Tres Hermanos

My first shot at writing porn.

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I had the good fortune to start a company early and outlast my original partners through the ups and downs of early stage growth. Now, at 45, I had 100% control of a thriving financial services firm. Even better, I had hired enough people that I didn't have to do much of the work. Sure, I was in charge of important phone calls, hiring and firing, keeping an eye on the budget and handling disputes among the team. But I could do that from anywhere. Time, I decided, for a change of scene.

As I lay in bed next to my gently snoring wife, I wondered where to go. I had always wondered what it would be like to go to places like Machu Picchu in Peru, or Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Then I thought, while I'm still strong and fit, maybe it's the time to climb the Himalayas or Mount Kilimanjaro. But all those destinations sounded kind of lonely to do as a solo middle-aged guy. I might meet up with some people on the way, but they would probably be young backpacker types, and I had heard all those conversations many times before.

The truth hit me like a lightning bolt. Of course. As long as I was out and about on my own, I wanted to see some pussy. I had been married for some 15 years, and aside from the occasional strip club, I hadn't seen intimate female flesh (other than my wife's) for years.

I got out my phone and looked up nude beaches of the world. South of France, Italy, Greece, Croatia: plenty of good choices. But then I saw a place I had always heard about, on the Pacific coast of Mexico. My heart skipped a beat: I've always loved the brown-skinned girls, but I had found them generally unwilling to go naked in public. Plus, I realized I had an alibi. I had already told my wife I wanted to do a Spanish immersion class, and where better than a Mexican beach? I didn't have to tell her it was nude.

Three weeks later, my air-conditioned taxi pulled up to Tres Hermanos: just what the website had promised. Rosalita, the lovely girl at the front desk, greeted me in Spanish as the bellhop grabbed my small suitcase and headed to my personal cabana on the beach. She had the dark hair, dark eyes and ready smile that characterized the beauty of Mexico, and I was wondering how she looked under her hotel outfit when she suddenly broke into my train of thought. "Ah, Senor Rico. Usted pregunta sobre los lecciones en Espanol?" Yes, I replied in halting Spanish, I had arranged for Spanish lessons. Her smile widened, lighting up her eyes with humor as she took in my broad American accent. Then she told me that I had been discussing the lessons with her aunt, who unfortunately had fallen ill. I expressed my sympathies, and figured I may as well try flirting in Spanish. "Me gustaria recebir lecciones contigo. Que piensas?" I would like to have lessons with you, what do you think?

She may have blushed a bit, hard to tell. But she had a thoughtful look in her eye. I had made a bit of a "rich gringo" impression, showing up in a private taxi looking no worse for wear after my journey. And I haven't gotten this far in business without developing some charm: being nice, smiling as I used my far from perfect Spanish, and doing my best to look at her eyes and not her cleavage. I could tell she was thinking about it, so I named a price slightly higher than what I had offered her aunt, from 8 am -- noon for the next five days. As we shook on it, I breathed deep and looked down, savoring her light clean scent and getting a quick look down her shirt. A trade-up from the aunt, for sure!

The next few days passed quickly. I spent the mornings with Rosalita in conversational Spanish and I spent the afternoons sipping margaritas and watching the girls go by. Nude beaches are funny. There's a solid 90% you don't want to see. Old guys with their peckers barely poking out from white fluffy pubic hair, obese women with tits hanging down to their belly button. I got nothing against gay guys, but I am not one, and if I see a buff nude guy parading his junk, I'm going to pretend he doesn't exist. If you are wired the way I am, you notice all that in the background without even really seeing it. My filter was set to pussy, and there was plenty of that. Young pussy, old pussy, bald pussy, bushy pussy, trimmed, tattooed, pierced, natural ... an ever-unfolding panoply of naked female flesh. Just what the doctor ordered.

Or was it? I remember a comic talking about a strip club, saying he wouldn't do that to his dog. "Here's a nice juicy piece of meat ... here it is, don't you like it ... well you can't have it. And you owe me $50." I could look, but I couldn't touch. I tried chatting up solo girls a couple times, but we all know how much solo girls get chatted up and I didn't want to be overbearing, especially at a nude beach. As a solo guy, I kind of had to pretend I wasn't interested. Which was totally not true, but it was the way the game had to be played.

