shower muffled the sounds of Francine and Quinton’s panting. Francine’s long slender leg was hitched on top of the sink, the other planted firmly on the floor for support. She was slightly hunched over, hands bracing the wall. Quinton’s hand was wrapped around her waist. He was bent over her, his chest pressed into her back. As he moved in and out of her, he licked and nibbled her neck. Only moments before, he had made love to Marisela. Now he made love to Francine with the same intensity.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Marisela’s voice trembled.

  Quinton quickly withdrew and moved away, causing Francine to lose her balance. She stumbled.

  Marisela looked down at the used razor on the shelf. She grabbed it and lunged toward them.

  Quinton caught her arm. “Stop!”

  Tears streamed down Marisela’s face. She had just experienced the ultimate betrayal. “Get out of my house now, or I’m calling the police.”

  They clothed and left the house. Marisela, hurt and betrayed, swore vengeance.

  Seven years later, present day

  Though on the surface it appeared that Marisela had moved on with her life, she had not. Marisela had followed Francine’s life for the past seven years, waiting for the perfect opportunity to collect on her vow of retaliation. Outside of close family Quinton and Francine were the only two people she had trusted. She had shut them out of her life and hardened her heart. How could one trust again, after an incident like that?

  Getting vengeance on Quinton had been easy. A couple of years ago, she had discovered his penchant for laundering money. One tip to the FBI and his freedom was lost. As for Francine, the opportunity had yet to present itself.

  In the interim, Marisela had devoted her time to her private inv
estigation agency, Broken Hearts. She had managed to make a very good living off the lies and infidelity of men. The elite of Dallas society made up her clientele. Ninety percent of her business came from referrals. Marisela picked up a folder off of her mahogany desk. She read through the latest information on Francine.

  Apparently, Francine had also become rich off the lies and infidelity of men. Francine would marry older rich men and sign a prenuptial agreement. However, in the agreement there would be an “out clause” that awarded her ten million dollars upfront and one hundred thousand dollars a month in alimony payments if the husband was found having an affair. If she cheated first, she was entitled to nothing, not even communal property or money earned during the marriage. She would leave with the clothes on her back.

  Two marriages and two infidelities later, Francine was a very rich woman. Marisela wondered why the men would agree to such a deal if they knew that they were cheating. Also, Marisela mused, is it possible that all the men were set up by Francine so she could take their money? The biggest piece of the puzzle lay in front of her—a small society page announcing Francine’s third marriage. She’d had a very un-Francine-like, small ceremony. She had married a Panamanian professor, Javier Dominguez. They met while she was vacationing in Panama. A year later they married.

  What was her motive? Marisela deliberated. Javier was not a rich Columbian hombre de negocios (businessman), or an upper-class American from the Canal Zone. He was not famous, nor was he part of high society. He did not fit the mold. Like a thunderous boom hitting on a stormy night, the answer suddenly came to Marisela. Love! She had actually married for love.

  The time had finally come for vengeance. According to her sources, Francine had moved to Panama City, Panama. Francine also had a trip planned to visit her family in New York that upcoming fall. That gave Marisela three months to brush up on her Spanish, and contact her favorite prima, Carmen. Her cousin Carmen also taught at the University of Panama. Hopefully, Carmen would help her figure out a way to get close to Javier.

  Marisela flipped through the file on Javier. It was important to study all of her subjects. She examined his pictures, stopping at the one taken on a beach. He was beyond handsome and very photogenic. Standing on the shores of a white pristine beach, in blue swim trunks that clung to the contours of his body, he reminded Marisela of a Hershey’s chocolate Adonis. Chocolate was Marisela’s favorite flavor. She wondered what kind of treat lay underneath his blue swim briefs. She couldn’t wait to taste it. The photograph froze the tiny droplets of water that outlined his lean muscular physique.

  His almost bald head made him sexier. From his stats, she knew he stood an even six feet. His large pecan-brown eyes captivated her. He appeared to be looking directly at her. She felt the temperature in the room rise, especially in between her legs. His face was perfectly angular with a neatly trimmed goatee.

  Scrumptious. Marisela’s erect nipples strained against the satin fabric of her bra as she stared at Javier’s picture. She grew wet as her mind filled with images of revenge. Her instant sexual attraction to his picture was alarming. She was being silly, it was only a picture. Her palpitating pussy told another story. However, she convinced herself that she would not lose focus. She would lick him, suck him, and fuck Javier’s brains out. Then she would make sure Francine knew about it.

  She gave Javier’s picture another glance. She debated on pulling out her emergency office “toy” to douse the flames that burned between her legs. She knew that she shouldn’t. She had business to handle and a seduction to arrange.

  Fuck it! She reached for her key chain and unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a pink vibrator. She turned it on and propped her left leg on her desk, exposing her nether regions to the cool office air. She stared at Javier’s picture and put the pink pleasure pole in her panties and massaged her throbbing nub. The pulsing sensations on her clit caused shivers to run up her spine. Her head rolled back and her eyelids drifted shut. Gently, she directed the vibrator in between her slick folds and nudged it inside. She imagined it was El Profesor inside of her. The pulsing beat of the pink intrusion matched the pulsing of her sex. Her liquid seeped out and she gasped for air. She came quick, shuddering and shaking in her leather chair.

