0 comments/ 29868 views/ 0 favorites la guitarra By: roan barrow II Lust, Like Thirst: 1 La Guitarra These 3 stories are about sexuality and our desires for it. They explore bisexuality, homosexuality, and heterosexuality. They are not about judgments of sexual preference, but about our seeming insatiable desires regarding sex. If you have certain hangups, fine. These stories are not for masturbation. I would greatly appreciate your comments and votes. ] * * * * * I am sitting in a Starbuck's, trying to drink coffee from the cup shaking in my hands. I don't remember being this nervous about anything. [author, why am i such a dolt at the beginning of every story you put me in? can't i for once, just once, be a strong character from the get-go? development, michael. it's called character development. you're a main character and main characters always must change in a story. sometimes they get better. sometimes not. maybe you are starting strong and you'll became more of a dolt! we'll see.] I had met Roberto online in a "bi-4-bi" chatroom. He was easy to talk to, had a great sense of humor. We enjoyed many of the same interests. We're both in our early 50s. He's married; I'm divorced, maybe looking. But mostly, we weren't online to discuss cooking or Spanish music or life in the suburbs. We both really wanted to suck cock. We each had dreamed off and on about it much of our lives, fantasized about it, swapped pictures of men sucking men nine ways to Sunday We exchanged photos of each other. He wasn't the "hot shit" looker of my dreams, but he wasn't bad. 5'11", 180 pounds. In decent shape for our age. I'm sure I wasn't the spicy chorizo he had imagined in his fantasies either! I'm an inch shorter and 15 pounds lighter. I am "muy blanco," not a Latin lover he might prefer! I lift weights but am not a bodybuilder. Just enough for some tone. Most people who don't know me think I'm in my mid-40s. Neither of us had wanted a "pick-up and suck" experience. That must be him, I think. He said he'd wear a black leather jacket and jeans. Yeah, he looks like his picture, better looking in person. I look at his ass. A lot better looking in person. That'll be a nice ass to hold onto, I think. I told him to look for a guy in black jeans and black western boots with chains. Long brownish-blond hair. Still got a little hippie in me! Got gassed by Daley's pigs in Grant Park in 1968. As he waits for his order, he looks around the cafe. I don't know whether to wave or let him find me. I look at him, willing him to see me. He does, and nods his head in recognition. Shit! I can hardly breathe! Was I ever this nervous with a woman? Maybe. I watch as he approaches my table. He is not wearing underwear, his cock tucked down the left side of his levis. "Hello, Michael," he says quietly with a smile, sitting down. "Buenos Dios, Roberto!" I clumsily say, trying to rolls my R's. Nothing in our chats indicated he spoke Spanish regularly, though he has mentioned visiting relatives in Puerta Vallarta and eating pollo de mole at Las Cazuelas. He looked of mixed blood in his photo. "Nice boots, Michael!" he says. "Muy caliente!" I'm sure I blush. He laughs. I lift my cup and my hand shakes so much half the coffee spills on my lap. He laughs again. "If we were at my house, I'd lick you clean!" I feel a tingle in my crotch. [he's a nice guy. he's trying to make you relax, michael. let the story unfold. jesus, author, i'm 54 years old, never been sexual with a man, and you tell me to relax! you fucking try it! i did. relax.] We make small talk. No, the Cubs will not win a fucking thing, again. Yes, it's been a sweltering summer-and my lawn crunches beneath my feet. His brown eyes sparkle. He tries to be light and I am sodden. If this is an interview, I am not going to get the job. I answer his questions in monosyllables. I look away from him. I am lukewarm and flat, a bottle of cerveza in the sun. "Can we walk, Roberto? I need to walk these nerves off." He understands. We take our coffee outside. "Roberto, I'm sorry. I'm a much nicer person than I am showing you now," I say as we walk. "I know you are, Michael. From our chats. I am quaking too, inside. Look, I think we know what we want to about each other. We're already friends, sort of. We both like to cook. We like blues and flamenco guitar. I still like soccer much more than you. I will change your mind! Now, we've met. Why don't we just suck