Latin Porn Spices

I remember watching her…..the way she moved. Her
skirt gently folding to the crease of her ass. Her
legs tight from the spikes she wore…the fish nets
accenting her calves with a spider web of shadow.
As I stood there memorized the world passed me by…lost
in my vision of lust..I could almost feel her warmth…smell
her sweetness. Her shoulders rocking…and barely
a hint of her generous bosom when she moved just right.
She must have felt my eyes upon her for she turned
and looked straight at me. Fastened…my vision caught
with her own. I smiled and she winked with just a
hint of a smile…my eyes moved down taking in her
high lights…letting her know what was on my mind.
Her long dark hair floating from around her face…those
ruby red lips slightly parted showing a hint of white
from within…eyes the color of grass on a warm spring
hillside. She stood staring…the tight leather skirt
and top suggesting what lay beneath. Long thin arms
to match her legs…nails red as her lips long and wicket. (more…)

When he knocked on the door, she was ready for him. She had (more…)

Jan had started seeing Doctor Stevens only after getting tremendous
pressure from her best friend, Donna. Jan insisted that she really
didn’t have a problem that required the services of a psychiatrist,
but Donna insisted that she talk to Dr. Stevens, so she went. Jan
still believed that she didn’t need to go, but had been learning so
much about herself and her life that she went each week. Besides,
she really liked the Doctor, and could afford the visits, so why
not.

I should pause, here to tell you a little about Jan. She is Vice
President of Sales with a medium size electronics manufacturer in
the midwest. She is respected by everyone who deals with her as a
tough but fair executive who knows her business and manages people
very effectively. Her sales force calls her “The Iron Lady” but not
in her presence. It is obvious the first time you meet her that she
is a beautiful woman who could easily have become a top paid model
or actress but in her role as a business woman, she tones the
beauty down to “attractive” by her dress, demeanor and sparing use
of makeup. (more…)

Isabelle was on her way to the city for a recording session at the new
studio. Tanned hands on the wheel, a chiffon scarf rippling at the
window and gold-rimmed shades: she was satisfied with her appearance
in the way a pretty woman vain enough to spend time in front of the
mirror is bound to be. There was the added consciousness of incipient
stardom. The agent told her over the phone that morning, ‘’This one
is really it, baby! This new guy is great, you’re going to love him.
Got the voice of a god. A real hunk. I’m going to send
you to the top of the charts with this fellow!'’

‘’Hold on, Sam.'’ She had been alarmed by the excitement in her
agent’s voice. He had made impulsive and sometimes foolish
decisions in the past. Isabelle liked to move cautiously,
methodically.
‘’We’d agreed not to decide anything until after we
finished this cut.'’ She spook in a cool, low voice that was both
hypnotic and sexy. ‘’Look Sam, I know we’re going to make it big with
all this—I’m the one who convinced you of that, remember? Now who
is this guy?'’ (more…)

She and I are in my apartment. It is all white and the lights are
on. It is late afternoon, and the shades are drawn. I have a special
evening planned for her and she knows this, although she does not know what
I have in mind.

We are both excited to the point of electricity on our skin. We
undress, our skin tight and cool. I can feel my heart thumping in my
chest. She can sense that something is afoot, her nipples are hard, her
aereolae contracted about them, dark with tiny bumps. The pale flesh
across her chest and shoulders is beginning to show a telltale flush.

She knows the basic plan. I place a blindfold on her, and make
sure that she cannot see. I guide her to my futon on the floor, where she
lays down. I position her in the center of it, then put her arms out above
her head, reaching for the two corners of the futon. I move around and
spread her legs in a similar fashion. I can see that her labia is becoming
red and swollen. Her hands and feet are nearly reaching the corners of the
pad.

I begin to tie her wrists with the cotton rope attached to lag
screws that I have sunk into the floor at each corner of the futon. They
are immovable. She begins to breath harder, writhing slightly.

I continue to tie her up, pulling the cords taught at her wrists
and ankles. She can move her torso a little, but cannot appreciably move
her limbs about. I sit back to admire my handiwork, gazing over the
fullness of her breasts, her slim, boyish hips, the dark patch of hair at
the apex of her smooth slim thighs. I watch her stomach move in and out
with her breathing, its concavity arousing me (more…)