Although neither of us really wanted to get up, Sofia placed her soft hands on my chest, propped herself up, and eventually rolled off from on top of me. My mostly deflated slick cock popped free from her greedy lips, the remainder of my cum dripping from her dilated opening. I rolled onto my side and rested on my elbow so that once again my face was just inches from her little tuft of thick black hair as she stood there naked and perfect in front of the couch, the pungent smell of our sex, a sweet salty mixture of sweat, cologne, perfume, and each other's fluids filling my nostrils. I breathed it in relishing the evidence of the past hours' vigorous activities.
"Fuck," I said in a relaxed, even voice still sounding drunk on our sex, "just smelling you can make me hard... look." As I took another deep breath the air seemingly went past my lungs, past my diaphragm, and magically began to inflate my well-used member again, not so I was fully hard, but enough for it to plump back up. Sofia just smiled, her deep brown eyes lighting up still lost in the afterglow of her multiple orgasms.
"C'mon baby," she purred in that sexy accent. Everything about this women just oozed sex. "Let's go wash up."
And with that she walked off towards the bathroom. For a hypnotizing moment I just watched the two caramel spheres that comprised her impossible backside rock back and forth as she sauntered off, eventually peeling myself from the sofa and following her into the bathroom where she had already started the shower. As the room began to steam up, we slipped past the glass door and got under the stream of the overhead rain shower. Up until that moment, I didn't think it was possible for Sofia to be appear any sexier than I had already seen her, but as she arched her back and the water bounced off her taught skin her appeal reached new heights.
Sofia was a mirage, a vision of beauty and perfection and I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around just how lucky I was at this moment. Her body: absolutely glistening in the shower's stream. I was lost.
That's why I hadn't noticed that she had started to lather her hands up with some body wash. She let her long thin fingers delicately run over my chest, the soapy trail immediately erased by the falling water. How funny, I thought as her hands glided effortlessly over my body, we met because we wanted to escape the pouring rain and now here we were, our naked bodies inches apart, standing under a downpour of water not dissimilar from the earlier storm. I smiled and laughed to myself, enjoying the pleasant irony of the situation.
"Turn around," Sofia cooed, "I need to get your back."
As difficult as it was to peel my eyes off of her, I'm not one to argue, so I happily tuned away from her and immediately felt her slick hands on my shoulders. Our earlier activities had already proven to me that Sofia was an expert with her hands and her firm but gentle kneading did nothing to dispel that notion. With practiced motions, she worked out any knots leftover from the stress of the work day that at this point seemed a life time ago. Her hands skated down my back in long sensual strokes repeatedly before stopping at the small of my back where her thumbs circled applying just the right amount of pressure.
"Mmmmm," I sighed. "That feels absolutely incredible. yeahhh... right there..."
" Right there?" she giggled back seductively.
"Yessss... god, that feels good"
"How about here?" she offered with a sly intonation as her hands wrapped around my body, her breasts now firmly pressed against my back, hard nipples pushed into my wet skin. "Does that feel good too?" she whispered directly into my ear before gently nibbling on my lobe.
"Fuck yes," I groaned.
"Good" she sensually purred back, one hand sliding over my chest the other working its way down my stomach. She slowly wrapped her hand one finger at a time around my spent cock, gently squeezing and massaging me, teasing me knowingly back to life, her full lips still playfully grazing on my ear and neck. Every touch Sofia made was masterful, every tease perfected, but natural. It was all too much, and although I was no longer an 18 year old with endless stamina, somehow I was once again rock hard in Sofia's skilled hand.
Using the suds as lubrication she worked her hand up and down my rigid shaft with long slow gestures, rotating and corkscrewing her wrist with each stroke. She worked gracefully, keeping a methodical, purposeful rhythm. All I could do was tilt my head back, letting the water splash off my face, and sigh with pleasure.
I began to feel Sofia's lips working their way down my back, creating a trail of kisses that stopped at the base of my spine. The hand that had been on my chest slithered back around and was now gently nudging my legs apart. With a delicate touch, she began caressing what until a moment ago I thought were my empty balls, now rapidly filling with seed. Still stroking my stiff member, never breaking rhythm, her two hands worked like a flamenco guitarist—one hand finger-picking chords with the other hand sliding along the frets. She knowingly pressed her thumb against my perineum, sending an electric shock through my body, capped off with an affirming moan. So utterly lost in the pleasure, I didn't even think twice when I felt Sofia's tongue slide between my soapy cheeks, tickling my anus. Her hands continuing their movements, her long strokes increasing speed but still deliberate as the tip of her tongued began to circle and flick over my puckered asshole.
