Catalina Loves

It is my seventh night in Spain. I made it to my favorite city, Sevilla. We met there last year. It was Semana Santa and the air was thick with the smell of the frankincense and myrrh. The streets were filled with penitents and I ducked into the little café to wait for the crowd to pass. You had the same idea at the same time. We awkwardly stood there, you waiting for me to walk through the door and me waiting for you. Finally I walked through the door, turning behind me to say, “Gracias.”

“Your welcome,” he said. “It should be clear in just a couple of minutes,” and sat down at the table in the window. I stood there, not wanting to stare at him, but knowing that he caught me staring. I was. “If you’re alone, why don’t you come over and join me? No sense in standing there all by yourself.”

I sat down, across the table, and made eye contact with him for the first time. There was a chemistry between us that was subatomic. It was as though we’d been there before. Our conversation flowed so naturally. I told him about my life back in the United States and he told me about his life in Sevilla. The crowd had long since dissipated and we were still sitting there. The night was shutting down upon us and we left, hand in hand, walking back to my hotel.

I opened the door with the key card and invited him in. We barely got the door closed before we were taking the clothes off of each other. His skin was beautifully tanned, a result of living in the most beautiful place in the world. His accent as he whispered in my ear left me spellbound. He smelled manly, a combination of smoke, alcohol, and cologne that made me breathe in deeply and memorize his scent.

He laid me down gently on the bed, running his hands over my face and into my hair and kissing me on the lips, licking them with his tongue. He traced his fingers down each of my collarbones and cupped my breasts in his hands. His tongue moved down to flicker over each nipple several times, causing them to stiffen and harden in response. He trailed his tongue down my midline all the way to my thighs. He lingered a while, licking my thighs. I opened my legs up for him and he began to lick my clit. He knew my body in the way that a familiar lover does, though we had just met. Every touch of his tongue brought me closer and closer to orgasm. He slid a finger into my pussy, then two, then three, and finger fucked me into a foaming frenzy while he continued to lick my clit until finally I came. I clenched my entire body, my pussy grabbed his fingers and pulsed rhythmically, and I screamed out. He gave me a second to recover, kissing my face and neck, talking dirty to me in Spanish and then he positioned himself on top of me and slid inside of me. I fucked him wildly, feeling a different kind of orgasm building. He came inside of me. When he did, I peaked in my orgasm. His sounds were enough to bring me over the top.

Now here we are, again, in Sevilla. A familiar setting, one year later. It will be interesting to see what has changed and what has stayed the same.