Monday, April 17, 2017

MEG AMOR



LAST TANGO IN the PARIS of the South
 
~ Buenos Aires ~
Aloha everyone! Thanks to Stormy Glenn for once again putting this wonderful competition and writing opportunity together. These are such a lot of fun to write. And thanks to you readers for reading and leaving your lovely comments. I appreciate each and every one of them.


Chapter One


It’s belting down outside and I’m heartily sick and tired of this incessant rain. I’m also sick of this boring job, and myself. I’m boring. I need a new life…something that won’t make me sick…I hum to myself.

“What’s that?” asks Peter, my cellmate, I mean…cube mate.

“I need a new life. One I’m not allergic to,” I state, and Peter frowns at me in sympathy.

“Why don’t you take a week’s vacation?”

“Where the hell would I go? And with who?” I sigh, feeling it all pressing in around me.

“What about back to Paris? You really had a good time there,” he offers.

And I smile. The first one all day. Yeah, I had actually.

Good food, nice accommodation, amazing sights to see, and an intriguing man who had romanced me all over the cobblestone streets, and nooks and crannies of that romantic city.

And my breath catches in my throat. Every morning I’d wake up to him whispering in my ear, “Are you awake, my darling? I’m hungry for you.”

His thick, juicy cock would cleave between my ass cheeks, waking up every nerve ending in my body as he feasted on me. Soft lips would dance over mine, caressing and tasting. His pink tongue would suck my nipples into stiff peaks before licking down my stomach. Teasing and getting closer, he’d open his mouth and take a gentle bite, then long, luxurious licks of my dick before swallowing it down his throat.

And I’d just walked away…

I look around my gray on gray, with some possible beige in there to break up the excessive monotony-toned office. I thought coming back for this job was worth it. But now I just feel like someone has clipped my wings and I’ve been grounded for months. Wallowing on the tarmac, feeling miserable every time someone took off for somewhere glamorous.

The wild side of my nature is chomping at the bit to have an adventure. Be free. One last tango in Paris, my romantic soul whispers.

Except, going back there would be hard.

I’d walked away from something I’d regretted ever since but had talked myself out of doing anything about.

Alejandro Blanco… The name alone was romantic.

He’d been a Latin lover that had touched my soul. And my body.

My uncomfortable throbbing hard-on presses into my zipper as sensuous memories flood my balls, and brain.

I’d rented a gorgeous attic room at the top of an apartment building in the Rue Cler. I wanted to feel part of the city. Wander down to the markets each day to get my coffee or hot chocolate, and pastries. Real French ones, Tarte aux framboises—plump, red raspberries neatly arranged on thick yellow custard with perfect pastry bases. I’d shop with the French ladies with their little dogs, and wicker shopping baskets, collecting fresh flowers, and food for the day. Then walk home with a crunchy baguette wrapped in a piece of paper, and several crisp, buttery croissants. Each delicious bite into thick slices of quiche Lorraine with creamy bacon and egg fillings like nothing I’d had anywhere else would fire up my soul. Maybe they’d added nutmeg, I muse.

Then I’d met him—

“What?” I come to, startled at Peter clicking his fingers in front of my face.

“We lost you there for a minute. You looked like you were remembering some wonderful romance you had out there.”

I laugh. “I was remembering the food, actually.”

“Daamnnn. It must have been good.”

“It was all good.” I heave out a pissed off sigh.

“Nico! Can you get that artwork into my office by lunchtime today?” asks my boss Aric.

“Yep.” I raise a hand in acknowledgment.

“Back to the drawing board, quite literally,” I say to Peter.

He laughs, and I apply myself to finishing the mock-up I’ve been doing for this ad campaign—someone else’s dream I was making come true.

* * * *

By the time I leave work, I’m done.

With everything.

Stick a fork in me.

The client loved the artwork and concept we’d created. Her enthusiasm had bubbled over, and I’d been caught up in the glow of it. But when she finally left the office, my bubble burst abruptly, and now I’m drudging home on the BART. It’s still raining, and I’m still boring.

Plus, I’m starting to feel irritated with myself.

You know it’s really bad, when even you’re sick of your internal whining.

On a whim, I pop into the Burma Superstar, my favorite Burmese restaurant in Oakland. I order the Platha Dip and several other dishes. When the dip comes, every bite of the homemade, multi-layered pan-fried bread I dunk into the coconut, chicken curry sauce is like a slice of heaven on my tongue.  

And the deep yearning to be off on an adventure bites me again.

By the time I’ve eaten my way through two more spicy, inspired, out of this world dishes, my mind’s made up.

I’m going to Paris.

Argentina.

Buenos Aires is the “Paris of the South.”

* * * *

My body hums with excitement as the big jet pulls her nose into the air. Then I’m feeling panicked and scared. What the hell are you doing, Nico?

The reality is starting to bite a little hard.

He probably won’t even remember me. It’s been over two years. I haven’t stayed in touch. He’ll be in a relationship or married even. Buenos Aires is hugely supportive of gay relationships.

The welcome ding comes, and I fire up my laptop to remind myself of what I left behind but am hopefully heading toward.

Clicking through the pages, I pull up the scanned letter I keep on here.


My darling, my most beautifully Nico.
My English is not so perfect. But I hopes for you to understand what I inscribe here. I know it hasn’t been very longs but in my hearts, you have already taken up all the spaces. Please comes back to Argentina with me. I will showers you with flowers and dances with you in the milongas. We will eat fabulous food, and make loves into the night. You will meet my familia. I will always loves you.
Always yours in my most sincere and specially loves to you, Alejandro. xxoxx

I love the way he mixes in Spanish with his love of verbs and the letter “s” liberally sprinkled in his speech. I’d say, that’s not the word. He’d laugh. “But is sound so much better. You sure?” he’d ask me quite seriously, and I’d just give up, laughing, and letting him in a little deeper. Just reading the letter, was like listening to him talk. His beautiful accent caressing my ears, and my heart…

It was like something out of a fairytale. And I’d wanted to believe that my knight on a white horse had arrived to sweep me off my feet. But I’d chickened out at the last moment. All that passionate, intense South American fire had frightened me. I was scared it would burn out. Or burn me.

But also, that I wouldn’t be able to keep that fiery, smoldering Latin man alight.

