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Thursday, December 28, 2006

Going Straight?

Hell no! But I am a married woman. This has been lying around needing a home for publication. Any suggestions?

Heat [975 words] (MF, anal)
Copyright © 2006 by Crystal Barela.

This story contains sexually explicit scenes. If you are offended or would be upset by reading erotica, please leave this blog site. I can guarntee you, you WILL be offended.

Summer had found its way inside our upper east side apartment, despite open windows and oscillating fans.

“Did you talk to the super about the AC?” I asked. The air conditioner had been out since last night.

Knees wide, I sat on the kitchen floor with my back against the fridge. I pulled at the ribbed fabric of my white tank top, creating a breeze between the shadows of my breasts. Their weight created a wet suction against my body when I moved.

“No air until the end of the week.” Max looked over at me, his eyes alight with sympathy. “Why don’t you jump in the shower again?”

Max was lying on the kitchen floor, his chest and abdomen glistened with sweat. His legs were spread wide, boxers clinging to him in the creases of his legs and accentuating his cock. Like a cat, he was trying to flatten himself against the cool tile.

I leaned over him. Max’s hand came to rest wet and sticky on the back of my neck.

“Give me a reason to shower,” I whispered and touched my lips softly to his. They hovered close, held apart by the air’s humidity.

His tongue snuck out to mingle with mine in a slow dance. As our breathing deepened I let my hand slide across his chest. The soft hair touching the palm of my hand electrified my pussy. I found his left nipple, circled it….and he began to sit up.

“No!” Max mumbled against my mouth. This was his sensitive nipple and I thrilled at teasing it.

“No?” I asked bewitchingly. I deliberately leaned down and let my tongue trace a circle around the nipple, my eyes never leaving his. I licked, swallowing his protests, gently pushing him down against the tiles. My other hand skimmed his erection beneath his shorts. Protests turned into groans as I rubbed him through the fabric.

Max’s nipple was as hard as his dick in his boxers.

I crawled between his legs and bent close to his underwear, letting my tongue wet the thin fabric. Our skin was like cellophane, condensation building in and out of our bodies. I licked and rubbed until he squirmed on the floor. I could stand it no longer; I wanted skin.

I reached through the hole in the front of his boxers, finding his dick hard and wanting. It flopped out of the opening…sweaty ... thick with need. I licked from one end to the next, taking in as much as I could. Max groaned and his ass rose off the floor. His cock slipped into the dark wetness of my throat. I pumped my mouth, loving the salty taste. My hand joined my lips, finding the rhythm he liked until I tasted the bittersweet pre-come.

With an order to be still, I pushed the crotch of my panties to the side and knelt over his big boy. My juicy cunt pulled him into my tight walls. Max cried my name, his hips trying to move, but I held firm. I clung to his dick, loving the hardness inside me. I clenched my muscles and he cursed with pleasure. I pulled myself off of him and a loud sucking sound echoed in the kitchen.
We both laughed, and I came down again slowly.

His face was a picture of agony. Max wanted to fuck me hard. I could see it in the strained lines of his features. I wondered how long he would last before he cracked.

I worked myself on him leisurely, one of my hands coming down to play with my clit. His eyes watched my fingers as they toyed with my folds. It was too hot to move faster. I was floating on his dick. My nerve endings screaming.

“Let me,” Max insisted, replacing my hand with his. His thumb made my calves clench and my toes curl as I used him as my personal dildo. He swirled and pushed my heated clit until I couldn’t sit upright, my insides melted and everything around me went white with pleasure.

He rolled me off of him and onto my stomach. The hard tile was a cool slap of gratification to my breasts and stomach as they hit the floor. Max ripped the flimsy fabric of my panties aside and his arm snaked around my waist. He shoved his dick in me without preamble or finesse. He fucked me on the kitchen floor like a dog; hard and fast. My hands found the wall, and Max grunted in satisfaction as I pushed back against him. I was so wet that his dick sailed through me.

