C?mo Fue

Story Info
Following a melody in Havana.
1.3k words
4.06
28.8k
00
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
kotori
kotori
35 Followers

Kathleen didn't mean to lose the tour group. They just walked too quickly for her, never stopping long enough to appreciate the sublime decrepitude of Havana's architecture. Besides, she thought, that morose young man in the cheap khaki suite I keep seeing is probably with the secret police. I can't get in too much trouble.

The warm and humid Cuban dusk turned into night, and she wandered lethargically through the busy streets, away from the usual tourist areas. Wasn't it her duty to the travel agency back in Toronto to explore the hidden areas, to get the real flavour of a place, and not just the official Tourist Board line? There's more to Havana than just Varadero Beach and the Malecon.

Entering the Cayo Hueso barrio, Kathleen heard the distant strains of a single trumpet blaring out the melody of an ethereal bolero above the general din. What is that song? I know it. Mesmerized by the plaintive wail, she stepped off the curb without looking, intent on following the sound to its source.

"BOO-YA!! BOO-YA!!" the horn of a '56 DeSoto exploded in her ears as she fell into the street. A crowd gathered immediately. Did she swoon? She didn't think the car hit her, but she was dazed. Was it the oppressive heat, the crowding people yammering a language she hardly understood, the cursing of the driver, the glare of the headlights right at eye level? She wasstill confused when the crowd parted and a hand reached down to her.

"Señorita, por favor," was all he said. It was the man in khaki. He helped Kathleen to her feet, and gently but firmly directed her into a dance hall on the other side of the street. He's surely State Security, she thought. Once inside, Kathleen was able to take stock of the herself: she was unhurt,merely shaken, a scratch on her leg. And her policeman had such lovely features and intense eyes.

"Let me get you a drink," he said in English. Her eyes followed him across the room, admiring his slim build. As he was speaking to the bartender, she surveyed the hall. The orchestra was coming to the stage, a bandstand illuminated by weak lamps shining through scratched, ancient gels. The players ranged widely in age, from a spotty-faced boy with a stand-up base, to the white-haired piano player, who might have played with Desi Arnaz. But Kathleen was most intrigued with the leader, a suavecito, in what (she guessed) was his mid-fifties: tall, light-skinned (by Cuban standards), still slender, with slicked-back black hair and a pencil-thin moustache. He carried himself like a man who knows he's the center of attention and deserves to be. That's a toothsome morsel, she thought, muy guapo. The policeman returned with two glasses.

"Cuba libre I think they call it. Of course, it isn't real Coke. My name is Ernesto."

"I'm Kathleen. Thanks so much for helping. I don't know what happened."

"The heat, perhaps, the crush of people--who knows? You were startled. Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes, thank-you," Kathleen sighed, noticing for the first time that she was the only woman in the hall. With that the band struck up a tango, and a few male-male couples moved onto the dance floor. So much for Kathleen's conception of Latino machismo. "What an interesting place--I had no idea," she added.

"Yes, Cuba can be for all types of lovers. The orchestra leader, he intrigues you, I think."

"Yes," Kathleen admitted. "He's not . . ."

"Marecón? No, not even most of the band. Would you like to meet him?"

"You seem to know a lot, Ernesto."

"That is what I do, señorita--know things." A bolero began to play: Ernesto offered his hand again to Kathleen, to dance. She finished her drink, and walked to the floor with him, entranced by the swirling turn of events. Ernesto danced like a professional; the music and the night and the rum flowed forward, inexorably towards midnight and beyond. Ernesto introduced Roberto, the orchestra leader, who charmed Kathleen first onto the dance floor, and then after a few more drinks, up the rickety stairs to an apartment above the hall. She looked back for Ernesto and noticed himchatting with a young man.

When Roberto kissed her, Kathleen felt her legs go wobbly. An antiquated ceiling fan rotated ineffectually. She inhaled deeply, overwhelmed by Roberto's scent, the scratchiness of his cheek, the softness of his hair. She let her hand descend over his taunt abdomen and tugged at the fasteners of his trousers. Roberto stood serenely, allowing Kathleen to fall to her knees as she released his stiffening cock.

"Yes, querida, take it," he breathed, "suck it."

Kathleen relished the pungent taste of Roberto's cock, the slight smell of urine and sweat assaulting her olfactory nerves. She felt so wanton as she ravished him with her mouth, but gasped when she felt Ernesto undressing her. After the initial surprise, Kathleen relaxed and let the policeman caress her body. She felt his hand reach to the wetness between her legs, carefully spreading her labia andgently stoking her passion.

Roberto moved to the bed, and laid down, his rigidpinga now pointing skyward. Kathleen crawled between his legs and once again engulfed him with her mouth, then swayed her rump to entice Ernesto. He didn't disappoint her, flicking his prick across her enflamed clitoris a few times before sinking into the velvet vice of her cunt. As Ernesto stroked her firmly, she transmitted her pleasure to Roberto whose ragged breathing betrayed his imminent orgasm.

A few words she didn't understand escaped his lips, and she was confused when Ernesto withdrew. But she realized the men were merely exchanging positions. Kathleen gasped when Roberto plunged into her forcefully, and Ernesto laid back, offering his cunt-slickened member to her. Kathleen loved the taste of her own arousal, and greedily sucked Ernesto's long and slender rod between her lips. As she sucked, she ran her fingers through the thick hair on his belly; it was shaved into a Mohawk running from his navel to the base of his penis, and it tickled her nose. She let him pop out of her mouth, and directed her tongue to his dangling scrotum. It was heavy and loose in the tropical heat. Briefly she considered the possibility of rimming his anus. The thought excited her, but she forgot it as her orgasm approached.

Roberto continued to pummel her from behind, and she sensed he was close to exploding inside her. She wanted to feel Ernesto as well, and went back to sucking, pumping him with her hand, matching Roberto's rhythm. Shifting her weight to her right shoulder, she snaked her left hand back, adder-like, to caress Roberto's ball sack. As she touched him, his entire body went tense, and she could feel a jet of semen splash into her. Her orgasm was building now beyond her ability to control it, and she felt her cunt spasm around Roberto's still amazingly turgid rod.

A slight change in the intensity of Kathleen's sucking cued Ernesto of her orgasm, and he too felt release imminent. Grabbing her head in his hands, he moaned with pleasure as he emptied his searing load into her hungry mouth. Sated, Kathleen fell forward, prostrate on the bed, her head in Ernesto's lap, as he stroked her hair.

She looked over to the window where Roberto stood looking to the street below, lighting a cigarette. The first few rays of sunlight were creeping over the eastern horizon and Kathleen once again heard the distance wail of that trumpet solo.

"What is that song, Ernesto?" she asked.

Straining to listen, he too caught the melody, and began to sing softly:

"Mas no sé,
"No sé decirte, cómo fue
"No sé explicarte qué passó
"Pero de ti me enamoré."

"Yet, I don't know
"I can't tell you how it was--
"I can't explain what happened
"But I fell in love with you."

kotori
kotori
35 Followers
Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
Share this Story

Similar Stories

Rip in Time Ch. 01 Ripper (Giles), Willow, and Spike get involved.in Celebrities & Fan Fiction
The Fall of Rebecca Innocent coed is undone by depraved landlord.in NonConsent/Reluctance
The Red Dress A very personal glimpse of one woman's chaotic headspace.in Lesbian Sex
Cuckold John His attempt at helping a young couple.in Loving Wives
Older Women / Young Men Overview of 22 new & old movies about OW/YM.in Reviews & Essays
More Stories