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When I got down to the basement, the breakfast buffet wasn’t open yet. I walked around, looking at the posters of plays hanging on the wall. Some were Soviet, all (of course) in Spanish. There was a plaque outside the dining room declaring that this was the site where the Young Rebels Organization was founded in 1960. Back home, we have Rotary International. Then the cigarette machine caught my eye. Along with brands I didn’t recognize were Marlboro and Winston. So much for the embargo. Again. While I was musing over this, I heard the doors of the dining room open. I joined the handful of other early risers in getting a table. Most of them looked like Americans. I guess more of the 200,000.
As I walked in, I was greeted by a chilled display of fresh fruit. A snowman was crafted out of melons and carrots. He was surrounded by oranges and what I thought were unusually colored watermelons. To my astonishment, I realized they were actually the largest, orangest mangoes I had ever seen. The local produce looked incredible. There was also obviously imported produce such as apples. I found a table, where a waitress took my order for orange juice. I returned to the buffet and helped myself to a staggering variety of foods – sausages, bacon, toast, breads, fresh fruit, yogurt, cereals and eggs. As I was serving myself, I guiltily remembered what Felicita said about how many meals a day usually include meat. The hotel obviously fell under the category of “dollar store”. I concentrated more on the yogurt and fruit. I returned to my table and sat. My gaze was directed ahead of me out of the floor to ceiling windows. They looked out to the Malecon near a large statue, then beyond the seawall to the harbor. Bobbing on the bright blue water were maybe hundreds of rowboats. Each was being rowed out to sea. In mid-bite, it occurred to me with a sudden thrill that a scene just as this is what inspired Ernest Hemingway to write The Old Man And The Sea.
The yogurt was positively nasty, almost bitter. The fresh fruit, however, was among the best I had ever tasted – especially the mango. I ended up eating mostly mangoes and muffins, although I did try many of the other choices. Remembering Felicita, I was careful to limit my waste. As I ate, I watched the fishermen heading out to sea, to the Gulf Stream for the day’s work. Mariel (home of the Mariel Boatlift) was only a few miles west of where I was sitting. I thought of all the people who put their lives at great risk to try to escape the tyranny of Fidel Castro. There I was, sneaking in at almost the same place they snuck out.
After breakfast, I checked my watch and saw I had a little time before I could meet my girl at the taxi stand. I walked up the stairs to the lobby and out onto the veranda at the back of the hotel. The early morning air coming in off the harbor was surprisingly cool. I could almost have worn a jacket, in spite of the latitude. I bought a morning paper from the stand that sold postcards. It was the Granma, a propaganda publication named for the boat that had carried Fidel out of exile in Mexico back to Cuba for his second (and ultimately successful) attempt to take over Cuba. There were wicker chairs and tables set out on the high-ceilinged porch. Cages of little birds dotted the walls, set there to sing and add to the ambience. I sat and soaked up the decadence, sitting among the red tiled floor, cream colored stone walls trimmed in pink and the aged stone columns. The carvings on the stone were quite intricate. The way the stone was worn attested to its age. I wondered what Felicita’s home looked like. Maybe I’d get her to show it to me. I knew I couldn’t spend the night there. My visa required me to stay at a government-operated hotel in Havana for the duration of my trip. I read my paper to the sound of the birds. It contained useful information. The ads gave me an idea of what commerce was like, and the companies that might someday be my customers. The political articles told me more about the government. Before long, it was almost time to meet my driver.
I walked back in and across the lobby, then quickly up to my room to call Canada and speak the code that would tell Ross that everything was still alright. I was becoming a lot more comfortable in Cuba. There was a second code that I didn’t think I’d ever need. If I placed an order for chestnuts, it meant I was in great danger and needed help. I was starting to think all this cloak and dagger stuff was ridiculous. I still knew I might have trouble returning home, but I felt pretty sure I was safe here. After getting off the phone, I went back down to the lobby, past the check-in desk, down the marble stairs (I loved the cool feel of that marble handrail) and up the palm tree lined driveway out to the street. At the street, I turned left and strolled over to the taxi stand. There were some drivers waiting with their yellow scooters, but Felicita wasn’t there yet. One young driver approached me, looked me up and down, and addressed me. His tone was stern.
“Are you looking for Felicita?” he asked.
Panic washed over me. Had Felicita gotten in trouble going home last night? Had I been the cause for her arrest? I wondered. I nodded cautiously.
“She wanted you to know she had to take a fare. She will be back in about twenty minutes.”
Relief now replaced the panic. I thanked him and started to continue walking along the street. The young man stepped in my path. Straightening himself up to look taller, he looked down into my eyes.
“Do you love her?” he demanded.
I wasn’t sure how to answer. I decided to be honest. “Yes, I do,” I said. I think my words even surprised myself.
The man’s face softened. “She is my cousin. You should take care of her. I wouldn’t want her to get hurt.”
“I will,” I promised. I said it with sincerity.
He smiled. “Good. She said you are a good man. I wanted to see for myself that it was true.” Then he stuck out his hand and shook mine, clasping me on the shoulder with his other hand. “She will be back in a few minutes.” He politely stepped aside to let me pass.
