Moaning and murmuring as I neared her magnetically attractive garden once more, I share a reverential moment with its musky aroma before I begin to lick her inner thighs.
“Please eat my pussy,” she begs.
Licking and lapping her thick, fleshy folds, her coos are that of a kitten as I slide a finger, then two, within her honey. However, I refuse to be content with a purr. I need the roar of a mountain lioness.
Resuming my exploration of her delicious depths, the inner walls of Spain clutched at my oral telescope. Piercing her pussy with my nose, then chin, I am on a deliberate course to bring a multitude of mini-explosions from my Latin lovely. Moving from cunt to clit to cunt again, the taste of her drenched garden is awesome; and addictive, I might add.
I feel the muscles in her legs tighten as my face latches onto her drenched pussy. The needle of my compass now flat, the need to decorate every pink pussy wall with my tongue art is overwhelming. Mixing my saliva with her moisture, I was on a scavenger hunt of pleasure, looking for that special place that brings Alicia off many times over.
“Aaay, Papi…get that…oh, William…just like that…”
Her moans are an indicator of the sensational bolts of pleasure taking possession of her awesome body; her circular motion against my face tells me I found her land of milky honey.
Licking slowly, in circles around her slick, swollen clit, I flatten my tongue against it and move like a paroled butterfly liberated from its cocoon.
Peering up at my princess, I see heavenly contortions. A chorus of moans leaves her as well.
Damn, her pussy tastes good. It’s time to immerse myself once more. Munching on her precious interior, I taste the beginning of an intense orgasm. Her thick walls are absolutely scrumptious.
“Ay, Papi, you do that shit…eat that…so…fucking…good…Yes, baby, yes…”
Her purrs excite me further, so I become more determined to make her hips rise from the velvet.
She bucking against it now, trying to fight the same feeling I warred with.
Like me, she’s sees her resistance to orgasm is an exercise in futility.
“That’s it, baby…Make it cum hard…ay…ay…ay, yes…Make it cum.”
She can’t anymore. Alicia shoots a river of hot, salty j
uices from her hot spot, nearly drowning me with what I couldn’t drink. Damn, I love women that squirt.
Rising, she steps over me, her breathing staggered as she wobbles into the back of her apartment.
For two minutes, I hear water running, then silence. She returns with a soapy washcloth and basin.
“Like I said, Guillermo, I take care of my men. Now, get up,” she says.
Rising, I feel the gentle touch of hot liquid, terry cloth and tenderness wash then rinse me. Cleansed of the sticky scent of soiled foreplay, I return the bathing, and feel my flaccidity leave me once more.
“Ooh, William,” Alicia says while gently stroking its puffy rim. Our hips meet again, this time without music, and begin a slow dance. Grinding slowly, low moans escape us.
Her hard nipples feel so good against my chest. They are making the blood vessels in my dick swell even larger. It’s eager to explore something wet, warm and welcoming.
Peering deep into Alicia’s hazel eyes, I touch her vagina and feel her nice, sloppy mess again.
“Sit down and let me ride that perfect dick.”
After nearly two hours of pleasure, her voice is still like Spanish fly.
My desire to kiss her grows as long as the fire at my groin.
I sit myself on the towel that protects the velvet from our lust, and she immediately straddles my quivering column of manhood.
“Hands behind your back,” she commands.
Obliging her request, I feel my hands fastened together by the scarves. That she does this while pumping up and down on my dick is amazing.