  She took a moment to collect herself before returning Javier’s picture to his file. She wiped her pink pleasurer, placed it back in the drawer, and locked it. She picked up her office phone and began making calls.

  “A man can only take so much temptation before he says to hell with it and succumbs.” The excuse that Quinton had given for sleeping with Francine echoed in her mind. She would make sure that was the same excuse Javier gave to Francine.

  Three months later

  Marisela sat in the oversized seat afforded to the first-class passengers, drafting a fake résumé on her laptop. The final step before arriving in Panama was to have a résumé with a list of references. Thanks to Carmen she had found a way to not only get close to Javier, but live with him while Francine was in New York. As it turned out, he needed a live-in cook. Francine had fired the old one before she left. Marisela, coincidentally, enjoyed gourmet cooking as a hobby. With a lovely recommendation from Javier’s colleague—Carmen—she was set to start work in a week.

  Marisela arrived at the massive electric, black iron gates that surrounded the Dominguez estate. After speaking to the silver intercom box located outside the perimeter, the gates opened. She drove up the cobblestone driveway and let out a low whistle as she admired the large, five-story, yellow stucco mansion. Javier stood outside on the veranda, watching her slow approach.

  He appeared taller and more defined than he did in his picture. His pictures were an insult. He was downright gorgeous in person. He wore a white linen outfit. Too bad he wore boxer briefs underneath. Marisela really wanted to know what she would later be working with…not that it mattered, of course. Vengeance was vengeance. Big or small, he was hers.

  “Buenos días, Señor Dominguez.” Marisela extended her hand in greeting. He accepted. “Soy Marisela.”

  “¡No! ¡Por favor, Javier!” His voice was deep. She had been around Spanish speakers all her life, but his sounded different. His was the only one to set her body aflame. His cologne emanated the scents of sandalwood and musk. It only added to her already blossoming attraction. He oozed sex with every word. She would call him Javier as he requested, and later, when he begged, she would call him “Papi Chulo.”

  “Aquí.” She shoved the résumé in his face. She knew the job was guaranteed because Carmen gave her a rave recommendation, but it never hurt to be extra-prepared.

  Javier stood there flipping through the papers, not really seeing what was on the page. He needed something to distract him from staring at the new cook. She was tall, about five feet eight inches, and thick in all the right places—hips, legs, and breasts. A gentle breeze passed, carrying the sweet smell of her perfume. Her smooth, flawless honey-brown skin enticed him. He wondered if she tasted like honey. Her hazel eyes held secrets, ones he wanted to explore intimately. His dick leapt at the thought. “¡Está muy caliente afuera!” Though he was accustomed to the stifling Panama heat, he needed to explain the sudden perspiration on his forehead. He turned to go toward the house, shielding his growing erection. He peered over his shoulder. “¡Vamos!” She followed him inside.

  Hot outside, my ass! She saw the slight bulge in his pants. She knew it was more than humidity that had him hot. She was sweltering for the exact same reasons. That, and she wasn’t used to the sultry weather. She felt like she was going to melt into a puddle on his veranda.

  As she entered his home, a cool breeze welcomed her. Her nipples automatically tightened. From the hooded look in Javier’s eyes, she knew he noticed. He showed her to her room, which was on a different floor than his. It didn’t matter. She would be sure to be caught by Javier with a towel around her dripping wet, naked body while she was roaming the halls.

  The first time she pulled that
trick, he had appeared flushed and quickly pointed her in the right direction. The second time, he had been understanding. He had even relayed tales of his getting turned around when he had first moved there. The third time, Marisela noticed, he had simply stared. His pupils dilated and he had definitely noticed she was an attractive woman, naked in his home while his wife was away.

  Trouble! This new cook was nothing but trouble with a capital T. He didn’t have the heart to fire her. Her rice and peas rivaled his mother’s. He would lick his lips, imagining it was Marisela he was eating. She made no move to leave now, but just watched him watch her.

  Damn, he’s fine! He was definitely interested in her. Marisela realized that it was now time to make her move. She pretended to leave, by partially turning her body toward the staircase. She “accidentally” dropped her plush red terry-cloth towel on the white marble floor in the process. She gasped and tried to look mortified. Javier closed the distance between them and bent down. He picked up the towel and slowly rose to give it to her.

  “¡Gracias!” she mumbled and turned around to leave, only partially covering her body with the towel. Javier had no way of knowing, because her back was now to him, but Marisela had a huge grin on her face.

  Danger better described Marisela. Danger with a capital D. Javier didn’t know what he was thinking. He was a recently married man who should only desire his wife. But Marisela was an attractive woman who always managed to be naked or half naked around him. He knew he should have turned away in modesty, but he couldn’t turn down the chance to see her up close. He grabbed his opportunity when the towel fell. It was like a gift from heaven. He took his time returning it. He bent down, only a breath away from her naked skin, to pick up the fallen covering. As he slowly rose, he took his time perusing her body, admiring everything about it. Her perfectly manicured feet, sexy long legs, ripe pussy, slightly rounded belly, and large coconut breasts. He caught the scent of her desire. His cock got harder. He knew he couldn’t give her what she wanted. He was married and she was the help. He returned the towel and watched her walk away. He decided to scurry away to his office.