I felt something slick being rubbed along my ass crack. A can of Crisco rolled by my head and hit the wall. My giggle turned into a groan as he pushed the soft grease against my asshole, lubing me up as his dick continued to fuck my pussy. One hand grabbed me hair like it was a rein.

“Ready?” he asked. Not waiting for an answer Max left my cunt and forced his way into my ass. I screamed in pleasure while he pumped…yanking my hair, slamming into my receptive hole. Every pore of my skin seemed to burst with perspiration. Every hair was on end is he rammed into me harder and harder. I pressed back against him.

His free hand found my clit and tugged roughly. There was no gentleness and none wanted.
Max pulled and fucked, working a couple of fingers in my pussy. He mopped my clit with my wetness. His dick seemed to grow even larger. He was growling, cursing and calling me his whore. Max pulled out, and hot sprays of his come flew across my back, over my shoulder blades and into my hair.

His hand found my clit and I let his seed and kitchen oils toss me over the edge again.
I collapsed on the floor.

He lay on my back, his weight pressing into me. He kissed my neck, nuzzled my sensitive skin.

I shivered, smiling. “NOW, I need a shower.” I whispered.

Max chuckled against my ear. “Me too.”

Monday, December 04, 2006

"Sipping Margarita" To be Published

This is a great story about a hot, sexy, fuller figured woman. Set in Borrego and one of my absolute favorites for imagery. Shanna, a fellow writer friend I've been published with before, is putting together a book based on bar drinks. You know how all of those drinks have sexual names. "Screaming Orgasm," "Sex on the Beach," "Fuzzy Navel," Etc. Along with the stories will be the recipes for your favorite you can sip along while you read. Cool, aye! Sorta like a novel that I have in the works that uses recipes for food in a similar way...but I won't go into that.

Let me know what you think of the story and thanks for reading!

This story contains sexually explicit scenes! If you are offended by FF sex or sex using toys, or any kind of sex, stop reading now!

Sipping Margarita
Copyright © 2006 by Crystal Barela

The Basic Margarita

1 ½ oz. (3 Tbsp.) tequila
¾ oz. (1 ½ Tbsp.) fresh lime juice
½ oz. (1 Tbsp.) Cointreau or Triple Sec
lime wedge or slice

Moisten chilled glass rim with a little lime juice, then dip the rim into salt. Shake first 3 ingredients with cracked ice; strain into glass. Garnish with lime.

Taken from The Ultimate A-to-Z Bar Guide by Sharon Tyler Herbst & Ron Herbst


The smooth worn wood of my guitar was soft beneath my palms. I caressed the strings in slow motion, dragging my calloused fingertips down the gentle slope of the neck in one long stroke before setting my fingers on a chord. I pulled a high pitched thrum from inside my wooden lover, as seductive as the sound of a woman coming.

I peered up from under my cowboy hat and winked at the woman in red. This was for her. I was imagining her body beneath my fingers as I strummed and picked, my pussy getting hotter as the hours passed. She’d been sitting in a nearby patch of shade from almost the moment I set up my gear─leaving every so often, but always returning to listen.

Getting noticed was this woman’s purpose. This was no pretty young thing, but a lady seasoned in turning heads. Full and round like a model in a Rubens painting. A palm tree had the pleasure of feeling the length of her back and the nudge of her ample cheeks against its smooth bark and I hoped by the end of the day I would enjoy the same.

Knees spread, her long prairie skirt draped like a hammock between them. The breeze carried the hem up ever so often, giving me a peek of rosy ripe pussy.

An embroidered white blouse hung off her round shoulders in layers of ruffles. Braless, her breasts were the size of cantaloupes and rolled under the thin fabric, teasing me with the possibility of a show, nipples just out of view.

At my feet was my open guitar case, dollar bills littering the black interior. It was just nearing sunset, bright rays of light shooting over the peeks of the San Ysidro Mountains behind me, casting a halo around the woman’s dark skin and hair. She rose to her feet as if pulled by a string, graceful like a dancer.

