Spanish inquisition

Spanish inquisition

There are times when I feel like a challenge. As in horse racing, I give myself a handicap. I also love the idea of a sexual experience in another persona. Favourite is my Spanish Lothario scenario. Only with a thick Spanish accent will some women take seriously something that, when said in a normal voice, would be pure kitsch. 

She was a neon blonde with cartoon eyebrows. Her head and body were in constant motion, dodging imaginary darts, as she laughed and wildly gesticulated with her friends. She looked the sort of girl who would fall for a Greek on holiday and hop straight into bed with him. The sort of thing she wouldn’t do at home. Not on the first night. This holiday dislocation allows guilt absolution through the appearance of a dual personality. Right now she needed a larger than life sexual counter to convince her she was in a near holiday experience. I felt able to oblige. 

I nodded to Vic, and prepared to move in. I undid a button too far to reveal a wheatfield of luxuriant hair. I splayed my legs (to show I’d just come off my Argentinean ranch, galloping wildly across the savannah twirling my 6 inch diameter bolas above my head). With my heavily greased back hair, and sucking on my San Miguel, I strutted over. 

“Ah haf been obtherving the collecteeve beauty of you girlth from the bar for thome while,” I said loudly, ” but there ith one of you in particulair tha’ ah theenk ah haf fallen in lurve with.” 

There was an abrupt cessation in their conversation. I came up close to my objet d’amour and whispered in a semi circle from one ear to the other, to give her a truly 3D stereo affect. 

“Ah have had loth of girlfriend, but ah ha’ never felt ma pulth rayth thow muth ath when I furth thaw you acroth the room.” 

I grasped her hand. 

“I theenk you an’ ah were made fer eech othair. Ah can thee you and ah widing li’ the weend acroth the plainth of ma wanth in Argenthina on two magnifithent thtallionth.” 

By this time, the three girls at the table were looking at me in astonished bemusement. My target (Tanya, I found out), was a rabbit caught in the headlights. 

“Ma darling girlth, ma good fren Veector wheel buy you any drinkth you dethire. Ah need, ath a matter of prething urgenthy, to speek privately to theeth dream of a woman.” 

I drew her away from the others to a private table, as Vic moved in, with instructions to build up the story; multimillionaire Argentinean alone on the range seeking soulmate, which is exactly what I gradually spun to Tanya. She soon responded, and I could see her moving into ‘out of the home environment’ mode. She was packing her mind to go on holiday. 

“Arghh, fate is tho cwool.” I said after a while. 

“Why’s that?” she started, looking concerned. 

“The moment I meet you, and ah have to leave you. Ah leave tomorrow for three weekth to tend ma ranth. Ah don’t know how ah can bear it – not to thee you for tho long. Eath day wheel be a tyranny. Bu’ maybe you ith jutht an ethereal dream, come to torture me.” 

“Oh no!” she thaid (sorry, said), in all earnestness. 

“Then prove it to me, ma darling. Come thpend the night wi’ me, and let uth theal our love!” 

I got closer still, and took hold of her hand. She immediately grabbed my other one. 

“I promith tha’ when a’ touth you, high voltage electrithity wheel coarth through your veinth, and goothbumpth wheel thpread acroth your body like a Methican wave. An when ah keeth you, you wheel experienth an emothionale explothian of thuch eententhity, tha’ your head wheel go dithy, you wheel thee multipool firework explothianth acroth the thky, and your hearth wheel go boom, boom, boom, lie a beeg brath percuthian dwum.” 

I paused. ” Or tho I’m told.” 

If the sun had come out at that moment, she’d have stripped off down to her knickers, that’s how much she was on holiday. With nods of drunken approval from her friends, she was on her way home with me. 

Foreplay had pretty well taken place in the bar, so through the door and after one sip of her drink, we got straight down to it. After a while, I turned her over doggy fashion, so I could reach into my bedside drawer without being seen. Then, just when I sensed orgasm approaching, I flipped her over. You should have seen the look of writhing pleasure mixed with sheer astonishment as she saw me pounding into her wearing my Enrique Inglesias mask! It’s that sense of the surreal I really relish. 

The next morning, Tanya wakes me, leaning over my body. 

“When’s your flight?” 

I blearily engage my mind. 

“Oh it’s been delayed. Earthquake in Buenos Aires. Be a love and make a cup of tea.” 

She looked puzzled. “What’s happened to the Spanish accent?” 

I smile at her lazily. She looked hangdog. 

“I suppose you don’t own a ranch in Argentina?” 

“It disappeared in the night when I wasn’t looking,” I said indignantly. 

She started getting annoyed. “So you’re not really Argentinean?” 

“You’re not really blond,” I said definitively. 

Really, women can be so hypocritical at times.

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