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  'Are you sad?' She sat up straight on the sofa and took a long gulp of her whisky.

  'No. I'm very happy, relieved. I like the idea of being a free man again.'

  'Sorry, I ask too much. I'm too curious. It is the Argentinean way. We are too honest sometimes, too - what do you say, frank? And then sometimes we lie too easily.' She laughed to herself a little, then looked at me almost disappointedly before taking another sip of her drink.

  'No, I don't mind, really. Ask what you want.'

  'Have another whisky. Take yourself,' she said motioning to the whisky bottle that lay behind me. She pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one. I watched as she tossed her head back slightly and inhaled the smoke deeply, all the time keeping her eyes fixed on me.

  I could feel my dick bulging in my pants, my balls a granite weight between my legs. She was brushing her knee with the tips of her fingers. It was enticing, but maybe it was done innocently, almost subconsciously. She had told me in the lift how easy she found it to talk to me, but what if I were misreading all the signs, if I were mistaking mere friendliness for something else, something wholly more interesting?

  I sat down and self-consciously crossed my legs. I placed the whisky glass on the coffee-table before me.

  'How's David?' I wanted to test the water a little, before trying a more direct approach.

  'Oh, David is okay, when I see him. He travels so much. So... so busy all the time. He speaks of you often.' She took another drag from her cigarette and languorously exhaled.

  'We go back a long way.'

  'I know. He told me. Everything!' Her eyes dilated as she emphasised the 'everything'. As far as David and I were concerned, everything used to mean a lot.

  'Has he changed, David?'

  'No, not really. He's a little more serious now. Demasiado! Too much stress. He talks already of retirement, but work is like a drug with him. He can't stop.' She shook her head disapprovingly as she spoke.

  'I wouldn't spend so much time away from you, if you were my wife.' The words seemed to spring from my mouth with no intercession from my mental processes.

  'Really?' She laughed, tossing her head back again, splaying her arms out, before bringing them together in a bright clap. I noticed the undulation of her breasts as she chuckled at my remark. 'Oh, English gentlemen.'

  'Don't believe Englishmen are gentlemen.'

  'You know there is a belief in Argentina that all Englishmen are gentlemen: gentlemen and homosexuals. Is it true?' she said, laughing again, before taking a deep drag on her cigarette.

  'That we are all gentlemen - or that we are all homosexuals?'

  'Both.'

  'Well, you're married to one.'

  'Exactly, and I am still not sure,' she said, before she started to laugh again without any hint of bitterness.

  I must have raised my eyebrows and looked quizzical.

  'No, señor, I am joking. I am only joking. David is not always a gentleman, although he can be, and I don't think he is a homosexual.'

  'You don't think?'

  'No, I am sure he isn't.'

  I was laughing, too. It is difficult to convey the sheer vivacious charm of the woman, of Andrea then as she sat before me, the conviviality of her personality, the sheer openness, the sense of joy and playfulness which seemed to suffuse her words, the fruity naturalness of her manner.

  Her free hand was still toying with the hem of her leather skirt.

  'But sometimes, he leaves me alone, the bastard.' Said jokingly, almost lovingly. 'And it is no good to leave a woman like me alone. I do not like to dance solo.' Her face flushed, momentarily tinged red, and then she laughed again delightfully, coquettishly - and then the laughter suddenly halted. 'I like you, Jonathan. I like you much, very much.' She stubbed out her cigarette on the ashtray that lay on the side of her armchair.

  'I like you too, Andrea.' I did not dare dream where this might be leading. I feared to make an ass of myself so quickly, and with David's wife. I had been out of the game too long, which is why I was so hesitant, unconfident.

  'It is strange, no, to like someone so quickly, without knowing them so well? Strange - and for me, is a little exciting.'

  'Very exciting!' I could barely believe what was happening. It was becoming clear that I wasn't misreading the signs: her seduction was too obvious. Her next question dismissed any remaining doubts.

  'Are Englishmen always this slow?'

  'Sorry?'

  'I mean, here I am giving you - what does David call it? - the come-on, and you not say anything.' Her eyes sparkled as she looked at me.

  'But...'

