Chapter 6
Martha's mind spun with impatience. She watched the lights flash by as the taxi sped through the cool thin air of Bogota's high plateau. The city seemed to stretch out upon it forever. When the taxi finally stopped, just as the brilliant glow of sunset was fading from the sky, she thought the time had come. But she saw the sumptuous exterior of a restaurant instead of the hotel she'd been expecting.
They passed through an area draped with ferns, through which bubbling falls of water splashed over mossy rocks. Scarlet and blue macaws flapped their showy wings and called raucously, observing the passing people with cocked heads and big eyes.
Inside, they sat in a small, intimate alcove. The rug and thick folds of draperies, the velvet chairs and the big table napkins were a dark, wine red, nearly the color of rich blood, splashed with accents of black and gold. The room seemed ready to burst into flames of passion, it was so warm. The table was covered with tray after tray of tasty morsels-bits of fish and turtle and sweet, strange-flavored meats whose identity Martha wasn't sure she wanted to know. All of it was garnished with sections of fruit with colors and tastes that overwhelmed her.
"There's plenty of time, Tuesta," Alva said, her gaze smothering Martha with sexual warmth. "We have to eat first and build our strength-thick steaks and wine and these aphrodisiacal fruits from the womb of the jungle. You're in too big a rush. Give her more wine to drink. Soften her up a little. God, do I have to show you everything?"
"Just show me your black-haired cunt," he said in a low, charged voice. "I'll know what to do with it. I know what to do with the hot, drooling pussies of women like you."
"Talk. That's all I hear from you. We're not talking about mine, you fool. Give her some more wine."
Martin's hand touched Martha's as he filled her glass. She glanced at him, sitting between them, and saw the fire raging in his dark eyes as if he had no more patience for all this stalling.
She was tingling all over, watching them, listening to them. She had to force herself to eat. The thought that she was going to go with them to a room and lie on a big bed next to Alva and spread her thighs wide for whatever they wanted to do to her had built to an intolerable degree of anticipation in her.
She imagined her legs as limbs that she would open to the piercing shaft of life. She would let her golden-downed pussy flower before their eyes. She would let it expand and swell open and bloom like the trees of the jungle that reached upward toward the covering canopy. Her perfumes would fill the air as if coming from a yellow-filamented blossom nestled in the hollow of her thighs. They would taste of the sweet meat in its center, just as they had tasted of the morsels on the table.
She shivered again and experienced a small orgasm that she couldn't hide from them-one that made her gasp with several tiny yelps of delirious pleasure.
"We're wasting time, I tell you," Tuesta said impatiently, watching her. His eyes grew bright, and he licked his lips. "The poor girl is going to be worn out before we even get her to the hotel."
"I know what I'm doing," Alva snapped. "If you don't like the way I'm handling this, then go find your friend and fuck him."
"His ass would be tighter than yours, I'll bet."
"But he wouldn't suck as Well."
"Now listen to who's doing the talking."
"Maybe you should get your friend after all," she said sharply, taunting him. "We'll take him along and leave you here to sit and think about what a superior lover you are while he's doing it." She laughed cruelly. "Maybe I made a mistake with you. The more I listen to your impatience the more I think maybe you fuck like a paca-hard and fast and all at once-just to satisfy yourself, just to show everybody what a conqueror you are, a master of the conquest whose sole aim is to inflate his ego to hide his insecurity. Is that the kind of man you are, huh?"
Tuesta's eyes blazed with a new fury. He gripped the base of the wine bottle in a way that frightened Martha. She saw his mouth set into the same worried lines that it had had in Miami when he'd been staring moodily out of the window and hitting himself in the hip. She thought it very odd that the insult to his virility would elicit the same expression as the paucity of names on his passenger list. She began to wonder if there wasn't something very strange about Martin Tuesta.