each other like we say we want to?" I stop and look at him. So nice and simple. No courting. No notes or flowers or conversations filled with innuendo. No parry and thrust. I smile. "I cannot wait! Really!" I say. I mean it. "Nice ass, Roberto. Very nice ass!" I think he also blushes, but he is darkened from the summer sun. "Wear those boots, Gringo. You're really sexy in them!" I never thought a man saying that would get me excited, but we part and I am half hard. A good sign. His wife knows he thinks he is bi. She understands, he said, knows something about lust herself. So far it is all just talk, hypothetical; he does not know how she will react when his desires become reality. Fuck, he says, neither does he. They have been married only a year. Her ex-husband, Bret, taught business at the University of Wisconsin. He was bisexual as well. She has told Roberto she would rather have him use their house than go to some motel or the back of a van. She is a wonderful woman, he has told me, a spiritual, sensual, beautiful woman. His bi desires do not relfect on his feelings toward her. They have a good sex life. He and I just crave cock. I arrive at his house around 10 o'clock that night. His wife usually goes to bed around 9:30. As I walk up the front stairs, the door opens. He is waiting for me. We exchange quiet hellos and he asks me to follow him to the basement. There is the faint smell of poblanos and cumin from dinner. The basement is a very nice room with a fireplace, burgundy-leather sofa, pool table. A beautiful print of Bosch's "The Ship of Fools" hangs on one wall. I see a weight machine in a corner and family photos on another wall. He has three daughters from his previous marriage, all grown. Two are married. He wants grandkids. I avoid looking at the pictures. That is his real life. I will never be part of it. I walk up to a Conde Hermanos flamenco guitar propped against a chair. I have heard that it reveals the voices of angels. "Yours?" I ask. "Si, though I am not too good. Not enough time to practice. I play for the family on holidays." Since this morning, I have settled down and simply just want him. I move to him and pull up on his t-shirt and he helps me pull it off. He is hairier than my fantasy, but as I rub his chest, he feels pleasantly furry. I bend to suck his nipples. His chest is firm, though not hard-there is just enough give for me to enjoy his breast. His nipples are hard and he moans as I suck and lick them. I have begun to have sex with a man. No turning back, now. Don't want to. In our chats, we agreed we didn't really want any of that "faggy stuff"-kissing, hugging, necking. I drop to my knees and undo his pants, pull them down, and help him out of them. I stare at the outline of his cock in his red satin thong. I kiss it and lightly bite it. Fuck, this isn't what I came here for! I pull his thong down hard and I am finally fucking face-to-face with what I have craved. I grab Roberto by the hips and I slurp him into my mouth. Oh, God, yes! He moans. I moan. Within seconds, I begin to feel the blood flow into him. I move my hands to that sweet ass and push him toward me, push his cock farther in, push his groin against my head. His hands are behind me, just holding me, forcing nothing. I suck his cock eagerly, perhaps a bit too fast. We had both joked about how women neglect balls, so I move to his. They are giant cojones! I raise his cock and lift his balls with my tongue. They are incredibly heavy and hang low. I had told him I thought about wanting to suck on low-hanging balls. His email said I would not be disappointed. I suck each into my mouth and lick them, roll them around, feeling their gravity. I hope they are filled to the brim with cum. Roberto arches back and moans. He caresses my head. Then he lifts up under my shoulders, raising me. I do not want to. I want to suck him right here, now, and mouth-fuck his brains out! "Bueno, Miguel! Great!" he chuckles a little. "Now, let me suck you." Roberto unbuttons my shirt and I become nervous again. My fantasies never involved a man doing me. They were always of me sucking. He lets my shirt drop to the floor and he draws me to him. Bare chest to chest. He is hot, his hard nipples heat mine. I reach behind him and press him to me. Both of us start breathing fast. I relax to him. He sucks my nipples and I moan. I love watching him lick them and kiss them, suck them into his