Sensuality

I gave him a wicked smile.

“You know I do. Stop torturing me.”

I slid my panties down my legs and stepped out of them before turning around and bending low, affording Andreas a spectacular view of my assets. When his moans grew unbearable, I stepped up on the bed and placed a foot on either side of his head. I started dancing again. He stared up at my pussy. I bent l

ow, until I was mere inches from his face. He inhaled me deeply into his lungs.

I played with him, lowering my body to his face, then standing up again and taking away the object of his desire. When he started to curse and beg for it, I sat on his face, finally giving him what he craved. His greedy mouth assaulted me. He lapped at my body. He rolled his tongue in at the sides and burrowed it deep into me.

“I want to taste you, too,” I whispered.

I turned around and slid down his body and buried my fingers in his chest hairs. I grabbed one of his nipples between my teeth and pulled gently.

“Baby, that feels so good,” he said. Spurred on by his pleasure, I slid further down and grabbed his mammoth penis.

He was already starting to cream. I licked up the salty liquid with the tip of my tongue. I cupped his heavy balls in one hand while I gorged myself on him. When my mouth grew tired, I caressed him with my breasts and hands. I ran his large head around one stiff nipple before placing both into my mouth. I feasted on him and myself until I felt the first tingle of release. Andreas cried out with pleasure when I finally untied his hands.

I grabbed his penis and straddled him. With his strong muscles, he pushed up into me. I moaned as my body started to tremble. Our lovemaking was raw and savage. It was animalistic, with bared teeth and Neanderthal grunts. Andreas let out a loud roar as his body finally exploded. I felt more than his semen gushing into my body. All of his strength, his life essence, flowed out of his body into mine. In that instant, I knew a part of his soul would always belong to me.

I bucked as if I was riding a wild horse. I cried out his name as I came. His warmth flooded my body, filling me with pleasure and love. In our release I found the strength to tell him that I loved him. When he whispered the same words to me, I started kissing him softly. Our bodies responded. Our loving was filled with promises.

The new dawn brought a new outlook on life. I could look to the future with a love I could trust. I still find it poetic that in a beautiful but scared country like Cuba, I’ve finally found freedom and true love.

Picture Perfect

Leni Davidson

“Please don’t tell me you’re seriously considering doing this. Lyd. Lyd, do you hear me?” Pilar’s words fell on deaf ears as her best friend continued rummaging through her clothes, looking for the right outfit to wear.

“She’s a grown woman, Pilar. Let her be, if that’s what she wants to do,” Simon added, ignoring Pilar’s rants for sanity.

The trio had been best friends since childhood and had recently become roommates, as well as business partners, since opening the Smokescreen, an urban coffeehouse. When they were in agreement there was harmony, but when they disagreed the sounds of their high-pitched voices shrieked like an angry wind.

“Listen, Mr. Thang, I’m not trying to stop her. She’s just not thinking straight,” Pilar snapped back, her blood starting to boil.

The Latina was nothing if not fiery, and when it came to her friends, she often smothered them with being overprotective. Although Simon, who struggled with his bisexuality, found Pilar attractive, she was too aggressive for his own taste. He ignored her snide remarks about his lifestyle, but knew she meant well. The two of them warred constantly—a dark-skinned gay man and a Hispanic freak. Lydia always said their sexual desire for each other drove them to the brink of heated words.

“Passion is the underside of hate,” she would always tell them. But this time, their argument wasn’t centered on them, but their friend’s unwarranted intentions.

Lydia Freeman, at thirty-five, felt attractive, sexy, and desirable. At least, she had felt those things until her latest main squeeze, Jarvis, had dumped her for another man, of all people. Simon tried to warn her that he was down with the club, but an angry Lydia had surprisingly told him to mind his own business. Ever since then, he never interfered in her life unless asked. While the breakup didn’t hurt her badly, her self-esteem had taken a huge blow.

Women, by nature, gain power from their beauty. It’s been that way since the days of Cleopatra. What’s a woman to think when a seemingly straight man doesn’t want to be with a woman who’s beautiful, but with a man he thinks is more beautiful? Like most women, Lydia didn’t understand the difference between the mind-set of a straight man and a gay man. She only assumed that Jarvis’s lack of interest had more to do with her shortcomings. So, like most women, she wanted to do something to stroke her ego.

Most women would have found some boy toy and rode his dick for an hour or two until that feeling of domination came back, but not Ms. Lydia. Her quest for egotism went a step further. Ms. Freeman intended on taking some professional nude photographs to remind herself that she was still sexy. Not that there’s anything wrong with doing that, many women do it. But Lydia was conservative. She didn’t own a skirt that went above her knees. Men stared at her, but more for the mystery. Behind those dark-framed eyeglasses, cashmere sweaters, and long skirts, they knew dwelt a tiger. She just didn’t know it.

So between the three friends, Pilar was the aggressive go-getter, Simon was the chic, bisexual man, and Lydia was the inexperienced tight-lip who seemed clueless about the real world.

“You shouldn’t do this because of Jarvis. He’s not worth it. I’ll snap a Polaroid, if you’re that desperate to see yourself au naturel. Why would you use Juan Cortez’s services anyway? He is a professional photographer.”

“You just answered your own question, Pilar. That’s exactly why I want to use him and, yes, this has less and less to do with Jarvis the more I think about it.”

It had taken Lydia one entire night and a bottle of their best champagne to come to that conclusion. Their sex life was lacking, to say the least, and getting his dick to stay hard had become more like a miracle that wasn’t worth the effort.

“Don’t you ever see those shows like America’s Next Top Model when those supermodels are being photographed? The photographers set the mood by telling those women how beautiful they are to get the perfect shot. It’s like the whole world stops for them. Every woman wants to be that picture perfect.”

“I think you need a therapist,” was the only response Pilar could muster as Lydia threw more of her lingerie on the floor. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Juan Cortez is soooo damn fine?”

Lydia dropped her clothes on the floor, and sat down on her bed to think about that. That was an understatement. Juan Cortez was a sexual god, or at least looked that way. He was a six-foot-two Latin stud with smooth almond skin and dimples, and a body to match. His muscles made women want to dig their fingernails into him. Not to mention that smile that could drive women wild. And then there was that Ricky Martin accent. Every word sounded so sexy. It wasn’t a wonder he was one of the most requested erotic photographers around.