Skirts flew as she twirled in the golden light. Red painted toes, calves, knees and a glimpse of dimpled thigh. Arms overhead, fingers snapping in time with my playing.

She spun like a child seeking that place where your stomach turns and you collapse on the grass and watch the sky swirl round you.

The last note hung in the air. My dancer swayed drunkenly for a moment, as if she would fall to the ground. There was a moment of complete silence before the small crowd around us erupted in applause, the voluptuous beauty among them. Cat calls, clapping, and money rained into my tattered case. I waved and thanked our admirers before stowing my guitar.

Sandaled feet arrived in front of the case, a silver toe ring hugging her baby toe and a butterfly tattoo fluttering up her calf. I stood, drinking in the soft red cotton hugging her wide hips and soft belly. She was slightly out of breath, her breasts trembling against her top, dark nipples were shadows beneath the thin fabric. Perspiration gave her ample cleavage an inviting glow.

Close-up she was older than I had thought. Fine lines feathered from the corners of her eyes. Long chocolate hair camouflaged the softening of her jaw. The whites of her deep dark eyes were in stark contrast with the cinnamon of her smooth skin. They sparked in the fading light, eager as a teenager’s.

“Margarita,” she said offering me her hand.

I took her plump fingers in my own and brought them to my lips. “Melissa.”

“You are, how you say? Muy talentosa.”

Sweet ocotillo and sunshine clung to her skin. I wanted to lick it off.

“I was wondering.” I moved in close enough to feel the heat of her sun-kissed skin through my T-shirt. Close enough to break the language barrier.

Pussy-pink tongue wet her lips.

“Would you like a private performance?” My thumb grazed the back of her knuckles, rubbing in slow circles.

Margarita tossed her hair like a wild stallion, her nostrils flaring, and nodded.

Guitar in hand, I took hold of her elbow and she led me out of the park. I didn’t much care where she was taking me, as long as I got to sip her sweet pussy before the night was over.
We entered the shadows of the alley. My guitar fell to the gravel and I pulled her full ripe body against mine. I pressed her back against the rough brick and ground my pussy into hers.

“Magnifico, Margarita.”

I kissed the color from her lips and inched her skirt up. The bright red fabric wadded around her waist, so I could feel her soft slick folds. She clung to my fingers, her walls knocking against my knuckles. Margarita moaned and bounced on my hand, one leg around my waist the other firmly on the ground.

My face was buried in her breasts. With a dozen practiced swirls of my thumb her cunt applauded, squeezing my fingers. I grabbed her ass, pulling her close, licking the salt from her skin.

A door was thrown open behind us. The alleyway was lit with a stream of light and accompanying mariachi music from the bar. A man silhouetted in the doorway stood on the stoop and lit up a cigarette.

“Where? Dónde?”

Margarita reached down and took hold of my guitar, and motioned for me to continue down the alley. She giggled and covered my face in heated kisses. Her hand slipped under my waistband and I staggered around the corner. She directed me up a narrow staircase.

We fell against the stairs and the old wood creaked under our weight.

Buttons popped and lips latched onto my tits like she was starving.

We crawled up the stairs, stumbling, kissing, drunk on passion.

Inebriated with Margarita.

The back of my head hit the door on the landing and I reached behind me for the knob. With a clumsy twist we tumbled into the room laughing.

My feisty senora pulled my jeans down my legs, and I kicked them off. Her fingers were in my snatch and her lips eating cunt before I could do more than gasp her name. She threw my legs over her shoulders.

Margarita circled and tapped her way around my clit, as if it were a sombrero, her lips making clapping sounds, finding a staccato beat. Her cocoa brown eyes met mine, dark and rich like the earth. Her fingers joined her tongue, partnering in a dance of heat and passion until my thighs stretched taut and my clit vibrated like a Mexican jumping bean.

I collapsed on the floor, catching my breath and Margarita crawled up my body, her warm soft skin pressing into me.

