Latina's Purple Passion

Seventh Installment in the "Latina" Series of Erotic Tales

After a long, hard day at work, now she finally came home, weary after taking their 10-year-old son to his reading tutor. She needed the bathroom in the worst way. But at that very moment, her husband was using it. Damn, he's always in there when I need it! She pounded on the door and told him to hurry up, and waited impatiently and uncomfortably for him to finish.

She thought of using their son's bathroom, but she remembered how dirty it was the last time that she used it. That's another thing, she thought. Why was she the only one who ever cleaned their son's bathroom? Well, you can't really expect a 10-year-old boy to be neat and tidy, she thought. But why didn't her husband clean it up sometimes? By now, she was working herself into a real purple rage. When she finished, she opened the bathroom door, and she stepped back into the master bedroom. Her husband was sitting up on the bed, watching an old movie. He looked so LAZY. Why didn't he get up now and do some household chores? This got her madder, and now she blasted at him with all of her venomous purple anger.

"Why are you ALWAYS in the bathroom every time I need it?"

"Am I?" he asked innocently, startled at her tone.

"Yes!" she hissed, "When I need it, you shouldn't be in there!"

"You weren't home, and I had just gone in when you knocked." He was trying to stay calm.

His calmness infuriated her even more. Why didn't he argue back? Was he a man or a jellyfish? Jellyfish were among her favorite sea-creatures, but she certainly didn't want to be married to one!

"Well, don't let it happen again!" she hissed.

That did it. Now he, too, was enraged. "I didn't know I needed your permission to go to the bathroom!" Gathering up his robe, he stormed off to the living room to watch a movie. Not that there were any good movies on at 9:00 PM on a week night.

"Wait!" she shouted, "I want to talk about this!"

"What's to talk about? I understand. New house rule is, I'm no longer allowed to use the bathroom." He stormed off, feeling kind of childish for getting so upset. "I just don't know what you want from me," he shouted, not quite so loudly this time, as he walked away, feeling hurt and confused. In their nearly two years of marriage, he had never had reason to think it before, but now he began to wonder if there wasn't some truth to the stereotype that Latina women have fiery tempers. He remembered that she had told him early-on that she chews up and spits out mean people, but he never thought that HE would be on the receiving end of this chewing-up.

After twenty minutes of flipping the dial back and forth through 60 cable channels, he still had not found a movie to catch his interest, and having calmed down by now, he slunk back quietly to the master bedroom, so as not to awaken his wife or their son. He climbed back into bed beside his softly-snoring wife, and he soon drifted off to sleep. As he drove his wife to work the next morning, he apologized for having been unwilling to talk last night. "I was just too upset to talk it out rationally. But I'd like to talk now," he said.

"I'm sorry, too," she said. "It was silly of me to restrict when you can go to the bathroom. When you've gotta go, you've gotta go."

They both laughed, politely and nervously.

"But I don't see why I always have to be the one to use our son's filthy bathroom, while you use our nice, clean master bathroom," she continued.

"But I do use his bathroom. Any time I'm in the kitchen or living room and I need the bathroom, I use his, so I don't have to walk all the way to ours."

"And another thing, I'm the only one who ever cleans his bathroom."

"No, I clean it too. I just clean it without saying anything about it. So you probably never noticed. Especially since a day or two later, he just gets it dirty again."

"We should make HIM clean it up!"

"He's a 10-year-old boy. We can't even get him to put away dirty dishes and take out garbage, even when he loses part of his allowance for not doing his chores."

"Good point. But any time I need our bathroom, you are in it! What about that?"

"Remember last night, when we took our son swimming? You came home first, and he and I stayed at the pool a little longer."

"Yes, I remember."

"When I got home, I was dripping wet from the pool. I was cold, and I really needed to dry off. I also really needed to use the bathroom. But you were in there, changing for bed. And our son was locked in HIS bathroom."

"Yes, I do remember that."

"I waited patiently for you to finish, while I dripped on the carpet and hoped I wouldn't pee in my swim trunks. I just didn't make an issue of it."

"Oh." She now felt so silly for getting mad about waiting for him, when he had patiently waited for her the previous night.

