"I'm at Tiny's. I just ordered my second drink, and I'm HORNY. Get over here NOW!"
I didn't have to ask, or even wonder, who's voice that was on the other end of the brief phone call.
Fran and I had been seeing each other for about three or four months, and she was becoming one of the wildest and horniest women that I'd ever known.
I also knew that Fran's tipping point was either her third or fourth drink, so I threw on some nicer clothes and drove the couple of miles to Tiny's as quickly as I could.
When I got there, I was surprised at how busy the place was for that early on a Friday evening. By that point, the after work crowd had usually headed home, and it was too early for the late-night partiers, but there was a good crowd there.
I quickly found Fran in the middle of a crowd of women and slowly made my way over.
As soon as I made it to the edge of her crowd, she saw me and squealed loudly.
"Kurt! You made it!" she yelled, as she ran up to me and gave me a hug.
I felt her large, soft breasts pressing into my stomach as she squeezed me in her arms.
"Hi sexy," I greeted her, giving her a kiss.
I looked around, and noticed that the entire crowd was made up of women, with the exception of one older man.
Fran slid her arm into mine and walked with me as I headed toward the bar.
I ordered myself a beer as Fran drank her Rum and Coke, and she stepped closer to me.
"I'm so fucking horny right now, I could scream!" she whispered to me. "I want to do you right here!"
I smiled at her and replied, "Oh really?", as I thought back to how much she had changed since we first met.
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I first noticed her at a local Cinco De Mayo celebration that my favorite Mexican restaurant had sponsored. I knew the owner very well, along with her husband, and was helping them consume a bottle of Cazadores Anejo as I looked over the scene.
I saw the cute, short Hispanic woman standing at the edge of the crowd, watching both the Salsa band and the dancers. She was swaying to the beat of the music, looking like she wanted to dance, but had no partner.
She was short and very curvy, with her long black hair flowing over her shoulders, wearing a flowery dress that came a few inches above her knees, her firm, bare legs ending in a pair of short heels.
Having spent quite a bit of time in both the Hispanic neighborhoods of Chicago and in Mexico and Central and South America, I knew that she was definitely Hispanic, but most likely not Mexican.
I watched her as she looked around, and we soon made eye contact. I smiled at her, and saw her smile as she looked away.
"She likes you," Maricela, the restaurant owner, told me. "She's cute!"
"That, she is," I agreed.
"Go talk to her," she told me. "She's single, and wants to dance."
I looked at Mari, and decided, "Ahh, what the hell! Why not?"
I can dance a passable Salsa, so I had little fear of making TOO much of a fool of myself in that department. I was more concerned about what her reaction would be, knowing that she was there with friends.
My fears turned out to be for nothing, as the cute little woman quickly agreed to dance.
I enjoyed watching her move as we danced the first few, up-tempo songs, and the fact that her dress rode up a few inches on her legs didn't hurt, either.
To my pleasant surprise, when the band switched to a ballad, she didn't hesitate to step into me and take my hand so we could dance to that one, also.
I slid my arms around her back and held onto her, enjoying how she felt in my arms, as we swayed to the slower rhythm.
"I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to ask me to dance," she told me, looking up at me. "I saw you looking at me, and kept trying to send you mental thoughts."
"So THAT'S why I suddenly felt the urge to dance!" I joked. "That explains it!"
The song ended a minute or so later, and she took me by the hand and led me to an empty table.
As we sat and talked, she told me that her name was Frances, and that she was from Cuba. Her father had been a diplomat for Castro, and was able to take his wife and three year-old Fran, with him on a trip to the U.S., where they defected.
As we talked, one of Fran's friends came up to our table and started talking to her in Spanish, telling her that they were leaving and asking if she needed a ride home.
When she asked her friend if they could stay just a little longer, I told Fran that I could give her a ride, if she wanted.
Fran looked at me, surprised. "You speak Spanish?"
"A little," I replied. "Enough to get myself in trouble."
Smiling at me, Fran told her friend that she had another ride home, and that she'd talk to her in the morning.
We continued talking for a little while longer, until the party started winding down. I took Fran home that night, and we wound up sleeping together after she pulled me into her apartment when I walked her to her door.
Fran proved to be a very enthusiastic, but basically vanilla, lover. She owned no lingerie or toys, or even any sexy underwear. After our first night together, she told me that she'd only done doggie-style a couple of times, and had never been on top. She'd never even had sex outside of the bedroom, except for a couple of times fooling around in the back seat of her boyfriend's cars as a teen.
Fortunately, she wanted to learn more, and I was the lucky one to teach her. It wasn't long before she had gotten rid of almost all of her bland, cotton undies and replaced them with varying colors of silk and lace, and some thongs. I also talked her into going toy shopping with me at an upscale shop near us that was owned and operated by women.
Once I got her to loosen up, she began taking things into her own hands. She would occasionally go out without any panties under her skirt, she would go braless when we went out together, although she still wore a jacket or a larger shirt over her T-shirt or tank-top, and we christened every room in her apartment at least twice.
One of the biggest surprises happened on her birthday, when she got drunk, which meant that she was horny, and told me that as much as she loved it when I slid a vibe in her ass, she wanted to feel my cock up there.
Before she met me, she told me that she had never even been touched back there by a man.
-----
"Yes! Really!" she breathed hotly. "It's a good thing that I decided to wear panties today. Otherwise, I'd be dripping down my legs!"
"Mmmm. I know just how to clean up something like that, too!" I teased.
"Stop it!" she replied, blushing slightly. "I'm already horny enough!"
"Well, let's finish up our drinks and get out of here," I told her.
"I've got to stay a little longer," she replied. "We're here for a retirement party for one of the ladies I work with."
"Ok. How much longer, do you think?"