  'But what? David? Forget David. I told you, he leaves me alone. I don't ask about him. He doesn't ask about me. I said, I like you. Is there a problem? I mean, you are an Englishman. Maybe you don't like me?'

  'Of course I like you.'

  'I mean, you don't want to make love with me?'

  'Yes. You're beautiful.' My heart was thumping, pounding with lust and I could feel my prick pulsing as she spoke.

  A brief hiatus and then she said, her voice softening, 'Why don't you come here, Jonathan? Come to me... come!'

  My head was spinning. A beautiful woman was inviting me to make love to her, one hour after I had arrived on the other side of the world. Not that this seemed like the other side of the world: this seemed like a parallel universe where your deepest, darkest wishes are fulfilled, where what you had only sadly dreamt of or fantasised about becomes real, wonderfully real. Only some fifteen hours before, I had been standing freezing in London: cold, lonely, feeling trepidation at the outset of my new, single life. And now, here I was in the bright city summer heat, with one of the most attractive women I had ever seen in the whole of my life beckoning me to her.

  I slugged back a mouthful of whisky and walked over to her chair, went to take her, to lean over and wrap my arms around that fabulous body.

  'Stop!' she commanded before I could reach down. 'I want to look at you.' She reached her manicured fingers to my crotch and began to unzip my flies. She glanced up to my astonished eyes, flashing a smile at me before returning to the zip, her tongue excitedly snaking out of her mouth.

  She pulled out my cock, teased it from my boxers. It stood to attention before her eyes. A glistening rivulet of semen trickled down my shaft and onto the blood-red nail of her finger as she pulled down my foreskin. She gasped, 'Is fantastic!' She stared at my prick and then up to my eyes as I inched my member closer to her face. 'What a cock!'

  Suddenly, she poured the dregs of her whisky into the palm of her hand and began massaging the alcohol into my pulsating cock, all along my throbbing shaft, down to my heavy balls, sighing her pleasure, anticipating her delight. I felt the sting of the alcohol, making my already hot flesh burn like fire.

  She rolled the head of my cock against her cheek, drawing a thin trail of semen across her soft flesh, and then she rolled it across her parted lips, nipping it painfully between her fingers before plumping her lascivious mouth over my helmet, soothing the burning sensation where the whisky had stung.

  With her free hand she lifted my cock and, pulling her lovely mouth away, she began to lick along the shaft, the movement of her tongue growing more furious and more frantic. My hand stroked and tousled the stream of her blonde hair.

  How long did this last? I can't say. It seemed like an infinity, an infinity of joy, a rekindling of a sexual pleasure that had lain dormant in me for too long. A woman was spreading her long tongue all over, all round and along my cock, intermittently squeezing my testicles as she did so, looking up to me, smiling with her eyes, treating my rod in a way it hadn't been treated in a long time. I had almost forgotten how good it could feel.

  Spreading her hand through the apex of my thighs, now unencumbered of trousers and pants, she grabbed my buttocks and ran a finger down the ridge between
my anus and my balls before thrusting my cock further and further into her mouth, past her full red lips, until I saw it bulge in the side of her cheek.

  I grabbed her hair, her beautiful silky hair, blanched in the summer sun. I held her head as she propelled her mouth forward onto me, as she took me deeper and deeper inside her mouth and her dextrous tongue worked on me.

  I could feel myself coming, exploding inside her. I could imagine my come spurting down her throat. I felt my legs tense, my whole body go into spasm. A wave of orgiastic pleasure was shooting up from the base of my bursting shaft.

  She must have sensed it, too, for suddenly she slipped her mouth from me.

  'Not yet... not yet,' she murmured sweetly.

  I was pleased. I didn't want to come before I had explored the jewel of her body. I grabbed her swelling breasts through her black woollen sweater and felt the hardness of her nipples, pinching each one between my finger and thumb. She moaned with pleasure through the momentary tang of pain.

  I lifted the polo-neck over her head, exposing a black lacy bra. I stooped and sucked on her hard nipples through the lace, taking each one briefly between my teeth. And then, reaching behind her, I undid the strap at the back, so that her lavish breasts were freed against my face. She pulled on my hair as I sucked her breasts, tenderly nibbling each rosy peak, moving from one to the other, and between, licking the deep valley and then the tender underside, sweeping my tongue from the base of each soft breast to the nipple, and then back.