Now I think I should have just invested in some fireproof underwear and an asbestos jacket, and waded into the flames.

Because while it had been hot in bed, and we’d talked about everything under the sun, sharing a lot of the same views and humor. He’d also sparked my soul. A rare thing. I still woke up from intense, vivid dreams with him, reaching out for his warmth in the bed. Then coming fully awake and feeling shocked at how disappointed I felt when he wasn’t there.

I hadn’t even looked him up on social media.

I didn’t want to know that my dream was just that. And that he was now married and living a wonderful life, with a wonderful husband.

What a fucking idiot to walk away.

* * * *

And now I’m a fucking idiot who’s standing at Ministro Pistarini International Airport with not a plan in my head.

A grin spreads across my face and the feeling of freedom edges up my spine. I realize I have nothing to lose. I might as well go for broke.

What the hell, let’s do this, I pep talk myself.

I’m going to trust and wherever I end up, I end up. I’ve often done this while traveling and been led into some amazing experiences.

I hail a cab and between my rusty Spanish, and the driver’s much better English, he takes me to the area that Alejandro last lived in.

God, what a beautiful city this is. It’s like the best of all the European cities combined with that gorgeous hot Latin energy seeps that up from the ground. The heat rekindles a fire I realize was just banked in me, but not extinguished.

One of the last times I’d seen him, I’d met him where he’d been staying in Montmartre, and as we’d left the house he’d pressed me into the cool stone walls. We’d had thick sweaters on, and he’d surprised me with a rose he had tucked behind his back. We’d snuggled into each other, kissing deeply, whispering love, and what we wanted to do to each other.

We’d given up on going anywhere, and he’d tugged me back into the house. Where we’d frantically pulled off bulky clothes until we were standing in our briefs, clutching each other’s hard cocks through the fabric and shaking with desire.

How had I even walked away?

And what am I doing here?

He’ll probably laugh in my face, and tell me to fuck off.

My confidence flags again.

Okay, sleep, and then a plan.

* * * *

I wake up in a wonderful little place the cab driver found me. It’s only two streets away from the address Alejandro had given me. Dusk is just settling on the city, and I know from what he’d told me that nothing much happened here until after nine at night. It’s still warm. The hot, sultry air surrounds my body as I lean over the balcony, taking in the city that is just coming alive. The smell of roasting meat is making my mouth water.

I take a quick shower and am advised by my Argentine Italian landlady where to eat. It’s a lively neighborhood, the type of place used by the locals. And as I settle at a table, I sink into the feeling of belonging. Even though, yes, I haven’t started my search for Alejandro yet.

I’ve convinced myself that if this was really meant to happen, he’ll walk into this restaurant, and it’ll be a big movie moment. Our eyes will meet across the crowded room, and he’ll profess his undying love for me…on a bended knee…with some flowers he managed to pick up somewhere…and a ring.

Never mind the technical details like I left him, and he’s probably married, if not in a serious relationship. He might not even be in this city. That throws cold water in my face. It’s only just occurred to me.

The server takes my order and walks away, then she turns and comes back to me. “You are meeting a lover here?” she asks.

And there’s something about the way she says it that makes chills tingle down my spine.

“I’m hoping to find a lost love here,” I admit.

She nods decisively. “I think you will.” She touches my arm briefly. “He is close by to you.”

“Gracias,” I say, exhaling with relief. It’s a sign, and I’ll gladly take it.

I unwind a little more, and soak in the atmosphere. The courtyard has mosaic tiled floors with stunning aqua walls and royal blue shutters. And the cascading greenery down the walls makes me feel exotic and alive.

The tantalizing aroma of asado—Argentine barbecue—surrounds me. The parrilla, or charcoal grill places are all over the city apparently, and this restaurant has the small parrilla grills set into the table where they cook the meat in front of you. I order the la parillada complete for two—a mixed grill. I can always take a doggie bag home for a snack later.

They put on the steaks first, a large coil of sausage, then everything else. By my estimation, I won’t have to buy any more food for the week. It’s more like a meal for six people!

Little bowls of condiments are laid out, and I heap chimichurri, the tangy, garlicky, green salsa made with parsley, oregano, onion, garlic, chili, olive oil, and lemon juice onto my first steak. The taste sensations pop all over my tongue like a pinball machine. I want to groan with pleasure and finally do. Instead of getting startled looks, people grin and nod in agreement, attacking their own pile of succulent meat.

I pull up gooey pieces of proveleta cheese that’s been sprinkled with oregano and chili, and melted on the grill. Crispy and caramelized on the outside, soft and smoky on the inside.

Torn between the dulce de leche, and the empanadas for dessert. I order both. My God, no wonder Alejandro can’t leave Argentina. The thick caramel made from slowly boiling condensed milk is sticky and sweet, liquid ambrosia. And the hot, flaky pastry empanadas are filled with quince jam and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

The people at the next table think I’m the entertainment for the night as I groan, and sigh in pleasure at the food. The server keeps coming back to check on me. “With that appetite and love of our food, you will love living in this city,” she says, grinning.

Before I can correct her, she’s off again, delivering more delicious food.

Could I live in this city? I want to say an instant yes, and again, chills ripple down my neck.

Alejandro unfortunately doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo that I’ve breezed into town and expect him to sweep me off my feet. Damn. But I’m feeling happy, and excited—alive. Something I haven’t felt for a long time.

It’s still early by local standards, and I’m not sleepy. I head over to the La Boca barrio or neighborhood down by the port. And my heart is well and truly captured. Brightly colored houses in arresting cornflower blue, turquoise, red, orange, yellow, and hot pinks line the pedestrian street of the Caminito. And I’m caught up in the passion of the tango dancers performing on the street. This is not the showy, dramatic “performance” tango you see elsewhere. It’s danced face to face, and is a slow lover’s embrace of sensuality and romance.

I’m mesmerized by it.

Every gancho or leg hook is exquisite. As a free leg swings, the dancer hooks it around her partner’s supporting leg.

The smoldering heat between the couple has me longing for my own lover. And I make a decision about where I’m heading tomorrow. The meal and slight jetlag has finally caught up with me, and I reluctantly leave this passion soaked street to head back to my accommodation.


Chapter Two

It takes me all day to work up the courage to contact Alejandro. My brain is on overload, working out every possible scenario that could happen, could go wrong, or might not work.

