Eleventh Installment in the "Latina" Series of Erotic Tales
Latina sat at her desk in their master bedroom that morning, studying her books about computers. After her recent layoff from the job she'd held for over three years, Latina had decided to take some computer courses, to update her skills. Not that after ten years in the computer industry, she didn't already know a lot about computers. But she had never used Windows 98, and had yet to see, much less use, the latest release of MS-Word. And at age 48, Latina had long ago forgotten most of what she ever knew about creating spreadsheets in Excel. So after sending her son, Bobby, off to school--and her husband, Frank, off to work--Latina felt good about having this quiet time, to study and update her computer skills, before finding her next job.
As Latina read, and experimented on the computer, very brief flashes of last night's celebration of their second wedding anniversary repeatedly popped into her mind, but she always managed to fight them off, and to focus back on her studies.
Latina and Frank, and their 11-year-old son Bobby (whom she had adopted during her first marriage), had all gone out to dinner at Benihana's, the Japanese restaurant chain where chefs did fancy knife tricks as they prepared food right at your table. Latina was glad that they had taken their son along to celebrate. After all, Bobby was celebrating two years of being part of this new family with Frank, just as much as Latina and Frank were celebrating two years of married life. Two years since the successful completion of what neither knew until they met, was a 40-year journey toward finding each other's one soulmate on earth, finding the part of each other that neither knew was even missing, until they met, and they found that they completed the very essence of each other's being. Not to mention that Latina and Frank both had equally sky-high libidos, and enormous imaginations for finding creative new places and methods of coupling, imaginations matched only by their equally-voracious sexual appetites.
Their son, Bobby, had been thoroughly delighted to watch the show that Benihana's chefs always make, of preparing and cooking your food right at your table. Latina had worn the gold, heart-shaped earrings, studded with tiny red garnets, which Frank had given her the night before, as an early anniversary gift, just so she could wear them on their big night out. She recalled the two other, much-younger couples at their table; both women were extremely pretty, but were too busy constantly adjusting their hair and makeup, to pay the slightest attention to their dates. If anything, both of those younger women had seemed to be looking at, and trying to catch the eye of, each other's man from across the table.
Latina considered herself very lucky, that neither she nor Frank had a roving eye, for anyone else but each other. Latina and Frank were best friends, life companions, partners, lovers, confidants, playmates, and soulmates, and therefore had no need to even look at any other.
Latina remembered the Japanese chef, with his very sharp knife, so rapidly slicing up the shrimp, then using that knife to flip the very tips of the shrimp shells up into the top of his tall, cylindrical chef's hat. If ever there was an obvious phallic symbol, a chef's hat was it: tall, wide, round, and pointing straight up. Once more, Latina successfully pushed last night's images away, and she returned to her studies.
She remembered how, after they got home from Benihana's and put their son to bed, Frank had gently pushed her down flat on her back on their bed, so she could watch as he stood over her, beside the bed. He had then loosened and removed his tie, unfastened his cuff links, and then slowly unbuttoned the front of his formal white shirt, revealing his thick, dark, masculine hair, and subtle glimpses of the soft, smooth skin of his manly chest underneath. As she reminisced, Latina turned around from her desk, and she gazed at the now- unoccupied bed behind her, letting out a soft sigh. Once more, Latina pushed away the images from last night, and she diligently returned to her studies.
She remembered hearing the television blaring in their son's room last night, and she and Frank deciding to let their growing passion wait, until Bobby was asleep. Frank had switched on their own TV then, and they had both decided that their private celebration of their two-year wedding anniversary could wait a while, maybe another hour. After a few minutes stretched out beside each on their bed, watching an old movie, their excited breathing from Frank's earlier strip-tease (which he had performed as much for his own benefit as for hers), had calmed to a more normal pace now. Throughout the movie, they held hands in bed, and during commercials, they gently kissed each other, being careful not to get so carried away, that Bobby could hear them from his room, until he could fall asleep.