Doubts and fears took hold of her again, and there was a moment of clarity when she remembered snatches of many things. Her mother's admonition not to think with her pants, which she was doing right now; Alva's suggestion that the tour would founder and leave her stranded with these two clashing, oversexed, hot-blooded Latins, both of whom wanted to ravish her body for themselves and pluck her cherried prize; and the burning need in her to have it happen one way or another so that she could go back to Ken and trust his love.
She felt ready to jump out of her skin and scream at them to stop fighting over her because neither of them was going to have her.
But the lights dimmed suddenly, and a band drowned out all sound in the room.
She started and turned in time to see a group of dancers swirl out onto the floor. They clicked castanets and clattered their flamenco boots loudly against the hard wood. At the same time, two waiters hurriedly wheeled carts up to the table, with mumbled apologies for being late, and swiftly placed their steaks in front of them. The platters sizzled, adding to the noise.
Martha saw Martin's face smooth out and his rage subside as quickly as it had flared. In a moment, he and Alva were eating and clapping in time with the hot flamenco beat and smiling at each other as if it was good to be back home again.
Martha's own edginess left, and she watched the dancers. They were new and exciting to her. One man in particular caught her eye. He wore tight white pants that were meant to reveal the bulge of his genitals. His body was lithe and sensuous, and he weaved around one of the women in tighter and tighter circles, finally taunting her into responding with a dance of her own.
The others faded back, and the tempo of the beat grew terribly sensual and intimate. The movements of the couple became openly suggestive. Martha found herself watching in fascination and felt her pulse quicken again with the slowly increasing tempo of the music.
The dancers' bodies drew close. They bent and twisted around each other only inches apart, never touching. It was a dance of love that made Martha's passion soar again. The sight reminded her of the ritual of pink flamingos, the courtship of blue herons, the dance of snowy egrets. There was even a reptilian quality about the dancers that infused her with the heat of their movements and made her juices flow.
The dance ended with the strumming of passionate, powerful minor chords, and she became aware that Martin had slipped his arm around her shoulders so that his hand rested lightly against the tip of her breast. He squeezed the soft mound firmly just as the chords sounded, and she nearly came again. She leaned into the hollow of his shoulder and gasped and knew without question that to try to fight them off any more was useless. She felt a strange sense of being doomed and caught at last.
"Let's eat, Martha-fast," Alva said, watching them with a hunger in her face food wouldn't satisfy.
Martha cut into the steak and watched the pink fluid bubble from between the lips of the slit her knife had made. She felt a sharp stab at the mouth of her cunt and was certain that the same color fluid was trickling from inside her and stained her thighs. When she put the moist, pink flesh to her mouth and bit into it, juice ran down her throat in a hot, salty wave that made her choke and look at Martin with a lust she couldn't hide any longer.
"All right," she said. "You've done it. I can't wait. I don't want to eat. Let's go-oh, let's go now!" She sounded insane to herself, but she didn't care any more.
Alva stood up quickly. "Now, Tuesta," she said triumphantly.
They gathered her up, one on either side, and walked her through the room. She felt dizzy and not sure she could walk by herself.
"Alva..." she panted, feeling everything go around.
Tuesta's voice growled beside her, strangely like that of the alligator. "It's too much wine at this high altitude. You'll be all right."
She knew he was glowering at Alva, but she didn't care. She leaned against him and smelled the powerful musk odor of sex. She heard the hypnotic hiss of sibilant breath in her ear and felt the corrugated scales of his buckle against the side of her hip. She waited for the feel of leathery skin to crawl over her body and smother it under reptilian weight.
The harsh cries of macaws jarred her sense and lent realism to what she was feeling. There was a long, cuddly ride through the town again while she sat between them and allowed their hands to stroke heat into her body.
She moaned and rolled her head in the darkness and felt her thighs parted by one of their hands. Then a warm palm was cupping the damp, fragrant mouth of her pussy in a way that made her hips lift up shamelessly toward the brink of orgasm. But the hand went away just as she was ready to come, and she was left suspended, highly charged. It happened again and again until she felt ready to explode into a starburst of colors when the taxi finally stopped.
