Eva Cleaned My Room

I was so busted.

Evangeline, Eva as she preferred to be called, had cleaned my room immaculately for the last week and a half and I tipped her better than I ever had tipped anyone. She was different. A demeanor Like royalty.

On day one she thanked me profusely for the tip and carefully tucked it into her back pocket.

"That's going straight into my home-going fund," she had said. "I'm going home and taking my kids to see their grandparents for the first time."

In fact, I had gotten so comfortable with her coming in regularly at the same time each day as I immersed myself writing, that I totally spaced out on looking around this time to make sure the place was safe for her eyes.

Now, though, I was so busted.

She turned and looked at me, eyes wide, then involuntarily back at my computer screen. The screensaver was flitting through the most torrid fucking and sucking I had in my extensive porn collection.

I blushed, grinned, and started to slink past Eva to lower the screen.

She put her hand on my chest to stop me, and turned back to the screen. With her other hand, she reached to the keyboard with astonishing computer savvy and froze the current picture on the screen.

I covered my eyes with my hand and groaned. A plain-looking, but naturally very pretty disheveled woman teased a massive cock with her mouth slightly open, her sparkling green eyes looking up into the guy's face.

Eva kept her hand on my chest, letting it slip only slightly down as she stared at the image for the longest seconds I had ever experienced. Her eyes moved over the scene in what at first was overt shock, then slowly softened into wonder, then one corner of her mouth turned up slightly, reminding me of the glorious young Gloria Estefan in one of her more alluring album covers.

"She's pretty, you know." Eva's voice belied much higher education than one would suspect.

She forgot her hand was on my chest as she instinctively flicked the forward arrow to unfold the sex sequence.

I reached unconsciously but cautiously to take her hand when her fingers started to slip lower on my chest than I thought safe or wise – especially given I had been tweaking a story I wanted to try to submit to the Literotica erotic literature site; I suspected any sort of touch or motion near my stomach or lower could result in even more embarrassing repercussions. Besides, I knew where this sequence of photos was going.

And Eva waded right into the suck-off scene, one of my favorites because the couple seemed so engaged, so willing, so happy in their fucking. But, yeah, the final cumshot scenes were graphic and – well – pretty hot to a guy too long isolated on the road, writing equal portions of travel articles, research articles, and erotica. So, yeah, I was pretty red-faced.

Point is, Eva didn't move her hand when I grabbed it. She didn't seem to know I was holding it for the longest.

Penning Freer, owner of a painfully uncontrollable imagination and voracious sexual appetite, smelled perfume on Eva's wrist and it sent shock waves through the senses.

I didn't let go of her hand, nor did she withdraw it.

Eva watched mesmerized, cocking her head a time or two so her short-cropped jet black bangs shifted across her forehead.

Eva turned to me with eyes wide and pupils covering almost her entire eye surface. I couldn't interpret the look in those wide dark eyes but it was close to wonder, to understanding, to rapt fascination, to almost motherly empathy for my loneliness and need, and more – much more – than just a hint of a lifelong lover's arousal. All in a single look.

Let's see if I am covering this: before now she was Evangeline, Eva, the sweet girl woman who cleaned my room but stood poised like a princess - so out of place, yet so perfectly comfortable and competent in doing such a simple job.

Now, before me, looking up at me, she was five feet two inches, holding my hand, beautifully groomed and daintily dressed in denims and white cotton top. Plain and exotic. Black hair shiny, bouncy, lips full, teeth strong, straight, capable of fighting and tearing food to provide nutrients so she could sustain her small, nubile life and protect her kids.

And she smelled of clean and light perfume - simple but selective aroma. And she smiled with only one edge of her full lips raised – half-smile, a bemused grin. A grin that spoke of parents well-heeled in culture and diplomacy.

"I am going to kiss you now, Penning Freer, room fourteen sixty nine. If you don't want me to, you need to say so now." It was one of the few complete sentences I would ever hear her say.