mouth. He moves up my chest, continuing to kiss and suck my skin. He reaches my neck and kisses me there, all over. I grind my hips into his and Roberto presses back. I feel his rock-cock twitch against me. "Sit on the sofa, Miguel, por favor," he says leading me there. When I am sitting, he kneels in front of me, lifts each leg, and removes my boots. He then reaches for my pants, unbuckles the silver concho, unzips me, and pulls them down. I arch back and wiggle my ass. I did not bother wearing underwear. He then helps me put my boots back on. "You are so hot and sexy naked in these boots, Miguel! Grind them into my back as I suck you hard!" He puts his arms under my thighs and pulls me to the sofa's edge. He blows on my cock and balls and licks at them. ""You are a sexy suck-boy! I am going to make you feel like a sexy suck-boy!" He sucks my semi-hard cock and bobs on it, licking its underside. Licking it dozens of times, coaxing blood to fill it. I dig my boots into his shoulders, pulling him to me, and Roberto growls, sucks harder. He grasps my sack and pulls my balls into a tight mound, and sucks them, kisses them, blows on them. I dig deeper and harder into his back. I arch up, thrusting into him. He takes me easy and growls again. He tongues underneath my balls, follows my erection to its source. We had laughed online when we talked about our sizes. When I asked how big his erection is, he asked "Which one? The one a man measures or the one a man feels?" I am close to cumming and do not want to and do want to and don't want to. I not only love Roberto's suck and want it to continue for much longer, but I want to finish him before I cum, because after I cum all sexual desire leaves me. I want to keep my sexual desire for Roberto so I can suck him with wanting, not from a feeling of reciprocation. I remove my legs from his back and sit up. He looks surprised, wonders if he did something wrong. I hold his head and then I kiss him lightly on the forehead. "I am too close too fast, Roberto. If you want to finish me, then do. But I would like to take your load first." "Si. I remember what you have said. I want to finish you, but I can wait. I will finish you later, Miguel. I will have your cum in me tonight!" I stand and Roberto lays stretched on the sofa, his bronzed skin almost melting into the leather. He looks handsome and masculine, his cock laying to one side. I take a mental picture of this-I want to remember how we two virgins looked, never to look quite this way again. Then I lower myself to my knees, suck his right tit, and quickly work to his groin. I suck his cock into me and I groan. It is hot. I suck until he is steel-hard, letting him thrust up into me. He turns on his side. I lick the shaft, following each bulging vein as it criss-crosses him, firming him into rigid heated flesh. Cupping his balls in one hand, I hold his cock with the other. I impale my head on it, go fucking crazy bobbing on it. Sucking hard, not sucking at all, letting his silky skin tingle my lips. His moans tell me my suck is good. I lie flat on my back and pull him off the sofa, suck him into me again. Now, the curve of his cock matches my throat and I take him in completely. He senses the fit, and begins to fuck my face, his heavy balls gently pressed to my nose. I hold his hips as he glides in and out of my mouth. I reach around to grab his tight ass and feel his muscles tense and relax as he fucks my throat. He is fucking me faster and faster and I sense he will cum soon. "I want you, Roberto, me on my knees. You standing. I want you to grab my head and fuck me!" He laughs and stands as I kneel before him. "Si, I know, 'fuck my face'!" He grabs my head. I reach and clasp his ass and pull him to me. He plunges in and I become a suck machine, letting him pump me with his cock. I am so hot and I can barely breathe. His ass becomes a heated machine. My cheeks are sunken from my hard suck. My lips burn, and I release more spit to help his glide. Then, there's the one thrust-the one I know that just sent the signal to his brain. He holds my head tightly and firmly. He does not announce it. I lick his glans. He spurts. Three or four hit my throat, hot jizz pulsing into me. I do not swallow. I am surprised I do not choke or gag. More cum gushes onto my tongue. He is salty. His groan is from deep within, and long. More cum gushes out as I suck. More, a little more, a little