Marina’s nerves were singing so hard she jumped when the screen door slapped shut behind her. Her pulse hammered with exhilaration. Her bikini felt smaller now than when she first tried it on and debated whether to go out and let Ryan see her in it. The stretch of the bright cords against the ripe opulence of her body dug in her flesh like restraints. Every step she’d taken in her garden under the watchful gaze of her beautifully made neighbor made the tiny garment feel smaller and tighter.
It was distinctly cooler inside the air conditioned bubble of the remote home she’d come to think of as prison. But today, as sultry patches of moisture started to evaporate off her caramel rose skin, she felt the rush hour pulse of blood pounding through the heavy grace of her thick extremities – shoulders proud and broad, round arms full of strength and graceful tenderness, pneumatic ass and thighs that could grind heroes into puddles of weak surrender – Dulce Marina Ramirez felt extraordinary
She crossed to the refrigerator and opened the door, letting the blast of even cooler air ease the voracious tingling over the surface of her skin. Propping the door open with her right hand, she let the left take a slow journey down the damp luxury of her curvaceous body. She pulled her left breast free of the slender strip covering her nipple and squeezed herself. Hard. Her nipples had been swollen ever since she knelt in the grass and felt Ryan’s eyes bee-lining onto her audaciously exposed ass.
She’d needed to get back inside before he saw how wet she was getting. He started getting so hard he couldn’t hide it anymore. She’d wanted to look at his spectacular young body without fear or hesitation, but feeling herself flush and simmer so hard was making her mind spin. Rational thought was beyond reach while her hand continued moving down until she was cupping her sensitive mound through the tapered front of her thong. Her hand was wider than the strip of fabric.
As her fingers explored the heated flesh of her inner thighs, she felt the slick of her own honey smearing her skin. She pushed aside the scant strip of fabric and let her fingers play over the shape of her pussy, stroking and teasing her lips until the heated flow of her body’s nectar seemed to be everywhere.
Marina gripped the upper edge of the open refrigerator door, relishing the play of heat and cool over the surface of her skin. The intense flush of her pussy saturated her grinding fingers while her head leaned back and her eyes closed. Images of Ryan flashed in her mind – his ripped, rigid body, glistening with moisture in the sun – the bristling bulge of his growing cock as it strained against his shorts.
She’d heard the strain of her summer neighbor’s grunting breath while his bulging arms glistened and pumped hard and fast against the heft of his barbells. She wondered if the strain of lifting weights while his cock grew hard and ravenous had made him dizzy. A soft, low growl curled through her lips like a wisp of opium smoke. Her fingers, clustered and slightly curled, mashed increasingly desperate circles against the pliant lips of her pussy. Every unforgiving degree of the day’s humid punishment felt like it was gathering in that soft pocket between her thighs.
“Ffffffuck,” she hissed as one of her fingers ground upward into the dripping void between the billowing lips of her slit.
As her finger stirred the broiling nectar deep inside the darkness of her sheath, she ripped away the strip of fabric over her left breast and clutched at herself, listening again to the huffing grunts of breath she’d heard from Ryan just moments ago. The waves of cool out of the open refrigerator only highlighted the feeling of heat rising off the knots of her mahogany nipples.
A second finger slipped in beside the first. There was a swift, rabid pumping – a sudden flurry of desperately unrestrained finger fucking as Marina yowled softly and ripped at the flesh of her heaving breast with her left hand.
Just as suddenly, she let go of herself and opened her eyes. She focused on the coolness lightly washing over her skin as she struggled against the spinning sensation in her head.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she brought the fingers of her right hand to her lips and tasted her tang. Her eyes closed again. She was luxurious and sweet, and as she sucked her own flavor off her fingers, she brought the sight of Ryan’s straining cock back to her mind. It should have been his precum on her lips now – the same texture, but the taste of a rippling young man.
She was wasting away in a beautiful nowhere, and Adonis had come down to remind her what she was made of after all the others had failed.
Marina reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a plastic bottle of water. She twisted the cap and drank, feeling the cool water flow into her body. She had the sensation of being cool inside and cool on the surface, but everything in between was burning up like a wild brushfire.
She angled the bottle over the proud jut of her exposed breasts and let water trickle over the swells. Her left hand moved over the heavy flesh, relishing the feel of her smooth, wet skin. She was about to do it again, but something made her stop. She put the water bottle back inside the refrigerator, and with a smile curling her full lips, she picked up a small carton of milk.
When she opened the carton and let the milk drip over the prodigious contours of her body, a sensation of opulence overtook her. There was something luscious and obscene about the cool rivulets of white running over her dark skin. Her free hand roamed across her shape as she let the milk drip over her in a steady flow. Her thumb moved over her swollen nipples, her hand pausing to cup and squeeze each breast as the milk flowed like a river of Ryan’s cum.
