Carmina Teixeira da Silva stared at herself in the bedroom mirror and didn’t like what she saw. She was 35 and single and the sight that faced her told her why. Overweight: she had always been like that. But now it was more like plain, old-fashioned fat.
She looked at the dark hair on her forearms and didn’t like that, either. It wasn’t how women were supposed to be. Maybe you could get away with it back in Portugal, where all women were dark-haired and prone to a bit of black fuzz here and there. The boys were used to it. Some said they liked it. But here in London she wanted to be a delicate, wispy blonde, smooth as a nectarine and willowy like Gwyneth Paltrow.
Ho hum. It wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel feminine: she knew how to treat a man and how to allow a man to take what he wanted from her sexually; how to give him what he wanted and get what she wanted by natural means – plus a bit of stealth occasionally.
Why couldn’t she look like her friend Torlona, who was equally dark in that Iberian way, but it was combined with the elfin cuteness of Keira Knightley. Torlona had to fight them off. Dressed up on a night out, she needed stud-repellant to keep the tongue-hanging-out English guys at bay.
Carmina accepted her role as supporting actress but wished for once she could get on the red carpet in her own right. Ugly feelings of vengeance flooded her as she imagined snaring one of these pretty boys and breaking him into a million pieces as he begged her to love him.
Somehow, though, the images of punishment that haunted her head amounted to little more than sitting on the guy’s face, rubbing her pussy and arse back and forth up and down his nose, and possibly squatting over him and peeing in his mouth. She knew that, for some men, that would be the opposite of punishment. But if that was what it was in her book, it was perfectly valid. If they subverted it into something else, what could she do? It was one of so many mysteries in this life.
The inbox on her email pinged to announce an arrival. Probably some hotel booking site inviting her to review somewhere she had stayed. She checked without enthusiasm and saw the name Darron. She didn’t know a Darron, unless it was that guy that Torlona had been seeing a while ago.
Carmina opened it and quickly saw that it was him. He explained who he was, hoped she didn’t mind him contacting her, but he had always liked her and maybe they could get together for a drink some time. This guy was a womanizer. Torlona had ditched him because he couldn’t keep his eyes off other women. She decided to mail back.
‘Yes, I remember you. You’re a terrible flirt. You change your women like you change your shirts. No I will not go out with you.’
Five minutes later he was back. He realized he had that reputation but he wasn’t that bad really. And he had always thought she was very attractive. Classy, elegant, sexy.
Intelligent.
She stopped in her mental tracks. This was a new line, even for a rat like Darron. But he wanted to see her and had upgraded the invitation to dinner.
‘No.’ she sent back, turned off her laptop and went to bed.
The next day was Saturday. She woke up at 9, picked up the laptop and took it to bed.
Darron hadn’t let it lie last night. He wanted a chance to show her she was wrong about him. He signed off with ‘Pining for you, wonderful Portuguese maid’. She wrote back.
‘Darron, you’re a scumbag. If I agree to meet you I am going to leave immediately if I get less than 100% attention. Do you understand?’
He understood. Tonight?
She felt she should say no, not appear eager, but it was Saturday night and she had nothing to do. Nor, apparently, did he.
‘Meet me at the Telegraph at 8. If you’re not there on the dot I will be gone. We can eat next door at the Thai place. Please book it for 8:30.’
The Telegraph was a nice, quiet pub in a side street in New Cross. It was also just a two minute walk from her flat. Carmina spent the day shopping and tidying the flat, had a long shower at 6 and agonized over what to wear. She settled for a turquoise and black loose, silky top made from some fabric that was easy to wash and dry and didn’t need ironing. That and a black skirt which clung to her hips.
She looked in her underwear drawer and pulled out the biggest, least sexy pair of sensible knickers she possessed. They were built for comfort, not seduction. That would show the arrogant bastard. And an old beige bra which had been with her through thick and thin. When everything else turned to shit, at least her big, womanly breasts were safe and secure, proud and comfortable.
At 8.10 Carmina left the house. She wasn’t going to be on time, but she didn’t want to push it. She felt svelte as she sashayed down the street, no vpl because she had ditched the big pants when she saw how obtrusive they were, and had gone for the black g-string that had lain unused in the drawer for months. It was surprisingly comfortable, as was the black bra she had changed into at the last minute. She was all woman, a substantial helping of sensual southern-European flange, as the boys called it. She was flange, yes. She was totty, crumpet, fanny, skirt, whatever word they wanted to use. She could be it, and tonight shewasit.