I walked further down the hill a ways. Behind me, I heard the put-put of a scooter climbing from the other direction. I quickly spun around, expecting to see Felicita’s smiling face. I started jogging back to the taxi stand when I saw it was one of the male drivers. Disappointed, I turned around. No sooner had I started walking down the hill again than I heard another scooter. This one blew its feeble horn. I looked around and saw who I had been looking for. She passed up the taxi stand, pulling to the side of the road when she reached me. I hopped aboard and she turned around to kiss me. As I took my seat, I could see the man who had stopped me earlier. He had watched us kiss. He smiled and waved as we pulled away.
I leaned forward so I could speak in Felicita’s ear. “I met your cousin,” I said.
She spoke with a stern tone. “Did he bother you? He’s always trying to control everything I do – just because he is older than me.”
“He was just making sure my intentions were honorable,” I answered with a grin.
“What did you tell him?” she asked. I could see a smile from the side of her face.
“The truth,” I told her.
She quickly gave me a shocked look. “You didn’t!”
“I told him I am in love with you,” I explained with a big smile.
Her shocked expression turned soft. “That is no business of his. I’m glad you said that, though.” She turned her attention back to the road. “I’m sorry I was late. I was next up and had to take a fare. Arturo tried to cover for me, but the other driver insisted it was my turn so I had to go.”
I told her it was alright. She asked what I wanted to see today.
“You,” I answered. I could see her cheek blush.
“Stop that. I am trying to concentrate on driving,” she said as she checked for traffic at an intersection, then proceeded across.
“Then how about showing me where you live? I’d like to see how Cubans live.”
“You don’t want to see that. It is not very nice. It is not a palace like you are used to.”
I laughed. “I am not used to palaces. I want to see your home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am. Your house, please.”
She glanced down at her tiny gas gauge. “It is kind of far. I’ll need to get gasoline on the way back.”
“Don’t worry about it. I will pay for it,” I assured her.
With that, she stopped at the next intersection, looked over her shoulder, and turned left. We headed back along the Malecon, then through the tunnel and towards Old Havana. She was right; it was a long drive. She lived outside of the city and it took a while to get there. I sat back and watched Felicita. She was so lovely in her Havana Club t-shirt and black sunglasses perched above her forehead, with gold hoop earrings in her ears. I also watched the scenery from time to time, capturing much of it on my digital camera. I took many of the pictures from an angle that included a view of my driver. We headed out of the city now. The buildings were sparser with more decay evident. Small plots of farmland appeared along the roadside, many being plowed with livestock. From time to time, we shared the road with a tractor pulling a wagon and with many motorcycles. Cars were in the minority here and most of those were relics from the 1940’s or 1950’s.
The homes (if you could call them that) were small and in poor repair. Every structure seemed in need of repair and several coats of paint. Before long, we pulled up to a house where an older woman was hanging clothes on a clothesline. The woman turned to look at us when she heard the motor.
“Felicita,” she called. A much older man came to the open door to see who had arrived.
The woman walked over and Felicita introduced me to her mother. We were about to exchange pleasantries when the old man spoke very loudly.
“Is this the gringo who keeps you out at all hours of the night?”
“Papa,” Felicita said in a frustrated tone, “don’t speak like that. This is my friend, Christopher.”
“Your mother never lived like you do, working in the city.” The old man was rambling about life before the revolution. Felicita’s mother tried to hush him.
Felicita explained that her grandfather was senile and it was everything they could do to keep him from attracting the attention of the CDR. Her mother invited us inside and sat us at the kitchen table. I was surprised to see two apples in a basket of otherwise tropical fruit on the table. Apples are definitely not tropical produce. I was even more surprised when I picked up one of the apples. There was a familiar tiny sticker on the apple that identified it as a Washington State apple. What fucking embargo? Her mother tried to get me to eat one of the apples. I figured out that they were a luxury item because they were imported (from the U.S.!). I refused to take such a precious commodity from her – but I did take a picture of it. She brought out some bread to serve us. We all sat, her grandfather started to warm up to me, and we talked about life. I was told that it was safe to ask questions here. I inquired about how they bought food and other things. Felicita and her mother provided me with a lot of information. I was even able to photograph their meager pantry, obtaining in the process the brand names of the products they used. I took pictures all around the house. They thought it was funny that I wanted to take a picture of the bathroom, but they let me. This would all be valuable information later. We had a nice visit, but I didn’t meet any of the neighbors. I got the impression that her family didn’t want anyone to know she was spending time with an American. We left with a big sendoff. Her grandfather took me aside and told me in a hushed conspiratorial tone that, one day, Fidel’s balls will hang in a museum in Havana. I told him I would pay to go see that. We shared a laugh. With that, Felicita and I were off. I noticed right away that we were not returning the way we had come. When I asked her, she just said something that sounded like “Retorno distincto”.