  And while I licked and sucked her breasts, my hands crept slowly and steadily up her stockinged legs. Yes, stockinged legs, as I jubilantly discovered the bare flesh of her thighs. She was moaning now, moaning hard. My fingers reached her lacy panties and grasped her moist sex. She was already wet, her knickers damp with lust.

  I pushed my index finger inside her panties, found the opening to her vagina and inserted my finger. One finger, then two. She groaned with pleasure.

  I removed my fingers and traced the delicious outline of her sex-folds before slicking her juice over her skin, tracking, as she had done with me, from her sex to her anus, tickling its puckered entrance, before sliding my finger back into her quim.

  I left her glorious breasts and knelt down before her, unzipped and then pulled down the leather skirt that had ridden up her hips to her waist, and whipped her panties down, sniffing their delicious musky aroma before throwing them behind me. I spread her legs wide until both her calves rested on the leather arms of her chair and finally dipped my head to her pussy.

  My tongue sought her labia, lightly brushing against her moist flesh, before I descended onto her clitoris. I did it slowly, licking her, listening to her wail with pleasure. I flicked her clit this way and that way, felt it swell under the tip of my tongue. Her head was tossing from side to side, following the rhythm of my licking.

  I felt her legs tense, felt her thighs arch around my ears, clasping my head in her tightening grip, squeezing me hard.

  Then, as she had done with me, I pulled back. I did not want her to come yet. I teased and tantalised her with my tongue, with my mouth, lapped her viscous love juice, spread her sex wide and tongued her.

  She was grunting now as the pink coral of her sex-lips glistened before me. My hands gripped the plump cheeks of her bottom, my nails digging into flesh as I feasted on the perfect wet centre of her sex. She pulled my head up by the chin, opened my mouth with her tongue and French-kissed me, clearly exhilarated by the taste of her own cunt on my tongue and lips.

  I could sense how delightful she had found the pain I caused her as my nails dug deeper and deeper into her flesh. A pressure had been mounting inside me, a tension in my chest, in my mind, and then suddenly something clicked. I was like a caged animal that had been freed, invigorated by my liberty. I wanted to do everything to her, to release all the strain that had built up in me over the slow years.

  I tugged her up from the armchair and, sitting down on the sofa, roughly pulled her over me so her fleshy buttocks rested over my lap. She looked up over her shoulder, seemingly astonished at the feverish change that had overcome me.

  'Please, please,' she murmured, begging me to hurt her, although her eyes betrayed fear: I was still a stranger to her, so she could not know how far I would go. It added a dangerous fire to my already feverish mind.

  I pushed her face into the leather of the sofa, as I felt my erection press against her pubis, raised my free hand and brought it down onto the soft flesh of her buttocks in a thunderous smack. Her yelp was muffled in the thickness of the leather. I could feel my palm tingle as I whacked her bare bottom again, much harder than the first time, the loud clap ringing in my ears. And again and again, until her delightful buttocks flushed red. She gripped the arm of the sofa as she wriggled and writhed on my lap. Another smack; I was almost out of control.

  Again and again I hit the quivering flesh, my head spinning, a deep anger surging within me with each mighty slap, and receding as my hand beat her silken skin, only to build up again instantly as I watched her bare bottom jerk under the weight of my blows.

  Her head wriggled free from my hold. 'More, por favor, more!'

  I needed no encouragement as I slapped her tingling flesh again, my hand rising higher and higher with each stroke, my dazzled eyes fixed on her blushed bottom.

  'Fuck me, now. Fuck me! Please fuck me!'

  I let her clamber up from the sofa and move dreamily to the oblong coffee-table where my forgotten glass of whisky still awaited me. With one sweep of her hand she recklessly cleared all obstacles: a vase, my glass, and a few books toppled and fell to the floor. The task complete, she lay prone on the table, her breasts squashed against the glass and her hands gripping the sturdy cylindrical legs. Her reddened buttocks were invitingly perched in front of me, as if waiting, excitedly anticipating the immense pleasure I would bring to them.