more, a little more, altogether, a lot...and he is done. Another groan as he releases me. I milk him and lick the drops that emerge. He pulls out of me. Then, I swallow Roberto's seed and feel I have never tasted or felt anything so wonderful as it slides down my throat. "Yes!" I quietly say, in a quivering voice, relieved, pleased, happy. "Que?" he asks. "All these weeks of fucking talking about it and you came in my mouth and down my throat so nice and easy." I stand. "You taste better than anyone could write about!" [you should have let me do this about ten years ago, author, this bisexuality. i would've been a much more versatile character in your stories! you couldn't have done this ten years ago, michael, because i hadn't done it ten years ago! are you getting the picture? michael, sometimes you whine so, even when my life for you is good! especially when my life for you is good!] "Now it is my turn!" he says. He pushes me down on the couch and sucks me as before, spreading my legs wide, with my boots digging into his back. I dig them into him and he leans forward. I know how to make Roberto growl now! He sucks me wildly and eagerly, never stopping except to work on my balls. My mind is still caught up in his cumming that I can barely feel what he is doing. I look down and see this hot guy sucking me, bobbing his head over and over, rubbing his tongue under my cock, and I feel a crescendo of cum building inside. I use my legs to pull him forward, my heels in his shoulder blades helping him pump his head on me. He grabs under my ass and massges it with his strong hands, uses it to pump his face with me. He holds me down his throat and I exhale loudly. I cum...and cum...and cum. I feel like I'm peeing cum. It's leaving me not in spurts but in a continuous flow. I see stars. I picture my cock shooting my cum into his mouth, him swallowing, tasting me, enjoying me. We remain in our positions, quiet. He rises and stands in front of me. "Michael," he gasps to say, then stops. "Miguel...." He still cannot find words. "Muy...muy bien!" he says with a light laugh and puts his hand on top of my head. He sort of stumbles and falls down next to me. "Your cock is el grande, Miguel! Mucho cum! I thought I might drown!" We catch our breaths. "Want a Dos Equis, Miguel? Cerveza Fria?" "Oh, God, yes. Si! That would be great!" We walk to the fridge and he pops the caps off two bottles. "Come with me," he says and I follow into another, smaller room. There is a hot tub. I remove my boots and we get in. The water feels like hot silk. "To your sexy, hot yanqui bod!" Roberto clinks his bottle to mine. "To your big burrito!" I say, and we laugh and chug the beer down, all the way, without stopping. It is so cold, so bubbly, so good. We belch, and laugh. We just sit there, our elbows on the edge. I replay the thousand sensations-the nervousness, the wanting, the skin upon skin, mouth to cock, cock to mouth, the creamy saltiness of him, hot water, cold beer. I move in front of Roberto and kneel between his legs. "I want you to fuck me, Roberto. I want your hot cock in me, fucking me, grinding into me, shooting more cum into me. Will you? When you are ready?" He does not answer. We did not talk much about fucking, only sucking. He cups his hands to my ass and moves one finger to my hole. He begins inserting it and I push my ass down against it. He pushes deeper and I squirm on it. "Fuck me, please, Roberto. I am selfish. I am ready to have you there." He still does not answer. Maybe I am stepping over the line, this first time. Maybe the sucking is enough, is supposed to be enough. I move across the tub, opposite him. It is a physical distance, but there is a greater mental distance. Finally, he wades over to me. "Miguel. Si, I will fuck you, if that is what you want. It's just that...." He pauses. "It's just I do not want to be fucked back." I'm relieved. I tell him that is fine. I want to be fucked. I do not need to fuck back. Then he says, "I have not told you this. I did not want this to be part of our discussions before. You and I wanted to suck cock. That was our desire. We have done that, taken and swallowed each other's seed." Again he pauses to look for the words. "Today, I told Elena, my wife, that I had found a man to have sex with. I told her all about you, that you were handsome-for a gringo!" he laughs. "She said...." I'm a little slow here, my mind hearing the words