Mr. Confetti Man 04

My emotional session with Karen left both her and me limp; and she was all the more limp for our after-confession love making session. I know, now that there more that Karen and need to know about each other but time will take care of that. As far as I'm concerned, she and I are in it for the "long haul" and I'm pretty sure she is too...but I have been known to be wrong.

My musings about Karen were interrupted by my cell phone alerting me to a text;

"Bulldog, Call me, Banana"

I laughed out loud. That was Conchita, my Latina firecracker. Over the months that we had been intimate we developed pet names for each other. I called her "Conchita Banana" a play on words about an old advertising character and she called me "Bulldog Drummond" after some really, really old movie character that I'd never heard of but that she had. Apparently her father was a big old movie fan, especially the old serials, the ones that were dubbed in Spanish. Well, no matter, those names stuck so she was "Banana" and I was "Bulldog".

Though I we had seen each other frequently for a time, we hadn't seen each other for a while. She was off on business, part of an international trade tour she was taking representing her country. As we got to know one another, she disclosed to me what she actually did for a living. She was the daughter of a rather prominent man in her country, a politician and diplomat. His influence got her a job in their Ministry of Trade, the very agency I had spied many months ago on her coffee table. While this might seem like nepotism, she actually had the chops--academically professionally--to fill the job she got. Conchita, in addition to being a fitness but and marathon runner, was quite the scholar and quite savvy in her field of international trade. Who knew?

"Banana!" I joshed, when I got her on the phone, "did you just slip into town? Get it? Banana? slippery...slip into town?"

She did get it, which surprised me. English is a screwy language for plays on words and is even worse when it is not one's native language. Spanish was Conchita's mother tongue. I'm sure there are puns in Spanish that would go over my head...mainly because I understand so little Spanish!

"Bulldog! Get a grip!" she punned right back at me, "I got it...banana and slip...you are too clever, Carino!"

"You are way too smart for me, Niña querida," I tried some Spanish on her, "qué pasa?"

"I'm in town for a while, Drewmond and I am aching to see you...ACHING!" she was flirting shamelessly!

"You must have read my mind, I was about to say the same thing!" I was not above flirting shamelessly myself.

"Muy bien, call me when you get to my driveway," Conchita instructed, "I will buzz you into the garage and then up to my place. Don't worry about the key pads and card locks. I've got aps on my cell that will track you through all of them. See you tonight. Adios, Cariño!"

Conchita wasn't kidding about that ache of hers. She was all but naked in bra and panties when I stepped through the door. As soon as the door closed, she pinned me up against and gave me a kiss that put my smart watch heart monitor at red line! I swooped her into my arms, lips still attached, and headed directly to the bedroom. I deposited her on the bed and proceeded to undress. By the time I got my shirt off she was naked and clawing at my belt buckle to help me get my pants off. That was accomplished in short order. I got up on the bed and immediately she entwined her body with mine.

I know I don't need to remind you...but...lack of passion is not Conchita's problem...an excess of it, perhaps...but nobody who ever went to bed with her would confuse her with a limp dishrag. She quickly had me on my back...her favorite position...and was lying full on me holding my cheeks while we engaged in some deep tongue kissing. She pressed her body on me as we kissed, writhing just enough for me to get an erection. I could tell from her slipperiness that her vagina was wet and more than ready for sex.

"Mi amor, sesenta y nueve," she said in Spanish, and then in English "sixty-nine, my love! Let's do that!"

I remembered from our first time having sex that she enjoyed that...and from other times as well...so I let her reposition herself on top of me so that her vagina was in my face and her mouth was poised above my cock. She started off going down on me until my penis was almost entirely in her mouth; I could feel her tongue swirling around its head and shaft. I reciprocated by grabbing her hips and forcing her juicy pussy down on my lips. She sucked and I licked. She massaged my shaft and testicles and I probed with my tongue until I found her, now familiar, clitoris. She sucked my cock harder, letting it slip in and out between her lips. I carefully put lips around her hooded slit and gently sucked...difficult to do considering she was so vigorous with my cock.

Conchita came quickly, the first time, I could tell because she pressed herself harder on my mouth, tensed and quivered, and tensed again. Her vagina was so wet that It was difficult for me to tell if she released any "lady-cum" but it really didn't make any difference. The secretions from her pussy were thick and sweet and I licked all I could into my mouth. That triggered another orgasm. and one more, too.