"Did you ever notice," he continued, "that you are always the first one changed and in bed every night? I always wait for you to finish, before I clean up and change. I always let you use the bathroom first at bedtime, because you are my wife, and I love you, and I don't mind waiting for you. I just don't make an issue of it, like you did, so you're probably not even aware of it."

He was right, she hadn't been consciously aware of how often he waits for her to finish. She started thinking, "Stop! How guilty do you need to make me feel?"

"I'm sorry, honey," was all that she could say at this point. Now that she thought about it, he really DID do so much to help around the house, without bragging, complaining, or commenting about what he did to help out. If he got home before her, he cooked dinner. He helped her make the bed, and now she remembered many times, that he had the bed already made-up in the morning, before she even finished dressing for work. She remembered many times, too many to count, seeing him emptying the garbage, or loading and running the dishwasher, or doing the laundry. And last week, for her 48th birthday, he had given her a different and special gift every day of the week leading up to her actual birthday, and he had found creative new ways to make love with her each evening of her birthday week, too.

Now she recalled that his own 43rd birthday was tomorrow. "Great," she thought, "I pick the date two days before his birthday, to start one of only about two or three fights we've EVER had in our two-year marriage."

Worse, she hadn't yet bought him any birthday presents. She really wanted to make it all up to him, but she wasn't quite sure how.

His turning her birthday into a week-long celebration had come from a book they had both been reading, called 1001 Ways to be Romantic. So, during her lunch break from work that day, she consulted that book, and one of the suggestions was that men enjoy receiving flowers as much as women do. So she bought a big bouquet of red, pink, orange, yellow and white roses, and that evening, when he was busy balancing their checkbook, she snuck them into the house, and she set them up on the kitchen table. When he came out for dinner, he spotted the flowers, and he walked over to inhale their sweet fragrance.

Although his birthday was still a day away, all she could think to say was "Happy birthday, honey."

He threw his arms around her, held her close to his chest, and kissed her passionately, not letting her go for several minutes. As they pulled away from each other, and gazed soulfully into each other's brown eyes, they both knew that all was forgiven, and that their love was still intact, still strong enough to flourish and grow, no matter what obstacles blocked the path of their commitment. But deep inside, they both felt that they needed some way to REALLY make up for their previous night's brief argument.

That night, he gave her the idea of how they could REALLY make up, and feel close and trusting again.

After tucking their son into bed, they retreated to their bedroom, and locked the door. She put on a form-fitting nightgown, which hinted at what was underneath, but which was opaque enough not to reveal anything. Being a hot night, he donned only a pair of thin, black silk boxers, and no shirt. They both apologized for getting so upset with each other, on the previous evening. They began kissing each other, and hey wrapped their arms around each other. She felt her nipples growing hard, and he must have sensed that, because he slipped his hand under the hem of her nightgown, snaked his arm up past her belly, and cupped her breast in his open hand. Then he slowly began rhythmically massaging her nipple.

She placed her palm on his crotch, and even through his silk boxers, she could feel his cock starting to grow, as they continued kissing and hugging. Not content to feel his cock through the silk, she rapidly wrestled his silk boxers down his legs. He bent his knees up, and he lifted his feet off the bed, to slide the boxers completely off of him, leaving him completely naked. She smiled at the thought that she was now free to caress him anywhere and everywhere, unobstructed by any clothing, and she proceeded to do just that. She especially enjoyed cupping his ass cheeks in her hand, and judging by his deep, baritone moans, he enjoyed her growing lust just as much as she did.

As they continued kissing and caressing each other all over, he asked her, "When am I going to get to see you in that new negligee I gave you last week, for your birthday?"

She was surprised, because she had been thinking about that negligee earlier in the day. But she didn't want to pause their building passion to change clothing now, so she said, "I don't know. I've been thinking about that myself." She reached around behind him, to pull his full, soft, warm lips closer in to hers, and then she parted her own lips slightly, to invite his talented tongue into her mouth. She was starting to feel warm and moist between her legs, and she decided that she REALLY wanted to model that new negligee for him now. By now, her unrestrained lust had fully convinced her that his suggestion (about the negligee) was really the key she had been seeking all evening, to getting them back from being a couple, to being one joined soul again. And, it would turn out, this sexy new outfit really would be what they needed right now.