and trying to catch up to what they mean. "Si, she would like to join us. I told her I wanted just you and me at first, but maybe...later in the evening...I would bring it up. It is your decision." I'm a bit stunned. This had never been part of my fantasy. [author, couldn't this just be a guy story? you know, two guys have sex and a good time, watch a little baseball or porn movie, shoot pool naked? you were in a guy story, michael. don't you remember 'jacks of all trades' about the male-bonding weekend? i think then you asked me where the fuck the broads were?] "She is very pretty, Miguel," Roberto adds. "I still stop and look at her beauty. But that is not where she is most beautiful!" "And what does she want? To approve me? Stamp me with a seal? Is this fucking meet-the-wife night?" I yell, far too edgy. "I'm sorry, Roberto. Really sorry. I just wasn't expecting anything like this! Why bring a woman into this?" "It is hard to describe, Miguel. There is another dimension within her that I still cannot explain, even after a year with her. She is my mentor as well as my wife. I want to share her with you. It is, shall we say, a gift to you. She has asked me to bring her to you." He is so sincere and tender. "She really does want to meet you!" "Okay, Roberto." Sometimes, letting things happen is best. [you are learning now, michael. see, you aren't the dolt you thought you were! still time, though!] He towels off, puts on a robe, and goes upstairs. I walk over to the photos on the wall-the ones that were not supposed to become part of my life. There is one older picture in which all three daughters and what I guess is the mother stand before a Christmas tree. But that was twenty years ago. What is the new wife? I feel uncomfortable standing naked in Roberto's basement while he fetches his wife for a three-way or two-way or whatever is on their minds. I decide to return to the tub. I wade in, let the warmth overwhelm me, and lean back against the wall, closing my eyes. I hear Bach's Chaconne in my memory. Andres Segovia. I drift off into my own world. la guitarra "Miguel," I hear Roberto say, and I open my eyes. "I am honored for you to meet my wife Elena." At the edge of the tub in an exquisite Japanese kimono stands the most stunning woman I have ever seen. She lets the kimono slip off her shoulders and I lose my breath. Her bronze legs rising and rising and rising on her, to beautiful, curved hips, then sloping in. My eyes move up to her breasts, small and tight. Up toward her slender neck, her black hair, long and shimmering almost to her waist, cascades over her shoulders. Much of the Azteca still graces her tropical face-high cheekbones, broad nose, full, moist lips, almond eyes. Her mons is lush and prominent. She steps into the tub and walks to me. "Hola, Miguel!" she says eagerly. "I am so pleased to meet you!" I am about to extend a hand to her but realize how stupid that would be. I still taste her husband's seed. She wraps her arms around me, pulls me to her, and kisses me more passionately than I have ever been kissed in my life. I hold her tightly to me and kiss her back. I cup her ass to my hips. I move my hands to her head and suck her tongue. Her breasts feel so full against me. Our kiss lasts minutes-or is it hours? She lightly pushes me away. "Si, Roberto. Muy bien." She turns to me. "Roberto said you were muy caliente and you are. Tell me, did you enjoy sucking my husband's cock?" This is a question right up there with when your wife asks "Do you think I'm still pretty?" The answer to either should not involve words! I take hold of Elena's hips and dip into the water. I lick her slit and she spreads her legs. I grab her ass-oh, so tight and smooth-and I tongue her more deeply and flick her clit lightly. She reaches down and presses my head to her, hard, and she grinds her clit on my tongue. I burst to the surface gasping. She talks with Roberto in Spanish. I took half a semester's worth in high school. I do not understand a word. "She is hot for you, Miguel! Gringo prick!" He laughs, and walks away, goes to the fridge, and opens another beer! I'm thinking "Meet the Wife" night is a wonderful idea! Roberto returns with a tray and sets it down. There is a bottle of tequila, a glass, a small bowl of salt, a plate of limes cut into wedges. "Will you drink with me?" Elena asks. I begin to hear a guitar. Roberto?! It is the Paradetas from Ruiz de