Part 25

Writing a play by play depiction of the scene as it plays out is the challenge that Pulitzers are awarded for. 

Odalys kicked of her cork wedges and did the happy dance struggle to get out of her jeans. 

My struggle was staying in the moment, the little boy in me was doing cartwheels inside my head. 

The poor street light made its way on to our flesh, bright enough to sneak a peak at our hedonism. 

She threw her jeans on the ground and kept her pink lace panties. 

I shoved the little boy aside and the man in me sprung into action. I raked the ground with my shoes as a bull readies the soft soil for assault. 

Take note reader "there are no victims, only volunteers."

Odalys went to the hanging tree to torment Olivia with her mouth. 

If I can't take it off in three seconds, I don't need it. I ripped my shirt open, buttons flew into the darkness. 

I busied myself reading the nest with my pants and my shirt, the floor would receive the flesh in style. 

I turned to the tree and saw a vision that caused me to pause and drown in the moment. 

Olivia was piercing the silent night with her moaning as Odalys buried her face in the folds.

Screams of delirium broke the quiet leafs into a rustle. 

Olivia was propped up on the hanging tree, her ass protruding the silhouette cast by the moon. 

Her baby blue panties rested on the six inch stilettos that adorned her ankles. Her strapless bra rested on her belly mid clasp. 

She lived moment by moment tied and tethered to her submissiveness. While demon woman feasted on her sovereignty. 

I watched, painted in the patience that perfumed this upright heathen midday in Carolina's pad. 

Strange thoughts cross your mind as shit like this crosses your cross. 

Was this the kind of situation that gave Mario the freedom to think that I was a scoundrel. 

Fuck Mario. 

Windshield wipers in my vision quest wiped that shit out of my thought process, cheap whore quick. 

Odalys caught me looking and smirked, she was eating my lunch and was enjoying the anchovies, while I starved from a distance. 

Dared to be, I became. Leaving for the tree in my golden nakedness if only to wrestle Odalys from her foraging. 

Mid stroke of her tongue into Olivia I bit her lower lip and quenched my thirst with the salt of her blood. And made my presence felt. 

While Odalys foraged on Olivia's loins I became the lion and tore her pink panties to shreds. I stabbed my dared existence into the underbelly of dominance itself. 

Three tango as the moon shines, and I roar. 

Thrusting into Odalys, hell bent on crushing her pelvis, the leaves on the tree tussled as the branches enjoyed the show. 

This was a death match, I had been slow to catch on but someone would die or be left behind. 

Kissing Odalys' neck while intending to tattoo the dimples on the small of her back with my pelvis thrust after thrust, kept me from Olivia. 

Odalys was enjoying being the obstacle and I ran short on patience, with one thrust I shoved her left and the right of passage was mine.

Olivia dripped to the point of embarrassment, I caught wind of that as I inhaled the thirst from her lips.

Kissing Olivia while resolving to have Odalys suffocate on mine gave me freedom to roam Olivia's heaving breast. 

Then famine for one and the spoils of war for the other, I circled my wagons and let Olivia catch fire and burn to the ground. 

To be continued. 

Part 24

Pulitzer and I are so intertwined that as I look in the mirror I see him tipping his béret at me. 

Again the display on my phone lights up and reads "Meet me at Casa Gaudí."

I paid for the dried fruit, made my way up the curb and wrangled a taxi. In my excitement I left the dried fruit behind. 

Closed my eyes as soon as I had delivered my instructions to the cabbie and sunk my adventure thirsting body into the twenty minute cab ride. 

In the darkness of my closed eyes I traced Olivia's body, as if I was going to replicate it. 

It was mid afternoon the crowds of hungry conquistadors and tourist alike were feasting al fresco. 

Traffic was heavy so I got off near El Corte Ingles and proceeded to stroll up Passeig de Gràcia. The walk would calm my nerves and pump blood in all the right places. 

Casa Gaudí as it's commonly called is one of many of master architect Antoni Gaudí creations. 

Noticing the shoes I deliberately took time raising my gaze up her thigh. 

Crossing the divide between her hidden world and her torso made me aware of her sheer polka dotted blouse and the Chanel bra that hid behind and called every hair on my body to stand in attention. 

"Hola Brava" is what my lips and tongue decided to spit out as this chameleon stabbed the sidewalk with her six inch heels. 

Her shoulders were bare but for the strings that kept her from a five alarm fire. 