The lessons with Rosalita, on the other hand, were totally different. For one thing, we were clothed and not nude, and believe me, that was on my mind. But our conversations were legit: we talked about music, politics, life. She was 21, and had done a year of university in nearby Oaxaca before returning to help her three brothers with the hotel, for which Tres Hermanos was named. They passed by our lessons continually, three strong motherfuckers who seemed to be a little suspicious of the gringo talking to their sister. But Rosalita had a way of making all the aggressive machismo dissipate. She had a great laugh, and her dark eyes caught the light as she used her hands to make a point. It had been a long time since I had spent time with an attractive woman less than half my age, and combined with the acres of bare flesh I was viewing every afternoon, I was working up a powerful urge, macho brothers be damned.

Imagine my delight when she told me that a popular local band would be playing at a free outdoor concert that evening, and she was inviting me to join her. After our lesson, I went to the beach as usual, but I took it easy on the margaritas, and I laid in some supplies. There's this really shitty box sangria they sell in Mexico, I don't even think it's alcoholic and it tastes like a sweet wine cooler, but the girls like it. I added ice, vodka and some 80% grain alcohol, the kind that doesn't taste like anything but packs a hell of a punch.

When Rosalita arrived to go to the show, my jaw dropped. Gone was the front desk hotel garb. Instead she was wearing a tight shirt that accentuated her curves: I had pinned her as a B cup, but now I saw that she was a generous C cup. Latinas often like to draw attention to their asses, and Rosalita was no exception, her generous rear bulging out from a tight miniskirt. I finished my inspection and gaped stupidly at her, and I could see that she had noticed my arousal (women usually do). Fortunately, she just smiled and suggested that we get rolling.

The concert was crowded, seems like everyone in town had come out for the free show. I didn't much like the music, but Rosalita clearly did, swinging her arms and singing along. I found myself in the role of the male protector, using my large frame to guard our personal space. As the concert progressed, and the spiked sangria cocktail found its way down her throat, Rosalita's inhibitions loosened, and soon she was standing in front of me and rubbing her ass against my crotch as she danced. Not exactly twerking, just rubbing, but there's no doubt she could feel my erection rubbing against her ass cheeks. I was so tempted to reach around her and cup those lovely breasts in my hands, but I refrained. Better to let her control the physical interaction, at least for now.

She was stumbling a bit as we walked home. On the other hand, my mind was razor sharp, burning with lust and intensity. I had only had a few gulps of the terrible sangria, and the visions of all the female nudity I had seen recently, combined with the physical sensation of Rosalita pressed up against me, had sent me into overdrive.

Who knows what she was thinking as we approached my door? She was chattering on about how one of her girlfriends had gone backstage with the band, but I really wasn't listening. I wonder if women can hear the thick libido rising in men, like an engine whining in distress. Or they feel the body heat, or smell the pheromones. Maybe they usually can, but Rosalita was too intoxicated to make use of her natural sense.

In one motion, I pushed open the door and pulled her inside. While closing the door, I pinned her against the wall with my body. Feeling her warm, soft breasts against my midsection brought my boner to full alert. I kissed her hard, mouth on mouth, my tongue jamming its way to hers. She kissed back, maybe out of pure reflex: her prime 21 year old body responding without interference from its brain.

When we came up for air, I surprised her a bit. You know all that garbage about first base is kissing, second base is up her shirt and so on. Well, fuck that. I pushed my hand up her skirt, into her underwear and slid the tip of my finger into her slit before she knew what was coming. And then I held her there. I could feel the pulse hammering in the knuckle that was jammed into her G-spot, but I couldn't tell whether the pulse was hers or mine.

If you touch it right, the female body will respond. I could feel her walls thickening as I uncrooked my finger from the "come-hither" position and stroked her from the inside, meanwhile moving my thumb to flick and then press against her clit. When I had her clitoris lightly clamped between my thumb and forefinger, I used my pinky to rub against the ridge of skin between her asshole and her pussy -- her "taint," as some call it. A rush of her love fluids demonstrated irrevocably that her body enjoyed this treatment, and I slipped a second finger into her and increased the tempo of my diddling.