My heart is pounding, and I shake so badly, I can barely give the flower seller my money. I bought Alejandro a beautiful bunch of spring flowers, pink tulips, white sweet smelling freesias, and purple iris’s. It just feels right.

Man, how long has it been since I simply went with my feelings, and not my head? There’s a freedom here that even after a day, I don’t ever want to give up again. I feel like I have a tacit permission to be all of me. Yes, it’s nerve-racking but I feel alive.

When I knock on the door of the address he’d given me, I feel like I’m about to pass out cold from nerves.

A nice-looking woman with jet black hair and fine features answers the door, and I ask in my best Spanish if he’s there.

He’s still at work, she says but come, wait for him.

She smiles, gently tugging me inside, and pries the flowers from my death grip I have on them.

I introduce myself, and she nods several times, her eyes dancing, looking pleased.

“I am Senora Blanco,” she says. “Alejandro’s mamá. But you can call me Sofia.”

The house is peaceful and cool, soft greens on the walls and pretty yellows. Huge tropical plants and comfortable furniture. She pushes me into the spacious kitchen and points to a stool. I’m offered a wine or juice. I take a glass of ruby red wine, it might calm me down.

She doesn’t seem to think there’s anything odd about my appearing here.

“He has missed you,” she says, giving me another smile.

And my heart stutters with joy and hope.

She arranges the flowers in a nice vase and puts them on the table.

“I’ve missed him,” I finally manage to say.

“I know,” she says firmly, nodding her head, as if she’s reassuring me.

And I half laugh at the craziness of the situation.

She gives me a quick hug, then hands me some carrots and peppers to chop up.

“We will make carbonada. It is a national Argentine dish. You will help.”

Several pounds of cubed beef are seared with onions and garlic. They’re cooked for half an hour with chunks of tomato, oregano, and bay leaves in wine and beef broth to give them a head start. Then she adds sweet and white potato, corn, carrots, peppers, and bacon. And of all things, diced fresh peaches and pears. I don’t think I’ve ever had fruit in a stew before.

I plan to get a seatbelt extender on my flight home.

But you won’t be going home, a voice whispers in my brain.

While I’m wondering about the “brain whispers” I’m getting, a girl of about sixteen comes into the kitchen, and we’re introduced. It’s his sister Valentina and she also gives me a hug.

I am hugged by five more people who appear over the next hour. And I’m close to tears. They just seem to accept me. Now I wonder what Alejandro told them about me. After another hour, I begin to feel like one of the family. I’ve folded some laundry, fed the cat, helped lay the table, had a heated discussion about politics until we all realized we were on the same side, laughed a lot, and relaxed.

It’s a crazy fun, passionate family. And it’s like being hooked up to an IV and the soothing warmth of the life-giving fluid is entering my veins.

When Alejandro finally walks through the front door, I almost feel like it’s just another normal day with his family and me as he calls out his greetings to everyone.

But when he appears at the kitchen door, his expression lets me know this is not an ordinary day.

He stands in the doorway, clutching the doorjamb with one hand, his other clamped over his mouth. And I see the slight tremor in his hand as tears slowly slide down his face.

He’s more beautiful than ever. His dark hair and green eyes, the olive skin and exotic gorgeous smile that always set me on fire.

Then he rushes over and crushes me into his body, and I clutch onto his neck, burying my face in his shoulder, breathing him in.

My body’s already responding to the deep, burning need for him.

He pulls back slightly, taking my face in his hands as if he’s examining every angle.

“You’re staying.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“I…”

“Good. I cannot stands for you to be away from me again.”

I just don’t have the heart to say I’m here for a week. Not yet.

And when he brings his mouth down on mine—maybe never.

He backs me toward the hallway door, the heat from his body and eyes making mine throb.

“Your mom made dinner,” I half-heartedly murmur.

“Later. It will keeps. For now I have something else I wants to feast on.”

His gorgeous accent is caressing my ears, my heart, and my cock.

“Sorry,” I call out to everyone in the room. God, how embarrassing.

But they burst into applause and cheer. Not quite the response I was expecting from their son spiriting me away to I’m guessing, his bedroom.

Away from our audience, I push him into the wall and grind my crotch into him, fucking his mouth with my tongue. He clutches my ass, giving every ounce of passion back and more. Then he drags me down the hallway, across a walled courtyard, and into a small bedroom.

I’ve never been undressed or undressed anyone so fast in all my life. When we finally stand pressed into each other, our cocks pulsing together, both of us trembling and moaning, the tears spring from my eyes.

“Si, si. I know. I know,” he says gently.

Tears glisten in his too, and suddenly I want to take this slowly, savor it. Although I’m not sure I can. One lick from his tongue, and I’ll probably come.

“Quick, quick, slows,” he says, and I grin.

“A bailar—let us dance,” I say softly and he kisses me achingly slowly, his lips touching mine, caressing, sucking.

His hand quickly slides down my body, leaving a trail of fire, then he cups my balls, squeezing gently, and I stagger. I’m panting, keening, wanting his mouth. He pushes me back onto the bed and licks my ball sac, pulling the skin tenderly through his lips before lapping the length of my cock. His tongue rubs back and forth on the head, twirling the glans, then engulfing me in his mouth. I’m making strangled noises, my body on fire. He slicks his finger with saliva and pushes it up my ass. The spreading, throbbing ache as the sensations spread out across my cheeks and down my thighs. And I push my cock down his throat, losing my load, crying out in ecstasy as I pump into my man.

He throws back his head and laughs, panting, happy, and I hold my arms out to him. Alejandro crawls up the bed, and I pull him in, kissing every inch of his face. His hard-on sears my skin as he slowly skims up my body until he hangs over me, tea-bagging my mouth. Every time those sweet hard balls touch my tongue, I grunt, feeling the curl of desire already making me thicken again. I lick them gently, twirling my tongue between the balls, bouncing them before sliding my wet mouth along his fat dick and sinking down onto the large, uncut, dusky head. Heaven.

He cries out, sinking down my throat, fucking me. Every gorgeous slide of his length between my lips is making me throb again. I caress his satiny, olive skin, loving the feel of his warm muscles under my hands again.

