The Fling

She took her 4-year-old to swimming lessons at the Recreo Club in Rio three days a week. There were a couple of other young mothers and several nannies there to attend to the kids. They chatted casually but all were focused on their charges, so it wasn't a regular social group. One thing they all shared was an admiration for the young lifeguard and instructor who was training the kids. He was a trim young black man with an easy manner and an engaging smile. She didn't really pay much attention to him, except when he was handling her child. One Monday she saw her kid struggling and the instructor was tending to someone else so she dove in and stroked submerged across a couple of lanes, breaking the surface next to her boy, her arms extended to support him. She felt contact with another hand and opened her eyes to see the instructor smiling reassuringly as he stabilized the child and made sure he was breathing ok. She smiled back, her dark curly hair springing up to frame her face, water running down her cheeks, over her full lips, and off her chin. She blinked her dark brown eyes to clear them. She was very pretty.

"Sorry." She said. "I thought you may not have noticed him."

"I notice everything," he assured her with a confident grin. His English was very good. "Trust me" he said. He was strong and very fit and she suddenly felt safe in his presence.

She blushed, partly embarrassed for being an overanxious mother, and also because she felt a strange tightening in her stomach. She turned and swam to the edge of the pool, feeling self-conscious as she climbed the ladder, knowing he was watching her. She adjusted her bikini to cover what she could of her ass and made sure her ample tits were contained in the top piece. She settled into a deck chair and looked up to see him staring at her. She put her sunglasses on and smiled, as if at random but he knew it was for him.

He approached her after the lesson to make small talk and get a better look. She tightened her overwrap, covering her stomach and hips but making no effort to conceal her breasts, which threatened to spill out of the bikini top. Her hair had fluffed out as it dried, and her skin glowed under the tanning oil. Damn, but she was pretty. She knew she looked good and that was reflected in his eyes. He was handsome too, and he knew it. She felt kind of vulnerable and clung to her little boy's hand as if it were a life preserver.

"See you tomorrow," he said.

"Wednesday" she replied, smiling.

He watched her as she walked away. She felt his eyes on her back and enjoyed it.

She showed up a little late on Wednesday. It was intentional, and she hoped that he had been waiting for her. She wore her best bikini, and like all Brazilian models, there wasn't much to it. It was no more revealing that the other, but this one pushed her breasts up a bit more and the colors complemented her skin tone. He was out on the deck doing warm-ups with the kids. He was wearing a white Speedo "banana hammock." The nannies clustered around the shallow end giggled and commented on the size of his banana. She wasn't into size, as long as it wasn't small, but she noted that he was quite well endowed. Of more interest was that the white sling shot made a nice contrast to his mahogany skin. She had never had a black lover and she was intrigued, just from an esthetic point of view. OK, he was hot, and black was definitely interesting, but she suppressed the thought.

When the lesson started, she got in the pool. She swam along with the kids, showing them how to float and helping with the dog paddles. It was all innocent and healthy and normal. Then at one point she was helping her child to float and he was on the other side of the boy, facing her, then he moved around to stand beside her as if to assist, and reached out under the water and placed his hand on her back to steady her, not caressing, but just making contact. She looked at him and didn't move or respond. Just stood there until he dropped it and moved away. Again, she felt a tightness in her stomach and an involuntary pulse in her groin. She stayed until the end of the exercise and then got out of the pool. She climbed the ladder slowly, letting the water run off the dual moons of her ass before rising onto the deck. She laid down on a recliner and watched him conduct the elementary swimming class. He frequently looked her way and she pretended to ignore him.

After the lesson she joined the other mothers and kids for the play time. They all frolicked and splashed in the pool, and he engaged with all the parents, but paid her particular attention. They chatted about the class and other features of the club; the yoga and dance classes, and the restaurant and bar. He asked if she could join him for a drink after, and she told him she would have to take a rain check, as her husband was away on business, and she had to take care of the child. He said "OK, maybe another time then." She smiled noncommittally, satisfied that she had conveyed three key pieces of information: she was married, her husband was out of town, and she would consider a social encounter.

