Honey Flava

He nibbled her nipple gently while sliding his left hand into her pants. Softly his fingers slid up and down the wetness of her outer lips, then into the wetter, warmer, enflamed folds of her inner vulva. When his fingers found her clitoris, it set her on fire like she had never been in her life. Hot spasms of desire intensified her moans. She breathed as if she were on a treadmill running full speed. She pushed her crotch against his hand and pressed her breast almost painfully against his open mouth.

She wanted the dark Latino desperately and she wanted him now; hard, fast, and vicious. As if sensing her thoughts, he stripped off her pants and eased her gently onto the bed.

For a moment he stood still, absorbing her with his eyes. Enjoying his obvious voyeurism, she eased seductively farther up on the bed. On hands and knees, he followed, catching her legs and pulling them apart as she reached the pillow. He stretched his body atop her, buried his hands in her long, silky hair, and kissed her hard, probing her mouth with his tongue until her lips felt like a sex organ she had never known she had. His hot, protuberant erection lay unyielding between them.

“I’m hungry to taste you,” he whispered as he began a long teasing trip toward heaven. He nibbled at her ears and neck before again licking and sucking and kissing her sensitive breasts. She nearly screamed at the pleasure he was giving her. Having never been touched and wanted like this, she wondered how she had lived without it. And why.

His breathing quickened and his moaning competed with hers. He licked his way to her navel, probed it briefly, then swirled his tongue lower, much lower. He lifted her legs up and farther apart and went down. His tongue began its delightful torture at the base of her crotch, then moved up slowly between her thighs, stopping just outside where she most wanted it. Alternating from side to side, using the top of his tongue, he drove her to sexual madness. She grasped both sides of his head, placed his tongue directly between her legs, and guided him as he licked and swirled upward. His mouth found her clit, causing her hips to lunge uncontrollably as she groaned and moaned and mumbled nonsensically.

Within a minute her moaning soared to a scream and she climaxed against his tongue; her entire body radiated with painfully intense pleasure. He completed the fury of her spasms by keeping steady pressure and strokes against her convulsive thrashing until the last of the continuous orgasm left her fighting for air. Releasing his head, she dropped her arms limply to her sides.

He remained in position for a moment, keeping his tongue pressed against her clit while inserting his forefinger inside her, moving it slowly in and out. She felt the last vestiges of her contractions thunder sweetly within as her pussy involuntarily grasped his finger; she purred low moans of unbelievable satisfaction.

When her quivering abated, he returned to her side and said, “Don’t let anybody ever tell you you’re not sexy as hell. You look good, feel good, smell good, and taste good. You fucking blow my mind.”

He held her in his arms, landing soft kisses across her face and down her neck. His erection had not softened. After the pleasure he had just given her, she could not deny him anything, nor did she want to.

“I want you inside me now,” she whispered, and rolled him to his back, straddling his body. She grasped his penis and slid the head against her outer wetness before dipping it into her velvet sheath. She felt him respond, push slightly, and her desire rose from a smoldering kindle to a merciless inferno. Her inner walls burned in anticipation of complete fulfillment. Despite her profuse wetness, he made no progress past a couple of centimeters. Though she longed for all of him, she realized she was afraid of his size. If he wasn’t a gentleman, he could hurt her badly.

“Relax,” he whispered, “I’ll be very gentle.” He cupped his hands under her buttocks, lifting her slightly and kissing her passionately. She took deep breaths, let her muscles relax, and pressed down against him. He continued to push into her with short, thrusting movements as she pulled him into her harder, utterly turned on now and uncaring of discomfort. She bucked too forcefully and the head of his penis plunged inside, exploding needles of exquisite pain within her.

She cried out and he froze, holding his position, waiting for her response. Her pain was nothing compared to the pleasure. She relaxed and pushed down again. Another inch slipped inside and there was no pain. She smiled with satisfaction and said, “I want all of you.”

Slowly, gently, he slid his way deeper and deeper inside her. He moaned with animal desire as he violated the depths of her willing vagina until she took him completely, inch by exquisite inch. His immensity filled and stretched her; his increasingly urgent movements applied the perfect friction to sate her long-denied hunger. She fed on him, sucking and milking him with her muscles, showing him it was okay to be less gentle now, savoring his penetration as his girth stretched her to the point of never-before-felt pleasure, touching places no man had reached.

His first strokes were slow and deliberate, yet urgently demanding. Then, as if sensing she was nearing another climax, he grabbed her ass and rolled her underneath him. He increased the speed and depth of his thrusts, pounding and throttling inside her while they clutched and grasped at each other like feral beasts. Now she grabbed his ass and kneaded his flesh. Her arousal surged higher from feeling his muscles thrusting and pumping heatedly into her, his skin slippery with sweat.

Suddenly he stiffened, trembled, and grunted wildly. His facial muscles tightened and his eyes squeezed shut as if he were in pain. His penis swelled and pulsed to an even greater fullness as he plunged into her until their pelvic bones ground together. Then he exploded inside her. She felt every throbbing convulsion of his ejaculation, stretching her with hot spurts of electric tendrils, leaving her breathless, astonished, and moaning. Her body screamed with indefinable sensations that intensified repeatedly as his powerful contractions extended her pleasure. It seemed like hours before their shared orgasm ended. Both gasping for air, they remained together a few minutes before he finally softened and slipped away. While they recovered their breath, they held and touched each other like familiar lovers.

“Until today,” he whispered, “I never made love with an Asian woman. I’ve often thought how it would be, but it was better than I ever imagined, much better. It would be so easy to fall for you.” He pulled her close and she kissed him in return.

“I should really leave now,” she whispered, unsure what to do or say.

“I know. But please, let me have you just one more time before you go.”

She smiled at his desire. “Yes,” she said, and began her own journey down his chest. “But first there is something I need you to teach me.”

Later, when their passions were drained, Lang slipped back into her clothes and gave him a quick kiss, not really wanting to leave, but keeping herself in motion. As she reached the door, he stopped her.

“I’m Lorenzo, pleased to meet you,” he said, grinning. He grabbed her hand and shook it.

Lang laughed, realizing they hadn’t known each other’s names. “Just call me Lang. And the pleasure has most certainly been mine.” She winked as a warm blush touched her cheeks.

“I want to see you again. You’re truly the most incredible woman I’ve ever known.” He held her hand, his voice hoarse and deep. “When is your next trip to…anywhere?”

“I’ll be in Pittsburgh tomorrow. I’m in no hurry to get home.” She smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him softly on the lips.

As she walked back to her room, she knew she would see him often. He made her feel like a complete woman. And his phone numbers were in her pocket.

The Wicked Wahine—a Tall Tale

BETTI MUSTANG

ONCE UPON A TIME, on the little Hawaiian island of Maui, a curious Caucasian tourist entered what appeared to be a dark and run-down bar in the middle of Waikapu town. The crackling, pink neon light above the door said THE WICKED WAHINE.

As soon as his loafers crossed the threshold, an odd chill ran through his body—a strange tingling sensation that ran from his toes to his head and then back down, lodging itself in his groin.

By nature an observant kind of guy, his senses immediately picked up a few things: The small room was empty except for four young, beautiful Asian girls standing around the bar, and a haggard old woman chain-smoking thin, black cigarettes behind the counter. A strange mixture of seafood, days-old grease, smoke, sweat, and sharp perfume filled the air. The women squawked at each other in a language that his ears found abrasive, yet somehow captivating. The music that filled the room was generic pop without the vocals. For some reason it reminded him of cheap plastic. Karaoke?