We drove for a while through the countryside. She turned off the highway onto a dirt road. The paved road was rough; this road seemed impassable. I was concerned she was going to damage the scooter. We bumped along until we reached a stand of trees. She parked among the trees, at the edge of a pond. From here, we could not be seen from the highway. She got off the scooter and took me by the hand. Reaching down on the floor, she picked up a blanket and led me to a grassy spot. Next, she stretched out the blanket. She took something out of her pocket and held it up as she sat down. I saw it was another of the “love rubbers”. She smiled and patted the blanket next to her. I sat down and she put her arms around my neck. She tilted her head to one side and closed her eyes. Taking my cue, I kissed her. The only sounds were our breathing and the wind in the trees. It was a brilliant day with few clouds, but it was cooler here in the shade. After the kiss, she told me how she had lost her virginity at this spot. She wanted to share it with me. I indicated with a nod that I understood. She removed her t-shirt, then her bra. I had started getting hard when I saw the condom in her hand (Pavlovian response, right?). Now, the sight of her bare breasts had my dick straining to be free. I removed my shirt as well, while she was pulling off her shoes and socks. Soon, all we were wearing were our pants. She undid the zipper, then leaned back and lifted her ass off the blanket to slide her shorts and panties down in one motion. I followed suit and we were both naked in the outdoors.
It felt so strange being outside like this, not wearing anything at all (except for a smile). From the motion of her breasts, I could see that her breathing was quickening like mine. I reached for her waist and pulled her to me as I rolled onto my back. She squealed with delight as she ended up lying on top of me. Our tongues did battle as our bodies prepared themselves to make peace (or at least love). I ran my hands over her back, her ass, and her legs. I reveled in the softness of her skin. She was pressing her pubic hair against my erection. She stopped kissing me and looked deeply into my eyes.
“I want to suck you,” she said simply. I nodded. As she moved down to between my legs, she began to explain, “This is how I did it the first time, four years ago under this very tree. We were both so nervous. First I sucked him, and learned about the taste of precum. I had heard that I should make him cum before I let him inside me. I sucked him while he laid back on the blanket.” I lay back, putting my arms behind my head so I could watch her ministrations. “It didn’t take long for him to shoot in my mouth.” I wasn’t going to be that quick, but it wouldn’t take too long. Her mouth was doing wonderful things to my shaft. “I was surprised, first at how big his dick was, then at how much he squirted in my mouth.” She would take her mouth only an inch or so away from my cock to speak each sentence. Her mouth was so close to my saliva-slicked dick that I could feel her breath as she spoke. After each sentence, she bobbed her head two or three times as she sucked, then released me to speak again. “It was a day much like this.” Suck. I was getting close to cumming. “I was so wet.” Suck. It won’t be long now. “I could feel the wetness of my pussy hair against my leg, getting me all slick.” That did it. I put my head back and groaned. I wanted to watch her face as I came in her mouth, but my eyes closed of their own accord. I no longer had the strength to control my body. All my efforts were used to force sperm out of me and into her mouth. I arched my back in an attempt to drive my dick further into that warm wonderful mouth. It didn’t matter; she wasn’t about to let my spurting tip escape.
When I was finished cumming, I opened my eyes. She had just released my shaft. She was on her hands and knees, swallowing. She was watching me with a big smile on her face.
“I love that taste. I didn’t at first, but I grew to like it. You shot a lot more than he did.”
“I’m probably older,” I offered.
“Yes, we were just barely teenagers.”
“Are you wet now like you were then?”
“Yes,” she said with a sly smile. She crawled next to me and turned over onto her back. “Would you like to see?”
“I’d like to taste,” I answered as I moved into position.
She was right. Her hair glistened with moisture. Her lips were visibly wet on the outside. If she had been this wet earlier, I don’t know how there wasn’t a wet spot on her pants. I pressed my face farther and my tongue made contact with her lips, after pushing through her hair. When I made contact, she gave a happy “Ooh” sound. She was lying down, but she supported herself on her forearms so she could see what I was doing. She watched as I licked, probed and sucked. I kept looking up to her face to see her reactions as I tried different things. She liked it best when I applied continuous suction to her clit, but I really couldn’t say there was anything I did that she didn’t enjoy. For my part, I was enjoying exploring her wet pussy. The sensations of eating her out were slowly rejuvenating my cock, but it would be awhile before I would need the condom. I took my time bringing her slowly to a climax. From time to time, she would throw her head back and look at the sky. Her brown hair would billow out behind her as she did, glowing against the glare of daylight beyond the trees. She looked so beautiful, naked under the trees. I could feel the breeze over my skin and delighted in the knowledge that we were both nude. I could hear the sounds of nature, but the smells were covered by her own special smell.
She looked down at me and her expression changed to concentration. Her legs tried ever so slightly to clasp against me. Her orgasm was approaching. Her hips were thrusting a little now. Instinct was taking over and her body was reacting as if she was being fucked. I put my hands on the curve above her hips, holding her pussy against my mouth. My tongue became a little more forceful, pressing harder against her slickness and moving a little faster. Each time I moved over her clit, she gave a little start. By watching all these signs, I tried to judge the moment when the wave would crest. When I thought she was on the brink, I fastened my lips around her clit and applied continuous suction. I inserted three fingers of my right hand and pumped her cunt vigorously. She screamed out, her hips pumping up and down on the blanket. I, meanwhile, held on for the ride. Her head fell back onto the blanket, her arms now flat at her sides, and her hips lifted up off the ground. I followed with my face. It was as if she was trying to get away from my mouth and trying to press harder against it all at the same time.