After about half an hour of watching this old movie, Frank, still shirtless, had crept into Bobby's room. Bobby was already fast asleep, his light still on and his TV still blaring. Frank had switched off the light and the TV, kissed their sleeping son good-night on his cheek (without waking him), and returned to their room, locking the master-bedroom door behind him.
Latina's recollections of the previous night, did not stop her swift fingers from gliding over the computer keyboard now. She felt proud of herself now, for she had just re-learned the formula for multiplying the contents of two spreadsheet cells, to automatically produce the product in a third cell. After practicing this procedure on the keyboard 3 or 4 times, she had it down cold, and Latina felt a new confidence, that her resume could once more list Excel among the many software programs at which she was an expert. A few more weeks of computer classes and at-home studies, and Latina would be ready for the endless rounds of job interviews that would finally land her a new job, as interesting and exciting as the one from which she had recently been laid-off.
When last night's private celebration of their second anniversary had finally gotten underway, Frank had started slowly as usual. He liked to let her passion build slowly, layer on layer, heating her up gradually, like tea kettle on a stove, bringing her sweet pussy to a very slow, gradual boil, until it was ready to whistle out its delighted excitement (actually, she made more of a squishing and smacking sound than a whistle when she got ready to receive him). This time, he had started off with feather-light kisses on the back of her hand, and on the tips of her fingers. Then they had both sat up, hugged each other, and very softly kissed each other on the lips, neck, forehead, eyebrows, and eyelids. His right hand had slowly massaged her back, moving the big, swirling circles of his massaging palm very gradually down her back, until he had her smooth, firm, but soft ass-cheek fully cupped in his palm.
Latina blinked hard several times, and she shook her head, futily trying to drive away these insistent memories. She began reading up on the new features in Windows-98, compared to Windows-95, which she was more accustomed to using. After this morning's computer class, she was going to spend the afternoon practicing, using some of these new features.
Frank had kept his right hand cupping and fondling her well-toned ass, and he had then moved his left hand around to cup her breasts, first one and then the other. Then he had pinched her big, hard, excited nipple between his index and middle fingers, opening and closing his fingers, like a pair of scissors trying to cut her nipple off. His gentle pressure each time he closed his fingers on her nipple, all the while cupping her breast in his open palm, had made her already- stiff nipples grow even longer and harder. She had wanted to make that same opening and closing scissor motion, using her legs, over his thighs--and especially over his cock.
Her growing excitement had convinced Latina that it was time to pause now, and to dress-up really sexy and slutty for him. Because his cock was already pulsing and throbbing, on its way to full hardness, her getting up now made Frank pout at her. But deep down, Frank didn't really mind the interruption, knowing that Latina was going to change into his favorite of the many sheer lingerie outfits he had bought her, through their two years of marriage.
Latina had left the door of their huge walk-in closet ajar, open just enough for him to see a brief flash of her, nude, retrieving the outfit from its box. But the closet door was not open enough for him to see her actually slip her lingerie over her delectable 38C-28-36 curves. Latina didn't want Frank to see her, until she could emerge from their closet, with her sultry outfit fully in place. But Frank's vivid imagination pictured her slipping the purple satin peekaboo bra over her shoulders, and leaning back, her firm breasts jutting out, as she fastened her bra hooks behind her.
Then he pictured her sliding her dark, shapely legs into the scanty purple satin G-string panty, and adjusting its narrow, ruffled white lace string backing as she tucked it up into the delicate crease between her sweet, curvaceous ass cheeks. Then slipping her arms into the delectably-sheer, virtually transparent white pussy-length baby-doll that covered it all, and tying up the cute little white bows at the front of her teddy. As his mind pictured Latina dressing-up for him, Frank lay naked under the bed covers, the heel of his palm slowly stroking up and down the full 8-inch length of his excited cock, not stopping until she opened the closet door and struck her sexiest, hungriest-looking standing pose, framed in the closet doorway. Frank had then stopped teasing himself, and he had placed both of his arms and hands in plain sight, atop the outside of the blanket.