She reached on her tip toes and brought her wide open eyes and half-smile lips several inches up to mine and hovered there before she let our lips touch. She breathed in my mouth first, tasting my air and letting me taste hers. It was fresh and buoyant and intoxicating.

I remember no kiss. Only sweet air from her lungs mixing with mine and soul wine spit mixing with mine. Real as your guts. Deep as the ocean descending once one sails westerly out of Guantanamo Bay.

Sometime in this fully clothed soul fuck I lifted Eva like a rag doll, still attached to her lips. Her legs swung back once, then swung back into me and spread, circled my legs just below my skinny ass, and locked around me, ankles clasped.

I walked her to the still unmade bed, one slow step at a time, as though moving slow would not scare her.

She wasn't scared.

I leaned forward with her wrapped around my body with no balance problem at all – her weight was nothing to me. She fit like an extension of my body. I set her down on her back, her legs still locked around me like a gift ribbon holding a package only to entice, but not to really contain the present.

Remember, once her hand touched my chest, our bodies never parted.

I climbed aboard and straddled her legs, my denim scratching hers.

My hands shook like the cup holder on a Harley handlebar at ignition but I got every button on her blouse undone without tearing a single one.

Now finally she held her arms free so I could lift off her blouse. She lifted her torso like a gymnast and took off her plain but fashionable bra herself and just held it in her hands as she put her arms back around my neck, letting the soft material caress my face while she reached her tongue to caress my breath some more.

I was hungry to make love with Eva my room wife, so I excused myself abruptly and backed up to put my feet on the ground and very clumsily, but effectively, I tugged my boots off, then my socks, then unbuckled my belt, undid the Levis buttons, and lifted one leg at a time out, peeling each down like a plantain, throwing the mess of cloth away from me.

Eva didn't move, didn't speak, just watched me like a prize and smiled her smile with a half-twist, in wonder at this thing that was happening.

I forgot I hadn't put on underwear. When I got my jeans off there was nothing but my cock dangling there in front of Eva, growing but still not overdone due to the undressing effort.

Eva started undoing her jeans buttons when I came forward to her again. She lifted her bottom for me and clutched the mussed sheets so I could tug them off of her perfectly form-fitted ass and legs.

"I want to go down there so bad," I whispered, loud. "I don't expect you to do anything with me at all." She just kept smiling and nodded ever so slightly, and let me slide her panties off.

Her pussy was beautiful, perfectly sculpted and shaved clean with a sliver of hair above. Her cunt lips were rich, engorged, puffed, a shine starting in the crevice. She watched me look at her pussy, then she looked down to see as much of what I was adoring as she could see.

I just snuggled in between her knees then and went straight to eating Eva's pussy.

Now she made sounds.

Her perfumed hands drifted to my head, my hair, my ears, my neck, my trembling back as far as her shorter arms could reach.

She lifted her bottom for me and held herself open so I could get at her.

She never closed her eyes. I know because I kept looking from her pussy to her face, watching her watch me.

I loved her taste. God I loved what moisture filled her body and coated her cunt, and seeped into my teeth. I really tried to drink her, to get her girl cum into my body. I wasn't lying to her – I was doing this for me, not her. She knew that.

"Hey, Penning Freer, that feels really, really, really nice. God, my boy, you are doing me so good. So good you are making me feel."

I don't recall the time stuff and I don't really remember the details of her finish except for heavier breathing, a delicious whimpering, a breathy muffled sort of "fuck me, eat me," in her distinctive low gutteral tone and sub-tropical dialect, and a satisfying thrashing and convulsing cunt, dumping tons of wetness in my mouth, on my face, and pouring it out to me purposefully, feeding me her wet, rich inner self to perhaps keep forever.

Oh, yes, and she held my face and fucked my mouth when she came. She really tried to put her pussy in my mouth and she smeared herself on my lips and across my face, painting me hers.