Ribayaz' "Luz y Norte." Roberto emailed me the file. It is music exquisitely beautiful and hot and passionate. She pours tequila into the glass, takes a wedge of lime. She looks deeply into my eyes as she sucks its juice. She empties the glass and then lifts my hand to her, sprinkling it with salt. Then, she slowly and oh-so-sensually licks it from my hand. She refills the glass and hands me a lime. "Cup your hands," I ask. I squeeze the lime into her hands and bring them to me. I lift them like a bowl and extend my tongue to catch the tart juice dripping from her, and cleansing my mouth. I slug back the tequila and feel it burn. Then, I sprinkle salt over her breasts and lick it from them, from her nipples. Elena moans, her head thrown back. We repeat this twice more. She clasps her hands behind my head and wraps her legs around my waist. She pulls herself to me and grinds her cunt on my half-hard cock. "I like the way you sucked me in the water, Miguel. Very sexy. Very spontaneous!" And she laughs. She lets go of me and disappears below the surface. I feel her suck me into her and her mouth is hotter than the water, moister, more silky, her full lips wrapped around it, clamping on it as she sucks me hard. Elena comes up for air. She gasps, kisses me, listens to the guitar, and smiles. "My favorite piece for la guittara!" she says. She again wraps her long legs around my waist. "I like you very much, Miguel! You are very much like me! But you are not quite shapened. Now, let us make love." I feel her guide my cock into her, and I slide in. She tightens her legs around me and I feel her cunt muscles squeeze along the entire length of my cock. Her arms around my neck, she hugs me to her so tightly I can barely breathe. Roberto's fingers fly from fret to fret, tapping the soundhole in a dance, filling the room with the voices of angels, cascading throughout. She has tremendous control of her muscles and Elena's cunt milks my cock, starting at the base and working toward the head. I do not thrust or even move within her. Her mind and her control are fucking me. I pull her ass more tightly against me. No, now I feel-she is not fucking me. Elena's making love to me. She kisses me and it is so tender and deep. Her lush lips cover my mouth and her tongue explores it passionately. My arms around her waist, she leans backward and rests on the water's surface, still massaging my cock with her cunt, her arms extended. She arches back and I see how taut her torso is, how her breasts and nipples create the topography of her. The Paradetas reaches its climax and Elena's cunt squeezes my cock one more time. I cum into her. I hold her tightly to my hips and cum. Semen flows from me into her like a rushing river. She arches farther back and moans a low but hard moan. She quivers. When I am done, I feel her milk the last drops, but my erection remains. La guitarra is silent. The room is silent. I am breathing too hard. She rises, clasps her hands behind my neck, and kisses me briefly. "You loved sucking Roberto's cock, the way its curve fit your throat. His seed is caliente and tastes good, does it not? But you love my cunt, too, si? You loved the way I could milk your seed. You love my woman's body? My legs, my breasts, my lips and tongue exploring you, eh? I felt love from you just now. Do you love me?" She laughs. "But you are still hard, Miguel. Are you not pleased?" She looks at me for an answer. "Oh, I see. I thought you might know. But you still lust." [know what, author? why is it that i never know? why am I always the fucking scarecrow looking to find a fucking brain?! not the brain, michael. how do you feel in your soul? in my what?] "Elena," I say, my head next to hers. "Are you an angel from God?" "Of course!" she says. "Bueno. You understand that part, Miguel! Si, Roberto is an angel from God too." She pauses and looks into my eyes. "You are an angel from God as well, Miguel. Did you not know that? That God sent you to me today!" She laughs, licks my ear. I still feel my hard cock inside of her. I thrust lightly. "No, Miguel! You cannot fuck me!" she says quietly and firmly. "I will not allow you to fuck me! You must always make love to me. Fuck somebody else if they want you to. Come with me." She leads me from the tub and dries me off, places a robe over my shoulders. "Why don't you take a drink to Roberto, por favor? For his song. I will be along," she says. I