The wave fell onto the sand. She was panting on the blanket. Her legs were bowed out as they limply released me. I released her clit and very gently licked her inner lips, avoiding the now sensitive nub. She sighed, then sighed again. She didn’t look at me. She was still looking up at the sky when she spoke.
“That was better than the first time,” she said.
“Thank you. I have had more practice than he did.”
“Are you ready to repeat what you did next?” I asked.
She strained to lift herself a little off the blanket and looked down at me. “I’m still a little sensitive down there. I need another minute or two.”
“That’s OK, I need to get dressed first.”
She looked quizzically at me when I said that. I moved my hands through the piles of our clothes until I felt what I was seeking. I grinned as I held up the packet and raised my eyebrows. Her head fell back to the blanket; she was laughing as she did so. I tore open the packet and rolled the condom onto my erection. I knelt at her opening and rubbed the head of my dick through her hairy folds, spreading the ample lubrication. As I slid against her, a soft squick-squick sound issued forth – testimony of how wet she was. I pushed and the head pressed against her inner lips. At first, her body resisted. Then, all at once, the rubbery lips parted and allowed me entry. I slid in to the hilt, aided by her wetness. She grunted as I hit bottom and squirmed a little on the blanket. I pressed myself against her and kissed her soft lips. She, for her part, put her arms around my neck.
As the primal thrusting started, her arms slid down my back. Her soft hands felt like silk caressing my flesh. She gripped my ass cheeks roughly, pulling herself up to me and causing me to pound into her. The oral sex was delicate; this would be rougher. We were miles away from anyone so there was no need to muffle our sounds. I moaned, she groaned. I whimpered and she grunted. I looked her in the eyes and, as I entered her, told her I loved her. Her expression softened and her eyes watered. “I love you too,” she answered. The wind through the trees was our song, and the breeze was cooling our sweaty bodies as we worked towards a mutual climax.
She asked to get on her hands and knees and I moved off her. She turned away from me on all fours and looked over her shoulder in invitation. I pressed into her body, sinking myself in her wet depths. I gripped her hips and we thrust against each other, our screams overpowering the songs of the birds. Just before we came, I was getting tired (but didn’t want to stop) so I asked her to get on top. Eagerly, she changed positions. Now, I was on my back and she knelt over me. I watched in awe as her patch of hair descended towards my erection. In that position, I saw as well as felt her envelop me. Once she was seated, I delighted in watching her breasts bounce as she rode me. This was my favorite position because I had an excellent view of her body. I could watch her face contort as her orgasm built. I could play with her bouncing tits. I could watch my dick entering her pussy, returning to view moments later even wetter, before disappearing once again. She reached back with one hand and fondled my balls. The light touch of her hand elicited a louder moan from me. She was gently squeezing them. I was concerned about what might happen when she came, but the pleasure I was receiving from her overruled any concerns about future pain.
Her other hand now settled between her own legs. I watched as her index finger sought out her clit. It became apparent she was about to cum and she wanted to make me cum along with her. Her attempts were working. I felt the tightness in my balls and the thrills running between my legs. My buttocks tightened up and I thrust harder. I was determined this time to keep my eyes open and I succeeded. I’m not sure if I saw stars, but my vision darkened along the edges. Felicita’s image appeared as if highlighted. I could see her riding me more forcefully. Her face took on a relaxed blissful expression, then a look of agony. I knew it was pleasure – intense pleasure – that she was feeling. I’m not sure if the feeling of my ejaculation inside her triggered her orgasm or the contractions of her pussy triggered my orgasm. We seemed to cum at almost the same instant. Simultaneous cries of “Ahhh!” filled the air. I came so hard it was as if I was turning inside out through the opening in my dick. I poured my very essence into her body. She kept up her thrusting until she felt me soften between her lips and slip free. She fell forward onto my chest. I could feel the sweat on her breasts and the rise and fall of her panting chest. We were each powerless to move. Orgasm had sapped us of energy.
We lay like that for a long time. I think we napped, cooled by the soft breeze. The scooter kept watch over us as we slept the sleep of the satiated. I was awoken (if I had fallen asleep) when I felt her stir on top of me. She was moving off me. I felt her hand checking if the condom was still in place, protecting her womb from my sperm. It was. I opened my eyes as she got off me. It was still midday, judging by the sun. She removed the condom from my soft dick, careful to keep the sperm from spilling out. She discarded the condom into the grass. I smiled as I watched her. I was enjoying the view of her naked body in the filtered light under the trees.
“What are you thinking?” she asked me.
“How beautiful you look like that,” I truthfully answered.
“Like that? How do you mean?”
“Naked, outside. It is strange to be naked out here, but it feels so right to be doing it with you.”
She looked a little embarrassed. “Do you really think I am beautiful?”
“Yes. I said it because it is true. You are so beautiful.” I felt it in my heart when I said that. I think she wanted to protest, but the tone in my voice convinced her that disagreement was futile.
She made a face and put a hand between her legs. “I’m messy – sticky.”
“Sorry. I guess I made you that way.”