  For a moment, as I knelt behind her, I studied her immense beauty. My stiff rod twitched at the sight.

  'Take me, please. Duro, duro - hard. Take me hard. Jodeme.' She was insistent, demanding.

  I grasped her hips and slipped my aching cock into her tight pussy. She sighed with pleasure. Her whole body shuddered as I entered her. I slid deeper and deeper, pulling her further onto me.

  'Hard, hard - duro, duro,' she coaxed, her voice pleading. I took her hard, so hard: riding her, riding in and out of her tight pussy as she screamed and screamed for more, each stroke pushing further into her.

  'Harder, deeper - mas profundo!'

  She reached back, grabbed my hand, and guided it to her hair.

  'Pull hard!'

  I pulled her hair as my thrusts grew more frantic. My sweat mingled with hers, coating her buttocks. I could hear the noise her breasts made as she slithered on the glass.

  'Harder, harder!'

  I pulled on her hair. I watched her head arch back as she tried to resist the pain she most ardently desired.

  And then, almost as if I wasn't there, she entered a kind of ecstatic reverie, as my rod pushed deeper inside her. I felt the muscles of her quim grow taut, squeezing me, the slicked walls of her sex milking my throbbing helmet, leading me to the greatest orgasm I could ever remember.

  She came again, as I erupted deep within her. It seemed like it would never end, my seed exploding like lava, soaking her quim. Her wondrous muscles squeezed all the more, gripping like a vice. Her mouth gaped. She gave another guttural groan, and then she sighed, sagged, and relaxed in her orgasmic release.

  Slowly I pulled out of her, and nestled my softening cock in the cleft of her bottom. I wanted to savour every luscious moment. My heart was still pounding. Sweat trickled down my back. A gorgeous sheen of our mingled perspiration covered the small of her back and her fleshy rear. Reluctantly, as Andrea breathed deeply, drifting back to some semblance of normality, I sank exhausted to the floor.

  She turned to me
and sank elegantly from the table to her knees. She bent and took me affectionately into her mouth, sucking the last remnants of pleasure from me. Her eyes smiled up at my reddened face.

  I lay back, sated, and watched her gentle actions. She reached up and kissed me on the lips, and then said:

  'Welcome to Buenos Aires.'

  Chapter 2

  After we made love, we took a shower together. What an experience: lathering her sweet-smelling skin; cleaning every inch of her flesh; seeing her breasts quivering as I washed her lithe and clinging body. Andrea loved being looked at; loved being appreciated for the wonderful - and wonderfully imaginative - woman that she was. She sucked me off as the water lashed down on us, her mouth taking me in completely, her throat greedily swallowing every drop of my seed.

  I have an eidetic recall of my first encounter with Andrea: the musky aroma of her; the touch of her skin; her pubic hair; the perfect rotundity of her bottom, of her breasts; the laughing eyes that said to me all things are possible.

  I hadn't fallen in love with her. I was still too bruised, too raw for that. I had fallen in lust with her, in love with the idea of screwing her - of touching her sensual flesh, having that ready and willing body. She was too perfect to love: to encumber with all the burdensome paraphernalia of domesticity, petty disagreements, drab deceits, and constant and intrusive intimacy. But Andrea dwelled in my mind, took up residence in my thoughts; my waking and sleeping hours were inhabited with the indelible memory of her body.

  After our shower, she cooked some pasta and over a glass of wine and, remembering the excited look she had given me when I spanked her, I asked where she had developed her taste for corporal punishment.

  'Is a long story, Jonathan. For me is not only punishment, is pleasure and punishment. Do you know the Chinese fruit, the kumquat?'

  'Yes.'

  'For me the kumquat is strange. I can never know whether is the outside that is sweet or the inside. Do you understand? If you eat the kumquat whole, there is a wonderful mixture of the bitter and the sweet. Is a confusion, a marvellous confusion. Like love, Jonathan. I never quite know where the pain ends and the pleasure begins. But I do know that when they are united, they are irresistible. In the same way I am not always submissive. I like to be dominant, too. You will see.' She smiled at me as she spoke, slightly parting her lips, giving me another fantastic glimpse of her delectable tongue.