Mónica felt the exhilarating thrill of blood rushing to her fleshy, bronze ass as Diego pulled his palm away from her body, which was peppered with tattoos.
Her tattoos were spread all over her small, chubby body; a constellation across the golden-brown canvas of her cotton-soft skin.
Some of these, like the obsidian lily, held an almost sacred, personal significance for her. Others—the fading stick-and-poke tyrannosaurus—well, she forgot how she got that one. She cherished it nonetheless.
Mónica met Diego years ago and always found him to be cute but somehow, enigmatically menacing. He was pretty sexy.
His second-generation Spanish was, in his own words, "bah-soo-duh," but he was attractive and seemed to be serviceably intelligent, even if, after a beer or two, he went on a performative diatribe about male-feminist posturing in some obscure discord channel.
Diego was subtly toned, with well-moisturized brown skin that was a few sandy shades lighter than Mónica's, but he didn't work out. He got his body on a diet of farmer's market hummus, blackberries, and cigarettes that left a permanent cold sore, like a beauty mark, on his full lips.
Fuck, those lips were hot.
Boy had some good DSL and knew it too. She had heard from a friend of his about how much he liked to suck off the middle-aged cholos that hung around the dilapidated corner store.
His shyness belied what she came to feel later was a primitive inevitability.
They had to use each other like the fuck poles and cum holes that they both were.
After several Saturdays of double features—Russ Meyer flicks and boring documentaries about the banal catastrophes of late capitalism—they started to fool around more; tongues sucking and searching in each other's ravenous mouths.
One night, after a couple weeks of adolescent nipple pinching and vanilla sex in the missionary position, Mónica finally got Diego worked up enough to call her filthy names and smack her ass with the robotic regularity that she craved.
It was a difficult balance to strike, between unhinged fury and mechanical deliberateness. She reveled in her skill in bringing out the anger that made him a useful cocktoy. She needed that rage to supplement his physical awkwardness and average dick. She wanted her cocktoy to fill her holes with a machinic fury.
They were two fucktoys treating each other like mass-produced things; their manufactured desires swerving recklessly to and fro.
"I want you to use me," she said suddenly, as he inspected her crimson ass. "Plug my face hole with that useless rod already."
As she hoped, this didn't take him aback so much as it goaded him on.
"What?" he questioned, with a smirk that held something back.
"You heard me, you corduroy-craving scum sucker," Mónica said directly. "Use that meat machine on me already you basic bitch."
That did it. She could see a delicious rage, building and bubbling in his mahogany eyes. Her ass was still tingling from the spanking. She'd have to give him some pointers later, but he did alright.
She tensed in anticipation; willing him to release an onslaught of rock hard flesh in her willing holes. She liked being a hole.
"Alright, time to thank me for your spanking," said Diego. "I want you to put this cock in your mouth."
"Make me," she said defiantly, knowingly egging him on. His anger was easy to trigger. She wanted that anger, molded it to her will and desire. That anger was hers.
"You mouthy bitch. I'm gonna probe your face hole and you'll thank me for that too." His crude literalness thrilled her.
He sat on the edge of the bed as she readjusted herself across his lap, presenting her ass proudly and supporting herself on her elbows on top of her favorite bedspread, a pale green and off-white print of semi-translucent tree of heaven leaves.
The tree of heaven—sometimes called the ghetto palm—was an invasive species, growing in the most unlikely places.
He ran his hand down her smooth, brown back, crisscrossing her ribs and thick ass with a light touch, almost tickling, periodically grabbing handfuls of her hot amber flesh.
With his left hand he held her neck, not chocking her but using it as a brace to keep her head up and her back arched while he looked at her flushed butt cheeks.
She liked being posed into uncomfortable shapes and positions that gave her a dull ache, distracting her from the growing sensations in her moistening cunt and the gentle feel of his silky hands moving over her body.