“Mmmm,” she responded with a pleasant smile. “I didn’t mind.” Then, looking at the pond, “Let’s go for a swim. You know, to clean up.”
I shrugged, and then nodded. I got up and reached for her hand. She placed her hand in mine and we walked to the edge of the pond. It seemed to be so natural to be skinny-dipping out in the open with her. I could feel the soft bottom of the pond between my toes. It wasn’t really deep enough to swim, but we were able to clean up. It wasn’t the cleanest I have ever been, but it sure was fun. Out from under the trees, the tropical sun now beat down on us. Its warmth was overpowering. Her hair color was an even softer brown in the bright light. Even her pubic hair shone a very light brown before it got wet.
After we were cleaned up, we returned to the blanket. We realized that we didn’t have towels to dry off before putting on our clothes. We walked hand in hand around the trees and the pond, waiting for the breeze to dry us. In the heat, it didn’t take long. I pulled her to me and kissed her. It felt so magnificent to feel her naked body against mine, the breeze blowing over us, the sun filtering through the trees, the birds singing. It was as if we were alone in the world. As if the realities of governments trying to keep us apart had ceased to exist.
We dressed and she started up the scooter. We bumped back along the dirt road to the deserted highway, and then she turned towards Havana. I sat back in my seat, watching her drive. I realized that most of the time I had seen her was this view – the back of a t-shirt. I would never forget the words Havana Club.
Along the way, she pulled into an Oro Negro to buy gasoline. I insisted on paying to fill the tiny tank because of the long trip we had taken. Next, we stopped at a kind of restaurant for lunch on the way back into the city. It certainly wasn’t as nice as Pan.Com. Felicita explained that this was the kind of place ordinary Cubans frequented. She also whispered to me that I shouldn’t pay with dollars here. She would pay with non-convertible pesos.
The food was cheap, as was its quality. It was a good experience for me. The menu was simple and, by the look of things, tourists rarely if ever came here. I was being shown the Cuba of the Cubans.
We returned to the waterfront as afternoon was approaching. I was surprised as we drove along the Malecon by the couples sitting atop the seawall. They were holding each other, embracing passionately, even kissing, as if they were not on display alongside a busy road. Felicita parked the scooter near the statue and led me to the seawall. She sat down and pulled me to her. I felt a little self-conscious, with traffic going by. She noticed my stiffness when she tried French kissing me.
“What is wrong?” she inquired.
“This is so public. Aren’t you concerned about being seen here?”
“Everyone does this. This is the Malecon. We call it ‘the outdoor living room’. Look around.”
She was right. As evening was approaching, couples were arriving to sit together and watch night fall over Havana. Some were obviously regulars to particular spots, as they greeted other couples. We huddle together. I asked another couple to take a picture of us and they did. As darkness approached, I was surprised at how cool it was. I felt goose bumps forming on Felicita’s arms. When I touched her arm, the goose bumps instantly went away. I smiled to myself at the effect I had on her. We sat there and kissed, like the other couples. It was so strange to be so intimate in such a public setting.
As it got later, Felicita had to take me back to the Hotel Nacional so she could return the scooter.
“Tomorrow and Friday are my days off this week. I can spend the night and tomorrow with you, if you want.” Her eyes looked questioningly at me.
A giant smile burst out on my face. “That would be wonderful! I so want to spend the entire night holding you close.”
“Then let’s go. I’ll turn in my scooter, then go home to pick up some clothes.”
With that, we putted around to the front of the massive hotel. She dropped me off on the street. I paid the fee for her scooter for the day - $48 US, plus a hefty $10 tip. She started to protest but I put a finger to her lips and said, “For meat.”
I went inside to shower and change. When I was presentable for my date, I went outside to await her arrival.
Right on schedule, Felicita got off a bus down the street. She was wearing a short dress this time and carrying an overnight bag. I kissed her and led her back to the hotel. By now, it was dark and Cuban music was issuing forth from the club in the basement across the street. We put her bag in the (our) room.
“Let’s go out dancing tonight. We have all night,” Felicita suggested.
I agreed. “What about dinner?”
“We will eat local,” she said, meaning where the local people eat. I was willing to try anything she suggested. With that, we left the hotel and visited a few clubs. At each, the distinctively Cuban music was loud. We could hear each club as we approached it from down the block. The rhythm flowed through you. You couldn’t help but start dancing. We merged into the crowds and danced the night away. When we danced, Felicita held me close and we rubbed bodies. Ordinarily, I would have been embarrassed to be dancing like that in public. I was so willing to take her lead because almost every other couple was being just as lewd. It was apparently a cultural thing. I stayed hard the entire time. Once, while dancing a slow song, Felicita whispered in my ear that she was as wet as my dick was hard. Between clubs, we had a quick dinner at a small restaurant. It wasn’t as elegant as the Comedor de Aquiar, but the food was very good and the atmosphere was very Cuban. And my dining partner was as lovely as an angel. We danced for hours. Once, I tried suggesting that she might be tired and we should maybe return to the hotel. She assured me that she was fine and that we could sleep late tomorrow.