“Si, si, fuck. Fuccckkkk…” he grinds out, shooting his creamy cum down my throat.

He slides down my body, and folds himself into my arms, rocking on me, his asshole nudging my erection. I nuzzle his hair and we sigh and groan softly in pleasure with each other. He reaches over to his bedside drawer and grabs lube and a condom. In a quick movement, he slides it down over my shaft and lubes his hole. Then goes back to rocking in my arms, sliding his slick little ass up and down, teasing my cockhead until I’m close to screaming.

“Fuck me, make loves to me, slow, slow, slow,” he whispers, as we kiss slowly and deeply, murmuring words of love and need.

“Oh fuck, yes,” I cry out.

And he reaches back to position my cock onto his pucker, nudging me, sinking slowly until my knob is swallowed by his asshole. He’s grinning, his head thrown back, eyelids fluttering, and lips trembling as he scrapes his teeth in pleasure across them.

I let him seat himself until the last bit and thrust up into him, wanting to feel his tightness wrapped around me—sheathing and hugging my cock. He pulls his dick, bringing himself to hardness again, pointing it at me, and I feather my fingers up and down its length. Teasing him, teasing myself, running my finger through his beading juices, stroking his balls—all the things I remember that make him scream.

Looking into his eyes, I kiss one hand, then the other. And he smiles, it’s so dreamy and loving. I bring him down onto my chest, and enfold him into my arms, stroking his back, breathing into his hair, the fragrance of him—spring, fresh grass, and sunlight. Issey Miyake. It’s perfect on him.

“I missed you,” I whisper.

“I cannot even say those words to you because they are not enough to shows how much I missed you.”

I stroke his face, the five o’clock shadow rough but welcoming. There’s so much tenderness between us that I swallow convulsively. Why the hell did I stay away this long?

He begins to ride me slowly, both of us building, getting lost in the rhythm together. Our eyes never leave each other. I watch him peak, riding the wave between us, his cum jerking out of him in long, short spurts, coating my chest. He squeezes me internally once more and the orgasm ripples through my body, my pelvis contracting with gut-wrenching deep feelings.

He sinks down onto my chest, and I whisper in his ear, “Te quiero mucho.”

“I loves you very much too, my beautifully, Nico. You come all this ways for me.”

“I couldn’t stay away any longer. I’ve been so stupid. I’m so sorry.”

“I will forgives you, but you ever leave me again, I will never forgives you,” he says it so seriously, I know he’s speaking the truth.

So now I have a decision to make.

“I understand,” I say, and I do.

Please let me be brave, I say to myself.

We cuddle and talk, stroking warm skin, kissing, and caressing. I’m still sinking into the wonder of being here with him when we’re interrupted by Sofia shouting, “Alejandro, Nico! Dinner time.”

 He kisses me quickly and leaps off the bed, sticking his head around the door. “Coming, Mamá.”

Then he drags me out of bed and into a shower where he examines my body and washes me with slow precision, and a quick hand job to get through dinner.

Laughing, and cuddling me, he just seems to delight in me. And I feel like I’m in a suspended state of wonder, waiting for the bubble to pop. But I don’t think it’s going to.

Alejandro takes my hand and we run across the courtyard, and inside, taking the last seats at the dinner table. It’s groaning under food and people. I am kissed and hugged—and included.

It’s so different to my own family.

Nobody here thinks I’m boring. And I don’t feel boring. I feel alive, interesting, and interested.

There are bowls of spicy, tangy condiments, the carbonado meat stew, delicious focaccia bread with sliced olives, rosemary, and rock salt topping it and gallons of red wine. Everyone talks, laughs, argues, and helps themselves to food.

“Salud che!” We clink glasses.

We stay at the table for two hours and finally, Valentina says, “I have to do my homework.” We help clear the table and stack the dishwasher.

They ask me where I’ve been so far in Buenos Aires, and I tell them I went to La Boca last night.

“You didn’t come straight to me.” Alejandro is put out and looks upset.

“I was so nervous, I had to get up the courage.”

“Oh, okay, then. You are forgiven,” he says, kissing me in front of his family and nobody seems to mind.  

“Tonight, you will goes to La Boca with me. We will dance! And erase this first nights in my city without me. Later, I takes you to my favorite milongas.”

I laugh. He’s so fabulous.

“We can drop you on the way,” says his older sister Martina and her husband Pedro.

It takes us half an hour to leave, so many kisses and hugs, and I’m tingling with feel-good feelings and warmth in my soul.

They drop us off, and Alejandro immediately takes my hand. It fits in his perfectly. But do I fit here?

We watch some beautiful dancers, and Alejandro turns and moves into my body. Our chests connect which is the correct way to dance tango, our hearts never leaving each other. We find our eje—our center and move into the slow, exotic, erotic dance with each other. He leads so beautifully and one of my secrets has been the tango lessons I took when I got back from Paris. Just in case.

They say it is an irresistible sultry blend of sex and chess.

And I am lost in this dance with him.

I have never had a chance to dance this slow, smoldering form of tango with someone I love, and it is like nothing on this earth. I might be able to draw it but the connection is not something I can put into words.

We come to the end of the song and people clap loudly.

And I make my decision.

“This will not be likes the last time, it won’t be our last tango in Paris?” he asks it as a question as if he has picked up my thoughts and feelings.

“No. I promise you. This is only the beginning.”


 Chapter Three

 Alejandro:

 
Did I sense some hesitation there? I couldn’t be sure, and my heart did not want to even consider it right now. I’d miss him with a fierceness that had almost left me mortally wounded. But I hadn’t been able to give up my dream. I also knew that he had to come to me. I didn’t want to be with another man who was unsure or had other things in his life that would the last thing on his list of priorities. We all deserve to be loved in the deepest possible way. To accept anything less, is a disservice to who we are as people.

But he came all this way, and one thing I did know about Nico, he didn’t take things lightly. But he had a gypsy soul which had intrigued me in Paris, and still enchanted me. It was like he kept pieces of himself hidden until you invited him to show them to you or he felt he was away from judgmental eyes. Then he would be himself and the many layers that made up him.

In Paris, we had sat out on the rooftop of the Montmartre place I’d rented, drank wine, ate cheese and pate smeared on crunchy crackers, offered each other red currants, and piquant olives. And we had talked, sometimes to dawn, where we then fell into bed, made love slowly, languidly, taking our time before we kissed, trembling with need and desire, then intense passion would take over and one or both of us would be wailing with pleasure.