Marina shoved her left hand down inside her thong, cupping her smooth pussy, but leaving a gap to let the running milk pool between her palm and mound. There was something different in the texture and scent of the milk. As it dribbled and flowed around the finger grinding her clit, she uttered another yowl, not quite as softly as before.
The carton finally emptied, milk running down over her pussy and thighs onto the kitchen floor. She kicked off her sandals to feel the mess of it against her bare feet as she flung the empty carton on the floor.
If Daryl had been there, he wouldn’t have leapt to his feet to consume her in a spontaneous combustion of lust and desire. She could see him in her mind, sitting incredulous at the table, gaping in disbelief. He would say something so utterly clueless as to not be worth saying. Something that would only make her feel like a servant.
Marina slammed the refrigerator door shut, feeling continuous waves of need course through her body as she thought of Ryan. She untied the useless top of her bikini and dropped it into the spilled milk on the floor. She left it lying beside the empty carton and went to the kitchen window to see if he was still outside. Her bare feet were wet with milk.
“Oh…oh…fffffuck,” she said aloud, half in a moan as she looked out to see Ryan, still there, the rigid spine of his excited cock even bigger, the hard shape even more pronounced against the tight stretch of his shorts than before.
“Que pollo,” she purred, gnawing her supple bottom lip as she watched Ryan’s hand drift over his imposing bulge.
When he turned to face her house head on and shoved his shorts down to the grass, letting the naked shaft of his magnificent cock spring free, Marina gasped in surprise.
She grasped the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white, her pussy broiling with waves of fluid heat as she watched Ryan kneel in the grass. He was facing her house in a way that made her feel he was openly facing her - taunting her – egging her on with his outrageous excitement. His knees were spread wide, letting his fully laden ball sac nestle between his powerful thighs. Then he leaned backward onto his left hand while the right curled into a firm grip around his prominent shaft.
He was stout and long, with a richly flared head, as if the size and shape of his proud cock had somehow been made to match his ripped body to a T. He gave the impression full blown hardness was his natural state. The flashing shimmer of sunlight along his stalk, along with the slick, corkscrew glide of his tight hand, betrayed the steady ooze of precum Marina had only imagined. But it was so clear and obvious now, even from the window above her kitchen sink.
Monica’s tongue rolled a moist circle around her parted lips while her heart slammed and a low, groaning sigh sifted out. She gripped each of her aching nipples, twisting them hard. Her pussy flushed and seeped until the gusset of her thong felt tacky and pasted to the squeezed shape of her maw.
“Such a nowty boy
,” she crooned in the rich music of her Caribbean-Spanish accent. “Nasty boy! Flaunting that big, delicious cock.”
Her fingers clamped harder on her pulsing nipples as she pulled and twisted them. Ryan’s lips were drawn back into a desperate grimace, but as Marina watched them draw tight, she couldn’t stop feeling them in her mind, ravenously sucking the rigid tips of her heavy breasts, traveling across her skin in moist, scuttling nips as he sought to devour her body.
His fist was moving faster, pumping harder along the jutting length of his rock hard gristle. His hips were making a little see-saw rocking motion as he fucked back at his pummeling hand.
Her right hand released the nipple in its unforgiving grip and slid to her pussy. Pushing her thong aside, she widened her stance, giving her fingers room to explore her slick, fluttering petals. When her wet tongue pushed outward to trace the circle of her mouth once more, she imagined the sensation of Ryan gripping his shank as he rubbed his precum over her lips. She imagined him painting them slick and clear with the bursting tip of his cock while her tongue flashed out like a serpent to curl around his frothing dome.
“Ayyyy, fuck,” she growled. Feline. Feral. Driven by the power of her own unquenchable life-force. Taking flight on the rising waves of heat emanating through her pores.
It was like having a pussy full of wings, spreading open to beat the air until they lifted her up through the bars of her decorated cage.
Searching fingers ground along her lips, pushing forcefully into her sheath – pumping, stirring – creamy fuck-scrape of her fingers into her core. Her left hand began to feel spastic as she slapped her own quaking breast before she could think about what she was doing.
Ryan’s spine arched. His head reared backward and the force of his pounding fist on his shaft was jostling the heavy sac between his thighs. He was going completely to waste without her touch. She was going to waste without his.
Marina began to wish she’d never come inside. For a moment, she even thought about marching back outside, despite the delirious state she was in. She knew if she did there would be no avoiding the wet collision of a soul shattering fuck. He needed her to show him where his cock belonged in a way he’d never forget.
