Welcome To Spain
written by:
Naughty Miranda

I could see the battered, red bus coming from the top of the hill, rounding the last bend in the road before it turned into the cobbled marketplace. I paused for a moment, hoping that he'd actually caught it; even Peter's mother complained that his itinerary was vague, although he'd been adamant that this was his next halt... if only so he could pick up the money he'd called to ask her to wire, and hang out at the festival that took place that day.

He was true to his word. The mid-morning crowds were already surging back and forth, but I recognized him the moment he stepped off the bus, and into the moist heat that had long since reduced my silk dress to translucence; looking around as he adjusted his hat, he reminded me of a shady sidekick in some old black-and-white Bogart movie, up to no good in a small foreign town that itself could barely have changed in 50 years - I'd been here a day and, if it wasn't for the satellite dishes on a handful of roof tops, I'd swear they turned back time at the city limits.

I started to move towards him, pushing through the revelers. He hadn't seen me - in fact, even if he did look this way, I doubted he'd spot me with the sun in his eyes. A little ahead of me, however, a couple of teenagers did see me, glancing up and whistling loudly. "Hey, Senorita!" The state of my dress, the sun at my back - they could probably see right through it. I smiled at them, but kept moving; dodged around a vast woman armed with a basket of onions; then came to halt a few paces in front of Peter.

"You made it, then?"

He stopped and squinted; I could see his mind trying to make sense of the picture before him - the last time he saw me, we were back in the States, the week before he left for a summer hiking round southern Europe.

"Chrissie?"

I enjoyed his confusion. "I said, you made it, then."

He nodded. "But what are you..."

"I fancied a break," I smiled. There was no point getting into explanations - they were boring and, besides, I'd be back in Madrid on Monday, for the chain of business meetings that winkled me out of New York in the first place. This was just a weekend diversion and, like I told his mother, Peter was the only guy I knew in Spain. So, of course I had to look him up.

I waited while he picked up his money, then locked his arm in mine. "Have you booked a room any place?"

He shook his head. "I thought I'd find something once I got here."

"Good luck." The festival drew revelers from miles around, and most of them stayed through the night. There wasn't a room to be had. "But never mind. You can crash at mine."

Again a look of bemusement, but I just smiled and pulled him along. We strung our way through the crowds, doubling down alleyways to avoid the thickest crushes, circling through the maze of back streets that, thankfully, I'd already committed to memory when I negotiated them on my way here. Finally, as the last of the stalls and sideshows began to thin, we reached the blue-tiled walls of the hotel, slipped in through a door that you'd never have noticed if you didn't know it was there, and crossed the ornately landscaped courtyard.

He whistled. "You don't do these things cheaply."

"No," I agreed. "But why would I want to?"

The concierge handed me my key; looked, I must admit, a little askance at my unannounced guest, but I'd iron that out later. Then a rattletrap elevator that had seen better days, and finally, into my room.

I lit an incense burner on the mantel, squirted some patchouli into the air, and gestured towards the open window. "There's stables directly underneath us, and the smell can get a little ripe in the heat," I explained. "This takes the edge off it."

Peter laughed. "Don't bother explaining. It's a lot more exotic if you don't." Then... "but speaking of exotic, do you mind if I take a shower? After that bus ride, I'm feeling a little fragrant, myself."

"Go ahead." I watched him leave, then stripped off my dress, to hang by the window and air out a little. Still sweating in my bikini, I curled up on the bed, lying back and watching the lizard I'd seen on the ceiling this morning. He (or she) crouched motionless in the corner by the window. Good pickings - every few moments, a lengthy tongue would dart out and snatch something out of the air. Unbidden, a curious thought crossed my mind - I wonder if lizards enjoy oral sex? With tongues like that, they ought to.

I heard the clunk of the shower switching. "Towels in the airing cupboard," I called. There was an answering grunt, the sound of some rummaging, then the door opened. I shifted my shoulders, allowed my head to dangle over the edge of the mattress, as Peter stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, while he vigorously dried his hair with the other.

"I needed that," he murmured through his motions. I smiled; "I bet you did," then stretched out both arms, clasping him by the knees. He stepped closer, and I tugged gently at the towel. It slipped down, but I kept my eyes trained firmly on his, trying to overlook just how comical he looked, his arms frozen in shock above his head, his hair a wild tousle around the towel. People have said my eyes are my best point (people who've only seen me fully clothed, that is), and I won't disagree. Peter certainly seemed to be drinking them in, gazing back at me, his own face a wonderful confusion of bewilderment, surprise and anticipation.