Darron was sitting in a corner, pretending to do things on his phone. He was as courteous as hell, chatty and interested, keen to learn about the nature or her life as a social worker. The Thai restaurant was busy, which kept the staff on their toes and made them more efficient. Darron treated her like a lady. His knee lodged against hers after half an hour and neither of them moved. When they did move later, each was careful to regain contact discreetly.
He touched her arm sometimes when he talked. He drank a bit more than he should, but maybe that was because he was nervous. Was he nervous? No, but he was making a conscious effort to be polite, to pitch the conversation in an area between formal and matey.
Carmina invited Darron back to her place and he was pleased to accept. They sat together on the settee and listened to Robbie Williams, sipping Amaretto. Carmina was going to wait for him to make the first move and then play him along gently.
Eventually Darron put his arm around her neck and she let him kiss her. The fingers of his other hand wriggled into hers and he kissed her softly. Then he sat back and smiled.
“I knew you would be hot,” he said, stroking the beginning of an erection beneath his trousers. Carmina reached over and gave his bulge a firm tap of rebuke.
“Don’t think you’re going to get everything and leave,” she said abruptly. She squeezed his balls until he moved sharply with the pain.
“Shit,” he said. “Take it easy.”
“Take it easy?” she spat. “Like you took it easy with Torlona and… how many women have you had?”
Darron stood up.
“Do you want me to leave?” he said quietly.
Carmina leaned back in her seat and smiled broadly.
“Why would I want you to leave? Take your trousers off.” He obliged and threw then onto a chair.
“Turn around,” she said, standing up. She gave him a sharp, heavy smack on the buttocks. Darron didn’t move. Carmina stood close behind him, her breasts pressing into his back, and put her hand into his underpants at the front. His manhood was more like boyhood at that moment, cowed and fearful. She kissed his shoulder and manipulated him gently.
“Do you want to fuck me, Darron?” He hesitated and she could see him trying to decide what she wanted to hear.
“I want to make love with you,” he said. Carmina laughed and she felt his cock growing. She wrapped her fingers around the shaft and began to move her hand up and down.
“Making love is for people who are in love,” she said. “Now that I know you respect me I think we can fuck.” She slipped down his body to her knees and pulled his underpants down. She kissed a buttock and turned him round. She licked his cock and tickled the crease of his thigh with her finger.
“Bedroom,” she said. “I will be in in a minute.”
When Carmina finished in the bathroom and entered the bedroom, Darron was lying on his back, naked and open. She straddled his chest.
“Do you like my hairy bush?” she asked aggressively.
“I love it,” Darron answered.
“Do you want me to sit on your face?”
Darron grunted as she lowered her ample undercarriage onto him. She was warm and damp and fragrant with pussy juice. He raised his head just enough to get close and licked her beautiful vagina. Carmina raised her eyes to the ceiling and closed them as she reveled in his attentions. Then she slid forwards little until her bottom replaced her crotch in the frame. She eased herself down until her buttocks owned his nose and she felt him wriggle. Then she slid further so that she was over his mouth.
“Lick me,” she commanded.
“Oh god, Carmina,” Darron said, licking her tentatively and then with increasing confidence. “Lick me, Darron,” she whispered. “Lick this woman’s body, all of it. You like my body?”
“I love it,” Darron said.
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
“And your favourite bit?” She ground herself into his face.
“I love your arsehole,” Darron said breathily. “I’ve never really…”
“You can have me any time,” Carmina said. “Just be a good boy and do this and we can have a nice time.”
They remained locked into that act as Darron played with Carmina’s pussy until she came, squirming and rubbing herself over his face.
“You want to come now?” she asked. Darron grunted.
“Come on my chest,” Carmina said softly, lying on her back. As he got astride her, she looked at his big balls and his hard, desperate cock.
“I want you inside me,” she said. “But not now. Another time. Now just smother me with your spunk.”
Darron gripped his cock but couldn’t operate properly because it was slippery with precum. He leaned down and wiped it on Carmina’s breast.
“That’s better,” he said as he resumed masturbating. Soon he spurted over her chest and his hot, white cum ran down either side of her neck. She pulled him down so that their chests were a spunk sandwich, his seed a rude, sexy layer between their skins.
“Carmina,” he said. “You’re fucking lovely. I never dreamed…”
“Be good to me, shithead,” she said, squeezing his buttock. “Be good to me and there is no limit to the things we can do together.”