She wore her regular bikini on Friday. It was still skimpy, and she still filled it out nicely, but it wasn't quite as flash as the other one. She figured she had already scored her points and he confirmed that when he strolled over to greet her. He was all cordial and professional, and she was studiously non-flirty, but there was a tension in the air and they both felt it. She dropped her wrap on a lounge chair, adjusted the scanty bits of her swim gear to make sure she was covered, and joined the kids in the pool. The session was largely a play day with lots of bobbing and splashing and launching of little bodies onto floating mats.

She was pushing her boy in an inflated rubber ring and got in a little too deep, bouncing on the bottom, bobbing, and treading water, trying to control the float with her son. He swam over to help, gripping her around the waist to stabilize her, then drawing her back toward the shallow end where she could touch the bottom. She steadied herself, arms wrapped around the float. He stood behind her, his hands still on her hips, and made subtle incidental contact with her butt. She didn't move, breathing deeply, and sensing the lump in his Speedo. She broke the trance and pushed the float ring toward the shallow end. She said "obrigado" and swam away with butterflies in her stomach.

After the lesson he invited the kids to ice cream, as it was the last class of the season. Again, he chatted with all the mothers and nannies, and again he paid special attention to her. He told her he got off early and asked if she could come back in a couple of hours to join him for a drink. He's making a play, she thought, and wondered if she should engage.

"Well," she said, "I'd have to see if the housekeeper can stay on a bit longer today..."

"I hope so," he said. "I'll wait around after work."

She smiled, saying nothing, but her mind was racing, her heart pounding against her ribs.

The ice creams were finished, and her son was nodding off. He picked up the kid and walked her to her car, parked in a shady secluded spot at the back of the lot. He put the boy in the back seat and the kid stretched out and snuggled up with a pair of pillows. She leaned back against the car, and he moved over to stand in front of her. It wasn't at all menacing, but he had assumed control. Her breathing was shallow. She tightened the top of her beach wrap, conscious of her deep cleavage, and looked up into his eyes.

He said "Later, then," and reached in to give her the customary kisses, first on one cheek and then the other. When he drew back, she turned her face up and kissed him full on the lips. He kissed her back, pressing his body against her, pinning her to the car. She held the kiss and prolonged the contact. They were both still in their pool gear. She felt his penis pulsing in his Speedo and he felt her nipples hardening in her bikini top. Her body was hot from the sun it had absorbed, and there was also heat radiating from her loins and his. She broke the kiss and pushed him away, saying "I need to get home." He watched her drive away and she watched him watching her in the rear-view mirror.

It was mid-afternoon when she came back. He was in the restaurant/bar, finishing a beer, dressed now in drawstring deck pants and polo shirt. He said "Wow" as she approached. "I've never seen you in street gear. You look great." She tried not to blush. She was wearing a white cotton tank top that was snug enough to show off the goods without the help of a bra and cut low enough to display her tantalizing cleavage. A multi-colored skirt hugged the globes of her ass and was tight across her thighs, ending a good hand span above the knees. Her toenails were red petals protruding from white leather sandals and her hair was a dark bushy halo surrounding a lovely face. She knew she looked good, and he knew it wasn't by accident. He ordered two caipirinhas and guided her to a quiet table.

"I'm so glad you came," he said, with obvious sincerity, and flashed his winningest smile.

She laid out her exit strategy right off: "I can't stay long, but I did want to have a drink..."

He gave her a 'whatever' shrug and turned on the charm. He figured he had a good shot at closing the deal and went right to the music conversation that touched on the aspect of Brazilian culture that appealed to all the foreigners. She responded as expected and they went to a discussion of recent bosa nova concerts and new Brazil pop releases. The drinks came and they toasted their good health. After the first sip he apologized to her for the poor quality. In truth, they were a bit weak, but no worse than typical bar fare.