He felt deeply disappointed, as she started to pull away from kissing him. His cock was already throbbing, in anticipation of making up with her. But when she said, "I'm going to change into that new negligee now," he began to fantasize what she might look like in it. This new outfit included an itty-bitty, shiny, purple satin bra, trimmed all around the edges in ruffled white lace. He just KNEW that this bra would perfectly accent those firm 38-C breasts, which he had just been fondling. This bra was paired with a matching purple satin G-string panty, and he tried to picture what its narrow, ruffled white lace back would look like running up the tight, delicate crease between her curvy ass cheeks. He knew that purple was her favorite color, and he felt that she always looked good in anything purple, so he just knew that this lingerie would look especially good on her. The transparent white lacy jacket, in a very short and sexy "baby-doll" cut, was just long enough to barely cover her purple panties, wrapped around the outside of this outfit, covering but revealing the charms that lay just beneath, and leaving everything BELOW her gorgeous pussy, completely uncovered, for him to stroke and kiss.

As she changed in their walk-in closet, and he tried to picture what the outfit would look like on her, his palm slowly stroked up and down his already-hard cock, so that he would keep that 8-inch long, 2-inch thick erection going, when she finally emerged in her new negligee.

Hearing the closet door begin to creak open, he moved his hand away, so as not to let her catch him being naughty. The door opened fully now, and she stood sexily framed in the doorway, only the light from the outside street light through their window letting him see her dark, shapely legs, her long brown hair, and her curvy hips, as she stood framed in the closet doorway. As she emerged from the closet, she noticed the rapid up-and-down throbbing of his exposed purple cock, revealing to her just HOW excited, the thought of her modeling her new outfit, had already made him.

The deep-purple color, in the blood-engorged head of his cock, also showed her how aroused he was, and she happily thought about what a nice accessory his purple cock would soon be making, to her purple bra and G-string panties. She was smart enough to guess, pretty accurately, just what he'd been doing, to keep himself that hard, and to make himself that purple, while waiting for her return. As she gazed longingly at his big, stiff cock, and as she pictured him lazily stroking himself, she couldn't HELP but smile. When he saw that hungry, lustful smile lighting up the face of the woman whom he so DEEPLY loved, he couldn't help but smile himself. She licked her lips suggestively at the thought of all the places where his purple rod would soon be bringing her such exquisite pleasure. As part of her sexy and inviting carryings-on, she placed her left foot flat against the wall, her left leg bending forward at her knee, standing only on her right foot now, in some half-remembered pose, from a sexy late-night movie.

Watching her antics, his cock now grew so long, thick, and hard, that each pulse away from and back down onto his belly, almost ACHED with his steamy purple pleasure and desire.

He watched as she slowly, seductively sauntered to their bed, his eyes roaming down her body, from head to toe, and back up again, STRAINING to see a hint of her pussy, through her shiny purple panties, as her white baby-doll swayed seductively with her every sauntering step. As she approached their bed, her eyes remained locked on his big, throbbing purple cock, which she so desperately craved, as her mind kept wandering back to images of him playfully stroking himself into purple horniness, making himself stay hard just for her. On their bed now, she kneeled on her knees directly in front of him, facing him. He could see the whole enticing length of her legs, right in front of his face now.

He was so tempted to lean forward and plant a kiss on that tiny purple patch of satin, which just barely covered the delicate, fleshy-pink pedals of her warm, juicy femininity.

Before he could act, however, she asked him, in a challenging and mildly- threatening tone, "How closely did you LOOK at this outfit in the store?"

He began to panic, fearing that something MUST be wrong with the outfit, which he thought he had so carefully picked out for her birthday, knowing from experience, how very much she enjoys traipsing-around in sexy lingerie for him. Gulping nervously, he replied, "I looked at what pieces it included, and I checked that it was in your size. And I got it in your favorite color: purple! Why do you ask?"

"Did you notice that it has a peekaboo bra?"

"Oh, no," he thought, his worst fears now confirmed in his mind, "She really DOESN'T like the outfit."