She collapsed back, her diminutive royal frame exhausted with her life circumstances, her eyes finally shut, her mouth corners finally symmetrical on both sides.

I think she had not had this happen for a long, long, long time and I think she missed it, and I think it felt good to her. I wanted it to.

I stayed between her thighs, my cheek resting on her wet pussy hair, my nose inhaling her deeper inner body for who knows how long.

I think she finally woke and gently guided me off her legs and onto my back.

She pushed me flat and spread her petite body onto mine like butter on hot toast, upside down, crawling leisurely down my chest, my torso, reaching my cock with her mouth about the same time her pussy inched past my chin.

She lowered her knees on either side of my face so her ass was slightly raised, so I could look into both her girl holes, touch them if I wanted, lick them if I wanted, or just longingly stare unabashed and unimpeded into her nakedness.

She had my dick so beautifully. I have no way of describing her, whether she was good at it, experienced, hot, what? Who cared? It was just Evangeline doing sudden love, rich love, as only she could have.

I just let her take me in her mouth and I slid in and out while she sucked me. She didn't do any trick or anything fancy. She just sucked me. Her head moved up and down with her rhythmic sucking, making her tits slide up and down my chest, and making her ass go in little circles, lazily, right before my eyes. I touched her beautiful ass rim really, really delicately and watched it clench at my touch and watched her freshly eaten pussy contract with my light touch on and into her lower hole, squeezing out yet more drops of her heated pussy oil for my her-hungry tongue.

I didn't feel like, or bother to warn her when I started to come. I made no effort at all to pull away from her mouth. I just let her suck me until I shuddered and gasped and grabbed her ass tight with both hands and buried my face in her bottom, and then I let myself empty into her mouth.

She took my insistent semen without any hesitation. I felt that tight enclosed suction of a mouth determined to keep and swallow what I had, all I had. I felt her regular breathing, I felt no release of lips throughout my emptying. She stayed on me and either swallowed, or licked up every bit of me that spilled, then finally dropped her face to my thigh, and sighed contentedly.

I nudged her up finally and brought her back to me, face to face with me, and I held her tight, smelling that powerful mouth, cum, pussy, cock, spit, perfume, sweat, fuck smell that one never forgets, and that makes one forever indebted to Eros and completely committed to sharing love in words with others.

Then we fucked when we were ready. I didn't ask. She didn't ask. I just settled between her legs and she opened for me. We nodded safe sex questions that words can only ruin. I raised my eyebrows and looked deep into her dark liquid half-smile eyes. She nodded her head and raised her eyebrows and looked deepest into my starving eyes. I nodded my safety into her eyes. We nodded safety and worthiness to fuck together. We moved close to fuck each other.

What do I need to say about this? Just that edging through her tight, grasping nerve muscles, centimeters beyond her richly moistened cunt lips into her body will never leave my mind and will measure every thought of entering a woman I'll ever have in my life – and I write a lot of nasty stories.

* * * *

Dear Evangeline (Eva),

I know you forever. I keep you safe in my heart.

I love the pictures of little Che and adorable little Maria snuggling into their grandfather's arms, their grandmother's lap, cavorting in the same fields in which you grew up and played and worked when you were that child.

Remember, my dear, I loved Cuba, too. I dove and snorkeled the sparkling clear waters and drove a small boat as far up Guantanamo River as my type was allowed, often gazing far beyond the peligro sign separating my world from yours, somehow perhaps suspecting you worked and played in your father's fields scarcely a few hundred miles from my boat.

Please never mention, or ask me again about the money I sent you with, dollar or peso. I have far, far too much money and I would always want to send you more - holding you and yours safe until we can openly cross those barriers again.

Using only the special phone I sent you, or letters through only the messenger who delivered you this letter, send me the signal when it is time, my princess.

Ask me what you will and for what you will. When it is time, you and your whole family will return by much the same way we sent you back to your homeland.

I hold you. I taste you. I smell you. I wear you like a crown always.

I Write You.

Always,

Penning