As if by sudden inspiration he said, "Hey, I have some premium cachaça and fresh limes at my place, plus the new Xico album. What say we go there to have a real drink and hear some fresh sounds. It's right around the corner!" She knew immediately all that the invitation implied and was genuinely reluctant to make it so easy. She paused, and looked at her watch, slightly conflicted, but not really. She let the suspense mount and then said, "OK, but just for one," knowing that it was somewhere between a guess and a hope.

His apartment really was just next door, and that made it feel more secure somehow. The elevator was the old cage style, and it was a modest one-room flat, furnished with a table and futon, with a small kitchenette alcove. There was a window with a sliver of ocean view. He was apologetic about the simplicity of his digs and suddenly seemed shy, perhaps out of embarrassment, which gave her greater confidence as he didn't seem intimidating, and she could maintain control of how things developed. He made a brief show of his prized cachaça, put a disc in a little boom box, and withdrew to the kitchenette to squeeze limes and prepare the drinks. The music was contagious, and she was starting to respond to the rhythm when he brought out a pitcher and poured two glasses of what turned out to be a very good caipirinha. They toasted again and he joined her in swaying gracefully to the seductive music. The atmosphere was very comfortable, and she felt secure and relaxed.

When the tracks ended, she moved over to the window to take in the view. He stepped up close behind her, placed his drink on the windowsill and slipped his hands beneath her arms to clutch her breasts. She gasped and stood motionless, but her nipples surged into his hands, hard as bullets. He ran one hand down across her stomach and under the elastic band of her skirt, his fingers searching for her pubic patch. She grabbed his wrist and held him immobile. Three thoughts coursed through her mind in rapid succession:

"I shouldn't do this." "Do I want to do this?" And then "Yes. Yes, I want to do this." She drew herself up straight and pushed his hand down into her crotch. He cupped her mons with his palm, and she opened her stance wider to give him better access to her pussy.

His fingers danced across her dampening slit and found the nub of her clit. She sighed as he strummed it and inclined her head to one side to let him nibble her neck. His other hand was up under her top, caressing her breasts. He squeezed them and slipped a finger into her, then two. She pushed her butt back into him and he pressed her up against the wall, his cock prodding her, his lips nibbling her neck and pulling at her ear lobe. No longer shy nor hesitant, he pulled her skirt up over her hips and pushed her panties down to the floor. He loosened the drawstring on his pants, freeing his erect penis and planting it between the cheeks of her ass. She flexed her buns in response, surrendering to a wave of pleasure. He broke contact for a moment and inserted himself between her legs, stroking the wet lips of her pussy with the hard shaft of his cock. She felt her passion rising and tried to control it, but her juices were flowing, and she knew there was no stopping it now.

She raised her arms and pushed herself off the wall, turning to embrace him, reaching hungrily for his mouth. They kissed deeply, their tongues gouging, their lips grasping, their arms gripping tight, bodies crushed together. He pulled her tank top up under her chin and she pressed her breasts against his chest. She reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock, gasping at its hardness and girth. She squeezed it as he rocked his rod into her fist and she rubbed it against her moist pussy lips. Still kissing, he put a slight pressure on her shoulders, and she willingly lowered herself before him, kissing her way across his bare chest, nibbling his nipples, and licking his navel. Then, dropping to her knees, she found his rigid member bobbing under her chin. She drew back and paused to admire the rigid black shaft, glazed with a coating of her juices. She loved the contrast with the pale fingers of her hand encircling it.

The head was a swollen bulb, dark purple like a ripe plum, the little gash at the tip a winking eye, with a pearl of clear pre-ejaculate liquid seeping out in anticipation. She sighed, thinking OK, I saw one at last, and felt a flash of pride despite herself. Then, with a reverence as if completing an act of communion, she leaned in, wrapped her lips around the head and sucked it like a popsicle. He sighed and she took it in deeper, walking her tongue down the shaft and flexing her throat as his tip reached for her tonsils. He placed his hands on either side of her head and pulled her into him, releasing when she gagged, then guiding her back to take some more, pushing his dick into her throat. She moaned and reached down to finger herself as he fucked her face.

