The rich, sweet smell of the tobacco smoke permeates the room. Wisps of silver-grey curl and dance their way through the thick, hazy air. Even after the club has closed, I imagine that the aroma would cling to the fabric of the chairs and in the curtains. It hangs in the air, ready to greet anyone who enters. I don’t smoke myself, so blow away the cloud and waft a clearing with my hand.
A stranger in an unknown place always draws attention. As I stride towards the bar, I raise myself an inch or two. I portray a confident, self-assured man, but inside I am a little nervous. I thrust one hand into my pocket, to give a casual look to my appearance. As if I belong here. During my travels through South America, and now Cuba, it is a tactic that has served me well. Locals are often suspicious of strangers, but here it seems different. No one gives me a second glance. I am immediately put at ease, the adrenalin slowly lowering in my body.
The bar is full of people playing cards, backgammon, and chatting. There is a relaxed atmosphere to the place, which is reflected in the barman’s face, as I pull up a stool and sit down. A pair of brown, alert, but a friendly pair of eyes twinkle back at me, waiting patiently for me to get comfortable.
“What can I get you, Señor?” His voice matches the friendly demeanour as he reveals a set of sparkling, white teeth.
“Cuba Libre, por favor?” I return the warming smile with one of my own.
The barman turns away and begins to mix my drink of rum and cola with a twist of lemon and plenty of ice. While I wait, I look around the room. Everyone is engaged in their own personal conversations and it is as if I wasn’t there. I suppose my Latino looks, derived from my maternal side, help me to fit in. I love Cuban culture and attitude towards sex. It is extremely casual. I have heard there’s good sex, there’s great sex and then there’s Cuban sex. On arrival three nights ago, I was immediately hooked on Cuba, heaven for horny men of adventure.
“Your drink, Señor.” The barman slides the glass in front of me.
“Thank you.” I don’t bother with the Spanish reply and my heavy British accent causes a few heads to turn and a pretty young girl in her mid-twenties, dressed in a pair of black, tight-fitting trousers sidles up beside me. Her legs seem to go on forever and I run my eyes from her head to her toes. She has heavenly tits and an arse to die for. I struggle to keep my tongue from drooling as I examine every inch of her. She says something unintelligible in Spanish and I look to the waiter for assistance.
“She wants to know if you would like a drink with her and sit at a table.” Fucking jackpot! I haven’t even tried and I have pulled already. I fucking love this country.
“Si.” My one-word reply is practically the limit, apart from please and thank you, of my Spanish vocabulary.
Nevertheless, the answer is met with a big, beaming smile and she grasps my hand, pulling me off the stool. She leads me across the room to a vacant table. As we walk, I watch her beautifully formed arse cheeks sway beneath the figure-hugging trousers. I swear I can see every contour of her shapely buttocks. The throbbing in my cock is getting stronger and I am relieved when we reach the table and sit down. We take a sip of our drinks before the dark-haired beauty leaps from her chair and drags me onto the small dance floor. The rhythmic sound of the salsa music is intoxicating and so sensual.
She pulls me close, and our bodies meld as one. Her leg slides between mine and I can feel the heat from her pussy against my upper thigh. I shift my position slightly, the hardness of my dick making contact with her inner thigh. She gives me an expert, if not enlightening lesson, in how to dance the salsa and after a few songs I need to sit down.
My heart rate is elevated, not just from the dancing but from my arousal. To my surprise, she sits down on my lap and begins kissing my neck, softly whispering words I do not understand. I push myself forward on my chair and I feel my cock rubbing up against her pussy. She grinds her hips, getting the maximum benefit from it. Not one person in the room gives us a second look.
I believe during sex, from the courting to foreplay, to fucking and post-coitus, men should be the masculine, aggressive and the strong one. Women should be feminine, caring and submissive. In my short time here, I am thankful to say that is the Cuban way. Yet this woman seems to break that stereotype. She certainly knows what she wants. Well, who am I to disappoint?
“I would say by your accent, you’re Australian.” Her husky southern drawl surprises me. I take a moment to reply.
“I am actually British. From yours, I would say you were from the southern United States!” I had stayed with a friend a few years back on a ranch in Texas and recognised the reflection of her voice.
“I love a British accent. You are not far off. I’m from a small town in Arkansas. So what brings you here?” I want to say that I’m here for beer and pussy, but I’m not sure how well that will go down.
“Cuba is just such a relaxing place. I love the culture and lifestyle. The ladies are not too bad either.” I give her a back-handed compliment and she blushes. Flicking her long, black hair away from her face.
“What say we continue my salsa lessons back at my apartment?” I immediately go on the offensive. It is not the dancing that I have in mind, though.
“That would be awesome.” I cringe at the use of that unimaginative word. It has always been a pet hate of mine. There are so many beautiful words in the English language and that is not one of them!
“What’s your name by the way? I’m Marcus.” I lift her off my lap and rise from my chair as I speak.
“I’m Darlene, honey.”
“Nice to meet you, Darlene. My place is only a short walk away. We can enjoy an early evening stroll.” I place my arm around her waist and...
Read all about the wonderful author: Zak Hardacre