I smile at the memory.

And now, he is here, in my city. I wonder what he thinks of it. Of my family. I’d walked in the door tonight after a frustrating day at work where Antonio seemed to want to photograph me in every contortion not known to mankind. We’d got what we wanted in the end though. And Antonio had invited me to dinner, and I’d said no. “Let’s keep it as business. We could ruin our livelihoods if anything went wrong.”

He’d laughed and called me afraid.

And I’d just shaken my head at him. Child. He was used to getting his own way.

I wasn’t afraid. I just wasn’t interested. Antonio changed boyfriends like most people changed underwear. But the real reason was that my heart was connected to someone else across thousands of miles who I thought had probably forgotten all about me.

 Until today.

When I saw him sitting at the table, I think my heart nearly exploded with joy. I knew he would not be here unless he’d given it serious consideration or desperately still needed me as much as I needed him.

And the fire was still there—all of it.

I grind my groin into him now as we kiss passionately and he bites my lip gently.

“Why do you do that?” I ask him.

“Because I’m trying to slow myself down. Otherwise I might want to bend you over that table there, right now.” He laughs, his sexy blue eyes dancing, one hand on my ass.

“Really? That sounds so delicious. I can imagine your thick cock inside me,” I murmur against his lips, and he lets out a slow, strangled grunt.

“You’re not playing fair,” he hisses but he’s grinning.

“What makes you think that, my darlingest Nico. I think it’s more than fair. Or perhaps my fat dick needs to be stretching you. Would that be fairer?”

Our breathing is ragged as we stare into each other’s eyes and don’t break contact.

“Maybe. But I’d have to run my tongue over your balls first and rim you,” he whispers, pressing into me again.

“I could accept that only if I can fuck you with my fingers first. Open you up, slide my slick finger up your ass. But then I’d want to slide my hard cock into you too. Pump into you. Kiss you passionately as I fuck you.”

He grunts and his body is trembling.

Our mouths hover near each other’s, whispering our promises. This street is busy, and noisy. And I dance him backward slowly. Neither of us are coherent. A small alley beckons and he cries out in hoarse whispers, “Yes, yes.”

The darkness envelopes us in its embrace and he turns around, unzips him pants and pushes them down. Oh God, I’d forgotten how dangerous and naughty he is. Outdoor sex is mind-blowing. I unzip too, push my bikinis down and nudge his ass with my cock. He pushes back onto me, and I rip my wallet out of my jeans, tear open a condom and lube packet and plunge into him. I grip his thick, hard cock in my palm as I bend him over a railing.

“Fuck me hard,” he hisses, pushing up into my fist. “Harder.”

And I slam into him, rutting up into him. His tight sheath gripping my dick, massaging it, letting go, clasping me again. I pull back slightly so I can see my engorged cock disappearing between his cheeks, accepting my length each time I push up into him.

“Love you,” he cries out, and it pushes me over the edge.  

My orgasm ripples through my body, as he milks me, and my hand is covered in his shooting creamy cum.

“Love you, my darlings,” I whimper. I can barely stand, let alone talk as I let his cock go and wrap my arms around his waist, smooching into his warm back.

When a door opens a few meters down the alley, we both quickly do up our pants and lean against the rail casually. The chef from the restaurant gives us an odd look, shakes his head and disappears back into his restaurant.

“You are so naughty. I had forgotten,” I say, still trying to catch my breath, wriggling in my damp bikini with the condom still on my cock.

“How could you forget me?” he asks.

I’m almost ready to say something sharp back, when it was him that really left me, when I realize it’s not a teasing taunt. It’s a serious question.

I pull him slightly more into some light and look at his face.

“I never forgets you. Not a single day went by without me thinking of you. Wanting you. But, I didn’t want to force myself on you. You had to comes to me, so I would know you comes for me, and not because you felt guilty or I don’t know… Nico. I don’t love greatly. No, wrong word. Um, I don’t love um, easily, so big. Grande. I chooses very carefully who my heart goes to.”

He smiles as comprehension washes over his face and looks relieved.

“Oh. Now I understand. I’ve always wanted a ‘grand passionale’ love but Alejandro, I’ve just been afraid.”

“Why so afraid?” I ask.

“What if I’m not enough for you,” he says hesitantly.

“Impossible.”

“What if it burns out? Or I am not passionate enough for you?”

“This from the man who just let me fuck him in an alley with people everywhere.” I laugh.

“Here, I feel like I can be all my wild self. The untamed person, with no barriers, no facades. Just all the pieces that make up me. There seems so many of them, I’m afraid you won’t cope.”

“But this is exactly why I love you so much. You have so many facets that I am endlessly intrigued and bobbydazzled by you.”

“Bobby dazzled?”

“Is not a word?”

He laughs. “It’s one of your words and it’s perfect.”

“But what is means?”

“It is a word. It means someone is outstanding or excellent. Beautiful.”

“Yes. So I have this right then.” I spread my hands, wondering why he thinks I have it wrong.

“Well, yeah, but the context is slightly different. You can’t be bobby… Never mind.” He grins, pulling me in for a cuddle and I melt into his arms.

“I know I don’t speaks perfect English.”

“It sounds pretty damn good to me. I don’t ever want you to change. I love you just the way you are.”

“That is a big compliment. Gracias.”

“Anytime, my lovely, Latin lover.”

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

He nods, her eyes so warm toward me that I snuggle into him again. I cannot bare to not be touching him. I am scared if I break contact for a moment, he will disappear in a puff of smoke. And this will all be a dream.

But my family psychic who reads for us kept saying he would come. I just had to keep believing.


~~@~~
 
Here’s a sneak peek NSFW excerpt from Hawaiian Fragrance releasing 2nd May. It’s the third book in The Hawaiians series and follows on from Hawaiian Orchid and Hawaiian Lei, in the Mahikoa-Masterson family of “lost boys.” This is Danny’s story. I’m giving away Hawaiian Lei for the Kindle this time to get you started in the series.
 