Looking into her face, I was amazed by the change 30 seconds had produced. The blood pumping through her veins had made her brown skin darker, and she was biting down on the fist she had inserted into her mouth, clearly trying not to moan. Such a different image from the cheerful, collected beauty I had been sitting across from for the past week! As I catalogued the image for prosperity, she pushed down (rather weakly) on my hand that was up in her business.

Perhaps a better man would have let her be at this point. Not me. I dropped to my knees and grabbed both of her hips. In one smooth motion, I had her skirt and her underwear over her knees, and I was looking at heaven. Remember, I had seen a lot of pussies over the last few days, and I knew what I liked. She had it to perfection: a beautiful patch of neatly trimmed dark pubic hair, thick enough to show she was a woman but sparse enough that you could see her cunt, especially now that her labia had been opened up and thickened of their own accord. Like a man possessed, I jammed my face into her bush, and stuck my tongue as far as it could reach into her salty slot.

Eating pussy is a little like playing jazz: you've got to stay loose and adapt to the circumstances. Lots of girls prefer a light touch and a genteel approach when it comes to their pussy. I didn't give Rosalita a chance to opine. I opened up her labia with my thumbs and continued my tonguing assault, extending my range from her vagina to her clitoris, which had now burst from its hood and was awaiting attention.

Something must have short-circuited in her, a combination of the alcohol, blood flow and unexpectedness of the situation. She slumped against the wall and started to slide down to the floor. I caught her gently and lowered her to the floor, examining my prize: skirt rolled up above her waist, panties bunched around her knees.

I did what any gentleman would do. I half-dragged, half-carried her over to the bed and made her comfortable on her back, positioning her head to make sure that if she vomited, she would come to no harm. I then did something not every gentleman would do: I rolled her underwear the rest of the way off. Then, slowly and gently this time, I went back to licking her twat, adding some tickling from the inside.

My kind ministrations had a beneficial effect on the patient. She moaned and grabbed the back of my head, pushing me tighter against her womanly parts. My nose, somewhat awkwardly jammed into her pubic mound, took in the smell of sex. Her lips flared open on their own accord as she rubbed her most delicate skin against my tongue. I put a second finger in her, then a third, as her hips bucked to a rhythm she was powerless to control.

There's that moment when the rollercoaster has almost finished going up and it's about to make its first terrifying descent. It felt a bit like that: I knew she was going to come, and I knew it was going to be a biggie. But we weren't quite there yet. I pulled my face out of her hot, sticky crotch and took a couple of deep breaths. Then I went back in, the tip of my tongue quickly finding the tip of her clit with no conscious intervention on my part. My fingertips drummed on her inside walls, caressing the spots that were becoming hard and thick. My thumb, always eager to get in the action, stroked along the inside of her pussy lips. Like a jazz band, we were all playing in sync, my tongue, fingers, and all the rest of me. And inevitably, she came.

Oh, she came and she came, and when she was almost done, she came some more. Her midsection was moving too much for me to maintain my tongue hold, but my fingers stayed in there, gently poking and prodding and prolonging the sensation. For the first time, she yelled out, quite loudly, the kind of yowl you could mistake for a very horny cat. As her pussy lips contracted spasmodically against my fingers, I fondled less and held more, using gentle pressure to keep her stimulated and yet let her ride it out. After what may have been 30 seconds but felt like a full hour, I could feel her coast to a stop under my hands. She was done.

I love this part. The calm after the storm. I always hear about how men fall asleep as soon as they've come, disappointing their women, but that's the opposite of my experience. Give her a big enough orgasm, and most women will need a short nap. I left her alone for a moment as I contemplated my next move.

I locked the door and quickly stripped naked. Realizing she still had her boots on, I eased them off, leaving her bare from the waist down. She groaned softly. "Dios mio. Nunca he venido asi." Oh my God, I have never come like that. I smiled and crawled over her, letting my weight press against her sensitive areas through the sheet as I gently stroked her forehead. "Good girl," I whispered in English, too overstimulated to look for the Spanish equivalent. "And now it's my turn."

I don't know if she understood me, but my meaning became obvious when I rolled off the bed and stood next to it, facing her, my cock a few inches from her face. With the pause in the action, I had softened to half-mast, but I find that's the perfect time for a blowjob. When I'm totally hard, the girl I'm with usually has difficulty getting me entirely in her mouth.

