All characters in this story are above the age of 18
Female POV • Nervous • Mirror Play • Edging • Latino MMC • Intense Orgasm
A special thank you to P. K. Hofferman (Kinky Ink) for proofreading and helping to edit this piece!
I sat nervously on Arturo’s couch as my hands fought through shakes and typos to text my husband.
Angela: Babe, are you sure this is okay? I can back out if you want me to.
Terrence: Yes babe! I told you, I want you to have fun! Last night with Demi was great! It’s your turn to have a great night with Arturo!
Even with his reassurance, I just couldn’t shake the guilty nerves. My tight black dress, the one that makes my tits look irresistible, suddenly felt suffocating.
Angela: Okay, hon! I trust you. I’ll try to be home before midnight.
I was absolutely terrified—and yet… so fucking excited. This felt so wrong, yet I couldn’t even deny how soaked my thong was.
I slipped my phone back into my purse as Arturo returned, clinking two glasses of margaritas down on the coffee table and taking a seat close enough for our legs to touch.
“They’re a little strong. I hope that’s okay, Angela.” I couldn’t help squirming in my seat at his sexy Latino accent. The way he called me “An-hel-la” made me melt even more than it did over the phone.
Arturo was a gorgeous Colombian man ten years older than me. He was tall, intellectual, and in great shape from daily gym sessions and men’s soccer league games every weekend—exactly my type.
“Qué bonita, Angela, did I tell you that you look gorgeous?”
“Thank you, you look ‘guacho’ too!”
“You mean ‘guapo’,” he corrected me with a wink as my face flushed red both from my embarrassment and the irresistible smell of his cologne.
I picked up my glass from the table and took a long, hasty swig. He wasn’t lying, these drinks were strong—strong enough to send a shiver down my spine!
“Hey, easy there. I haven’t said ‘Salud’ yet!” Arturo chuckled, picking up his glass too, and we toasted before taking a drink.
“¡Salud!”
Jesus, I was so flustered. I hadn’t been on a first date since college, and it showed! I don’t know how to charm a man or flirt anymore!
Arturo could clearly sense my nervousness but still trod onward with small talk all while trying not to stare at my boobs… though I’d already caught him a few times.
“So…” he put his glass down, “I already told you what I do for work. What about you?”
Arturo was the VP of engineering at one of the biggest medical device companies in the country. I still can’t believe someone so smart and upper-class would want to spend the night with a “plain” suburban mom like me.
“M-me?” I pointed to myself as if I was chosen from a crowd.
“No, I’m asking myself!” he joked with a loud, yet heartwarming laugh. “Yes! You, Angela!”
That accent is going to be the death of me! God, I feel like a high schooler with a crush!
“Oh… ummm… I work in r-recruiting,” I finally got it out before taking another swig.
“Ahhh, so you’re the one always sending us shitty engineers?” He placed a warm hand on my thigh, making me jump and cough, causing my drink to spill all over me and his leather couch.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I… I’m just…”
“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He stood up and raised his index finger. “Un momento.”
I quickly grabbed a napkin off the table to clean off the crushed ice and sticky juice from my dress. Why am I like this? I know why I’m here, but still…
“Here,” Arturo returned with a damp washcloth and took a seat next to me. Before I could thank him and reach for the cloth, he began to run it over my dress. Goosebumps formed instantly as he dragged it along my stomach and the swell of my breasts. I couldn’t help letting out a gasp as my nipples hardened underneath the cups of my sticky bra. If he kept this up, something else was going to stain his couch very soon.
“I’m sorry about your dress, dear. Is this okay?” He raised the cloth higher, wiping the mess that had spilled directly on my breasts. I let out an unmistakable whimper as I leaned into his caress.
In reality, the cloth was doing very little to clean up the spill, but I wouldn’t dare tell him that. Not when the sleeves of his blue button down were rolled up, showing his strong, veiny biceps.
“It’s okay.” I swallowed. “But a lot spilled… I think you need to go lower.”
Arturo smiled up at me as he brushed the washcloth around the damp area of my stomach just above the hem of my dress.
I bit my bottom lip as I instructed him again. “Lower.”
This time, he drew the cloth along my thighs, prompting a soft but sharp moan from me. I swallowed hard and, in a daring move, rested my forehead against his. I grabbed his wrist lightly, stopping him from brushing the bottom of my dress and my goosebump-ridden thighs.
“Lower?” He licked his lips as I watched both the adrenaline and his cock begin to grow.
“Mm mm.” I shook my head softly and whispered to him, “Underneath… I’m wet there too.”
Arturo gulped and dropped the cloth on the floor, reaching underneath my dress. His palm was met with arousal soaked lace that had been building since I left the house.
“Ay carajo, Angela… you’re so—”
“I know...”
I leaned in and kissed him, taking him by surprise judging from the grunt he let out as I ran my fingers through his grey locks. My breaths grew heavy as his fingertips circled my swollen clit. A shock of the most pleasant electricity ran through me as I released his hair and grabbed the sleeves of his shirt, pulling him in closer. His hand burrowed underneath my panties, slipping a single finger inside me.
“Fuh-fucking sh-shit!” I gasped as he curled his finger upward, stirring me up and making my whole body beg for more. My hand reached for his throbbing cock, so hard in his khakis it looked like it was plotting its escape! He was huge—at least two inches bigger than my husband.
Arturo broke the kiss, pressing his hands onto my shoulders before smirking and holding out his sopping fingers in front of me. To my own shock, I instinctively reached out for them, putting them in my mouth and tasting my lust off of him.
“I think we should move to my bedroom, don’t you, Angela?”
I met his gaze with begging eyes. “Yes, please.”
“Good, why don’t you leave that dress and what’s beneath in the laundry room down the hall, and I’ll get us set up in the bedroom—second door on your left when you head up the stairs.”
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