 

Chapter One
 
Paolo:
He’s leaning against the wall, one foot tucked up behind him, cigarette in hand, lazily blowing smoke rings, running his lush tongue around his lips. It nearly brings me to my knees. The sheer sensuality of him fires every synapse in my body. He stretches his neck, and rolls his head slightly. His long hair and faint moustache, those eyes, his body, his attitude stabs me in the gut—reminding me of what I’d once had and stupidly let go.
We nod at each other. Two men sharing a silent cigarette, escaping the place we’re meant to be. The sounds of their party spill out into the sultry Hawaiian night air that caresses my skin.
I venture to speak to him. “You having a party?”
He smiles and nods. That arrogant look and smile twangs at my heartstrings.
“What are you celebrating?”
His eyes dip to a half hooded, sultry, sexual look that’s achingly familiar. He moves his lush mouth with his tongue. His gaze holds my eyes, and my breath is caught in my chest. My cock already aches for the touch of him.
“My friends got married today.” He smiles again, and the invitation is clear now. He’s flirting with me. Challenging me in some way.
“Lucky bride and groom,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Groom and groom.” He takes another long drag on his cigarette. His stare challenges me to be shocked or disapprove. As if I would, but he doesn’t know that. Yet.
“Ah, I saw them on the beach earlier.”
He nods. Those hot, seductive eyes strip me down. Meu Deus.
“Where are you from? You have an accent,” he asks.
“I’m Brazilian. From Rio de Janeiro.”
He nods with an impressed Gallic shrug of his lips—his lovely lower lip stuck out and his eyebrow raised. These gestures of his stab me each time. He’s so like… I pull myself together and step forward to offer my hand. “I’m Paolo Bastini.”
“Danny Lucerno.”
His grip on my hand, the scent of him… Meu Deus.
His eyes travel down my body to the bulge in my pants. They arrive back at my face, and I know I have him. I toss my cigarette away, and the heat flares in his eyes. His breath sounds forced. I take his cigarette from his hand and slowly grind it out under foot. A slight tremble of his lips, and I’m ready to cream my jeans. I press my palms flat on the wall either side of his head and angle my hips in to touch his groin. He moans softly.
“You’re beautiful, querida,” I whisper. “Exotic, luxo, special, I want you.”
“Yes,” he whispers.
His hard-on rubs mine. Smooth hands snake up under my loose Hawaiian shirt and stroke my back. He arches into me, pressing firmly. His hands cup my ass, and he offers me his neck for the first taste of him. Young smooth skin, smelling of a fragrance mix that is a personal favorite of mine. The base notes of grass and spice hit my olfactory senses.
It’s sophisticated for a young guy. But then, that’s not surprising. Of course it would be.
It’s like being transported back twenty years into another world when I still believed in love and forever.
Now I have this gorgeous young man in my arms, his thick cock rubbing against mine, wanting me as much as I want him.
 
Matt:
Who the fuck is this? Mr. Smoothie over there’s about ready to grind a hole in Danny’s crotch from the looks of it. Danny’s entranced by him. The hackles on the back of my neck stand up, and tremors ripple through my body and down my spine.
I flash on an earlier scene with Danny and this guy, but something seems slightly off with the psychic flash I’m getting with this picture. The man seems younger. Danny’s moustache is thicker, his hair much shorter. I shake my head. Probably put a bit too much turps away today, and I’m getting a flicker or warp in my flashes I get from spirit.
While I’m standing there lost in thought, a hand slides around my stomach from behind. The hypnotic, creamy, sweet scent of tiare bathes my senses, and hot breath warms my neck, sending tingles down my spine. “I want to make love to you,” whispers Beau.
“Why?” I tease him, pushing my arse back into his cock.
“Because you’re sexy and my husband,” he says softly.
I’m lost. God, I love this man. I rub the back of my head against his face, sighing with pleasure. His hot breath heats up my body, and his beautiful long, silky, jet-black hair brushes my shoulders. This man touches me in deep ways no one else ever has.
“I’m going for a swim… I’m hot… I need to cool off…” The slow, sensuous lilt and slightly clipped speech of my husband’s Hawaiian accent caresses my soul. Teasing us both, making us hard. I slide his hand down my stomach to palm my cock and balls. He squeezes, and I grunt loudly, quickly turning away from Danny and mystery man. I take Beau’s hand, and we grab a couple of towels, then sprint down to the beach, giggling and teasing each other.
 
