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Fucking Gringa

by Hedone about a year ago in erotic
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I'll tell you the story of one of our best fights

Fucking Gringa
Photo by Lucas Lenzi on Unsplash

I am a writer. Acuario is a tattoo artist. I am American. He is Mexican. We have an interesting relationship. Two creative personalities. Two very different cultures.

If he pisses me off. I don’t yell. I don’t throw things. I challenge his authority. In front of his friends. This both angers and excites him.

If I piss him off, he doesn’t talk. He fucks me. But he makes me wait. This both frustrates me and keeps me wanting more.

It is my differences that he loves. It is his differences that I love.

We are totally into each other. We totally satisfy each other. We drive each other crazy…in both good and bad ways. That's what makes it hot. That's why it works.

I’ll tell you the story of one of our best fights.

It wasn't our first fight. We had been honing our skills for some time, working on our creativity, but I was particularly proud of this one.

The night before, Acuario stood me up. He was supposed to come home. He had asked me to wait up for him. I did. He didn’t show. He wasn’t cheating on me or anything. He just didn’t bother to come home. He was supposed to come home to me. He stayed out with his friends. It was that simple.

I was pissed. Not because he was with his friends, but because I felt disrespected and taken for granted.

I could have filled my time being productive. I could have fallen deep into my work. I could have met my own friends. I could have drunk a bottle of wine, instead of settling for the usual beers that occupied the refrigerator. I could have masturbated! I could have enjoyed myself.

Instead, I sat there like an idiot. Waiting.

He eventually rolled in in the wee hours, all “I’m sorry,” “Disculpame”. It was bullshit. He decided not to come home and thought he could get away with it. Fuck that.

When he crawled into bed, I turned my back on him, and I didn’t speak to him the next morning. I scowled at him over my coffee. He tried to kiss me and I didn’t move, except for raising my eyebrow and then turning back to my computer. I started writing a story about a hot Mexican guy who gets mauled by a jaguar. It was cathartic. I wasn’t giving in quickly. He had had his fun the night before. I would have mine today.

He had a long session to do that day. It was on a guy he had introduced me to and with whom I had become friends. Guille was cool. We were like two little kids when we hung out. It was cute. He had a great sense of humor, and we had an easy way between us. He got me. This white girl in their brown world. I apologised to Guille in my head as I sat plotting. He was an unwitting player in this game, but I didn’t think he would mind.

They were a couple of hours in when I made my move. Nothing elaborate. I decided to take a bath.

Acuario’s studio was downstairs, but the house was small and I knew they would be able to hear the water running, filling up the tub. He would know exactly what I was doing, and would figure out quickly enough what I was up to. I wanted them both to know I was soaking in the water; which meant that they would both know that I was naked. And wet. And soapy. And languorous.

Game on.

In my mind, I could see them sitting there, both thinking the same things and not being able to do a damn thing about it. Acuario clearing his throat, trying not to get distracted. Guille respectfully looking away from Acuario’s face. Guille had been with Acuario the night before. He had felt the cold between us that morning, when I had looked over my shoulder at my boyfriend, and had instead, given him the hug and a kiss on the cheek. I knew that would make Acuario boil without threatening him too much. He trusted Guille, but he was still a man. And a latin man, at that.

And now, his woman was naked in the house. And they both knew it.

The water felt good and I took my time. Pupajim was playing on the speakers in the studio and I could hear it coming up the stairs. Acuario had introduced me to Reggae. I liked it. I loved to dance, and that music moved my body. Sensuously. I soaked and swayed, enjoying the feel of the water and soap slipping through my hair and over my skin. I swam in the rhythms, letting the water warm up my body and cool off my temper.

When I was done, I was in a really mischievous mood. I wasn’t pissed anymore. I was keyed up. This would be fun. In our relationship, Acuario was still thrown by my playfulness. He expected me to explode. I preferred to plot. I wanted to get my revenge, but I liked to laugh, not fight.

I toweled off and went to look for something to wear, as well as for my next move.

Oh no…the underwear I wanted was in the laundry. Dear me...I would have to go and get it.

I wrapped my towel around my naked body, securing it just above my breasts, and grabbed a second, smaller one for my long hair. Then, I walked down the stairs and straight through the studio, totally nonchalant, just drying my hair. Nothin’ to see here...

The buzzing of the tattoo needles stopped.

I looked straight forward, holding on hard to my poker face.

I heard Guille snicker and Acuario hiss.

When I got to the other side of the room and through the door, I was trying desperately not to make any noise, but laughing hard. Oh, this was fun!

I wasted some time, making a pretence of looking around, found my clothes exactly where I knew they would be, grabbed my panties and bra and put them on. They weren’t particularly sexy; just a pair of boy-shorts and a halter top. I didn’t want to push things too far with more than that. I put my ear to the door, listening for my cue. The needles were buzzing again and the guys were talking about topics that were purposefully other than me. Good. I gathered my composure, reopened the door, and began my walk back across the room, dragging my towel behind me.

Acuario couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Qué coño haces, mujer?”

He often spoke to me in 2 languages. I was learning Spanish, but was nowhere near fluent. When he wanted to be clear about what he was saying, he switched back and forth. When he was passionate, whether with desire or frustration, it was “solo Español”.

“What?” I paused and asked, knowing exactly what he had said, but baiting him.

“What. The Fuck. Are You Doing. Woman?”

“Walking through our house.” It was all I could do not to smile.

Guille laughed out loud. Acuario shot him a hard glance. “You see I still have these needles pointed at your arm, no?” Guille closed his mouth and tried to sit still. I winked at him. He turned away, clearly having a hard time controlling himself. I cocked my head, lifted my eyebrows at Acuario and strutted out of the room.

