Sensuality

“Everybody, I want you all to meet Solo Jakes from the Bahamas. This is my daughter, Jennifer.”

The beautiful young woman watching over the steaming pot smiled at me shyly.

A woman, with skin the color of midnight, came over from the dining area and embraced me. “I am Lourdes,” she said.

“Lourdes and I have been best friends since we were girls,” María explained.

We sat around a beautiful old dining table. There were also three men in the room. Two, like me, were foreign guests. The other, like Andreas and María, was part of a Cuban newspaper I soon learned often published pieces that got one of them arrested.

“Castro was good for Cuba,” María stated. “Before Castro, Afro-Cubans did not have as many opportunities as white Cubans. The rich had everything and all others were like dogs under their tables. What Castro did was put all of us on the same level.”

Andreas picked up her thread. “But that was only the beginning. Our people are hurting and it is time to bring Cuba out of her communist past and into the democratic future of the world.”

His eyes and voice were filled with passion. He’d talked about his ideas for a new Cuba when we first met but I didn’t appreciate it then. I could feel myself falling deeper into those eyes. Our discussions lasted well into the night.

“I’d like to show you my studio tomorrow and a little more of Cuba,” he said to me just before he left.

“I’d like that very much,” I said as I walked him outside. As we stood under the light of a full moon, I brought up that fateful day. “I’m sorry that I never came to meet you,” I told him. “I was just too afraid to trust what we felt could be real.”

“I came to your house. You had disappeared. Even though I came back home angry, I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

My heart flooded with joy. “So where do we go from here?” I asked.

“That depends on you. What do you want, Solo?”

Images flashed across the canvas of my mind. I saw myself waking up alone too many times, losing my grandfather, the only man that I’d ever allowed myself to truly love. I saw my mother, beating cancer and still enjoying life. In a year, I’d experienced enough to know that life was too short to live it in fear.

“I’m not afraid anymore,” I whispered as my eyes filled with tears. “I want this enough to trust it.”

He opened his arms and I went into them. I was shaking so badly for him to kiss me that when his mouth finally touched mine, I wanted to sob. He tasted like heaven. Boldly, I pressed my body into his. He moaned and grabbed my ass as my tongue slipped into his hungry mouth. He backed me up against the wall. I could feel the heat from his hard cock through the fabric of my dress and my desire soaking my lace panties. It would only take one push for me to explode. That push was his hand slipping down my dress and caressing one rock-hard, dark nipple.

My pussy started a twitch that soon ricocheted through my entire body. I held on to him and growled in a voice I didn’t even recognize as my own. I didn’t care about the faces I made as I came, especially as his mouth replaced his hands. As his wet tongue flicked over my nipples, I threw back my head and howled at the moon like the animal that I’d become in his arms. He held me for a long time after the tremors stopped. Then he carried me upstairs and placed me in my bed.

“Rest now,” he said. “Your loving has only just begun.”

When his pickup pulled out of the driveway, I floated into a blissful sleep.

The next day he took me to old Havana, home to the Plaza de la Catedral, a beautiful square featuring magnificent examples of baroque architecture, and El Templete, a small neoclassical temple established in the sixteenth century. After a long day, Andreas took me to his favorite restaurant for dinner. After three hours we dragged ourselves from the restaurant to a crowded bar where people spilled out into the streets. Women in brightly colored dresses, their hips sensual and proud, danced on air while supported by strong, masculine arms. They were so free, more so than I’d ever been. I realized that I’d been my own Vidal, a dictator trying to control every area of my life. On an impulse, I grabbed Andreas’s hand and pulled him into the midst of the dancers. I didn’t care that I had two left feet. I wanted to be free. I wanted to explore the feeling coursing through my veins.

Always keeping my emotions in check had become so unbearable that I’d often felt like I would explode. I wanted to explode in Andreas’s arms. I laughed out loud as he swung me around. Along with the music, a quote from Omar Khayyám kept the beat in my head. “Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.” This was my life, I thought. It was time to stop putting it on hold for self-preservation.

Andreas’s home and studio reflected his creative personality. They were both adorned with his paintings and sculptures. But I was more interested in the sculpture of his body. He lifted me in his arms and carried me to his bedroom. As we stood there, staring at each other and breathing heavily, Andreas started to strip off his clothes. The desire in my body intensified as each piece of his body was revealed to me. He made my mouth water. His face was strong, with a wide mouth that I knew would look wicked, even during the innocence of sleep. His broad shoulders and well-defined hairy chest tapered down to a slim waist and muscular legs. But it was the region that had yet to be unveiled that held my attention the longest. His erection was clearly defined through his shorts. I wanted to yank them down, to touch and taste the power between his legs. He put his fingers under the waistband but left the shorts in place.

“Don’t tease me,” I pleaded.

“Then come and get it,” he told me.

By the time I was kneeling in front of him, I already had a way to turn the tables on him. Instead of removing his shorts like he wanted me to, I started to caress him through the fabric. He seemed surprised that simple cotton could feel so good against his heated flesh. I lifted the fabric slightly between my fingers and pulled it back and forth over his shaft. Andreas groaned, the sound coming from deep inside of him.

I tortured him sweetly for a while, then replaced my hands with my very wet mouth. I sucked him through the cloth.

“Holy Mother of God!” he cried out.

I nipped at him with my teeth, secure that his sensitive area was protected by his briefs. When his legs began to buckle, I pulled away from him. An instant later, he took his shorts off. His intention was to shove his naked cock into my mouth but I had other ideas. I stood up and backed away from him.

“Lie on the bed,” I instructed. He stretched out on the bed. I leaned over him and tied his hands to the iron bed railings with my head scarf. His eyes registered shock that quickly turned to excitement. He allowed himself to be totally at my mercy. I walked to the foot of the bed and started to strip, my body sexy and graceful. One leg glided out in front, highlighting a well-defined calf and thick thighs. Slowly and mercilessly, I teased him, revealing my treasures to him for a few seconds before covering them up again. I closed my eyes and became lost in the fantasy of what I thought our loving would be like. I ran my hands over my breasts before undoing the center clasp of my bra. They spilled out. I could feel his hungry gaze on them. I lifted each to my mouth. I opened my eyes and, while looking directly into his, licked the large, dark areolas.

“Do you want to taste me?”