Whatever Miguel does, it makes big money. Import-export, he says. Porsches. Penthouses. Parties. 

Parties for his “associates.” Bad boys like him. And their women. Bad girls like Linda.

Linda is beautiful. Tall and thin with outsized orbs. Tiny hips and ass with tits so full and flawless they must be surgically enhanced. 

But they aren’t.

Miguel likes to show her off. “No bra tonight,’ he says. She loves being watched. Undressed by their eyes. But he doesn’t ask her to fuck them. Not like some boyfriends would.

Linda wouldn’t mind. A few, like Sergio, are hot. Hotter than Miguel. They flirt. Cop quick feels. But they are hesitant. Unsure of Miguel. Afraid.

Miguel is clever. Cruel. Unpredictable.

A selfish lover. Miguel cums quick. On her face and neck and tits. Pearl necklace, he says. Like it’s something precious. Linda laughs inside. Just a feral dog marking territory.

When he’s finished, Miguel falls asleep. Or picks up his phone. To get off, Linda does herself. 

Sometimes she thinks of Renata back in their village. Pretty Renata with soft brown eyes and a silky tongue. Always caring. Always giving. Linda misses that kind of love. But Renata can’t buy Linda red Jimmy Choo heels or black Dior dresses. 

Tonight there’s a new associate. Fernando. Prissy name for a big man. Bulked up. Hungry eyes. Tongue flickers like a coiled snake. Seen it all. Done it all. Not afraid of anything. 

Not the law. Not death. 

Certainly not Miguel. 

Linda is wet just looking.

Miguel is preoccupied. Drinks too much. Talks too much. Always on his phone. 

“Dance?” Fernando asks. Voice deeper than a muddy well.

She nods and follows. Outside. Under a river of stars.

Her arms hang on his neck. Nipples stiff. Tingling. His hard cock grinds her soft, wet pussy. 

Rock hard muscles, too. Like men get in a place where there’s nothing else to do but pump iron.

“What were you in for?” she asks.

He pulls back, surprised. Looks her in the eye. 

“Murder,” he says. A killer, not a liar.

“Dangerous,” she whispers. “So hot.”

“Linda!” Sergio calls out, spoiling the mood. Sergio is Miguel’s oldest homey. “Miguel needs you.”

“Gotta go,” she says, unwinding herself from Ferdinand’s twitchy cock. Sultry glance. Come fuck me, she says without words.

Miguel has passed out. Snoring. Linda slaps him. Red handprint and a moan. Nothing more.

Sergio and Linda drag him to the bedroom. Like hauling a sack of blue corn flour. Linda strips Miguel. His cock slack as twine. She strokes it softly. No response. Wraps it in her fingers and pumps. Still nothing.

“Better leave,” Sergio mutters, backing toward the door. She wishes he wouldn’t. Linda teases Sergio. Catching his eye, she sucks Miguel between her lips. I can suck you off too, her eyes say.  Sergio is torn between loyalty and lust. 

Miguel moans. Sergio flees. Linda frowns. Her only loyalty is to the craving in her gut. No. Not her gut. Her cunt. Her wanting cunt.

She turns back to Miguel. Squeezing his balls. Slurping his cock. Sucking like a hungry calf on it’s mother’s teat. Nothing. Limp dick falls back onto pale abs. 

Linda sighs, shucks off her dress and panties. Auburn hair fanning across the pillow. Long feline body unfolding next to Miguel. Drunk, insensate Miguel. Linda runs an index finger between budding lips. Burning like a sun. Still wet from Fernando. Finger shiny. Licking. Will he come to her?

She’d bet her best dress on it. 

But that doesn’t stop Linda from starting without him. Finger slips inside, easy as melted butter. Squish. Snap. Pop. Miguel snores. Linda moans. 

Eyes closed, she hears a zipper release. Fabric swishes against muscled thighs. She opens her legs without opening her eyes. Musk. Heat. On fire for him.

“Fuck me,” she whispers. “Fuck me hard.”

Nothing. Only a dark universe. A billion flickering galaxies wheel through the orbit of Linda’s aching cunt. Raw nerve endings. Primed and waiting.

Waiting.

He can’t be afraid of a wimp like Miguel?

He’s not. 

Ferdinand stands at the foot of the bed. Balls the size of lemons. Cock rampant with unfulfilled desire. Eyes fixed and burning as if he hasn’t seen a goddess like Linda since a hundred lifetimes ago.

“Please,” she whimpers, looking into the cold fire of his eyes. “Fuck me.”

He kneels between her legs. Cock stiff and straight. Bigger than anything she’s known. So much bigger. 

Ferdinand scowls. Why do little pricks always get the hot chicks? Not fair. She’s so young. So beautiful. The perfect collision of sculpted contours. Calloused fingertips touch the inside of silky thighs. His thumb traces a plumb line to the center of her universe. 

Gloria a la diosa

Linda shudders. Her hips arch to meet his fingers. Desperate for him. He wants to caress every inch. Memorize every curve of her terrain. Taste her. Savor her. Worship her. 

But he surrenders to her impatience. 

“Ooowww,” she mewls as he penetrates her moist heavens. Gentle as a newborn. Inches his way inside. Filling her like never before. Stretching until shooting stars explode behind her eyelids.

Rising to me meet him. Legs enfolding his hips. Flowing. Melting. Merging. Moving together as one. Cock like a piston. An infernal machine. Rising together. Time on pause. Linda’s cunt squeezes his throbbing, pulsing cock.

“Not inside,” she cries. Reluctantly, Ferdinand withdraws just as he explodes. The first volley splashes across her face. Copious, hot and sticky. Then her neck. Finally, the cum trickles across Linda’s tits and nipples.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Gloria a la diosa,” he says from a distant galaxy.

Later, Linda’s eyes flutter open. Miguel looks down, hungover and confused. 

“I did all that?” he asks. Linda touches her face. Dried man-juice. A crusty trail from cheeks to neck to tits.

“You don’t remember?” she acts hurt. “Just after you promised me a pearl necklace? A real one. From Tiffanys.”