(Editor’s note: The actual date has been altered, but the event detailed in this blogpost is real; like it actually happened. And she’s also one of my best friends ever; seriously.)
A tiny white T-shirt embroidered with a Cuban flag dangles over the magazine rack breathing on the plasma in the living room; a half-filled bottle of Gatorade delicately dances on the ceramic-tiled floor; Thick raindrops pelt the glass sliding door; the ceramic bench in the patio sways to the strong wind.
And she’s slowly unbuttoning my plaid dress shirt on bended knees – on top of the kitchen counter.
She squeals childishly as I cup her pale and lightly-freckled breast with one hand and run my fingers through her voluminous streaky-blonde hair with the other, all the while her hands travel along my back, her palms coming to rest at my bottom with a tight grip.
She murmurs a few words in Spanish – in between gently kissing my shoulder blade and caressing her own hair – and locks her hands around my neck after starting to remove my boxer shorts with one hand.
She weighs me down when I attempt to put my arm around her waist and carry her into the laundry room.
It’s 7:30 a.m. on the Coca Cola-clock right in front of me. Her keys and backpack sit by the front door. Her keys and backpack have been sitting by the front door since 6:30 a.m.
“No…Todavia, nene (No… Not yet, baby),” she whispers, on bended knees by the kitchen sink and laughing hysterically as she taps me on the nose with the tip of her right index finger. “Vamos a ver si de verdad me quieres (Let’s see if you really want me).”
It’s 7:53 a.m.; a trickle of boiling water simmers in a pot and a sealed brown paper bag filled with bagels rest on a wooden chair directly in front of the refrigerator. It’s also her turn to show up with breakfast at work.
A cellphone on the floor is vibrating. It’s been vibrating for over 10 minutes. The goldfish in the bowl atop the kitchen table is twirling. Marvin Gaye’s soulful voice fills the air.
“Te quiero sentir todo (I want to feel all of you).”
Looking over her shoulder and with my hand in her hand, she begins to lead the way out of the kitchen with short and gentle steps before quickly turning around and resting her back against the wall. Her back firmly erect, she slowly dips as if she was about to dive feet first into a pool.
She is in front of me. The orange on her toenails shines. The freckles on her chest cut through the light.
I’m a bit nervous; always nervous with her. I would run through a wall for her.
Without taking her eyes off of me, she squats and slides my boxer shorts over my --- and releases me. Without using her hands, she slides one side of her face up and down my ----- while occasionally running one hand violently through her hair. She does this repeatedly.
Her left hand resting on my thigh, she gently rubs my ----- with the side of her face; Again. Both of her hands now on my thighs, she gradually picks up her pace. She keeps her eyes locked on me. She takes me in her mouth. My breathing intensifies with every stroke. She is not using her hands.
Her big-expressive eyes are still locked on me. I look down at her. She is teasing me.
“You’re getting so ----,” she says playfully while I extend my fingers throughout her hair. “How bad do you want me?”
It’s 8:15 a.m. A white Hello Kitty coffee mug, dry grains spilling out of it, rolls on the counter. Sirens blare in the distance.
“Trying to hold back these feelings for so long. And if you feel like I feel, baby. Then come on, oh, come on…” wails Marvin.
“Trying to hold back these feelings for so long. And if you feel like I feel, baby. Then come on, oh, come on…” wails Marvin.
She lets go of me quickly, only to put both of her palms on my thighs, easing her way back up. She feels for the wall with her back, before enclosing her legs around my waist. I begin to caress her breasts – again – before carrying her onto the kitchen counter; face up.
Her head resting on the short wall and legs bended, I begin to gently kiss them as she runs her hands up and down my head. I move my hands across her bottom. She lets out a short groan while cupping her breasts.
“I can’t hear you, papi,” she says giggling before repositioning her fully-extended legs . “Me estas matando. (You’re killing me). ”
“I can’t hear you, papi,” she says giggling before repositioning her fully-extended legs . “Me estas matando. (You’re killing me). ”
“Remember I’m only 29 and want to live forever.”
I run my hands repeatedly through both of her smooth legs. Her moans are getting louder and louder. She is getting louder. I put my right index over my mouth; it doesn’t work.
Spread out on the kitchen counter, she is audibly disrupting the pace. I grab the back of one of her calves.
Spread out on the kitchen counter, she is audibly disrupting the pace. I grab the back of one of her calves.
She is touching herself, all over; grabbing at her -----. “Te gusta, papi? (Do you like it, baby), she asks. “Me tienes loca (You’re driving me crazy…)”
It’s 9:36 a.m.; a cellphone is ringing, I don’t know where. There’s Gatorade all over the kitchen floor; blue Gatorade. A perky brunette fills the TV screen on one of the kitchen walls.
The steady rain has turned into a downpour. The sliding door is fogged.
The steady rain has turned into a downpour. The sliding door is fogged.