She felt herself being laid out on a bed. Both of them were in the room. There was arguing. Her short skirt was jerked above her waist, and hands roughly pulled at her panties, baring her pussy to them.
"Not like that, you bastard," Alva swore, making her think for a moment her mother was in the room. "You bastard of a paca!"
Martha looked up and saw the swimming image of Martin's gold-copper body above her. He stood by the edge of the bed with his prick in his hand. It angled upward toward the sky like a thick trunk of bronzed wood with curling, black roots.
"I'll stick it in her and fuck her before she knows what's going on," he growled.
"You don't want to give, you bastard-big ego-weak prick! You only want to take. You only want to satisfy yourself. Here, big man, take your lust out on me so that I can see if you're worthy of being the one to break her. Let's see how much of what you say is just talk."
Martha saw Alva lifting the hem of her skirt. Her naked pussy bushed into view, and she stood with her legs parted, her hand over her belly, holding her skirt up. Her thighs were . slim and firm and creamy smooth. The gates of her cunt were puffing open to reveal the mystery inside. Her eyes were big and burning with inner fires and she stood with a challenge on her face that couldn't be ignored.
"You black-haired demon," Tuesta growled. "You've insulted me enough tonight."
"That's right, big man. Come squirt your balls into my cunt. I dare you to stick it in here. You won't last a full minute when I put the squeeze on your cock."
She pried the lips of her pussy open to show him the gleaming dampness of her pink meat. She bumped her hips at him and ran her fingertip up and down her slit, exciting herself and him. She reached behind her back and worked at the fastenings of her dress. It slithered to the floor and left her small, impudent breasts thrusting toward him like teacups with nipples made of exquisitely creamy china.
"You stinking pureblood bitch," he snarled. "You think you're so superior. You think Indios can't fuck you right. Well, here's one who can. I'll show you who is better. I'll make you beg for more until you're weak, and then I'll shoot it down your stinking throat until you choke and learn to talk with respect."
Alva laughed at him with a vicious challenge. "That's all you've done tonight is stand around and tell us how good you are. Come prove it, Indio."
Tuesta hesitated and licked his lips. He glanced at the prostrate form of Martha, his eyes running over the pink flesh of her cunt and the golden curls covering it.
"Don't look at her," Alva snapped. "She'll still be there when I make you finish emptying your balls. Or are you afraid if you don't take her now, there'll be nothing left for later when I have finished with you?" She laughed again. "No wonder you wanted to call on your friend for help."
"Enough," he growled. "You've said enough! There are too many in the world who think they can trifle with Martin Tuesta, but I will show you all!"
"Big man-conquer the world later. Right now I doubt that you can conquer me."
Martin made a grab for her in anger, but she eluded him. He crouched and watched her hide behind a chair, taunting him into a state of nearly brittle rigidity.
Martha watched his flanks bunch and move under his skin. She saw the primitive expression of lust in his eyes, and she thought for a moment that they were in the jungle and that he was a naked savage, stalking Alva. She rolled her head on the bed and felt her mind clearing as she watched them jump and run about the room. When Alva had him to the state she wanted him, she leaped upon the wide bed and lay beside Martha with her legs flung open, taunting him with sharp barbs.
"Now I'll show you who can fuck!" he growled.
"Right here-right in my wet cunt, Senor paca! I give you less than a minute before you lose control and blow your balls empty."
Martin growled again and covered Alva's body. His prick speared into the firm flesh of her creamy thigh and left a wet smear on her flesh. She twisted her hips to avoid him and taunt him further. Martha watched them grappling beside her, and her breath pumped in and out of her lungs at the sight.
The bed shook. Her body was bumped by one and then the other of them. Martin's hips pumped up and down in an effort to drive his cock into her cunt and conquer her, while Alva twisted and evaded him until she wanted to join with him.