It was well after midnight when we strolled back to the hotel. We entered, Felicita on my arm, and took the elevator up to my room. We were sweaty and smelled of smoke. I suggested a shower before going to bed and she agreed. I could never tire of watching her undress. She didn’t tear off her clothes or push them down. She slid out of her clothes. Maybe it was the culture. Everything about her was fluid. The Caribbean rhythm was in her blood. I removed my clothes (not nearly as sensuously as her) and we headed for the small bathroom. I started the water and turned to her. She pressed her naked body to mine and I felt my dick trapped between my stomach and hers. With a smile, she put a hand between us, moved away a few inches, and forced my erection down until it stuck between her legs. I wasn’t sure what she was doing until she released me and I felt my dick spring up, pressing firmly against her pussy. I could feel how wet her hair was. I now used my hand to part those lips. I felt her very wet inner lips against my erection. I pulled her to me, sliding myself along her and making her groan. We slid back and forth like that a few times, then separated to get in the shower. Once under the spray, we resumed the same position. I could have spent days in the shower feeling her body against me that way. Her tits were mashed against my chest, my dick between her pussy lips, her tongue in my mouth. It was a while before we got to the business of actually taking a shower. We, of course, washed each other. For the best parts, we each chose to forego the washcloth and use our hands. It was a continuation of the sensual dance from earlier. We soaped each other’s front, then rubbed our bodies back and forth against each other. It was the most erotic way of taking a shower that I had ever experienced. I was drooling precum and I was trying to be careful that none of it could find its way to her unprotected womb.
Our hands and feet were wrinkled when we finally left the shower for the bed. Felicita apparently was intrigued by my comment the night before about sleeping nude, as she brought no pajamas. She only had clothes for the next day. That was fine with me. I had expected to sleep naked with her, after falling asleep from exhaustion. And exhaust me she tried. After we dried each other off and she toweled her hair, we fell into bed together with the lights still on.
I kissed my way from her mouth down across her throat, between her tits (taking side trips to suck each nipple), across her flat stomach until I reached her bush. I rubbed my face against her curly hair, savoring the texture. She was wet enough that even after the shower I could smell her juices. I avoided her slit as I licked the hollow at the top of her leg near her cunt, then down the inside of her thigh (smooth as silk), across her knee, down her calf and finally kissed her foot. Then a single long lick up that leg, across the top of her pubic hair and the same way down the other side. Her slit glistened with the juices that were oozing out and her hips were making a little thrusting motion of their own volition.
She watched me wordlessly, enjoying the torture. Her heavy breathing told me how much she was enjoying this treatment. As much as I wanted at that moment to plunge my throbbing dick into her wetness, I continued teasing her. I was enjoying exploring her body, getting to know every inch intimately. When I finished her legs, I kissed her sides just above her hips. She cooed appreciatively as my lips sucked on that most ticklish of spots. Next, I gave her pussy the attention it could stand waiting for no longer. I ran the tip of my tongue along her slit, tasting her ample wetness. At the top of her slit, I probed around for her clit with the tip of my tongue. When I found it, I knew she would gasp. I was ready for it. As my tongue made contact, the electric shocks shooting through her body were intensified by my middle finger suddenly thrusting deeply into her cunt. The gasp found a voice as a shriek. I was watching her across the top of her bush and I smiled (as best I could with my tongue sticking out) while I watched her reaction. That was the first time I had penetrated her and she was anxious for it. I pulled the finger out and returned with two fingers. Her eyes opened a little wider. I pulled two fingers out and returned with three. Her eyes again opened wider. I pulled those fingers out and inserted all four fingers. Only my thumb was outside her hole. She put her hand on mine and started fucking herself. It was as if she was masturbating, using my hand as a dildo. I rolled my fingers into a thick cylinder and savored the feeling of wetness as she drove me in and out of her body.
While she was doing this, I moved my tongue higher, replacing it with my thumb, which kept up a steady pressure rubbing over her clit. Her eyes were starting to close. I worked my way up, sliding along her body until my face was even with hers. While she fucked my hand, she eagerly kissed me. It excited me even more that she was kissing me so deeply even though I knew I must taste and smell like her pussy. If she even noticed, she didn’t mind. Maybe she was so far gone with her impending orgasm that she didn’t notice. Regardless, I enjoyed being pressed against her and inside her as she came. When she did, she suddenly held my hand still inside her pussy. Her legs clamped down on both our hands and I could feel her contracting hard around my invading fingers.
Once she recovered, her legs relaxed. She winced as she pulled my hand out of her pussy, apparently because she was now so sensitive. When she released my hand, I let her watch as I brought the hand to my mouth and licked her juices off. I did this right in front of her face. I knew she could smell her juices and I held her eyes with mine as I sucked and licked each finger clean. When I finished, she grabbed my face with both of her hands and kissed me deeply. This made my dick throb against her stomach. She released me slowly and we were both panting.
“Are you ready to put that big thing inside me? Your hand was nice but your dick will make me cum harder,” she told me.
“I thought you might still be sensitive from your orgasm.”
“I’m ready for you now. Take me,” she offered.