Time to break the spell. My hands were still on his knees; I pulled and he toppled forward, catching himself just in time to avoid falling on top of me, his legs parted behind my head and his cock just inches away. I grasped it in one hand, fat and soft and as unsuspecting as he seemed to be - hah! Just how I like them to start with.

I felt him shuffle forward as his arms held his weight above the bed, then pulled him to my lips, rolling the fleshy head against lips I'd just moistened. There was a twitch as the blood began to rush in; I held him in my mouth as he hardened, sucking a little, but mostly not moving, thrilling as his weight and thickness stretched my lips wider, and pushed my tongue down.

I wondered why this had never happened before... how it was that I'd known Peter since High School, and we'd never gone further than a few drunken fumbles, and the knowledge that, sometime, we really should sleep together? Well, that sometime was now.

The position in which I was lying made it difficult to move my head too much; holding hard to his butt, I began swaying his hips back and forth... to and fro... feeling him slipping in and out of my mouth. Occasionally I'd stop, hold him still while I sucked, or breaking for a breath, lapped my tongue around his shaft, across his balls. I drew one into my mouth, sucking hard and then releasing it abruptly; he gasped aloud, and I felt him tense as I set to work on the other.

I raised my head and looked down my body. He hung over me, his eyes closed tight, his mouth open; I ran my hand along his torso as far as I could reach, tweaked a nipple and smiled as he gasped again. "Just making sure you're awake down there," I smiled, then pulled him back into my mouth.

"Oh, I'm awake alright." I didn't need to coax him this time, his hips were moving of their own accord, driving his hot meat into my mouth, harder and faster as he realized that I wasn't going to stop him for anything. My fingers crept across his butt to his anus, stroked the sensitive opening slightly, and let one fingertip slip gently in and out, echoing his thrusts.

His breathing was hard, loud; I left his ass and gripped his balls, tense and tight - oh, but I desperately needed to catch my breath, too. I hung on for as long as I could, but his thrusts were unending, his excitement still building... I had to pop him out of my mouth, just for a second... jerking him hard as I drew a deep breath, and then hearing him cry out as he finally came, a jet of scalding white that spattered across my breasts, into my cleavage, onto my belly.

He rolled to one side, landed flat on his back, breathing heavily. "Wow, welcome to Spain," he whispered.

"Welcome, indeed." I glanced towards the window; it was already evening - my God, how long did he keep it hard for? Half an hour? Why had we never slept together before? I was kicking myself!

Sitting up, I unclipped my bikini top - amazingly, none of his juice had hit it, but it would certainly get sticky if I didn't move it now. Slipped off my panties as well and, as Peter reached for me, I slid over to sit on his chest, enjoying the prickle of his hairs against my buttocks, and the slightest hint of his breath on my pussy.

"That was wonderful," he breathed.

"I know," I smiled back at him. "I just wish I hadn't needed to breathe quite so soon."

His brow wrinkled quizzically... and so lovably. "Just as well you did. I haven't cum that hard in years."

"Like I said," I replied. "I just wish I hadn't needed to breathe." I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Oh, don't try and work it out. I'll show you another time."

His eyes watching me like a hawk, I traced a finger through the stickiness in my cleavage, raised it to lips and sucked the moisture away. I felt his hands on the small of my back, drawing me closer to his face; ladling up another fingertip of cream, I wiped it lightly against the lips of my pussy, just a split-second ahead of his tongue. I felt him draw back a little, but laid one hand on the back of his head and pressed it forward. The next lick was tentative, but delightful in its uncertainty, and I wanted to feel that again.

Two fingers this time, and a glob of white that I deliberately smeared around my clit. He went for it immediately this time, his tongue swirling around that taut little nub, chasing away any other thoughts I may have had brewing. I threw my arms behind me, let them take my weight; my head hanging back, my eyes closed tight. Outside, I could hear the carnival traders pack up as the street musicians arrived to take their place, playing for the tourists who'd be flocking to the restaurants and cafes.

Violins, guitars, and there, a drum beat, one among many, but louder than the rest, deeper and more insistent. I caught it with my ears, harnessed it in my hips, and began slowly grinding its rhythm against Peter's face, thrilling as he picked it up with his tongue and ran with it, licking and flicking and sucking, face-fucking - was that singing I could hear now? Or my own cries? I felt my orgasm gathering force within me, up from my legs, down from my belly, in from my ass, deep down inside of me, closer and louder and faster and there. Right NOW.

Now it was my turn to collapse, panting, gasping, and laughing too, as Peter rolled with me, and suddenly flipped around, so his mouth was on mine, his chest pressed my breasts and, down below, a miraculous hardness that did not even need to knock. It just slid right in, filling me with a glorious warmth, an indescribable weight, an irresistible pressure.