She climbed off of me, repositioned herself so she was kneeling between my legs, and went to work in earnest on completing her blow job. She swallowed my cock again, stroking it with one hand while using her other hand between her legs to further stimulate herself. As I said before, "MMMmmmMMM" is the same in any language and so are gulping sounds. When I climaxed, I heard both. She climaxed again herself....

I know that because I heard her say, "Madre de Dios, ESO es tan bueno... ¡qué bueno, sí, sí, sí!

I trust a translation is not necessary.

I never really pictured the athletic Conchita at first as the snuggling type but I found out that she loved to cuddle post-sex. And she was quite charming about it too. She became almost girlish, giggling, running her fingers across my chest, kissing my ear. My orgasm afterglow recedes pretty quickly; my impression is that her's lasts a long time. Whatever "feel-good" chemicals circulated in her brain, it took time for her to let them dissipate...Oh, and she would tweak and kiss my nipples too...YEAH!

After everything calmed down and we were just lying with each other in bed, I asked her, using my pet name, "Banana?' Have you ever had sex with a woman?"

She sat up and looked at me, "Where did THAT come from? Why ask me THAT?"

Now that I had let the "Kraken" loose, I followed up with, "Conchita, I didn't mean to startle or offend you but...well...something happened recently and girl/girl sex has been on my mind."

"Well, Cariño, I suspect sex is on your mind a lot," she said, a little calmer, "but...talk to me...I sense this is of some concern to you...not just a prurient interest...so...tell me."

Conchita's English and be quite good, eloquent even, when the need arose. This time I could tell she was interested in my being interested and serious about my being serious.

"Mi dulce, I didn't mean to startle or insult you but I truly believe I need a woman's opinion on something," I said, hoping my explanation defused any upset Conchita might of had, "and I was thinking that an opinion from a woman who has had sex with another woman might well differ from a woman who hasn't done that. Do you follow me?"

"Yes, Bulldog, I think I do," Conchita was sober and all business, "so, tell me. You've got my curiosity piqued now."

I tried to be linear with Conchita, so I said, "A woman that I know...and, yes, we have had sex together--I know you aren't the jealous type...I'm pretty sure...I hope....and she enjoys it thoroughly...well as thoroughly as I can help her enjoy it. But lately she has reminisced about sexual experiences she had with another woman...and I suspect women, plural..as a young adult. She describes them as being immensely pleasurable. She denies that she is a lesbian and will not call herself 'bi-sexual'. I think the latter is because now her sexual interests are hetero-sexual. Yet, her conversations have recently gravitated toward having sex with women again. Do you have any thoughts? Oh, and seriously, you don't have to answer about whether you've had sex with a woman or not...It's O.K. if you haven't."

Of course, I wasn't being entirely factual presenting the question to Conchita, but the essence of what needed to know about from Conchita was there.

Conchita reached over and took one of my hands into both of hers; I can't remember her doing that before...she may have done it before, but I don't remember it. Women do this...to other women and men, too. I take as a sign of sincerity, that they are connecting on a level of honesty and friendship...love, if you will. To me, Conchita has always been fun, exciting, and an outrageously vigorous lover. She was shifting gears, I thought, at least for the moment.

"Drewmand," she started out, "I'm not entirely sure what you're friend, girlfriend...lover...is dealing with; but I can tell you what my experience is and how I feel. It may help give you an insight into what she is going through. And, sure, a lot of it is my opinion as a woman. And, no, I may not have an answer; but, yes, you may not need one. Entiendes, Mi Amor? Understand?"

She grabbed a bottle of water off the nightstand, uncapped it, took a sip, and said, "So, first, I will answer your original question: Yes, I have had sex with another woman, and I still do occasionally, if the right woman comes along. I enjoy it and I don't think there is anything wrong with it. I don't delude myself into thinking I'm not bi-sexual...I am...but...what's the mix? I'd say 2/3ish hetero--and you, Carino, are a huge part of that 2/3--and 1/3ish lesbian....But who's counting? I enjoy having sex either way.

