“I want to be your rhythm…” His voice, dripping honey and caramel, gets me wet immediately. And then he switches to Spanish, and I’m over the edge: “Que le enseñes a mi boca tus lugares favoritos…”
Yes, I’m well aware Rafael is quoting Justin Bieber lyrics to me. And I’m a nonBelieber, but damn, that track, that sexy Latin rhythm, those words… hearing Raf sing them softly to me has ensured I will never be able to hear this song again without getting turned on.
This might be the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever admitted.
So my beloved gay boyfriend Rafael is away visiting relatives in Chile and to our mutual horror he has no phone signal and only intermittent internet, so we can’t even have phone sex [and if you don’t know how that turned out last time, read this].
But, ever resourceful, Raf has managed to email me something to keep my fingers busy until his return.
The email subject header says: OPEN WHEN ALONE!!!
I manage to resist temptation until I get home, and I take my iPhone straight to bed.
The email message is brief: Thinking of you, querida xxx
There’s an mp3 attachment titled Mixtape.
I put my headphones on and click on the file, and I hear the first few bars of “Despacito,” and Raf’s voice over it. He sounds tired, almost drifting off to sleep, but horny, and sexy as hell:
“Hey querida, I keep hearing this song everywhere, and it makes me think of you and how much I wanted to fuck you when we danced to it… I’m lying on my bed with my hard cock in my hand, I’m too wired to sleep and too tired to go find some cute boy to fuck. I wanted to call you but I have no signal on my phone [quick blast of filthy Spanish swear words directed at his phone network here]. I just want to talk to you and kiss you and touch you, remember dancing to this?”
Of course I remember. The day Raf left for Chile, he dropped by the dance studio to give his keys to a friend who’s house sitting while he’s away. He walked in at the end of a class, just as we were cooling down to “Despacito.” I have a strict No PDAs rule — although I doubt there’s a person there who doesn’t know that Raf has fucked my brains out on a couple of occasions, it’s the subject of continual speculation due to the fact that he’s openly gay and has slept with a few of the male dancers there. So anyway, we didn’t fuel the gossip by kissing each other’s face off as we really wanted to; but when he took me in his arms to dance, it felt like we were having sex fully clothed. The guy can really move; the sway of his hips on mine as he held me close drove me crazy, and when he whispered in my ear all the things he wanted to do to me, and I felt his hard cock grinding against me, I wanted him so badly I was trembling with the pure white heat of desire. But he had to leave for the airport, so we said a very intense goodbye and I went home and masturbated to five orgasms in a row — five! — before I could even form a coherent thought again.
Hearing the song now, hearing Raf’s sexy Spanish accent, releases a surge of lust that floods my panties. His voice is as pretty as his cock. I close my eyes and picture him stroking his erection slowly while he murmurs in my ear:
“Getting wet yet, querida? Can you feel my fingers, rubbing you through your panties? Pressing between your lips… Deja que te diga cosas al oído, para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo…”
Fuck it, I can’t resist… I hitch up my dress, slide a hand between my thighs. My panties are drenched. I push a fingertip deeper, between my pussy lips, the wet fabric adding friction over my clit as I rub harder.
“I’m stroking my fingers up and down over your clit… I can feel it pulsing, you’re so hot baby… Quiero desnudarte a besos despacito…” His voice a little deeper now, as it always is when he’s really turned on. “Think you can cum like that, just from me rubbing you through your panties? Such a sexy girl. Gonna lick you now, taste you, so sweet… prueba de mi boca para ver cómo te sabe…”
His voice has me so aroused I swear I can actually feel his hot tongue on my pussy.
I peel off my soaked panties, spread my thighs a little wider. But I want the friction, I want the otherness, the feeling that it’s his touch, not mine, so I wrap the wet fabric over my fingertips before swiping them the length of my slippery slit. Oh, that feels good…
“Quiero hacerte perder el control usando solo mi boca… tu coño es tan caliente…” He’s adding his own lyrics now, and I stroke harder, imagining his tongue entering me, his dark eyes gazing up at me, pupils lust-blown. I press my fingers deeper, electric currents of pleasure flaring through me. The track has finished, but the mixtape continues with the most seductive music, a sultry Latin beat, and my hips are rocking up to it, picturing myself dancing my hot juicy flesh over Raf’s face, riding his tongue.
“You want my cock, baby? Quieres mi polla? Open up for me, querida…” I want it so bad. I want him inside me. Bunching up my panties, I push more of the fabric into my cunt, the harsh drag against my tender walls meeting the urge for the fiery, intense sensation of getting filled by an almost-too-big cock. My hips rock up faster, thighs fluttering closed around my thrusting hand, pleasure building in waves now.
“Can you feel it, mi vida? My cock pounding into you… cum for me, baby… cum on my cock…” His voice is rough, I can hear how close he is. I see his tanned body against mine, glistening with sweat, muscles taut as he thrusts into me over and over. And then I’m cumming, back arched, heat and wetness, hips lifted off the bed, shaking and gasping.
Pulling the drenched panties back out of my pussy sets off a whole chain of aftershocks. I’m so sensitive, nerve endings ablaze. I can easily cum again really quickly after a first orgasm, and the second time is even more intense, a quick rub of my wet fingers over my clit as I slide the sticky panties from between my lust-swollen lips igniting a climax that hits me like a lightning bolt.
I drift off into a post-orgasmic afterglow, heartbeat gradually slowing to synchronize with the music still playing in my ears…
That was five days ago. I’ve rationed myself to listening to Raf’s mixtape only once a day since then. Still, I’m massively distracted, have done very little work, and I can’t listen to the radio because every time that song comes on, I want to touch myself. And that’s not counting the three times I’ve had to call my best friend Tony to come over and fuck me (I let him lick the panties I’d stuffed in my pussy, he likes that), the seven long gym sessions (twice a day exercise being a temporary solution for extreme horniness), or the girl I ate out in the locker room after class yesterday.
I blame Justin Bieber.
Thanks for reading! Applause, comments and follows get me hot 😉
More confessions from me here — if you think you can handle it! Maybe have a cold shower first…