“Si!” I said laughing. “Mucho mas!” I rolled us across the floor, landing on top of her. I pressed her hands into the braided rug beneath us. “What did you have in mind?”

Neck and ears were salty and damp. I licked and kissed my way to her breasts, burying my face between the massive drums, slick with perspiration. Nipples long and hard butted my lips, and I drank from them, nursing her; parched for this woman’s candied moans. Hands sticky with my juices tangled in my short hair, urging me lower. I nuzzled her belly, and kissed the crease of her leg. Margarita’s mound was covered in thick curly hair, a wild tangle that nudged my nose and lips.

The sweet skin of her labia filled my mouth, her heels digging into the floor outside my shoulders. I slurped her up, making circles around her hole with tongue and hand. The opening pulled at my fingertips, clinging to me. Her belly rose into the air, trembling and shaking.


I would have screamed “Yes,” but I was sipping Margarita.

My new lover was close, her clit a hot knot of need, but she pulled free. Margarita crawled away from me toward the bed, her ass moving in a teasing sway. She took out a box from under the frame and tossed a big belted rubber cock my way.

Our eyes met and we both grinned. I stood and strapped on the cock that I felt I’d had all night. Margarita’s full round ass rose off her bed like a moon in the desert sky. The thick black head of my dick bounced in the air as I took position.

I took my new cock in hand and nudged my big boy against her damp slit. Her hand was between her thick thighs pulling me closer. The massive member pressed against Margarita’s soft folds and made a home between her pussy lips, sliding easily into her needy hole with the help of her slick juices. I hit bottom and pumped.

Steady, building speed. She begged for more. My fingers dug into the flesh of her hips. I rammed her.

Coyotes howled in the distance, and I joined them, fucking my strap-on into her hungry cunt. Her hands were against the wall, pushing back against me, taking the rubber cock deeper and deeper. Cursing and begging in Spanish, she urged me on. I reached beneath her belly and slid my fingers around her clit.

Eyes caught mine over her shoulder and she shuddered. Margarita came, her muscles squeezing my rubber dick so hard I couldn’t move within her. I lay on her back, our sweat drenched skin sliding together, my thighs burning. I kissed her neck and she giggled, collapsing against the mattress.

I pulled free, the scent of sex like incense in the small room.

We crawled up onto the twin bed, but she wasn’t tired. Her hand took hold of the teetering phallus and she stroked it. I swear I could feel it. Again, her hand took hold, slipping through her come and sweat. I moaned.

“Muy grande,” she whispered, getting onto her knees.

Margarita leaned over my hard-on, taking the rubber tip between her lips. A hand slid under the harness and found my clit standing on end. She ate her wetness from my length, and rubbed my girl-dick quickly. The weight of her breasts jiggled against my thighs. I lengthened, my body arching into the air and cried out her name as her passion through me over the edge again.
She kissed her way up my torso to my lips and I pillowed myself on her chest, listening to her racing heart. It slowed beneath my ear, and my eyes began to close to the rhythm of her soft snoring.

I sat up, not sure how much time had passed, but realizing the door wasn’t shut and my guitar was still on the stairs. I pressed a kiss between her breasts before I left the bed in search of my guitar and cigarettes.

Naked, I sat in the doorframe and pulled my baby into my arms. My fingers picked up the rhythm of Margarita’s breathing. I hummed under my breath as I watched her sleep. The rainbow colored serape framed her beautiful round body. The moon shone from the window behind her, lightening her skin to the shade of birch bark. Her long hair was feathered over her breasts, one knee falling over the other, covering her sex demurely.

Homage to nature’s beauty.

I lit a cigarette and let it dangle from my lips, pulling my guitar close against my stomach.
How’s that song go?

“When the whole world fits inside of your arms…” I mumbled.

Margarita’s eyes opened and she smiled. “Mas?”

I laughed softly and put out my cigarette. “Mucho mas, Margarita.” I put down the guitar and got to my feet. “Mucho mas.”