The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Acuario finished the tattoo session. Guille went home and I finished writing my story.

I was sitting at my desk, editing, when Acuario came up.

I still had on the same outfit from earlier. It was hot that day and I hadn’t wanted to get dressed...for several reasons. I had one foot propped up on my chair and a cup of coffee in my hands. My hair was up in a messy bun and I was staring at my computer screen.

Acuario walked into the room. I watched him in my peripheral vision. His posture told me all I needed to know. He had been stewing all afternoon. I had let him know who the woman was in this relationship and what he was in danger of sacrificing by being an inconsiderate prick, and he was ready to let me know who the man was. Good. He was incredibly sexy when he was in this mood. I felt the first tingles stir in my cute little boy-shorts.

He jumped right in. “What the fuck was that.” English. He wasn’t messing around.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“No?”

“Yes.”

“For real. You gonna be like that?”

I didn’t respond, just lifted my eyes and looked at him. As he walked towards me, I felt the vibrations in the room intensify. Shit. Here it comes.

He took the mug from me, placed it on my desk, and then held out his hand. “Ven conmigo. Come here.”

I took his hand and rose from my seat. He pulled me gently to him and, to my surprise, began to dance with me. He was a great dancer and would take me out salsa dancing whenever I wanted, but this was suspicious. He was up to something.

He did not speak, just slowly danced me across the room. When my self-preservation instincts kicked in, it was too late.

In one sweeping motion, he twirled me, locked my arms around my waist like a straight-jacket and pushed me up against the wall. He covered me with his body, immobilizing me. My head was turned to the side and I could see him at my shoulder. He leaned up against me, ground his hips into my bottom, buried his face in the back of my neck and bit me. I gasped, but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. This was foreplay and I wanted it. I squirmed, testing his hold, but that only made him tighten it.

“¿Vas a quedarte quieta? You gonna stay still?” He asked, low and dangerous.

“Maybe.” I pushed back against him.

“I think you're gonna stay still.” He pushed forward against me.

“Ok.”

He lightened his grip on one of my arms, pulling it free and slowly sliding it up the wall, above my head.

“I was trying to work today. I could have fucked up Gille’s tattoo.”

“Oh. Why would that have happened?”

He tightened his grip again.

“You gonna play dumb?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” I couldn’t help the little smile that played at my lips. He couldn’t see that, though, he was too focused on rubbing up against my body.

He maneuvered my other arm to join the first, and easily took hold of both my wrists in one of his hands. They were strong hands, with long sensual fingers. I couldn’t see him anymore. My arm was blocking my view. But I could feel him. He lowered his free hand, caressing all the way down the side of my body.

“Tu cuerpo me pertenece a mi solo. This body belongs to me.”

“You didn’t seem to give a shit about that last night.”

This got me a jerk towards him and a grunt as he flexed his body against mine.

“No mames, solo estaba con mis amigos. I was just hanging out. It went on longer than I expected.”

“You said you would come back. I waited for you.”

“Is that really a big deal?”

Yeah mother-fucker, it is. I said that to myself and then played my trump card. “Is this body belonging to you really a big deal?”

He stilled, clearly considering the threat. Good. That is what I needed him to think about. I came from a different place and was not going to be treated like a dull housewife. He didn’t wait around for me and I certainly wasn’t going to have him think I would behave any differently. What was good for the goose, was good for the gander...or however they would say that kind of shit in Spanish.

After a moment he said, “Sí. Lo es. It is.”

The breath I was holding came out in a flood. For him to say that. In that tone of voice. Was huge. And with that exhale, I relented. We had both made our points. We had both won. Now we could play.

He pulled the band out of my hair, tugging at it in the process, and my hair spilled down. He loved having my hair loose when we fucked, so that he could grab it if he wanted, and I loved the feeling that it gave me: that little sense of his power over me. I let my head fall back against him and extended my neck. He proceeded to kiss and bite it and I soaked up the sensations. Then he got down to business. He pulled the strap of my halter down, exposing my breast, squeezing and kneading it, then reached down, pulling my panties aside to find my sex. I was wet, and when he touched my clitoris, I moaned. I had been waiting for that all day.

“Please.” I gasped.

“Por favor.” He countered.

“Por favor.” I responded.

“Por favor, que?”

“Por favor, cógeme.” He had taught me that phrase early on in our relationship. It was one of my favorites. “Please. Take me. Fuck me.”

He obliged. It took only a moment for him to pull out his cock and get below me. Then he was driving up into me and I was, again, pushed solidly up against the wall. With one hand holding my arms above my head and one hand gripping my breast, he fucked all of the frustrations of the last 24 hours out of both of our bodies. I arched my hips backwards towards him, wanting to have him deep inside me, and he took advantage of it, fucking hard and leaving no question as to whose woman I was. It was fast and it was rough and it was perfect. I came first, crying out my climax partly into the wall and partly into my arm, as he held me up through every spasm. Then, he lost himself in his own orgasm, gripping my body, most certainly leaving marks, and growling in my ear.

After he came, he wrapped both arms around me and we collapsed onto the floor. We lay there for a long time, sweat soaked and spent. Then he gently pulled my hair, bringing my ear close to his mouth, and whispered, “Fucking Gringa.” I smiled because I knew it was true and I knew he loved it.

erotic

About the author

Hedone

I am a writer of erotic vignettes, meant to awaken and arouse you.

Let my words live in your imagination.

Use them to fuel your own erotic fire.

www.invokingeros.com

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