Still kneeling before him, she pulled back the sheer, lacy white outer "baby doll" jacket, to better show him the bra underneath. The bra consisted of two tiny purple cups, which left most of the surface of her breasts exposed. At top center of each bra cup, was a little white lace bow, and just below it, a round cutout, just big enough for her hard, reddish-brown nipples to poke through. And being hard and extended to their full 1/2-inch length, her nipples WERE poking through quite prominently. She might have SEEMED upset, but her hard nipples betrayed her to him, and he instinctively knew that she was also already VERY tuned-on.

She thrust her bust close-up against his face, nearly stabbing his eye with her hard, horny nipples, wanting to make sure that he could SEE the bra's peekaboo holes now. Her stern voice and expression led him to believe, that she was not at all pleased about her bra having peekaboo holes. He felt miserable now, for not having inspected the outfit thoroughly enough, to have noticed this deficiency, which was now so clearly staring him LITERALLY in the face.

As upset as she seemed to be, he nevertheless could not help admiring how beautiful and sexy her firm, round 38-C breasts, and her hard, jutting nipples looked, in those tiny bra cups, with the apparently-objectionable peekaboo holes in the middle.

Sitting up and facing her, he simply could NO longer resist kissing the smooth, silky purple fabric of those tiny bra cups, then running his tongue in circles around first one, then the other nipple, right through the peekaboo holes of her purple satin bra. Then he started nibbling on each exposed nipple with his teeth, while kissing, licking, and sucking on each jutting, exposed nipple. His tongue pushed aside the sparse purple satin fabric, and he began licking at her 3-inch wide, reddish-brown areolas, between his tongue-flicks and teeth-nibbles on her big, hard nipples.

As his teeth gently but firmly clamped down on her nipples, and playfully wrestled her nipples around in all directions, she just couldn't control herself ANY longer. So now she shoved her 38-C breasts as far forward as she could. As he sucked her nipples completely up into his greedy mouth, she let out a long, low, contented, dreamy, sexy, lustful "mmmmm!" that he thought seemed to last for several minutes.

"I've always LOVED peek-a-boo bras," she said, between his licks and nibbles, and between her moans and gyrating squirms on their mattress. "Don't you?"

He was relieved that she was not at all disappointed, with the outfit that he'd given her for her birthday last week. And watching her thrust her breasts into his mouth, and hearing her moan at his sucking, nibbling and licking, he had to agree with her assessment, that peekaboo bras really ARE pretty terrific.

As good as his kisses, licks, and nipples felt to her, and as horny as his attentions there were making her, now she wanted his attention on places other than just her breasts. In fact, her skimpy purple-satin outfit was making her feel SO powerfully sexy now, that tonight, she wanted his kisses, licks, and strokes on every INCH of her body.

But where to have him start first? "Of course!" she thought. When it wasn't in her pussy, his rock-solid COCK felt best to her when it was rubbing up and down the crack between her ass cheeks. So now she was willing to bet, that his LIPS and TONGUE would feel pretty terrific on her bare ass tonight, in PLACE of his usual thrusting and sliding cock there.

So now she lay down on her back on the bed, her chin hanging over the foot of the bed, her legs bent upward at her knees (so as not to hit the big wooden headboard of their queen-size bed), her legs crossed between her knees and her ankles, and her feet swinging slowly, arching and sweeping provocatively back and forth, in mid-air. As her shapely, dark legs rocked and swayed like this, the white lace back of her G-string panties, pushed ever-deeper up into the crack of her ass. Her sheer white "baby-doll" bed-jacket ended right at those tight, sexy little creases, where her cheeks curved so invitingly, down to meet her short, but slender, legs.

He stretched out, face-down, next to her. Then he sat up on his knees, and he propped himself up by his strong, muscular arms. Sitting up on all fours now, he admired how her back curved up into two shapely cheeks, then back down again to meet the tops of her legs.

Just looking at the curves of her ass, was REALLY turning him on now, and as she turned her neck to look back up at him, she could see his stiff purple cock, eagerly wagging up and down, like a puppy's tail. She DESPERATELY wanted that throbbing cock everywhere tonight: in her ass, up her pussy, down her throat. She knew that, by morning, she would have his warm, thick, tasty cream in ALL of those places.