Danny:
Fuck, I’m so horny. This guy is older but he’s hella good looking—short black curls, high cheekbones, chocolate skin, and he can kiss.
“Come back to my place,” he whispers in that sexy-ass accent of his.
“Why?” I tease, smiling as his hot eyes soften, and he kisses me again.
“Because I want you and you want me.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The big bulge in your pants, querida.”
I laugh.
“The heat in your eyes for me, the way your mouth accepts me in,” he says seductively.
I groan softly. He’s right. My cock’s going to explode in a minute, but I don’t want to leave the party. Seeing Dad happy with Rob has touched my heart a few times today.
“No. I won’t leave here. But if you want to take me out to dinner sometime. Sure.”
Paolo laughs and gives me an admiring look.
“You have some bolas, kid.”
I push away from him. “Don’t call me kid.” I turn to walk away, and he grabs my hand.
“My apologies. That was rude of me. I just… You have spunk.” He smiles softly, and I so want to give in. I’m not up for a roll in the hay, though. Well, I am—technically. But there’s something about this guy, I want to make him wait. He’s got money, and he’s used to getting his own way, I’ll bet. But I’m worth it.
“Okay.” I don’t give too much away.
“I’m sorry, querida. Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night?”
I smile. “That would be awesome.”
“Give me your number, please.” We exchange texts. “Are you sure you have to go back in?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to let my parents down. It’s ohana, you know. They’re going to cut the cake soon and open some gifts.”
He looks freaked and stutters, “Your-your parents are here?”
I laugh slightly. “Yeah, it’s cool. Don’t worry, they won’t give you the big inquisition. Rob’s older than Kulani, so age difference doesn’t matter to them.”
“Rob? Kulani?” He frowns.
“The guys that got married on the beach today. They’re my friends, and my parents.”
He looks confused now.
I can’t be bothered explaining everything just yet. “They hanaied me. It’s kind of like Hawaiian adoption when your birth parents can’t look after you or something.”
His eyes search my face, and he looks at a loss for words. He almost seems shocked.
“No, it’s all cool. They love me, and I love them.”
“Can I ask? What happened to your real parents? Are they dead?”
I shake my head. “No. Just don’t want me. When I came out, they threw me out.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Paolo explodes. He seems furious on my behalf, and it makes me feel like he’s protective. The dads, and my uncles are like that too. It’s sweet.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. That is unacceptable.”
I smile because he’s being so pissed and caring.
“Ohh, Danny.” He sighs softly, combing my hair back with his fingers. His eyes examine my face. It’s like he’s taking in every part of me.
“Dinner tomorrow, querida,” he finally says softly.
“Sounds good.”
He smiles, and his mouth comes down on mine again. Hot and hard. This guy’s hella sexy. I pull him in for another cuddle and get a nice feel of his round ass. I bet he’ll be hot in bed.
“Top or bottom,” I ask him quietly.
“Mostly bottom,” he whispers, and I grunt. Hella good. “You?”
“Switch but mostly top.”
We grin at each other.
He pushes me away this time. “Go to your party. I will see you tomorrow. Dinner…then dick for dessert.” The hot sultry look nearly makes me dump my load in my pants, and I crack up.
“Sounds ono,” I say, laughing.
“What is ono?” he asks in that hot accent.
“Delicious, good enough to eat.”
“Yes, ono…” he says softly, licking my lips, tracing my mouth with his tongue. He wets his thumb and finger, then his hand travels up under my loose Hawaiian shirt to pull and pinch my nipple. Fuck.
“You have beautiful skin. No chest hair. I like that. I bet your cock is just as smooth and fat, made for licking and sucking.”
I let out a strangled cry, panting and shuddering. Trying to catch my breath. His words are like caresses. He might as well have his mouth on my dick.
“I’m going to let you suck my ass, lick me, and penetrate me with that thick cock I feel.” He slips his hand under my waistband and runs his thumb over my erection that’s escaped my boxer briefs. “Nice and wet,” he whispers seductively.
Oh fuck, I’m going to blow.
“Just right for fucking me up the ass with, querida.” His fingers feather my cockhead, and I’m gritting my teeth, panting, losing control. Whimpering with desire, trying not to make too much noise. Going fucking nuts.
His mouth closes over mine again as his fingers push and caress my knob. “I want that in my mouth and up my ass. You can bend me over anything you want, stretch me,” he whispers hoarsely between kisses.
I’m pulsing in my shorts, my thighs aching.
He angles himself away slightly and undoes my zipper, pulling my cock out. “Just as I imagined,” he whispers, wrapping his fingers around my shaft, pumping, thrusting his tongue between my teeth. Frenching my mouth with each slide of his palm on my dick. Letting go, he slides two fingers into my mouth, leaving my cock swinging in the breeze, exposed.
“Ohh, querida,” he whispers. “I’m sorry it’s not my ass. Imagine how tight it would feel, squeezing you.”
“Touch me,” I beg him.
Someone opens the sliding door, and he slowly moves into me, just covering my cock in time. He grinds his crotch into mine.
“You’re so beautiful, querida. I want to run my tongue along your skin. Suck your dick into my mouth, stroke your balls…” He keeps whispering what he’s going to do to me, and I cream.
“Fuckkk…” I hiss, barely able to stand as I spurt, jerking and shuddering. Burying my mouth in his shirt, hissing with pleasure. I want to yell out as the cum rips through me.
I’m panting, trying to catch my breath, shaking. Wishing I was in a big bed, not here at my parent’s wedding for fuck’s sake. Shit.
“Good,” he murmurs softly, smooching and licking my neck.
“Oh fuck, yes.”
We cuddle into each other, and reality slowly eases back in.
He pulls back and tucks my wet cock back into my boxers. His fingers zip me up, and he kisses them before pressing his fingertips to my damp crotch.
“Until tomorrow, querida. I will come and get you. Text me your address. You might need to go and clean up. You should have come home with me.” He smiles, then kisses me slowly and passionately again before melting away into the darkness, and I laugh.
Shit. I’m hella wet. I tug my shirt down but it doesn’t cover it.
I laugh again. I almost think he did that deliberately. Man, I’m still seeing stars.



✿⊱╮Hawaiian Fragrance╭⊰✿✿✿✿ - RELEASING 2 May 2017
Danny’s a fourth-generation Big Islander, from the wealthy Lucerno ranching family. He’s gorgeous—a mix of Portuguese male and Argentine passion, all dark haired, smoldering sensuality. His family disowned him for being gay, now he’s part of the Masterson-Mahikoa “lost boys” family.
When he meets the wealthy, sophisticated, sensuous Brazilian, Paolo Bastini, he’s swept off his feet into a glitzy Las Vegas lifestyle of money, and luxury—the world he grew up in. But it takes Danny away from Hawai’i where his soul roams free and his family live. He struggles as Paolo plays loosely with their partnership and thinks Danny is being “a baby” for wanting a monogamous relationship. And who is this past lover firmly wedged in Paolo’s heart?
Zane is severely deaf—finding new dance partners is hard. When he loses another one, Danny steps in to dance the tango competitions with him. Jealousy flares and things reach dangerous levels between Paolo and Danny. His adopted and birth family must bond together in a daring rescue of Danny from the depths of Brazil.
But he’s not completely out of danger. Now he’s fighting an attraction to the feminine Zane who’s always annoyed him. Which man has his heart?
✿⊱╮Hawaiian Ginger╭⊰✿✿✿✿ RELEASING 5 June 2017
Zane Andrews is a striking redhaired, severely deaf dancer with a love of pretty aloha dresses and dozens of bracelets on his arms. He comes from a poor, and extremely sheltered, cultish background. When he and Danny connect after the winning tango, things heat up quickly. But Zane is still sorting out his relationship with Kaleho and the increasing distance with that. Guilt eats at him and he wonders what he’s doing.
Danny’s a fourth-generation Big Islander, from the wealthy Lucerno ranching family. He’s a mix of Portuguese male and Argentine passion, the dark haired, smoldering sensuality has no such qualms about Zane. He’s sure of where his heart lies.
But when Zane decides to face Kaleho, Danny can’t cope and disappears to Las Vegas. Zane’s worried he’s gone back to his old life he had with Paolo. Has he lost Danny?
A trip to Vegas to bring Danny home, Zane’s first time on a plane, opens up the world for him. But what if he gets there and Danny rejects him.
And back home in Hawai’i, Zane’s past catches up with him. A court case involving his abusive birth parents throws the whole Masterson-Mahikoa family into turmoil.
Will Danny and Zane be able to accept each other’s backgrounds, insecurities, and express their feelings for each other deeply? Will they finally heal from the past abuse of dysfunctional family relationships they both come from?
~~@~~
 
