A Mexican Cutie
Millie Dynamite
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A Mexican Cutie
Sam introduced a curious young lady to the joy of sex
Millie Dynamite
Copyright© 2023 by Millie Dynamite
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction, not intended to be historically accurate but merely a representation of the times. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to any person, living or dead, is merely coincidental and unintentional. This story doesn’t condone prostitution or the use or abuse of sex workers for pleasure.
A Mexican Cutie
Denver, Colorado 1979
When I first got married, I had a hard time with things. See, I did okay with women and girls. And so, it goes, old habits are hard to break. I had been married for about five months and struggled with devotion. The draw of younger women constantly reminded me I liked to fuck, and one woman had never been enough.
Fortunately, my wife is an understanding woman.
I got married just before I turned 29. My wife was a 19-year-old dark-haired beauty. A more than pleasantly large rack, a thin waist, and a round, but not too big, ass that swiveled around when she walked. I say walked, but in truth, my wife strutted.
After five years of marital bliss, we moved into a large apartment complex. There were ten buildings around a single courtyard. Four apartments per building. At the center of the courtyard was a good-sized pool. Our buildings were just one of a dozen such arrangements.
I worked long hours, starting at 5:30 each morning and ending at about 4:30 in the afternoons. When I drove home, I had to fight through Mile High traffic on I25. Sometimes, it took me two hours to travel the fifteen miles home.
Crazy shit, you know, but worth it.
After work, I enjoyed swimming when I got home and relaxed in the water before dinner. This day did not differ from any other, except it was Friday. We might go out dancing, and we would be fucking like rabbits until the wee hours. As soon as I got home, I changed into my trunks.
When I went out the door, Kim said, “Hey, you shouldn’t wear those. Change into the loose-fitting ones.”
She’s stood in the bathroom naked, with a towel wrapped around her head. I knew she’d been down at the swimming pool.
“Why?”
“Well, a 14 maybe as old as 16-year-old Mexican girl sunbathing when I left a few minutes ago.” Kim continued drying her hair with the towel. She smiled at me. “I don’t want her seeing your crotch monster, okay? Might scare her. Honestly, wear the less revealing ones.”
“She’s probably gone.”
“Come on, Sam,” she said. “Save those for our late-night dips.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, pulled them off, and donned the baggy trunks.
When I got to the pool, I dove in, heading to the bottom of the deep end. I touched the drain. The pressure on my ears, that pounding of my heart you hear and feel in the deep water, pleased me. I clutched the drain grate for as long as I could, then rose to the top, exhaling as I did.
The absolutely stunning little Mexican teen was sitting on the edge when I broke the top. Her bikini was dry, so I knew she hadn’t been in the water. Her hair was curly and dark, her chest small hills, like those that roll on prairies of eastern Colorado, and two fat nipples poked visible through the top.
My wife knew of my darker proclivities. She knew what seeing this young woman in full bloom would do to me. Her young beauty caused my pecker to swell up nicely. Baggy trunks or not, no way to hide what I had.