Yelitza had a tiny beauty salon right by the water in the yacht marina. Her customers were a combination of shaggy-haired yachties who had been out in the sun too much and expats who lived in condos in this affluent part of the island.

That included me, an itinerant English teacher, rubbing shoulders with people who had fuel bills for their boats bigger than my rent on a studio apartment.

Yelitza was Colombian and of African descent, with golden-dark skin and ripe, happy lips. Her eyes were full of fun and mischief and overall she was beautiful, even as things got bigger from the neck down. She had the kind of breasts that belonged with the face: full and proud, promising good times to any man fortunate enough to be given access.

Below the chest was a big stomach that owed nothing to childbirth but was part of a package that included the large rump and ample thighs. It probably wasn’t the layout she wished for, but her body excited me. She had the obligatory extra-long false nails but her hands were dexterous and quick as she went about her business and her touch on my head was gentle but precise. Her stomach would sometimes brush against my shoulder and occasionally there was a thrilling bit of contact with the recessed area below her belly.

She was younger than me – probably twenty years younger – which was the reason I had not asked her out. All of her male customers, and I suspect many of the female ones, accepted her ministrations and brief bodily contacts with a deliberate calm that masked sexual fantasies. Me, I wanted to lock the door, pull her jeans down and lick her arse.

It was carnival time on this Caribbean island and she had been looking forward to it for months. Although her salon was a meeting place for her friends and a bit like the unofficial Colombian embassy, she had no boyfriend and I wondered how she was emotionally.

Such larger-than-life characters can be lonely even as they exude the feeling of being party animals. But you never know and she certainly seemed happy enough.

I was dreading the carnival, with its booming, farting speakers shooting out dance music with incomprehensible neo-English lyrics over insistent bass lines, its traffic-choked streets and the hordes of revelers who seemed to enjoy not being able to hear themselves think, let alone speak.

This particular night I had no choice but to be in the thick of it, having picked up a new student who could only have classes at seven in the evening.

At 8:30 I emerged into the thunderous darkness of the heart of town and made my way through the crowd towards my car before deciding to brave the storm of humanity and have a drink or two. I found a hotel bar that wasn’t full of revelers and big shuddering black boxes and sat in a corner with a beer, sharing a table with an American couple who were grateful for someone new to talk to.

They were friendly and talkative and before I knew it, two hours had passed and I was feeling pretty mellow. As I walked to the bar I saw a familiar figure standing outside on the boardwalk, on the edge of a large group of laughing young people. Then suddenly the throng took off in the direction of the noisy action, but Yelitza didn’t go with them and no one said goodbye.

She sat at a table covered in Heineken bottles, took out her phone and became absorbed in it. I took the drinks over to my new friends and excused myself.

“Is anyone sitting here?” I asked and Yelitza waved for me to sit down before she even saw it was me.

“Oh, Jerry,” she said with surprise. “Sure, make yourself at home.”

“You not in the thick of it tonight?” I said whimsically.

“No… no,” she replied. “Bit bored, actually.”

We talked for just a few minutes before I sensed that she didn’t want to sit there all night.

“Give you a lift somewhere?” I offered.

“Nah,” she said. “I’m going home.”

I knew she lived in town somewhere.

“Walk you to your door?” I suggested.

“Okay. Thank you.”

We walked the length of the boardwalk to the unfashionable end until we came to Sandie’s hairdressers. Yelitza opened a door at the side and ushered me in, up the stairs and into a small, untidy room that was part stock room and part living space.

“Sandie’s a friend of mine,” she explained. “Gives me this place quite cheap.”

Without asking she poured two large vodkas, splashed some warm lemonade into them and handed me one.

“Cheers,” I said.

We sat together on a small sofa and neither of us spoke. Then she put her drink down and more or less collapsed against me. I instinctively put my arms around her. She was either drunk or tired, possibly both.

“So now you know,” she said, but didn’t follow it up. She was happy in my arms so I leaned down and kissed her nose. Her nice, long, shiny, sexy nose with big, round nostrils.

In an instant we were writhing together, our tongues doing all the talking without words. Yelitza felt my cock to see if this old guy was ready, then stood up and led me into the bedroom.

“This is what carnival’s all about,” she said as she wrenched her t-shirt over her head, freed her magnificent breasts and exited her jeans and panties in a trice. Her pubic hair was shaved into a heart shape.

Stark naked, warm and luscious, she knelt in front of me and unzipped my trousers. Then she looked up.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just…” and she smiled the rest of the sentence with a sad tinge in her eyes. She helped me out of my clothes and returned to my cock, which she licked appreciatively as she weighed my balls in her right hand.

“Mmm,” she said, and popped my cock into her mouth, giving it a long slow suck and then kissing it as she looked up at me. Then she turned me around and proceeded to lick my arse as I suppressed a gasp. I had never been serviced in such a way, but it was clearly what she wanted to do and it was as if she were doing herself a favor, not me.

She licked me firmly, unashamed and loving.

“Now will you do that to me?” she asked softly, kneeling on the bed.

The space between her hills was dark and mysterious, yet endlessly promising. I licked her beautiful crack and we were both overcome with emotion, she sighing with pleasure and something like relief.

“Do you love me?” she asked dreamily. “At this moment, in this time, I mean.”

At that moment, in that time, which seemed like forever, the question sounded absolutely reasonable.

“Yes, I love you,” I said softly, hardly able to believe what was happening.

“What do you want to do?” she asked.

The particular reality into which we had moved made perfect sense.

“I want to keep doing this forever,” I said, licking her prized, adorable inner sanctum.

“Tell me what you want to do forever,” she insisted.

“I want to lick your ass forever,” I said.

“And you can,” she said. “You may. You have my permission to do that whenever you want.” She waited a moment to draw another tongueful of love from between her buttocks and then whispered, “I need you to stop just for a while. I need you inside me. Okay?”

I kissed her on both cheeks and she turned onto her back, spreading her legs and inviting me in. Her body was warm and soft and welcoming as my devoted cock slid into her and as soon as I was fully in, she swung around and got on top.

Yelitza rode me carefully and assuredly, plunging her fabulous body down onto my rock solid erection. She took my right hand and placed it behind her, inviting me to play with her ass. I tickled her crack and rubbed my finger firmly along it. Then I brought my hand around to the front and smelled my fingers.

She smiled and laughed and spluttered, “You do love me.”

And with that, Yelitza shuddered as her orgasm spread like an earth tremor, out in concentric circles from her central area until it reached her head and then tears flowed.

She lay beside me, weeping silently and wiping her tears on my chest.

“The best,” she said. “The most wonderful. Just love me. Now and every time. And now you have to cum for me. In my navel. Masturbate and let me see your spunk."

I knelt above her and wanked as she gazed into my eyes, sending waves of loving passion to me. When I came, it rushed out of me with a sense of purpose, filling her little reservoir and running down the sides. She gently squeezed every drop out of me before reaching for some tissues and wiping herself clean.

“Now I want you to taste my love juice,” she said. “I will kneel for you.”

She knelt, with her incredible, powerful, blessed body presented to me and I licked her succulent juices from her pussy. She tasted so good it was hard to believe this was a human being. Perhaps she was an angel. An indescribable flavor, like some exotic dish served in a remote temple somewhere you have never been before and may never find again.

And then my tongue returned to her asshole and she moaned in ecstasy.

“Ohhhh,” she growled. “Ohhh. Love me forever. When we make love.”