I rolled over to open the nightstand drawer and felt around for the box of ‘love rubbers’. She lay on her back with her legs now spread wide as she watched me cover my dick. When I was ready, I moved on top of her. Her right hand reached out to guide me to where we both wanted me to be. I felt her heat through the condom immediately. She pressed the head against her opening with no preamble. She was as anxious as I was. For my part, I slowly pressed inward so I could spread her pussy open and enter as soon as she was ready. She would have none of that. Once the head was inside her pussy and no longer needed guidance, she put both hands on my butt and pulled me to her as she thrust upward. Even though I was fully erect, she was so wet that I sank in to my balls. It wasn’t instantly; I still had to slide in as her pussy gradually opened to admit me. She forced me into her cunt. There was no withdrawing and pushing again. It was a continuous motion inward. The feeling was of tightness and yielding. It was exquisite, but I was concerned that it hurt her. She never showed pain on her face. Maybe she was so wet by that point that I could slide right in.
When she had me seated, she moved her hands up my back to my shoulders and pulled me down to her, her legs sliding across mine and up to give her something to pull against as she move her hips. We settled into a fast rhythm. Our bodies made a slapping sound, accompanied by an occasional “Ungh-ungh” from one or both of us. This was the culmination of the teasing and foreplay of the dancing. This is what our bodies had really wanted to be doing when we were in the clubs. Now the limits of our passion knew no bounds. We made noisy love in the bed.
I lasted longer than I thought I would. Watching her face as she came finally did me in and I pumped the condom full of sperm deep inside her. I got up and held onto the spent condom while I pulled out of her. Kneeling between her legs, I removed the condom and started to throw it away but she stopped me. She took the condom from me and poured some of the sperm onto each of her nipples as I watched in amazement. The thick white fluid ran down each nipple. She dropped the empty condom onto her stomach and used her palms to catch my cum. She smeared it all over her tits. They were shiny with my juices. Her tits were firm, but just large enough that she could put them up and suck her nipples, tasting me on them. I gently explored her pussy with a finger as I watched her. When she finished, she looked down at me and asked, “Did you enjoy that?”
“Oh, yes,” I answered. “That is so sexy.”
“My nipples are really sensitive. I love to play with them when I’m masturbating. Sometimes, I even suck them. I have to really stretch to do it, but it feels nice. Not as nice as when you suck on them, but nice.”
I bent down and licked her clit as my fingers penetrated her for a few minutes, then got up on my knees. I kept thrusting my right hand into her pussy while I stroked my dick with my left. She enjoyed watching me masturbate. When I was fully hard again, she suggested getting on her hands and knees so I could fuck her again. I wasn’t about to pass up an offer like that, so I leaned over and retrieved another condom. She took it from my hand, however, and rolled it on me herself. When she finished, she turned around and presented her pussy to me as she supported her upper body on her straightened arms. As I penetrated her, she wiggled her ass a little. I pushed fully into her and began pounding. She was as into it as I was. She swayed front to back as I pumped in and out of her. Her ass was smacking against my stomach. The opening of her pussy held my shaft tighter in this position. When I felt like a throbbing was starting in my dick, I pushed her forward. She collapsed her arms and put her face down on a pillow but her ass was still in the air. I pulled her legs out from under her so she fell facedown onto the bed, pulling away from my dick in the process. She took it all in stride. She was lying with her throat on the pillow and looking at headboard, waiting to see what I was going to do next.
I trapped the head of my dick in her cunt, and then put the palms of my hands on her ass cheeks. Pressing down on her ass, I moved until I was over her pussy and pushed my dick straight into her. This caused my dick to rub hard against her G spot as I entered her. I held this position as I started fucking her again. My stiff dick was forced to bend as it entered her. Her sensitive spot was taking the brunt of the punishment. Quickly, her moans indicated she was enjoying it. I liked the view of her back. When I took that first ride in her scooter, all I could see was the back of her t-shirt. I was undressing her with my eyes. Now, I was seeing her undressed, and feeling her pussy around my dick. I could feel some of the hairs around her opening pulling on my shaft as it emerged wetly from her. Before I was ready to change position to further delay my impending orgasm, her moans reached a crescendo as she came. She moved her hands underneath her to squeeze her nipples. I held on for the ride.
When she finished, I offered to let her get on top. She eagerly accepted. I pulled out and she moved aside. When I lay down, I could feel the wet spot she had been creating. Feeling the sheets wet with her juices only excited me more. I barely had time to think about this when I felt her pussy impaling itself on my cock. I watched fascinated as I disappeared into her body. She was now kneeling astride me. Her lips were mashed against the hair at the base of my cock. She was looking at me and grinning.
“That feels so good,” she said, her voice a little deeper than usual. She clenched her internal muscles, massaging me. When she saw the reaction in my expression, she continued, “Oh, so you like that. I’ll do that more often.” Now her face was screwed up in concentration as she worked her muscles. I was going nuts with the sensations. Fortunately, she couldn’t keep it up too long or that would have been the end of that session. She gave up and started bouncing up and down. She played with her tits as she did. I just laid back and watched. Her dance of self-gratification was so erotic. She was doing it for herself and, at the same time, trying to please me. The two acts were intertwined; each fed the other. Time marched onward as we enjoyed each other. It was only the two of us. Thoughts of the world outside the window that was working to keep us apart were banished. When her legs grew tired of riding me, I worked my hips to supplement the motion. Each of us watched the other as we built towards our peaks. I lasted a long time, having cum once already that evening.