“Come on, papi,” she said. “What are you doing to me? Please, don’t tease me anymore.”
She pushes off the short wall behind her head with both of her hands, moving to the edge of the counter and slowly sliding each leg up to my shoulders . She runs her right foot up and down my chest repeatedly. She is laughing and biting down on her right index finger. She tells me to look down at her. She is extremely ---.
I gently take her right foot before she can finish reaching the top of my right shoulder again. I take her toe in my mouth, before running my tongue along the back of her foot. She continues to pleasure herself.
I start moving along the inside of her legs, alternating kisses and short rubs with the tip of my fingers. I bring her closer to me with a slight pull of her thighs. She grabs onto my forearms, while I begin to softly kiss the wall around her ------. I start running my tongue up and down her ------. She is dripping.
“Que rico, papi. Que rico, papi,” she screams, still on her back on the kitchen counter; the pace picking up. “No me hagas eso.”
The sweat from the back of her legs paints my chest; she grabs at her breasts. I’m really excited. I’m nervous.
“Ya no puedo mas (I can’t take it anymore),” she says. “De verdad (For real).”
Its 10:16 a.m. Marvin has stopped singing. The boiling water is sprinkled all over the stove. Chunks of broken glass adorn the tiled floor.
Both of my hands on the counter, I push up to meet her. Her legs restricted to my shoulders, I enter her. Imploring me not to stop, we maintain the same position for approximately 25 minutes before she gradually starts to wiggle out of my grasp. She wants to reposition herself.
She manages to let one of her legs loose and extended it over the edge of the counter; while I keep a firm grip on her other leg. “Stop, baby,” she says. “Me vas a matar (You’re going to kill me).”
She pulls herself up and is now directly in front of me. She instructs me to carry her – while penetrated – into the laundry room. “Por favor, papi (Please, baby). Me tienes loca (You’re driving me crazy).”
I pick her up off the counter and slowly carry her through the adjacent hallway, which leads to the laundry room. The slightly-opened door thrust forward after I attempt to sit her up atop the washer. She resist; She shoves me only to create a small gap between us before turning around and stretching out her hands, one on top the washer, the other on top of the dryer. “Come on, papi,” she says.
I simultaneously tickle the back of each of her legs and spread them. She runs her fingers through her hair; moving her long mane over her right shoulder. Without turning around, she grabs at my ---- with her right hand.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you,” she says. “Vamos! (Let’s go!).”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you,” she says. “Vamos! (Let’s go!).”
I take her by the hips, moving her towards me. Her hair out of the way, I lean forward and kiss the small of her back, and run my right hand up and down her ---. Her skin smells of French vanilla. It’s spotted in sweat, too. I put my right hand over her left cheek and tap it several times. I penetrate her. She taps the washer’s door with her right hand, repeatedly. “It feels so good,…” she says. “You’re so ….”
Her voice cuts before she turns around and blows a kiss at me. The pace elevates. She asks me to go faster.
We maintain the same position for approximately 10 minutes; her groans are now extremely loud; like disturbing the neighbors loud. There is a loud thump on the wall.
She instructs me to take her into the bathroom across the hall. She positions me atop a flat chest- drawer against the wall before sitting on top of me; facing me. I position both of my hands on her ---.
She instructs me to take her into the bathroom across the hall. She positions me atop a flat chest- drawer against the wall before sitting on top of me; facing me. I position both of my hands on her ---.
“Asi, papi. No pares, por favor. (Like that, baby. Don’t stop, please),” she says, her words giving way to heavy groans.
She is bouncing and down, fast; very fast. Her hands are pasted on the wall. I run my right hand through her hair and kiss the side of her face. I'm so close to chest, I can see thick sweat beads running down the top of her right breast; it's really making me -----.
She takes her hands off the wall and positions them on top of the flat-chest drawer. She is elevating her pace even more, and moaning in short spurts. "I got my pedicure done yesterday; I know how much you like orange," she says in-between short breaths. "You like them?"
I don't a say word; I'm very -----. It's been three years and she still brings out the best in me.
I can’ take it anymore… I'm about to ......
She wraps her arms around my neck. I swear she's going ridiculously fast; her firm and meaty --- bouncing higher and higher. I let out a loud groan. I collapse in her chest.
She takes her hands off the wall and positions them on top of the flat-chest drawer. She is elevating her pace even more, and moaning in short spurts. "I got my pedicure done yesterday; I know how much you like orange," she says in-between short breaths. "You like them?"
I don't a say word; I'm very -----. It's been three years and she still brings out the best in me.
I can’ take it anymore… I'm about to ......
She wraps her arms around my neck. I swear she's going ridiculously fast; her firm and meaty --- bouncing higher and higher. I let out a loud groan. I collapse in her chest.
Its 11:04 a.m.
“Happy Friday, papi,” she says before gently kissing my nose.
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