In her minuscule words she showed me tickets and gestured for me to walk this way. 

Following directions is as adverse as I know how to be but if the devil wears six inch heels and she bids you to comply then you comply. 

Took the tickets from her hand asserting myself on the scene. She followed my lack of compromise by holding on to my left had and strutting in step with yours truly. 

The cavernous creation of Gaudí can only be experienced first hand any attempt for me to do so is detrimental. 

Stuck my six foot three inch Roman like armature in all that Olivia thought a Gaiudí connoisseur should, and then elevator down. 

Sidewalk and gin made great friends so I introduced us to them at the nearest bar.

She being the local twig and me being the foreign leaf, she took it upon to instruct and I played silly for her. 

The church bell like cubatas filled with ice cemented by a spiral spoon that kept the tonic bubbles from breaking so that the gin would make its presence and the thirsty would drown. 

After a few of these drown your brain cells and heart ache concoctions she got a call, I kept on enjoying my drink and purposely gave her space to handle her handle. 

I could tell she was quarreling with herself, maybe the liquor or she genuinely wanted to extend my presence into the evening. 

She buried her phone in her clutch, raised her burnt wood eyes at me and said "There is a party in Tarragona", I gestured my response and paid. 

Tarragona is an hour and some depending on traffic. The cab was small and I crowded her with the might that makes me be. 

I grabbed her right knee high enough to position my self for attack, then I filled the void between her legs with the same digits that write this scene. 

Piercing a window between moist panties and thirsty lips I sunk a battalion of my digits and put them to work. I stroked a world of passion with wicked intentions for more out of her, bitting her neck and running those bras down to her belly and gorging on her heaving breast. 

I didn't kiss her on purpose, I drilled every well but kept my lips away from her mouth. 

The scene appeared and the cabbie being an old dog at this game cleared his throat in announcement. 

Jumped out the taxi with my appendage in attention as Olivia adjusted herself into a savagely aroused woman. 

I pulled her out of the cab with the kind of force that excludes ambiguity of desire. 

We walked with the confidence that sex dresses you with to this party. 

This was an outdoor event that had been going on for a few hours, right at the edge of the ocean at Rambla Vella near the Circo Romano. 

Olivia seemed to know everyone, she didn't bother introducing me this was not the dinner party crowd but rather the feast your spirit kind. 

We kept moving up the avenue twisting our bodies up and through, then we were dead on our tracks. Olivia by the kiss of this stranger and me by the passion of their kiss. 

When in Rome you do as the Romans, we weren't in Rome proper but the Roman Circus a hundred yards away drove that metaphor home.

"Odalys this is the Poet" Olivia told her. That must have been code for suck his tongue and leave him speechless, cause she went for me as if she hadn't been fed in weeks. 

As soon as I was let go from the kiss I looked up at the moon and made a pact with her to always let myself be guided by her. 

I now had Olivia on my left and Odalys on my right. 

Got a few stares but the smirk on my mug took care of that. 

Odalys had been there a while she had a direct line with the bartender and drinks flowed.

I made small talk with Odalys about my Gaudí experience but I could tell her glassy eyes weren't interested. She interrupted my short story with a long kiss, all the while Olivia sucked on my neck. 

Odalys was wearing faded jeans that made her ass scream at me with a yellow shirt. But what caught my eye was the scarf she was wearing as a belt, it looked Moroccan, it was multicolored with gold stitching that accented her blonde curls. 

They took turns kissing me and each other as the night wore on. 

Between the kissing I caught wind of them scheming a plan but having the night turn this way, I surrender myself to whatever they were coming up with. 

We walked down the avenue got to a plaza and took a left down a dimly lit alley. It was all good these women kept giggling and I was enjoying the disorientation. 

I was being led and loved it. 

We made some distance between the party, I could hear the music fainter and fainter with every step. 

The stars came into the scene and the moon took it all in. 

This was now a dirt road, yet I asked no questions they might have led me to an abyss and pushed me off. 

The only way I could tell we were in a grove of trees was because of their silhouette. These were short thick trees, I had no idea what fruit they bore. 

None of that was important at this point. 

What was absolute here was that these two beautiful women the stars and the moon were out to play, and I was game. 

"They are cork, they are cork trees" in a laughter induced voice Odalys blurted out "Touch them see how soft the bark is."

Not being one needing to be told to do things twice, I rubbed my hand on the flesh of this noble tree. 