My legs wrapped around his back; he was fucking me like a sewing machine, hard and fast, not missing a beat between strokes. Raising my head to bite at his shoulder, I caught sight of us reflected in the mirror on the wardrobe at the foot of the bed - ah, that's why they placed it so close, I smiled. I wonder why I never thought of that before?

The room was darkening fast, but the dying light only added to the fascinating show; I could see his balls hanging down, doing their best to mask the shaft that plunged in and out, but catching a glimpse of it anyway, as my hungry pussy lips sucked at the hard flesh, pulling him back inside....

You know how, sometimes, you'll be talking to someone, and they're bemoaning the fact that their sex life's so straightforward, that there's no adventure any more, no excitement, no real passion? Believe me, it's there - you just have to see it from the right angle. The tongue on the clitoris, the lips around the knob-end, the cock crashing into the spread, red cunny; they're all present and correct. It's just that when you're in the midst of doing it, you usually have no way of seeing it. I could... and it was getting me even hotter than I already was.

I pushed my weight against Peter's body; held him tight in mid-gyration, and forced him onto his back. He rolled willingly, and only sighed as I disconnected our bodies for a moment, as I swiveled around on his hips, my back to his face, my ass on his belly, slipping him back inside of me as he ran his hands up my spine, and then reached around to my breasts.

I was facing the mirror now, and began moving slowly - this angle can be tricky sometimes, it's easy for his cock to slip out... there, it just did. I pushed him back in, then lay my hand on my snatch, to hold him fast while I kneaded his balls, and let my palm flicker across my clit. It felt as hypnotic as it looked.

I wished we'd left a light on; it was growing darker by the minute, and the only illumination was whatever crept in from the courtyard below. And then, whoa! Suddenly the entire room lit up, as a massive set of floodlights clicked on in the gardens. It was bright as day, and now I could see every move we made, every plunge, every drop of juice that caught the light and glistened in my pubes, on his shaft, dripping and oozing, so wet, so wonderful - and I could feel myself cumming again as well, as his thrusts grew more urgent and I knew he was as well. I ground my hand against my clit, willing us both to make it together - and we did, although as my hand flew back to the mattress for support, I felt, more than saw, his cock pop out again, and shoot its seed across my thigh.

I almost spoke... "damn, missed again..." but the words were lost in my throat and, besides, who knew if he'd even know what I was talking about? Instead I rolled over and kissed him hard on the mouth, and it was only after we'd lain there, not moving, for a while, that he finally spoke.

"You noticed the mirror as well, then?"

"Noticed it? I put it there," I lied laughingly.

"I wondered. I've never watched myself before - it's like starring in your own porno movie, isn't it?"

"Except there's no director around to shout ‘cut' at the wrong moment," I agreed. "The only drawback is, you can only watch it the one time. There's never any reruns on the Looking Glass channel."

He eyed me curiously for a moment. "Would you want to watch something like that again?"

"So long as I owned the only copy."

"I'd download it onto your laptop myself." He stood, crossed the room to his luggage, and pulled out a video camera. "Lights... action... sound?"

I laughed. "You're on. But remember, you're just the cameraman. And when I say ‘shoot...'" - I paused and squeezed his balls. "I want to see you shoot."

I awoke late, and was surprised to find Peter still curled up beside me. The bus out of town - the only bus of the day - left at 8, and we'd gone to sleep in the belief that he'd be on it, and we'd catch up again when he returned to the US. For a moment, I thought he must have overslept, but as I sat up, he rolled over to face me.

"So, what do you have planned for today?"

I stroked his face. "Couldn't tear yourself away, then?" It took me a moment to adjust to the silence outside, then I remembered. When the bus went, most of the tourists went with it. The festival was over, and there was nothing else to keep them here.

"I thought about it, but hell, Europe will still be out there tomorrow. You, on the other hand, may not be - not if you have to be in Madrid on Monday. So I figured I'd stay."

I kissed him and snuggled down beneath the thin sheet that covered our bodies. In my mind, I could still hear the drumming that had finally lulled us to sleep, around the same time as it awoke the dawn chorus. Out in the hallway, a radio was playing Al Stewart's "Year Of The Cat" - one of my all-time favorite songs, so mysterious, so sensual.... Relaxing to a musical medley I couldn't resist, I took one of Peter's tiny nipples in my mouth, sucking gently at it before I began inching my way very slowly down his body.

Watching back one of the things that he'd filmed me doing last night had given me an idea... something I wanted to try while it was still fresh in my mind. Plus, the hotel didn't offer room service, and I really needed to put something in my mouth.