A look passed between us, and we both knew exactly what the other was thinking. If she did what I wanted her to do, right here right now, then she was an active partner in our rendezvous. Up until now, I had been the predator and she the prey, but the next act had the potential to change that dynamic. A pause, and the moment hung heavily in the humid air. And then, as if on its own volition, her small hand reached up and grabbed the base of my cock, gently encircling the underside of my scrotum.

Rosalita had acted shy when we had briefly touched on sex during our conversations, but she clearly knew how to suck dick. As we get older, we forget how active most teenagers are. She had all the tricks: kissing the sides of my cock, licking all around the head before plunging it into her mouth, jerking me off with her hand as she swallowed me, then taking her hand away so she could deep throat me. As she rolled off the bed and knelt on the floor in order to service me properly, I caught hold of the bottom of her shirt and rolled it over her head, leaving me looking down at her standard issue white push-up bra. As if sensing my momentary deflation at her unsexy lingerie, she gave me "you're going to like this" smile, and reached behind her back to undo the clasp.

Oh my god. Her tits were amazing! Jutting out from her body with the pride of youth, natural curves waiting to be fondled, large areolae framing nipples taut with desire. My hands were on her in a flash, gently kneading the soft warm flesh. My thumbs brushed the fullness of her nipples, then pinched them none too gently. She gasped, exhaling on my now fully stiff penis, before reinserting it to rub against the roof of her mouth. The sloppy sound of her sucking mingled with my soft groans of pleasure as I continued to paw at her tits, her brown eyes telling me she was mine, and I could do as I liked.

Grabbing the back of her head, I pushed myself all the way into her mouth, her chin up against my nut-sack. I held her there for a few seconds, feeling my cock engorge to its absolute maximum, as she started to choke and gasp for air. Once, twice, three more times I made her take it, air or no air. Then I pulled the whole length of my cock out, giving her a chance to recover. She coughed once or twice but she was a trooper, only her tear-lined mascara showing me that I hadn't been easy on her.

Time to give her a reward. I seized her arms and pulled her up to a standing position, and then I turned her around so her back was facing me. As my eager hands found their way to the tops of her tits, I leaned into her neck and inhaled her scent deeply. You know what comes next, and I think she did too: I backed up to give myself some room, pressed her shoulders down against the bed, and sank my cock into her pussy like a mad dog takes a bitch.

Doggy is not my favorite position. Call me a romantic, but I think a woman's face is more beautiful than her asshole, and smells better as well. But you can't argue with evolution: way before we were nice to each other, our ancestors fucked from the back because it works. Rosalita's cunt was already plenty lubricated, and my cock slid into the hilt. I grabbed her firm young ass, got a rhythm in my head, and proceeded to fuck the shit out of her.

Or was she fucking me? We had a rhythm going, but it was her ass that was going double time. A slight shift in weight, and instead of leaning into her, I was solidly on my feet, my dick up hard in her pussy, and she was impaling herself on it. This girl liked to fuck! Just for fun I reached around her hip and started diddling her clit.

Oh my god. Fireworks again. It was all I could do to maintain my position, pinning her with my dick from behind and my finger hard on her clit in front, as she jerked hard and shouted again into the night. This time, I don't think we could blame it on the cat.

Somehow, despite all of these fireworks and all the skin to skin contact, I managed to pull out. I wanted to be in charge of the final act. Just to be neighborly, I inserted two fingers into her twat while she was still cumming, and for good measure I forced my thumb tip into her ass and rubbed the sensitive skin that lies therein. Like taking a sixpack home from the store.

You know how I said that thing before, about how when you give a girl a mind-blowing orgasm, you should give her time to recover? Well, fuck that. I wanted my finish and I wanted it now. While she was still quivering from the afterglow, I roughly turned her around and put her on her back, and skootched her up so her head was on the pillow. My tongue had not had the chance to make its acquaintance with her nipples, so some serious nibbling followed, as my lower body positioned itself for the final assault. Raising my head from her cleavage, my hand stole down to her cunt one more time, like a bombardier establishing the angle of attack. My hand slid right in: totally wet, totally ready. I looked briefly at her eyes, but she was somewhere else, fuck knows where. I didn't know, I didn't care.