Martha watched her roll back onto the small of her spine. Her firm buttocks lifted off the bed, and her gleaming pussy lifted high. Tuesta grunted and hissed uncontrollably, and his nostrils flared. His prick found her hole and stabbed deeply into it.
"Aiee," he said, pausing. "What a wet, sloppy cunt this is. You couldn't make a llama come in here, it's so big."
Martin laughed victoriously and pumped his hips up and down, twisting them, making his prick dig into one wall and then the other. Martha watched and listened to the sucking sounds and smelled the sharp odor of Alva's cunt juice. She saw the stiff cock driving in and out of her hole, pushing forward to mash the puffy lips flat, then withdrawing to exhibit the satiny shine of fluid. Martha cupped her pussy with her palm and moaned, wishing she had her toy right now instead of only her finger.
"It isn't my pussy that's big," Alva said. "It's that little Indio prick that can't fill me up. So I have to make the adjustment for your small size."
"What adjustment, you cow? You think you can squeeze this slack meat around my cock? Go ahead and try it. Maybe it would feel better than this."
They stopped moving and glared at each other with sparkling challenge. Then Tuesta's face began to change. Where victory and confidence had been, the look of defeat began to take over. His eyes widened with surprise. His face seemed to grow rounder, and that peculiar set came to his mouth again.
Martha glanced from one to the other of them and felt herself growing unbearably hot. She knew Alva was doing something inside-something with her pussy-that was changing everything. She felt a burning need to know. She wanted to learn how to do it herself, whatever it was. She watched Alva's face glow with sexual power.
"Thirty seconds now, Indio," Alva gloated. "And I can feel it drooling out the end of your prick. You're not going to make it. I'm only squeezing right now. In another second or two, I'm going to start making my pussy milk your cock dry so that you won't be able to hold back, no matter how much you want to. Are you ready, big man?"
Tuesta's face wrinkled with defeat. His eyes burned brightly, and a soft moan came from his throat. Martha watched him, recognized the signs that he was about to come. She'd never thought about it before, but it struck her as odd that such two different men as Ken an Martin would show the same signs when they were ready.
Tuesta's fist hit the bed. "Bitch! Demon!" he cried. He tried to pull back out of her to stop himself, but she wouldn't let him go. Her hands came around and clamped onto his buttocks until her fingers indented the flesh of them in deep, bloodless grooves.
Tuesta half-collapsed and began shuddering violently, mashing his hips firmly against Alva's, writhing his chest across her breasts. His breath panted from his lungs, and his eyes grew wild with something more than sexual release. It was the humiliation of another defeat.
Alva cackled with glee, lifting her pussy up to drink in his load. Martha could see her lips sucking and pulling along the root of Tuesta's shaft, and she could only imagine what was going on inside the slippery tunnel.
"Ah-hg!" Tuesta grunted.
"Come, big man! You stinking paca! I knew you fucked like a rodent. You do everything like a rodent, huh? like an angry mouse? You work up passengers to come on this stinking tour the same way you fuck-with only half your ass. How many did you get, Tuesta? Are they all women that you think you can take care of for two weeks at thirty seconds each?"
Tuesta reared back with an insane growl and slapped her face hard. Martha flinched from the sound of it. She expected to see Alva doubled up out cold, but instead she heard the taunting cackle again as Alva moved her hips up and down under him.
"That was good, paca-you can hit like a man, anyway. Come on, let's have the rest of it. Show me how you can make me come!"
"Pig! I wouldn't give you the pleasure of an orgasm!" he cried, jerking his cock from her cunt. "You're not a woman, you're a witch! It's time now for me to make love to a woman."
He shifted his body and rolled off Alva's. He looked at Martha and moved toward her. His cock was only half-erect, and it drooled from the tip. His semen slithered from between Alva's labia in an opalescent stream.