His lips parted on a groan she couldn’t hear. The sight of his mouth opening wide made her want to shove him to the grass and silence him with her lathered slit. She wanted to show him how much stronger she was, and the way the lust he fired in her blood made her rise and spin like a sudden storm.
She could laugh in his face, taunting him with how easy it was to turn his unsuspecting head in tight shorts or a low cut top. To think her thong clad gardening act had brought him to this made her want to erupt with laughter, but her body was vibrating to the very core of every cell as she thought of the shy, smoldering lust in his eyes every time they said hello. The way he would always hesitate awkwardly before walking away, as if he were always wishing there was something more to say.
Daryl’s entire existence disseminated in a puff of vapor. Her prison warden. The man who kept her in sterling plated chains, treating her as the forgotten wife he’d never had the guts to marry.
Marina’s lustful heart would explode in wet rebellion before she took one more step down that path to such a careless man’s oblivion.
As she watched Ryan’s cock stand in proud defiance, she knew the fates were smiling down on them, patiently awaiting these silly mortals to catch up with the plan.
Marina’s left hand finally clenched into a fist, making a slow motion pound against the edge of the sink while the fingers of her right mauled her distended sex lips. Her breath came in sharp, panting jolts, her fingers pumping and drumming as they couldn’t seem to decide whether to plumb her sheath or ravage her aching clit.
“Eres mio, motherfucker
,” she growled, watching the sweat-dripping interplay of Ryan’s musculature.
Nothing mattered but the discovery of how he would feel plunging inside her. Or how his ravenous body would lunge against her, thrusting hard and deep as if both their lives depended on each and every one.
They were nothing but lonely animals dropped on the Earth by calculating angels. It was their duty to fuck and live.
Marina’s fingers pumped through the gap between her yielding pussy lips until there could never be enough sensation to feed the hunger in her cells. She suddenly yanked open the drawer beside the sink so hard utensils jerked out and clattered on the floor. She gripped the metal end of the rasp for sharpening her knives, tearing her eyes away from Ryan only long enough to size up the hard, black plastic handle of the sharpener.
Fuck it. It would do.
Holding her thong aside with the left, she brought the rasp handle between her thighs with her right, pushing it through the soft resistance of her pussy lips. It was neither as long nor as thick as Ryan’s spectacular cock, but it was hard and unyielding, and it would do the job she needed right now.
She pumped herself hard and fast, watching Ryan’s fist fly and pummel the stone flesh in his grip. His hand was big and powerful. The speed and force of his jack-pumps were a testament to the granite resilience of his cock as it withstood his unrelenting strokes. The plastic handle pumping and grinding into her body’s oozing pocket was just enough to let her mind fill in the blanks of her imagination as she conjured the sensation of that perfect man flesh pounding like rush hour through the center of her life.
Then Ryan’s hard, flowing body arched, and his cock erupted in a spraying shower of cum.
“Ay, bebe, fuck!” she cried, mashing circles around her clit with her left hand as she pounded the handle into his pussy faster and harder. “ Vente para mi..dame tu leche ahora nene!”
Then Marina lost her voice to the hard pull of gasping breath. Everything inside her felt hard and tense while her pliant breasts quivered to the swirling tremors spiraling through her limbs. Ryan’s body went hard with stark definition as his fist pumped a furious geyser of spunk.
Marina’s left hand shot to her clit while she pumped the plastic handle into her core. As the wave of her first release began to ebb, the swell of the next rose up to rush over and beyond it. She needed Ryan to feel her now more than ever, to know he was no more alone than she.
Finally, everything changed. The tension in every sinew of her body transformed into a euphoric warmth. She eased the rasp handle out of her body’s grasp and dropped it in the sink. She steadied herself with her hands on the edge. Her knees were drained of strength as she gazed out the window and watched Ryan sit back dazed a moment before standing up and walking naked into the house.
How much could they really ever be to each other, she wondered, watching the flex of his spherical ass cheeks as he walked away. In a couple of months he would disappear from her life as quickly as he’d entered. He would move on and become a star athlete at whatever university his father had chosen for him. Yet for the next eight weeks, he would train his body and mind here in the seclusion of the quiet country road they lived on.
He was as much a prisoner as she, Marina concluded. And after today, they would never be able to look at each other the same way. She could never allow him to leave at the end of the summer without giving him something he’d remember the rest of his life.
It would start with something as simple as a quiet dinner on the patio. The sun would be low in the sky and the air would begin to cool. Marina would cook on the grill. She would wear a sweet, summer dress and white, wedge heel sandals.
They would be ravenously hungry and feed each other until the moon rose and covered their bodies. They would look at each other – smile and kiss – and then feed each other again.
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