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Meeting Cindy turns wild, but slowly.

I look all over, but every man want's to leave when the sun comes up." She ran her fingers over his chest, manicured nails playing with his nipple. "I can be a good woman, for the right man."

"I'm not going anywhere." replied Chris, taking in her body. She was ripe, an fruit that begged to be bitten so the the juices can escape it's fleshy confines. She smelled like it, a subtle waft of mangoes, coconuts, fresh cut bits left on the breakfast platter at your oceanfront suite. Her voice was syrup thick, oozing into his ear, making him very warm. How can someone be so sexy and so deadly? They say that Latins will kill for love in a heartbeat, maim and disfigure their lovers so no one else may enjoy the bounty.

"I know you're not leaving, yet." Sofia reached behind her and unclasped her bra, letting her heavy breasts spill free. "You look like like could love a woman." She held her right tit in her hand and guided it into his mouth. He tasted a lot of breast flesh in his life, but Chris never had one so juicy as the one his captor was feeding him. Plump, but firm, with a tiny nipple that was so hard it could have put her own knife to the test.

"Si," she gasped. "Show me how good you are." Chris kept suckling, tracing circles around her nipple with his tongue. She was turned on and he was hard enough to snap these chains if his cock could reach them.

He stopped licking long enough to ask, "Am I doing okay?" She replied by standing up and putting her soaked groin against his manacled fingers. She ground against him, the tops of his digits slipping inside a few centimeters at a time.

"Let me please you, S-" He caught himself before he called her out by a name that clearly wasn't hers. That was the quickest way to meet his demise, calling a woman by another name.

"You in such a hurry, but I'm not like my friend." She pulled away, moving to the foot of his mattress. She began to rock and sway, dancing to a rhythm in her head. He thought about how hard Salma Hayek got him when she danced in the Tarantino movie, From Dusk till Dawn. He had to keep his drink cup in his lap for another 15 minutes after the scene was over. Her mask was still in place, but a hole was cut out where her mouth was, blood red lips poked through.

"You like this dance, I do for you?"

"Yes. Very much." he strained against the cuffs, his cock bobbing in the beat to her hips.

"Sex should be intimate, not a battle." She rubbed her hands over her breasts. "It's not a game, it's passion." When she spun slowly, he saw a clue. What looked like a birthmark at first inspection was actually a tiny dagger, tattooed above her left cheek, no bigger than a quarter, but distinct enough for him to store away for safe keeping. It was dull, for a tattoo. She tried to cover it up with make up or some other type of concealment but her dress rubbed some of it away.

"We are going to make love, now." She lowered herself down between his legs, her hair brushing against his ankles and calves as she moved upwards, tracing a path of little kisses. Chris squirmed as the heat of her mouth brought him close to a conclusion. He began to think of anything to slow his course: roadkill, war victims, burned bodies, Nancy Grace.

Sofia kept kissing, up one thigh and down the other, warm breath on his balls and shaft, not using her hands at all. When she finally did, he jumped. Her touch alone was damaging. He tried to control his breathing. In slowly, out even slower. She was a sexual tornado, ready to strip him of his foundation at any second. She parted her hair away from her face, and looked him in the eye before taking him in her mouth.

"Shit Damn Motherfucker!" Chris cried out in surprise.

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