MEG AMOR

Meg Amor, a multi-published, award winning, contemporary author, has always believed in love and romance. She writes deep, sensual, romance stories about heartfelt connections and deep soul relationships. Meg feels that passionate sex, as well as her character’s inner workings--their vulnerabilities, emotions, and thoughts—are what make a love story exciting and real. She loves to write sensual, erotic romance, with committed poly, and gay male/male relationships.
And this year she’s writing two crime police procedurals, both set in Hawai’i. One is for the Lei Crime Kindle Worlds in association with best-selling author Toby Neal. The other is a m/m gay romance/crime story.
 
Then just for something fun and different, she will be writing under Justine Amor in a clean and wholesome, time travel romance series. At the end of April, on www.instafreebie.com Meg will have an extended free story of Last Tango, and a free Time Travel Romance.

Meg hand-wrote and "published" her first book when she was eleven about her parent's separation. Constantly told as a child she had a vivid and (over) active imagination, the dawn of the computer era meant she could now take dictation at speed from the interesting characters galloping around her head.

She grew up in New Zealand, and temporarily lives in California with her American fur child Leo Ray Jr., the Ginger Ninja. Her heart and soul are split between her American home state of Hawai'i in Kona on the Big Island, and the sultry, steamy Southern city of New Orleans. Nearly all her books are set in Hawai'i or New Orleans, along with snatches of New Zealand for good luck.

Meg's a bohemian and gypsy at heart, and loves to travel all over the world. She has a love of open cockpit biplanes and the gentle waft into the air from a grass strip. Given a choice, she'd eat out most nights. Fine dining, French, Fusion, Afghani, and Burmese food are some of her all-time favorites. But her favorite junk food is New Zealand fish and chips cooked in pure fat. Never one to do things by halves, she believes in the motto "Amor Vincet Omnia"--Love Conquers All.

Aloha!
Meg Amor
***
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google+ *** twitter *** Facebook
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~ The Lei Crime Kindle World Series ~
Police Procedural set in Hawai'i
Pele's Revenge ~ 12 May 2017
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~ The Hawaiians Series ~
Contemporary m/m gay romance
Hawaiian Lei ~ AMAZON
Hawaiian Orchid ~ AMAZON
Best Contemporary Gay Romance ~ Rainbow Awards 2016 ~ Runner-up
Hawaiian Fragrance ~ 2nd May 2017
Hawaiian Ginger ~ 5th June 2017
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~ Time Travel Romance Series ~
Flying Through Time ~ May 2017
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~ Troika Love Series Trilogy ~
Henry and Isolde ~ a committed Troika/poly soul deep sensuous romance AMAZON
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Last Tango in the Paris of the South ~ contemporary m/m gay romance April 2017
Saint Nicholas ~ a beautiful heartfelt m/f love story AMAZON
Dark War ~ a committed Troika/poly relationship AMAZON
***
"Everyone lives a thousand lives, but only one life to remember ~
Will this be yours?"
 

34 comments:

  1. Very sweet. Thank you for the story.

    Brandi
    Scssugar@yahoo.com

    ReplyDelete
  2. Loved it. Thank you
    hotpinkiris@gmail.com

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  3. I loved it. So sweet. hidee25@aol.com

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  4. Fans self soo hot loved it xx catherinecooper11@yahoo.com

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  5. What a wonderful sweet story. It had everything. I loved how Alejandro's family embraced Nico.
    tankie44 at gmail dot com

    ReplyDelete
  6. Loved this warm complete story. Thank you.
    younela48@Yahoo.co.uk

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  7. Wow beautiful you gave such wonderful visuals. Then the adding of the food now I'm hungry. Can't wait to read more lovelybunny40@gmail.com

    ReplyDelete
  8. So sweet. Loved it. Thank you for sharing.

    Mindi
    Bacchae777@yahoo.com

    ReplyDelete
  9. Thank you. Jrobe10688@aol.com

    ReplyDelete
  10. Thanks for your yummy story!
    rubindot1953@gmail.com

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  11. OMG you made me cry he got his man back and took a chance loved it ....blue_fay_wolf@yahoo.com

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  12. Great story. Kalie71499@gmail.com

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  13. Wonderful story! So glad he stayed.
    sstrode at scrtc dot com

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  14. What a lovely story

    Pat - gaterider@shaw.ca

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  15. Wow they certainly had plenty of passion! Thanks for sharing. andreamoran0801@gmail.com

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  16. omg so very good I love such a happy ending

    nancyannettehenry@gmail.com

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  17. This was a lovely story.

    Lexianne36@gmail.com

    ReplyDelete
  18. Very nice way to start the day. Stew sounded great. Love HEA stories. Thank you
    bobbitopacio@ymail.com

    ReplyDelete
  19. This was great! I hope you decide to visit Uruguay in your next book!!! LOL
    Sofialvez17@gmail.com

    ReplyDelete
  20. I love it will we get a part 2?
    Nrdriscoll@aol.com

    ReplyDelete
  21. Sexy, sultry and hot. Now I want to see Buenos Aires.

    goaliemom0049@gmail.com

    ReplyDelete
  22. Oh my goodness! This is so wonderful. Can't wait to read the extended version of this at the end of April. j.stonewright@gmail.com

    ReplyDelete
  23. nice story
    bn100candg at hotmail dot com

    ReplyDelete
  24. Short swee sexy story.
    Chimera2069@gmail.com

    ReplyDelete
  25. In Love.
    1966dodgegirl@gmail.com

    ReplyDelete
  26. Awww, I love it. Part 2 would be cool!
    Mobookworm@yahoo.com

    ReplyDelete
  27. Oh, i am so hungry now. great story.
    marobbins62@gmail.com

    ReplyDelete
  28. Waiting for part 2 gellycat@icloud.com

    ReplyDelete