She wasn't ready to stop, and all too soon he pulled her to her feet, saying he didn't want to cum yet, and led her over to recline on the futon. Her skirt was bunched around her waist, the panties long gone. He pulled her tank top up again to expose her proud jutting breasts and began suckling first one swollen nipple and then the other, his hands busy with the free tit and her damp snatch. She was squirming and panting and craving his tongue and his cock. He worked his way down to her crotch, his lips pulling at her neatly trimmed bush and nibbling at the lips of her pussy. She reached down and pulled back the fleshy hood over her clitoris, and it stood up as she offered it to his mouth.

He sucked her slit and alternately probed with his tongue and flicked at her clit. She gripped his head, pulling him to her and thrusting herself against his mouth. Looking down at the muscles rippling in his coffee-colored back and the close-cropped head planted between her legs, she thought my God, I will remember this all my life! She closed her eyes and began the climb to her climax. He felt her passion grow as she started to writhe and groan, her hips thrusting at his face. She flexed, arched her back, and cried out, clamping her legs around his head, and convulsed with a massive orgasm. He lapped up her fluids, licking her clean, and moved up her body to kiss her and feast on her magnificent tits.

She tasted herself in his mouth and said "Now it's your turn, but you can't cum in me, OK?"

"OK" he said. "I'll tell you when I get there. Where do you want it"?

"In my mouth," she said, and kissed him again, deeply. "Please. Cum in my mouth."

She wrapped her arms around his back, again reveling in the contrasting colors of their glistening flesh. He stationed himself between her thighs and she guided him into her wet vagina. She gasped as he entered her, with visions of the swollen plum of his cock head dancing behind her eyes. Then it was another gasp as he pushed into her and started to pump. She clung to him, sensing another wave gathering in her loins. She rocked her pelvis up to him and he slammed his down, jabbing his cock deep into her pussy. She held her legs hovering above his back, knees bent, ankles locked behind his hips, eagerly pulling him into her lush hungry body. His chest pressed tight against hers, flattening her tits and bathing her with his sweat as she bucked beneath him. She felt another climax building and straightened her legs, pointing them to the ceiling and spreading them wide to open herself all the way and give him access to every bit of her hot grasping cunt. He filled her with his cock and thrilled her with his savage rutting, taking her to someplace she had never been, consumed by passion and hopelessly lost in an overpowering ecstasy.

"Fuck me," she said. "Give me your cock, pound me, fuck me, oh my God yes, FUCK ME!" And then she started to babble as her orgasm hit like an avalanche. She came so hard she was blinded by the power of the explosion in her loins. He reacted to her words, and her violent spasm, and the acrid smell of their sex. He upped the tempo, stabbing his cock deep between her legs, pumping faster and faster, grunting, panting, and clenching his teeth as his penis swelled within her and she thrashed beneath him. He felt a rumbling in his groin as the pressure mounted behind his cock.

"I'm ready!" he gasped. He drove himself deep into her again and again, then reluctantly pulled his penis out with a suction pop like drawing a wine cork. He squirmed up her body and hovered above her face. She reached up and grabbed his surging black shaft, pulling the engorged plum deep into her mouth. He cried out and his cock pulsed as he pumped his sperm into her throat. She sucked harder, drawing him to her with her hands on the cheeks of his ass, ravenously drinking all of his copious load. He sighed, went limp, and collapsed beside her with a guttural moan. Trembling, she faded into semi-consciousness as if slipping into a coma. They lay there, lost in a delicious bliss, arms and legs entwined, black on white, exhausted, and supremely satisfied.

"That was great," he said, his senses still tingling, his energies spent.

"M-m-m-m-m," was the best she could do. She kissed his neck and squeezed him again, pulling his ebony thigh to nest between the ivory of her own, luxuriating in the aftermath.

"I have to go," she said at last. She disentangled herself and rose from the futon, pulling her top down over her breasts and tugging her rumpled skirt back down over her thighs. She left the panties where they lay next to the window.

"A souvenir," she said, heading for the door.

He rose up on one elbow, asking "When will I see you again"?

"Never," she said. "This was just a fling."