by Ana Vela
Lying in a bed beneath unknown ground, where the air and water and footsteps of passers-by were alien to her, but accepted her into the fold. She wondered if every man she met she’d remember as a part of the city; an extension of the experience, but leave the recognition of his breath and skin against hers. Or if she’d carry it in her as a sensual memory. She turned over and fell asleep against his chest, twisting a finger through his hair and wondering if it would be the last time she’d be naked next to him.
She woke to the sound of car horns and scooters roaring past in the street below, and to the feel of his hands exploring her body. Still hovering in the space between dreaming and consciousness, she succumbed to the pleasure of his hand kneading her breast as he pressed his cock against her ass. He was still here, in her bed.
“Vamos a ducharnos…”
“Hmm?” She turned and burrowed her face into his neck.
“Let’s shower.” He stepped out of bed and pulled her with him. As they stood under warm water, he continued to explore her, rubbing soapy fingers over her breasts and ass as she enjoyed the feel of the slippery skin of his hard chest. She was wet for him again, and he fingered her as he pressed her stomach against the tiles of the shower. He thrust into her, grabbing her breasts as he filled her. She gripped the tiles as he moved, trembling with pleasure and surprise from the sudden penetration. His hands were on her back, sliding down to what he wanted. She shivered as his fingers found her ass, and he began to ease into her, gently but persistently, with his cock still deep in her pussy.
“You like that?” He whispered, pushing a little farther.
“Yes,” she breathed, pushing toward him from her hips. He groaned at how her soapy, wet body accepted him. He pulled his cock from her pussy and raised it, rubbing it against the opening of her ass. Her body pulsed, and she felt her wet folds ache to be filled again. But he wanted something more, and he continued to play. He was so thick, she wondered if she could take him, but her body responded regardless, bending back to give him more of her. She cried out and then moaned as he entered her, pushing the boundaries of what she thought she wanted, and it unravelled her. His fingers circled her again as she throbbed hot and cold for him. His body was hot against hers, and he spanked her lightly.
She caught her breath at his length and breadth pushing into her tight little opening, slick with oily soap, and moaned again as his fingers plunged into her pussy. Her tightness was a firm grip of pleasure around him, bringing him rapidly to a summit. He bent her farther forward and held her breasts firmly as it took him over the edge of restraint, and he groaned as he came inside her. His heart beat in quick thuds in his chest behind her as he withdrew, but she was still dying for relief from the building pleasure between her legs. He felt it and continued to circle her, while his other hand glided in and out of her wet pussy from behind. She was aching to come, but wanted to face him.
She stepped out of the shower, and he eased her onto the bathroom vanity, where she enveloped him with her legs. His black hair streamed water over his caramel-colored skin, and his wet lips were on her neck. His fingers traced her opening, gliding up over the hood of her clit and down again. One finger, two, entered her and withdrew, and he flicked her with his thumb. As she gripped him tighter and he felt her tense, he teased her until she came, pulsing and wet under his fingertips and crying out at the relief of her need met under his touch.
**********
She sat opposite him at a cafe table on a sidewalk, sipping black coffee and watching the dilated, liquid pupils of his brown eyes. A think layer of black stubble covered his angular jawline, and his hair had only just been teased out of revealing what he’d done to her a few hours earlier. Churros sat on a plate in front of her that she couldn’t eat. Tiredness pulsed in her neck, but she was alert. She braced herself for a day of walking around the city and scribbling down notes to type later. He reached over the table and clasped her hand, lacing his fingers with hers as he’d done the night before, and smiled at her. Cigar smoke wafted from the cafe, and waiters bustled around them.
“You had a good time?” He asked her, smiling more broadly.
“Yes.” She blushed and looked down, wiping imaginary crumbs from her lap. “Did you?”
“Of course.” He thumbed her palm and looked her over, subtly. “But I have to go very soon, Annie. Tell me I’ll see you again, somewhere in the world. I love to travel. And I love your body.” He drew five euros from his wallet and left it on the table for the waiter.
“I love yours too,” she confessed. “I have to go too. I have to work today. I’d like to see you again too. Who knows where we’ll meet?”
He stood up and took her hand to stand with him, and left a note with a number in her palm. He kissed her with his hands on her hips and stared at her a final time. “Adios, guapa,” he whispered, and waved as he walked away.
She felt suddenly alone as she sat back down at the table and finished her coffee. A quick encounter that she could still feel on her skin; inside her. He’d been soft and teasing, then fucked her until she’d screamed. She tucked the note into her pocket and walked to the subway, navigating from the map on her phone and almost walking into a parked scooter.
She was alone again, and the city responded with a reminder that it was hers to explore.
To be continued…
About the Author
Ana Vela is romantic at heart. Living in Brooklyn with her husband, two sons, and a puppy, she finds time to sneak away at night and live out her fantasies by writing them all down and creating these stories for her faithful readers.
To contact Ana, please write to [email protected], and she will answer each and every email personally!
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Table of Contents
European Secrets (Madrid - Vol. One)
Midpoint