Women as a whole, I think, are more understanding of same-sex...sex...than most men are, in general. In my case, it's about the feeling of loving comfort as much as the excitement...the orgasms...though I can't say orgasms aren't important...they are...a LOT. You know me well enough to know THAT! To me, men having sex with men is about...SEX...orgasms...cumming all over the place! But, as I see it, doTheance is a big component in most of those types of relationships--not all, I am sure, but likely most...in MY opinion...then again...I AM a woman!

When I start thinking about having sex with a woman, it is generally because there is something missing in my life...and it is not just SEX. To me, sex with another woman is comforting as well as exciting and, if I am missing the comforting having sex with a man, I will turn to a woman. If it is of any consolation to you, Mi Amor, I haven't sought out a woman since you and I have been...well...intimate. Not that I might not try a same-sex fling or two for a lark, but it won't be because you do not comfort me, as well as excite me. You are...well....I think you know.

So, Drewmand, if I were to make a guess about your friend...knowing you as I do...I would say that she is just trying to sort out her sexuality. For some reason, she has confusion in that area and isn't ready to commit to the reality of it. Perhaps a 'no-strings' fling would do it."

"That helps, Conchita, it really does," I said as I leaned over and kissed her cheek, "I have a lot to think about, though...mi dulce'...you are special to me...Conchita, and...did I say sweet? Well..."

The light bulb about Karen was always there in my mind...Conchita just turned it on for me.

In descending order, I kissed her cheek, her lips, her chin, her neck, each breast, her tummy, paused at her shiny waxed pubis. I hesitated there for Conchita to spread her legs and kept kissing there until...well..I did say "sweet" didn't I?

I said to Conchita, in a voice muffled by my face in her muff, "Are you up to multiple orgasms tonight....?"

She was...and so was I...and so we did...!

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Now I hadn't exactly been living like a monk, confining myself to quarters when Karen, Conchita, or Deidre weren't available. I had dalliances here and there...sometimes a one-off and sometimes a couple of nights..or afternoons, as the case might have been. But nothing clicked on any extended basis, not that I was looking for it to do that.

There was Teri, the college student/barista--fortunately not MY barista. Dark haired and round in all desirable places--sort of a Deidre 2.0 but a little taller--she was enthusiastic but not orally inclined, if you know what I mean. Her excuse was she didn't want to "spoil her palate" because, as a barista, her sense of taste was important to her. At $12/hour, I doubt very much indeed that she was a professional coffee connoisseur. She just didn't like sucking cock and liked cum in her mouth even less.

And, Natasha, (her real name was, honest, Maryanne) who worked in an accessory boutique at the mall. I'm not one for shopping for ladies "accessories" but when I saw her through the window, I became one, for a short time. She was about my age, late 20's, but hadn't gotten out of her overly made-up high school days She was "in costume", all in black, heavy black boots, black jeans and shirt, and a chain festooned black leather vest. She was...and I hate to say this...a "last century" throwback. But she was perky and fun. Sex wasn't as much fun as I thought. Her make-up rubbed off on me and she never for a minute stopped chewing her gum...and I am including during the blowjob. It was an enlightening experience, though.

Oh, and Thea (actually, Athena), a very mature woman, 46 years-old, of Greek heritage and an example of classic Greek womanhood. I will dwell on her for a few minutes. No, no, NO! Stop it...she was not short an dumpy...Stop It! Thea actually looked like some of the women in ancient Greek..and Roman...statuary. Tough only about 5'5", (1.6m-ish), and 120lbs (55+kg) maybe, but she had classical Greek proportions. Think of the "Venus de Milo"--O.K., forget about the arms, think of the body. Venus D'M has a 37" (94cm) Bust, a 26" (66cm) Waist, and 38"(96cm) Hips. Well, I'm sure that within a millimeter or two, THAT was THEA! And, as my not so sainted grandmother might say, "Well Preserved"!

I met Thea at...where else..."The Grind" coffee place and it wasn't one of those "oops, I spilled my coffee" things. She hit the trifecta! She ordered a large coffee, which was served right up to her, and as she fished around in her voluminous purse, she spilled her coffee...ALL OVER HERSELF--and into her purse, too! I mean it was a deluge of HOT Coffee. Fortunately she didn't scald herself as much as she soaked her very nice, business woman ensemble. She had both a tablet and her cell phone in her purse...both soaked and looked unusable.

