obediently, but then again I didn’t have much choice. Whatever, the food tasted good. There were potatoes in a delicious peanut sauce, a bit like a satay sauce, hard-boiled eggs, avocado, beetroot in a creamy mayonnaise and sweetcorn. He fed us alternate mouthfuls and as he lifted the fork to my lips I opened my mouth in readiness, turning myself on picturing the crimson lips parted ready to receive whatever he decided to put between them. God knows I can probably do without sex altogether and stick with my imagination. By the time we finished I’d stopped watching the waiter nervously and couldn’t have cared less what he might have thought of the customer at table 15 being fed like a baby.
After lunch Carlos untied my hands and after sashaying through the Plaza de Armas again on my heels I was driven north, crossing the river, and he pulled over on to some waste ground and parked.
‘Let me show you a part of Lima most tourists don’t see,’ he said as we walked up the busy road. I couldn’t believe that there was going to be anything to see; the river looked brown and polluted and the road was full of traffic. Then we crossed the road and I saw what he meant. Stretching out along the river bank was a higgledy-piggledy row of makeshift wooden and cardboard shacks. They were roofed with dirty discarded carpet, which also did for a door, and though no bigger than beach huts some seemed to house a tangle of filthy children and their parents, or an old, hopeless-looking couple. We rounded a corner; the shacks seemed to go on for ever.
‘Of course, it’s better than a McDonalds on every street corner,’ he said drily.
‘Oh for God’s sake, Carlos, the two are hardly the opposing choices,’ I said, angered more by the squalor than his statement. ‘Don’t you think the two present an obscene contrast?’
He shrugged. ‘You mean more obscene than people sleeping on the streets in London? It’s a damn sight richer than Lima. What’s worse, pushing aside a down and out on the way to a hamburger restaurant or on the way to the Ritz?’
‘OK,’ I said, slightly confused. ‘I’ll think about that one and we can argue later.’
He laughed almost tenderly. ‘When I have your arms pulled back in the gloves, when your tits are pointing at the sky, when . . . I think maybe I should chain your choker to the wall tonight –’
His mouth stopped speaking and came down over mine. If his last words had turned him on they had done no less to me. We kissed properly for the first time, our tongues exploring each other’s mouth. His arms were pulling me towards him and I could feel his cock hard and big against me. Totally oblivious to the surroundings I pressed back against his cock and his hands moved to my arse and circled my buttocks, then slipped under the skirt and under the leg of my knickers. My eyelids drooped, heavy with desire, and I suddenly focused on an old man watching us from the carpet door of one of the shacks. I pulled my mouth away.
‘Carlos, we’ve got an audience.’
Seemingly ignoring me, his muscular arms propelled me round to face the wall and his hand resumed its quest in my knickers. As I started to protest he stopped me with his mouth and ran his finger along the overheated moisture that had spread to my arse from my weeping slit. His other hand was on my waist, where it was holding up my skirt. Putting myself in the old man’s place I saw a girl dressed like a whore who allowed a man to pull her skirt up exposing her knickers while he caressed her cunt in full view of anyone who was passing by, and as Carlos stopped kissing me and spoke to the old man I hung my head in shame. More than shame; I was totally on the verge of coming as his fingers slid lightly over my clit and back to my glorious wet sex.
He didn’t let me come, though. After the old man answered him, laughing, Carlos pulled his hand out and showed it to him. They both laughed and Carlos propelled me away, back in the
After lunch Carlos untied my hands and after sashaying through the Plaza de Armas again on my heels I was driven north, crossing the river, and he pulled over on to some waste ground and parked.
‘Let me show you a part of Lima most tourists don’t see,’ he said as we walked up the busy road. I couldn’t believe that there was going to be anything to see; the river looked brown and polluted and the road was full of traffic. Then we crossed the road and I saw what he meant. Stretching out along the river bank was a higgledy-piggledy row of makeshift wooden and cardboard shacks. They were roofed with dirty discarded carpet, which also did for a door, and though no bigger than beach huts some seemed to house a tangle of filthy children and their parents, or an old, hopeless-looking couple. We rounded a corner; the shacks seemed to go on for ever.
‘Of course, it’s better than a McDonalds on every street corner,’ he said drily.
‘Oh for God’s sake, Carlos, the two are hardly the opposing choices,’ I said, angered more by the squalor than his statement. ‘Don’t you think the two present an obscene contrast?’
He shrugged. ‘You mean more obscene than people sleeping on the streets in London? It’s a damn sight richer than Lima. What’s worse, pushing aside a down and out on the way to a hamburger restaurant or on the way to the Ritz?’
‘OK,’ I said, slightly confused. ‘I’ll think about that one and we can argue later.’
He laughed almost tenderly. ‘When I have your arms pulled back in the gloves, when your tits are pointing at the sky, when . . . I think maybe I should chain your choker to the wall tonight –’
His mouth stopped speaking and came down over mine. If his last words had turned him on they had done no less to me. We kissed properly for the first time, our tongues exploring each other’s mouth. His arms were pulling me towards him and I could feel his cock hard and big against me. Totally oblivious to the surroundings I pressed back against his cock and his hands moved to my arse and circled my buttocks, then slipped under the skirt and under the leg of my knickers. My eyelids drooped, heavy with desire, and I suddenly focused on an old man watching us from the carpet door of one of the shacks. I pulled my mouth away.
‘Carlos, we’ve got an audience.’
Seemingly ignoring me, his muscular arms propelled me round to face the wall and his hand resumed its quest in my knickers. As I started to protest he stopped me with his mouth and ran his finger along the overheated moisture that had spread to my arse from my weeping slit. His other hand was on my waist, where it was holding up my skirt. Putting myself in the old man’s place I saw a girl dressed like a whore who allowed a man to pull her skirt up exposing her knickers while he caressed her cunt in full view of anyone who was passing by, and as Carlos stopped kissing me and spoke to the old man I hung my head in shame. More than shame; I was totally on the verge of coming as his fingers slid lightly over my clit and back to my glorious wet sex.
He didn’t let me come, though. After the old man answered him, laughing, Carlos pulled his hand out and showed it to him. They both laughed and Carlos propelled me away, back in the
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