pick up the tray and go into the other room. Roberto sits in the chair, la guitarra tucked to his chest. I hold the tray before him. "Si," he says, "muchos gracias!" He fills the glass half full, sucks the lime, and chugs the tequila. I wait for him to take salt. "No salt, thank you, Miguel. In Mexico, we do not take the salt." I set the tray on the coffee table and sit on the sofa, pour myself a drink, and chug it. Roberto looks my way. "Just a gringo," I say, smiling. He nods, and begins softly playing the Bacas from "Luz y Norte." "You lied," I say. "You play like Segovia!" "You are too kind, Michael, but thank you!" He plays, lost in his music. "Roberto, you serenaded us while we fucked!" I say. "Oh, Miguel, you and Elena did not fuck. I would not play if you fucked. You cannot fuck Elena. Did you fuck or make love?" He pauses. I do not answer. "Bueno! You made love. Of course! That is her way." "But the act is the same, Roberto. You sat here and played music while my cock was inside your wife, while I shot cum into her." "It is not the same, Michael. No! It is the difference between a breeze blowing across a pond and a huracan churning the deep sea. You see, Elena has me here, as she has you," and he points to his head. "She has you and me here too." He points to his heart. "The difference is that at the end of this day, you will go home and I will sleep with her, wake up to her, spend all day Sunday with her. You cannot know until you share an entire day with Elena. A year." He pauses. "Now tell me, Michael, do you still want me to fuck you?" "Si." Roberto shakes his head. "Then come here and suck me to hardness." Roberto puts the guitar down, opens his robe, and lies back in the chair. I bring the tray with me and kneel before him. I squeeze lime juice on his cock and suck it in. I pour tequila on his balls and lick it up. I sprinkle salt all over his groin and lick it up. Roberto groans and raises his ass off the chair. I cup it and bring him toward me. As he gets firmer, I suck hard on his cock, suck it full down my throat. I suck in each of his balls. I lick his hood. He is rock-hard, ready. I stand by the pool table, grab its edge, let my robe fall. Roberto rubs some lube into my hole, probes it, stretches it. I spread my legs wide. I feel his thick cockhead against it. "Roberto, please fuck me!" He pops the head in and stops. Pain shoots through me. I ease back on him and take him deeper. More pain. I plunge down on his cock and let the flash of light and heat overwhelm me. "Fuck me!" I say. He begins slowly, not pulling back much, not pushing forward. He speeds up some, the withdrawal and thrust a little longer and harder each time. The pain subsides and I feel his massive, hard, hot, throbbing, pulsating, twitching cock fucking me. I hear Roberto grunting with each thrust, hear his body slap into mine. My mind flashes to him tenderly sucking me, to me sucking him, to Elena licking salt from my hand, she making love to me, me licking salt from her breasts, our deep kiss. The pain returns tenfold. The grunts suddenly seem dirty and perverse. I am just a hole for this guy standing behind me to shove his cock in and out of. This is not how I want to feel. I'm about to stop him when he pulls me back hard on him, growls, and I feel his heat pulse into me. He pounds into me more and I want to scream from the pain. He lets go of me and falls back in the chair, head back, eyes closed. I feel terrible. I hurt immensely. As my upper-half collapses on the pool table, Roberto's cum drips down my leg. I feel Elena up against me, pulling me to her. I fall into her arms and she holds me. She wraps the robe around me and then leads me to the sofa. She holds me in her arms, hugging me. "Did you like getting fucked, mi Miguel?" I shake my head no. "Why did you let yourself be fucked? What did Roberto do to make you want him to fuck you? Do you think he enjoyed fucking you?" Roberto begins to play "Espanoletas." "Do you like letting your lust control you?" "Oh, shut up! Just fucking shut the fuck up!" I scream to myself. "Self-righteous fucking cunt-bitch! Who the fuck are you with your fucking moral-ass questions!" I do not weep but I cry, inside. She rocks me like a mother. "The lime awakens the mouth. For the tequila. Then, you drink the tequila for its heat that radiates throughout you, that makes love to every pore, every cell. The salt is the spice afterward, the