Thea is in real estate sales, not the cracker-box residential kind..although she did have some high-end listings in that market...she worked in commercial, big-ticket deals--high seven and low eight figure transactions. She was on the way to a corporate boardroom to pitch her latest proposal when her coffee catastrophe happened. I was right there and helped her clean up.

In earthy language that did not match her appearance, she declared, "Holy SHIT! I'm FUCKED now! "

Using piles of the guest napkins, I was trying to sop up the coffee as best as I could assiduously avoiding her breasts. "I'll let her take care of that part." I said to myself.

I asked her, "Tell me, is there anything I can do to help...what exactly is the matter...maybe I can help."

"Look, my friend," she said sharply, out of frustration, "I doubt there is anything you can do--watch your hands with those napkins--I have a presentation to make in 30 minutes and there's no way I can get things cleaned up and there in time...and Look, my cell phone is fucked too...I don't know about that tablet!...FUCK!"

She fumed some more and then started looking through her purse while sopping up the coffee there with more napkins.

"DOUBLE FUCK!" she yelled as she pulled her clearly coffee soaked car key fob out of her purse, "this damn thing is soaked too! I can't even start my car to get home and change. FUCK!"

"Ma'am, Let me see if I can help you," I volunteered calmly, "at least with part of it, maybe?"

"What do you thing you can do, pray tell," she said with no little sarcasm, "this is a catastrophe!"

I started to outline my plan, "Well, first, there is a nice women's store across the street. I'm sure if you hop over there you can find a nice outfit to wear...not as nice as your designer ensemble but serviceable for the purposes of your meeting. Mean while, I can tinker with your tablet to see if it comes back to life for your presentation...I'm sure you have it stored there, the professional person that you are. I think your phone is blitzed but you can use mine to make calls, if you want to and I can drive you to your appointment and back here to get your car. How does that all sound to you?"

She calmed down, but only a very little, "That's a good plan...except for one thing...I don't carry much cash, no checks, and no credit cards anymore. I use my phone to pay for practically everything...almost everybody does it today. So...how, young man, do you propose I get a new--as you say--"outfit"--without being able to pay for it?"

I did my best to remain calm, and offered, "I'm sorry, Ma'am, I don't know your name but I would be happy to front you the price of your new, excuse me, 'duds'. You can pay me back when all the dust settles. I can tell you're not a deadbeat...well...trust me...neither am I...Really...I'm just trying to help...and we're burning time standing her talking about it...So...let's get over the store...and get the show on the road. O.K.?"

She scooped up her loose things, started to put them in her purse, thought better of it and scurried out the door toward the dress shop.

Over her shoulder she called, "Well, come on, Boy Scout. My name is Thea, by the way. Let's do this thing!"

I followed.

My plan worked out very well actually. Thea was able to quickly find a tasteful business suit for not a lot of money. I found that her tablet was not fried but here cell phone needed help, if not replacement. She used my cell to make the calls she needed to make. The car we could worry about later.

Her presentation was, what else, in a board room of a company that was located on the 41st floor of an office building downtown. My workday being shot all to hell, I waited in a coffee shop and had nice meal while she did her thing. Her meeting took almost four hours. My cell phone went dead from my playing solitaire; fortunately I had a back-up quick charger in the car.

Thea came into the coffee shop all smiles. "That went well Boy Scout...er Drummond...VERY well!" She was pleased and by orders of magnitude, more relaxed.

I said, "I am glad, Thea that this all worked out well for you. It looks like you turned disaster to triumph. You have every reason to be happy. I am truly glad for you. Let's go and see what we can do about your car."

Driving back to her car, Thea asked me, "What do you do for a living, Drummond? You seemed to have a lot of time today to spend on my problems. You didn't miss work, did you? Lose pay?"

'Oh, no, Thea, don't worry a whit about that," I reassured her, "day trading is what I do from home. I set my own schedule...well, I suppose the market does that too...but I can work or not work pretty much any time I want. I'm not worried; don't you be."

It turned out that the key fob wasn't fried but her cell phone wasn't working and "iffy" in my mind. I wrote my number down so she could get a hold of me to pay me back for her clothes. She gave me a kiss on the cheek as she left.