Knowing her legs must have needed to be stretched by then, I convinced her to stand and face the mirror with her hands gripping the edge of the desk. I stood behind her and mounted her. She was watching my reflection. I could see it in her face the moment I penetrated her. As her tightness gripped my cock a feeling of blissfulness captured her expression. I pushed fully into her. As I hit bottom, her tits bounced with the impact. We both stood with legs wide apart for balance. I gripped her waist and pounded. It wasn’t gentle; we were far beyond that. We both needed to cum now. As I thrust into her she was pushing back against me. We grunted more than moaned. I could feel a throbbing starting in my prostate, moving to my balls and finally my shaft. Meanwhile, her pussy was starting to contract. Her face was awash in a look of supreme pleasure. In the mirror, I could see her eyes had closed and she looked so happy. When I could hold back no longer, I pushed as far into her as I could and held myself there. I emptied myself into the condom, and into her body. She tried thrusting against me a few more times, but then pressed back against me and held herself there. I could feel the warmth as I filled the condom and I knew she could feel it as well. I reached around her with my right hand and rubbed her clit. With my left, I massaged her lips around my shaft. She moaned softly in appreciation.
When I was finished cumming inside her and starting to soften, I gripped the ring of the condom and slowly removed myself from her body. She was very wet so she still dripped even though my sperm was contained. I caught the drip with my other hand. She thought I was masturbating her so she smiled and worked her bottom in a circular motion around my hand. I continued to please her as I held the filled condom. It started to slip off my dick so I worked it off and held it to the side. She opened her eyes and smiled at me. When she saw the condom she knew I was finished. She straightened up and reached for the condom. I let her have it. She looked at it and played with the warm sperm through the latex.
“All that was meant for me?” Felicita asked.
“Yes. I wish I could have left it in you.”
“Perhaps someday, when things are different, we can make babies, yes?” She was looking not at me, but at the sperm filling the bottom of the condom.
“Someday,” I agreed, “when things are different.” My heart felt ripped apart as I said that – as I faced the reality that this union was doomed to separation in a few more days. We both knew it, but we didn’t want to face it. Friday would mean a tearful separation, but with the promise of a reunion at some future time.
She kissed the end of the condom, then looked at me in the mirror and smiled. I smiled back. I stopped moving my hand and pressed it against her mound. I could feel her wetness in my palm.
“I think I need a shower,” she suggested.
“I think so, too. Let’s take one together, and then get some sleep. We can make love again in the morning.”
“Mmmm, that sounds nice.” She straightened up and we moved into the bathroom. She dropped the used condom into the trashcan where it landed with a splat. I started the shower and turned to her while we waited for the water to heat up. She put an arm around my neck and pulled me into a kiss as her other hand grabbed my ass. I felt her bush against the top of my softened shaft. We kissed until I felt the bathroom steaming up.
“I think you’re making me steam,” I joked. She laughed as I pulled back the shower curtain, and then followed her into the water. Just as I was getting in the shower, I looked back to make sure we had dry towels. A shine on the floor caught my eye. She was so wet that some of her juices had dripped onto the tile floor. The sight started me on my way to another erection.
She noticed my growing dick and sighed approvingly.
“That thing is never satisfied,” she said. Before I could add, “Sorry,” she continued with, “I’m glad.”
I pulled her slick body to me under the spray and we hugged. Taking a shower with her was always fun, an adventure in exploring the female body. We washed each other, then I knelt down to taste her. She was so clean that the taste was mostly soap, but I knew that would change when we got back to the bed. We got out and dried off. She headed towards the bed, but pulled back the curtains first and looked out over the waterfront. I sidled up behind her, pulling the curtains closed behind me and pressing my renewed erection against her smooth ass, then put my lips to her ear. As I began to speak, the feel of my breath on her ear caused her to shiver.
“Someday, this will be a free city, and we will
live in it together.”
“Do you really think so?” she asked softly.
“Yes, it has to change eventually. It has changed in other places. Cuba will be next.”
“Viva Cuba Libre,” she said forlornly. Then, “I hope I can wait that long.”
“I will wait. I will return to you somehow.”
She didn’t answer. She pressed her bottom into me, then turned around to face me. There were tears in her eyes. She put her arms around my neck. I wrapped my arms around her and we kissed. I could feel her sobs as we embraced. I leaned back onto the bed and pulled her on top of me. We didn’t talk for a long time; we just held each other. I got up and turned out the lights, then returned to her. It must have been hours before I fell asleep. I remember hearing her breathing deepen after a long time, so she fell asleep before me. I was thinking about Friday, and about the days and months after that. I’m sure she was thinking the same thing. Before she fell asleep, I felt more tears falling onto my chest. I wanted to calm her fears. I wanted to take her home with me. I wanted to stay here with her. I wanted so many things that we both knew I couldn’t give her. All I could do was lie there and hope that the political realities keeping us apart would change for the better. It wasn’t a real solution, but it was my last thought before I fell asleep.
To Be Continued in
Chapter 4 –
The Shopping Trip
This story is Copyright © 2004 by Strickland83. All rights reserved.
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