"Hug it, feel it" Odalys gestured with her arms. I did what she said and so did Olivia. 

Seeing us hugging the tree Odalys was the last one to join in the fun. 

We made a human circle around the tree holding on to each others hands. 

I saw Olivia across me and began to kiss her. 

Odalys let go of our hands and started tugging at her waist. I assumed she was beginning to get undressed to begin the feast, but she had other intentions in mind. 

As Olivia and I kissed still holding on to each other around the tree, Odalys garbed Olivia's left hand and tied the scarf to it. 

Not sensing any apprehension when Odalys nudged at me to release Olivia's right hand, I complied. 

Olivia was now tied with her arms around the tree. 

I felt confused for a moment then Odalys began to unzip her painted on jeans. 

To be continued. 

Part 23

I left the massage parlor and stumbled my nobody noodled body down the narrow streets of Barcelona. Guided by the moonlight as the Gargoyles of La Sagrada Familia kept guard. 

Carolinas pied à terre was near Las Ramblas and I had consciously memorized the alleyways that led back to her warm pillows. 

The stoop appeared and I stepped on every step with thirst. 

I crossed the door and cursed my way down the hall. My alcove was the last one on the left. It had a balcony filled with gothic alabaster carvings . Half jokingly I said to myself the original Count Dracula must have landed here. 

I laid my cold bones on these crisp linens and prayed for orgasm filled dreams. 

Morning broke over the Mediterranean and I took it all in. The guilt of such a view warred with my desire for Olivia's loins and lost. 

I hate writing in the mornings, I usually reserve them for sex but Carolina was in her chalet in Andorra and yours truly was the loneliest ranger in this piso. 

I wrote for half an hour, hit the shower and got dressed to take the city. 

Breakfast at noon has always been my style and today wouldn't be any different. 

My cafe con leche and three fried eggs with plenty of Catalunias best grain bread hit me like a Mike Tyson's left hook, now I was awake. 

I chased boredom away yet loneliness never left my side. 

I was haggling the price of dried fruit with a merchant at an open market as I felt the strange murmuring in my coat pocket. I was so engrossed in my conversation that I had no idea what the twitch was about. 

Stuck my free hand into my wool jacket and read the words that would forecast  the next twenty four hours of bliss that were going to rain on me. 

Hola Poeta. 

To be continued. 

Part 22

You would think that Barcelona is sprinkled with delicate Españolitas yet it's the fiery Latinas that drown the noise of the city with their moaning. 

I met Olivia at a massage parlor the day I arrived. I was in need of untwisting, the jet lag had kinked me up. 

The room was tastefully decorated, the bed was low to the ground. The sheets were blue with silver trimming. 

This was not my first time in a massage parlor but it was my first sensual massage. 

She opened the door, I walked ahead of her, as I was taking the room in she disrobed. Then there were three of us in the room, Olivia, me and the dragon. 

It looked and felt as if she was born with it. The tattoo that adorned her from her arm pit to just above her knee was alive. 

I later found out she was from Bolivia. she had onyx hair it was thick and lush, I loved it. 

Her breast fit in the cup of my hand, her nipples were very dark, dark to the point that they had a shine to them. The curve of her ass was perfect. This beast was compact yet enthralling. 

She bid me to lay and I complied.  

She stuck her left hand in a jar and scooped up warm oil that she generously smeared on her body. She rubbed on me as if I was the ocean and she was swimming for dear life. She was on me. 

She wouldn't speak it's as if she had perfected this art, she wasn't massaging me with her hands but rather her body. 

Her weight on me, her hair on my face, it was disorienting. 

I grabbed her hair and brought her lips to mine but she resisted and barely let her lips flutter atop mine. I was intent on stabbing her with my spear. I whispered to her ear that I would tip her generously for the full affair, I was so aroused. 

She resisted and kept on the war path to destroy my body with hers. 

I surrendered to pleasure, everything in me left. 

As I lay there she got the water running and called for me to shower with her. 

I don't know if it's the culture or her professionalism but she lathered and scrubbed me from head to toe. 

I returned the favor by letting my fingers explore her flesh as they cleansed this beauty. 

We dried up and dressed when the small talk began. She asked me were I was from and why was I in Barcelona. 

I told her that I was a Cuban poet from Miami and that I would explain to her my reason for being there if she would go out with me and show me the city. 

She asked for my number and said that she might send me a Whatsapp. 

I left with a smile on my face and hope in my heart for more.

To be continued.