Sixth Installment in the "Latina" Series of Erotic Tales
Growing up in a poor, Latin-American family, there are lots of things I dreamed of that I could never have as a kid. Even when I grew up and got married at the age of 26, life with my first husband was still a financial struggle. After my first husband died, I was able to do reasonably well supporting myself, working in electronics and running a small business on the side. But since remarrying two years ago, my financial situation has greatly improved. I still work in electronics, and so does my new husband, and between us we got pushed into a higher tax bracket, so we now live quite comfortably.
One of the things I always wanted was a swing on my own front porch. The home my husband and I bought two years ago is about half a mile from a local amusement park, and you can see the tops of the roller coasters from our front porch. Several times a year (Memorial Day, 4th of July, Veteran's Day), the amusement park puts on a spectacular, hour-long fireworks show, and we can see it quite well from our front porch. The fireworks made me more determined than ever to get that front porch swing, so my husband and I could rock on the swing and watch the fireworks from our porch.
Just before the 4th of July celebration this year, we finally bought that swing, and my husband assembled it. The fireworks began promptly at 9:30 P.M. this 4th of July, and the two of us rocked gently on the swing, huddled under a warm blanket, and watched the fireworks. The first few fireworks streaked upward, sparkled very briefly, and fizzled to the ground. The next few were brighter, and exploded over a bigger area. This was more like it. We turned to each other and smiled, wrapping our arms around each other for a moment, then releasing to turn and watch the next volley of fireworks.
To our surprise, the next rocket exploded in a big, red Valentine's heart. Seeing that, we both turned and reached for each other, and kissed. His lips were so soft and warm against mine, pressing delicately at first, but then a little harder as our mutual passion began to build. I opened my mouth, and I slowly let my tongue glide out, to lick all around his full, hot lips. Now, he opened his mouth, to let my tongue enter. I very slowly eased my tongue past his lips, past his teeth, and my tongue touched the tip of his tongue in his mouth.
Now the bottom of my tongue began its gradual roll across the top of his tongue, until I was just about touching the back of his throat. Now, I began just as slowly retracting my tongue back into my mouth: first across the top of his tongue, then retracting past his teeth, and back across those full, soft lips of his. But he was not about to let me off that easily. He was not about to let me close my mouth and end our French kissing that soon. Just as my tongue retreated past his lips, before I could even have time to close my lips, he opened his mouth fully, and quickly darted his tongue all the way into my mouth and halfway down my throat. The bottom of his very long tongue danced and swirled across the top of my tongue, then slowly retreated, even more tantalizingly slowly than I had just retreated from his mouth. When his tongue was about halfway out of my mouth, he circled and rolled it, swirling it until it slid around from the top of my tongue, to licking the underside of my tongue. As our tongues danced like this, I felt myself getting very warm just beneath my breasts, and I felt a very light, dewy moisture pleasantly starting to well up from deep within my pussy.
Now it was his turn to taunt and tease me. He slowly slid his tongue all the way back out of my mouth, rolling it from under my tongue, back to the top of my tongue, past my teeth, past my lips, and back behind his closed lips and teeth, once more out of my reach. He then sat up and turned to watch the fireworks again. I watched the fireworks, too, but I began to feel uneasy and confused. Part of me wanted to watch the spectacular fireworks show. Another part of me wanted more passion, but I was not sure what I wanted him to do next.
As we sat up prim and proper now, and watched the fireworks, he held my hand in his. His long, thin fingers began massaging each finger of my hand, and very slowly stroking my manicured and polished fingernails. His touch is always so gentle, and there is something about a slow massage of my fingers and nails that simultaneously relaxes me, and makes me want his passion. OK, I'll be honest, I wasn't REALLY so relaxed, I was getting into a very-frisky frenzy: I wanted to jump his bones, right then and there!
Still watching the fireworks, I rested my head on his shoulder, and my open palm against his chest. He kissed the top of my head, then around to my forehead, and his kisses just fluttered very lightly on my eyes. He told me that he enjoys the fluttering of my eyelashes against the very tips of his lips. After a few minutes of these light-as-a butterfly kisses on my eyelashes, he again pulled away and turned to watch the fireworks. The explosions were more frequent now, and one burst would appear before the last one had cleared away. This gave a very nice effect of a large red star, followed by a slightly smaller white star overlaying it, and then an even smaller blue star overlaying that, creating the optical illusion that the red, white, and blue appeared in the same spot in the sky, at the same time.
This patriotic explosion was very beautiful and moving, but my thoughts were increasingly on the dance that our tongues had done earlier, and on how I could turn up the volume, on the passion that we had slowly been building up on our porch swing. I decided right then and there that we would "break in" our porch swing, before the fireworks reached their finale. I began to formulate a plan, and to put it into action.
I pulled our blanket across both of our laps, so that passing motorists would not see what we were doing. I then reached under our shared blanket, to unbuckle his belt.
He turned to look at me inquisitively, and I put my finger up to my lips, to tell him to keep quiet. I let my fingers glide slowly up and down the outside of his zipper, four or five times. I could feel his bulge start to grow, but not all the way to its full length and hardness yet. "That's good," I thought, "I want him to get all the way hard in my mouth, not in my hand. Now I eased his zipper all the way down, and I glided my hand inside, to find a surprise. Since it had been very hot all day, he had on no underwear, and I was glad to be free to massage his cock, unobstructed. I let my index finger glide from the cock head, all the way down the semi-hard shaft, down to his balls. My finger glided against first one ball, then the other, then worked its way back up his shaft to the head, which was becoming reddish-purple. I ran my finger over and across the head, massaging his pee-hole. He bucked his hips up toward my finger, but luckily, was not fully hard just yet. I figured I'd better make my move now, before it was too late to feel him actually harden in my mouth.