Martha looked up at him and saw the wildness in his eyes. There was nothing soft about them any more. The expression in them was mad. His mouth was set in a cruel twist. His weight on her was crushing, and she felt indignant over the way he treated her, as if his only goal was her rupture-as if taking her virginity would somehow restore his bruised virility.
"Get off her," Alva commanded harshly. "You aren't good enough for her. She needs something besides a thirty-second paca to break her cherry."
"Go to hell!" he bellowed. "She's not getting broken by you!"
"Martin," Martha cried. "My skirt! You're ruining my skirt-and you're heavy!"
There wasn't any question left in Martha about what he wanted. She wanted Martin off. Any desire she'd felt for him was gone now. She knew suddenly that this whole idea had been an insane error.
"No!" she cried, twisting and pushing up at his weight. "Ken-Alva!" she screamed. She tossed her head back and forth, avoiding his seeking mouth.
She heard Alva slap his buttocks and shout at him in her coldest voice. But his hips pumped up and down on top of her. She closed her thighs tightly and felt his prick spear between them, searching for her virginal cunt. The slime on it made it impossible for her to shut him out completely, and her teeth clenched in fright when she felt the oily nose work between the folds of her slit and press hard just above her vaginal hole.
Her buttocks drove into the mattress in her attempt to back away from him. His hands squeezed her breasts harshly, soiling her blouse, making her bra rasp painfully over her flesh.
"Off-off!" Alva shouted at Martin, pushing at the side of his hip, rocking him. His cock slid upward in the pocket of Martha's cleft and bruised her clit, stretching her labia painfully. Martha whimpered and worked with Alva until Martin lost his balance and rolled free.
His face was wild with the need to accomplish his job. It wasn't from lust. It was from trying to salvage what was left of his sense of masculinity. His hands groped in the air to right himself, and a thick stream of Spanish poured from his mouth.
Martha scuttled out of the way and then was shocked to see Alva's head drop between Tuesta's thighs. Her mouth opened, and her lips puckered out more softly than Martha had thought possible. She fed his prick between them with her slim fingers and seemed to swallow it whole. Her sharp nose dropped into the tangle of his black pubes, and her slim throat bulged.
"Aiee, no!" Tuesta cried.
His hips bucked up with the sensation Alva was causing him, but his fist clubbed the side of her head several times. She wouldn't budge from his lap. She sucked and sucked on the prick in her throat.
Martha sat back on the other side of the bed and watched. She didn't know why Alva was doing that. She'd thought they would both escape from the room while they had the chance. She felt her cunt spasm with the strangeness of it all, and she swallowed several times reflexively, thinking of Ken.
Tuesta's fist flattened out, and he quit clubbing her. His fingers tangled in the dark, glossy hair. His big palms covered her head and pushed it farther down over his shaft. Then an expression of agony came over his face, and he growled like a primitive beast.
He shot into Alva immediately and hard. When he was finished, he was finished, he lay limply on the bed with his head to the side. He looked ready to cry, as if everything were going against him that possibly could.
Alva drew her mouth off his cock and spat on his belly. His prick fell limply to the side and was terribly red.
"You even taste like a rodent!" she snapped, spitting again. She gripped his balls in her hand and shook them up and down until he cried out. "Get out of here, Indio!" she shouted. "You fuck like the men who shovel my father's shit, and your semen tastes like guano fresh from the bird. Get out-get out and go conquer the world, you impotent juvenile!"
She pushed hard at him and rolled him off the bed. He nearly was able to catch himself with his arms and break his fall, but he wasn't quite graceful enough. He landed with a humiliating thud that left him winded. Alva cackled while he clambered to an upright position and acquired a look of such intense wildness that Martha swore he was mentally unbalanced.
"I'm going to tear your lips from your pussy," he growled thickly.
Alva stood her ground. She machine-gunned him with a burst of Spanish that made his face go white. He snatched up his clothes and ran from the room, slamming the door behind him. The sound banged against Alva's merry laughter.