My body was being overtaken with new sensations and it was almost too much to handle. Tongue pressed against my tight hole, Sofia jerked my eight inches, both hands now on my shaft twisting and writhing in harmony. My body stiffened, my cock impossibly sensitive from all the activity. I was going to cum again. I let out a loud, deep and guttural cry as my cock twitched repeatedly in her hands, relinquishing every last drop of cum my tired testicles could muster up. As I breathed heavily, Sofia's hands finally surrendered my instantly soft member, spinning me around only to once again engulf my manhood with her mouth, letting her tongue swirl around making sure she cleaned up every last drop. The sensations were jolting and my body continued to spasm with every greedy flick of her tongue.
Finally, she stood back up, feigning innocence, but sporting a wicked and knowing smile. I pulled her to me one last time letting my tongue part her lips before gently nibbling on her bottom lip and pulling away.
"So," Sofia smiled again, "How about that meal now?"
"Sure," I chuckled back, "but first I need to wash off from this shower." The bad joke seemed to miss its mark—perhaps, a language gap. Regardless, Sofia smiled back before stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in a towel. I quickly followed, cinching a towel around my waist as well.
Still wearing our bath towels, we sat at the concrete slab island that separates the kitchen from the rest of the living space on the pair of adjacent Aalto bent wood kitchen stools, enjoying our well-deserved meal of pasta tossed in a quick home-made tomato sauce. Conversation began to flow in syncopation with wine—another glass, another anecdote and I began to get a better picture of how this angel perched in front of me magically came into my life.
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Brought up in a strict catholic family, Sofia, now 26 had spent much of her youth pushing back against all of her family's values. As a child she would spend hours drawing and creating designs, following her creative muse as she saw fit. This, of course was a defiant contrast to the life of reserved bible study, one enforced by harsh Nuns, that her parents had envisioned for her and were subjecting her to. Nevertheless, Sofia continued to create, filling the margins of her notebooks with ideas and doodles, only briefly pausing when one of the nuns, using a meter stick as a teaching tool would decide she needed to focus. This however, only increased her drive to create and explore.
As her childhood morphed into adolescence, her inquisitive mind and rebellious streak manifested in thoughts of sexuality. Even under the cover of her conservative catholic school uniform, her womanly features became hard to miss and she started to noticed more and more men lasciviously staring at her as she walked down the street, got on the tram, or just when stopping to buy a Coke at the store after class let out. Sofia relished in the attention, both seeing it as a compliment and as an affirmation of her continued need to push back against her rigid upbringing. She began to recognize the power she could wield with her femininity and once she did, she never paid for another after school Coke again.
It was around this time, while staying at a friend's house that she experienced her first orgasm.
Sofia and Yasmin had grown up together, went to school together, and shared the same disdain for their similar repressive situations. Yasmin however, was a bit slower to blossom and although striking in her own right, her slender frame, small chest, and long legs—which may have made her perfect proportions to be a fashion model—didn't garnish the same attention as Sofia's mature curves when out in public. Nevertheless, the two young teens made quite the tandem when seen together.
Yasmin's parents were wealthy and lived in a large Catalan Modernisme Villa. As an only child, she had a section of the impressive dwelling to herself. Sofia, who came from more humble beginnings loved the space that the house provided, spending time there and arranging weekend sleepovers as often as possible. The families were members of the same Church and therefore, Sofia's usually overbearing parents allowed these regular escapes, trusting that their values would be kept up while their daughter visited this like-minded family. And, for the most part they were correct. Regardless of their fortune, Yasmin's parents maintained strong Catholic values and rarely let the girls out of the house during these weekend get-togethers.
However, the large house did provide Sofia with a sense of freedom she rarely felt at home. The girls were able to paint, gossip, and create their own little sanctuary in their isolated wing. Frequently, the girls would explore the internet together, looking up goofy sites and chatting on AOL with their other friends. At the turn of the millennium, the internet was still the Wild West—children and teenagers were becoming quite adept a surfing sites and locating information, but the older generation, aside from email, still remained fairly clueless.
