I handed him a few bills, said ‘obrigado!’ (thanks!) and jumped out of the taxi, pulling Marisol with me. I glanced back and noticed that the cab driver had his cock out and in his hand as he pulled away. Marisol had my shirt off before we got though the security gate, and was working on my belt as I led us up the stairs. Two other women from the research group were sitting outside in the hotel’s central courtyard talking, and stopped as Marisol continued her attempts to strip me as we stumbled through the door into her hotel room. Once through the door, I turned on Marisol, and unzipped her dress. I pulled it over her head in one movement, and she kicked off her sandals. I held her hands, but took a step back to take in the beauty before me. She had not been wearing a bra, and her youthful B-cup breasts made almost perfect hemispheres, standing tall and perky on her chest. Her dark nipples stood out from small, dark areolas, and displayed just how turned on she was. My eyes tracked. Biting. His passionate assault is overwhelming. He knows just the right spots to target to send my head spinning. I’m running my hands all over him. Trying to find what lies beneath. With increasing urgency, I pull at his uniform shirt, trying to keep my focus even though his mouth is still hot on my neck. I toss aside his shirt and begin to work on the t-shirt he always wears underneath but he’s distracting me. His lips on mine again. Tasting. Teasing. Torturing. His hands roaming my body caressing every inch of every curve through my thin chemise with the gentlest of touches, but sometimes his appetite gets the best of him and his touch relays the urgency he feels. I finally manage to get my hands under his t-shirt. Running my hands over his stomach, his chest, his back, pushing up his shirt as I go. With it out of the way, my mouth can do some exploring of its own. I pull him down beside me and begin to take control. I can feel the rough stubble on his cheek as I kiss my way.
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