spice that settles the heat into a glowing ember. Roberto does not take the salt, is not ready for the spice. I saw you drink the tequila in this room to get drunk. To get the courage to be fucked. "In Cabo San Lucas, in Baja, I lusted to be fucked. I used to let men fuck me for money. I would take their money and their semen and then I would give the money to my pimp and all I had was semen and I lusted for more. I danced on their backs and pissed on them. They would ask me to. I satisfied their lust and mine, but never the heart. I was never satisfied. Lust is like thirst--you can only quench it until it returns, then it must be quenched again...then again...then again "A man vacationing from Wisconsin saw me on the street. He looked at me like no other man had. I felt shame and looked away. He turned my head to him and he looked into my eyes. He wanted me for the night and I said he couldn't pay. He could. He put his arm around me and held me. He took me to a very nice place for dinner. People laughed when they saw me--a prostituta in a restaurant! Someone asked the maitre d' to tell us to leave. Bret ordered him to please serve us our vina. We drank Rioja. We did not talk much. I went to his room to satisfy his lust and mine, and to thank him. He showed me the bathroom and gave me a pair of his pajamas. I bathed. I came out holding the top so he could see my breasts. He touched them delicately and then took the top for me to put on. He told me in broken Spanish to just sleep. "That night I dreamed I was on a ship that was on land. All on board were craving food. We had not eaten for days. The captain dangled a loaf of bread before us and we rushed toward him, crushing each other to satisfy our hunger. But the bread was out of our reach. Many in the crowd died. I turned to walk away and a man in a robe offered me honey and olives. He caressed my hair. I ate. "When I awoke, the man from Wisconsin was sleeping naked on the covers by my side. I kissed him and he turned to me. 'Fuck me,' I said. He asked 'Why would you want me to do that to you?' Then he made love to me for hours. He touched everywhere it hurt. The first person to do that. My lust left." Elena pauses. "I have never let anyone fuck me since." Elena stands. She is so radiant in her kimono. "I feel so stupid. Immature. So selfish." I shake my head. "I just want to disappear," I say, staring at the floor. "You really are an angel, aren't you?" She laughs. "No. I lied to you before, Miguel. I am no angel. Some people live and act because they do not want to go to hell. I live and act because I have been to hell--and do not want to go back." She smiles. Then, thinks. "You should get dressed." She is right, but I do not want to leave. I am on the ship she dreamed about and she dangles bread before me. I sigh, deeply and wearily, and dress. "Will I-?" "See us again? What do you think, Roberto? Will we see Miguel again?" "Why would we not, Elena?" he asks. "It would be your choice, Miguel. It is always your choice. You must learn that, as I had to." "I want you to love me!" I almost plead to her. "Oh, Michael, oh Miguelito! I do love you! Roberto loves you too!" "Here," I say, pointing to my heart. "Where else would I love you, Miguel?" Roberto strums his guitar, slapping the soundboard with his cupped hand, like the click of castenets. He has the expressive touch of a virtuoso. Elena walks up to me. She reaches for my hands and cups them in hers. She pulls me toward her and kisses me lightly but with no less sensuality than before. "Vaya con Dios, Miguel," she says quietly. "I will, Elena. Promise!" [drive home, now, michael. i have some questions for you. a pop quiz, author? fire away! how do you feel? empty. i learned too much about what I do not know, but i think i can learn much from elena. roberto too. do you think lust is good or bad? is thirst good or bad? lust is what it is. Lust is the face of desire that cannot ever be satisfied. can you control lust? yes. i think so. i must learn to let it go. will you control your lust, michael? i don't know. elena says it is always my choice, so when that time comes, I will have to choose. what else did you learn in school today, michael? i think i learned something about love. i learned i love elena. and what is love, michael? oh, author, i'll only tell you if you put me in another story with elena! bueno! very clever, michael! we'll see.] Command + S