The Power of Love

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When I arrived at the mine I had known what was expected of me but I still found the reality frightening to begin with. However, you get used to the life. My name is Carmen. I was born and baptised as Carlos nineteen years before this story begins. As long as I can remember I knew I was a girl. My parents died when I was seven years old and I went to live with my father’s brother, his wife and their two sons and daughter. I used to steal into Isabella’s room and put on her dresses on the rare occasions I was alone in the house. I loved to twirl in front of the full-length mirror and admire myself.

They said I seduced my cousin Esteban. It felt more mutual than that. I suppose Esteban didn’t contradict them from fear of what they would do to him. They sent me to a reformatory where I got plenty of fucking and not only from the other boys. I became a girl who needs cock.

That is the only thing from my past which remains true to this day. However, that was the past. This is the present. I am in my room in the whorehouse. It smells frowsty because I have just serviced a client and he wasn’t too clean. I am trying to get rid of his smell because I can hear heavy steps on the stairs and I sense this client is coming to me. There are six other girls on this floor but, somehow, I always know when the feet are coming here. True, they often are, because I am the most popular whore in this part of the establishment. I make sure my clitie and my cunt are clean, drape a negligée about my shoulders and sit, one leg seductively over the other, allowing a long vista of thigh to show under the transparent material. I turn my shoulder to make three quarter profile and push my long hair to one side. A large hand pushes my door open. I smile. He is one of my regulars. He likes me to call him daddy whilst he fucks me and he calls me his little girl as he rams me full of his ten-inch cock and shoots his baby batter deep into my cunt. I like him because, briefly, I can believe that our pretence of love is real. I tell myself that he is my real daddy and that I am genuinely his little girl as well as his fuck toy. He stays for half an hour.

The next visitor isn’t so welcome. He is the landlord. He expects to get free sex from us girls as well as a cut of our takings as rent. I only protested once and he hit me so hard I bounced off the wall. I haven’t risked it again; the punters don’t like to fuck damaged goods, unless they themselves have done the damaging. Today, thank god, he just wants a blow-job and I wrap my lips around the short, wide, cock with some difficulty. Its girth stretches my lips as far as they will go but I manage to get all of it inside my mouth. I pull back to lick the underside of it and to nuzzle his piss slit, which always gets him going. He moans as I take him back inside and fondle his balls. He erupts and I swallow his slightly acrid cum. I make my eyes smile up at him as he looks down at me sucking out the last drops and he holds my head in his bruiser’s hands.

‘You’re a good cunt,’ he says. ‘I’ll come back later on to fuck you.’

After he leaves there is a lull as the heat is too great for physical action, even sexual action. I drift off to sleep.

When I wake the heat is slightly less intense but still enervating. The big fan rotates in the ceiling keeping up its eternal chatter as it moves hot air from one part of the room to another. I turned it off once, driven half-mad by its noise, and nearly died of the heat within five minutes, so it must do some good. I get up, straiten the bedclothes and walk to the window. The jungle comes right up to the building on this side, the side away from the dirt road we call a street. xslot Everything is green except for the patch of blue sky, hazy with heat and dampness directly above me. Suddenly there are flashes of green and vermilion as a flock of parakeets speed across a gap in the canopy. I hear a knock; the door, which is off the latch, swings open behind me. I turn and see that siesta has finished and I have another client waiting.

It’s not really all that bad a life if you enjoy sex and don’t mind too much not having the option of saying ‘No’. But, after six months of it, sex becomes a commodity and few men genuinely arouse me now. My usual quota is about eight men a day but on pay days and the major saints’ days, when the mines close, I can service twenty or more. It makes your cunt sore and I sometimes worry about infection but the men won’t use condoms so what’s the point of worrying? I need the sense of intimacy I get when a man is coming inside me but, of course, I know that it’s spurious. He has no real interest in me and we are separated by the invisible but, oh so solid barrier, of him paying and my selling. He is he and I am me ‘and ne’er the twain shall meet,’ as some clever dick once said.

This one is quite short, hardly taller than me and I am only five feet seven. He is powerfully built and tough, as the miners have to be if they’re going to survive the gruelling conditions they work in. I guess that he has some indigenous South American Indian blood because he is mahogany coloured, not just from the sun, and his face looks rigid and grand, like one of the sculptural reliefs I once saw in a museum.

‘Are you Carmen?’ he asks.’

‘I am, sir,’ I reply, making sure my hair is tidy. I am aware that my negligée is clinging to my figure with sweat and I wish I had had time to wash and put on something clean before he came. He sees my embarrassment and says, ‘May I come in?’

I am surprised. Usually men just enter my room as nonchalantly as they subsequently enter me. I smile at him encouragingly and say, ‘Please do.’

He looks around and I feel glad that I am by nature a fastidious woman where keeping my room clean is concerned. He sits on one of the two chairs. I sit on the other, facing him. He looks at me with great concentration.

‘You are very beautiful,’ he says after a moment. I blush.

He smiles at me and his face changes from being a mask to being radiant, like an angelic child, but with a man’s strength. I smile back at him and, to my total astonishment, I burst into tears and cannot stop. He just sits quietly watching me until my lack of breath forces me to shudder to an end. Then he leans forward and takes my hand in his. He turns my palm upwards and scrutinises the lines for several minutes before bending forward to plant a kiss in the very centre. He then takes each of my fingers into his mouth in turn and gently sucks on them. He stands. I stand and he kisses me on the lips slowly and deeply, as though he means it.

Gently he removes my negligée and drapes it over the back of my chair. I stand before him naked. He looks at me with care. He touches my clitie, taking my little cock and balls into his hand. He says a word which sounds like ‘T’la’. He turns me around and I hear his intake of breath and the word repeated. I bask in this man’s admiration. He strokes my buttocks and eases them apart. He runs his finger along my crack, hovering at my rosebud before circling it. He kneels behind me and I feel the rasp of his tongue on my pussy lips, then he flickers the tip of his tongue into her. He knows instinctively that I am going to come and he turns me around once more so that, still kneeling, xslot Giriş he can take my clitie into his mouth and I feed him my milk.

My knees give way and my lover supports me to our bed. I lie there in a daze of wonderment at his, to me, unique love-making, as he removes his clothes and stands before me naked. He is magnificently built, with powerful arms and legs, wide shoulders and a chest of heroic proportions and, glory of glories, a twelve-inch cock, wider than my wrist at its base, uncut and standing proudly pointing at me, leaking precum. His great balls shake a little as he places one knee on the bed so that I can take his cock in my hands and envelope the head of my prize with my lips. I suck him down into my throat until he reaches, then passes my gag point, then I take him from my mouth so that I can lick the length of this wonderful pole.

Suddenly he lifts up my legs and rams his cock into my cunt. I cry out and he pounds me as I have never been pounded. I only exist to give him release. I am my cunt and exist only in relation to his fucking. I am freed from myself and a sense of liberation runs through my veins. He shudders his seed into my longing womb and I swear I feel each mammoth spurt of his breeding me. At last he quivers to a stop but he still lies on top of me, his cock embedded in my womb, and he kisses me with such tenderness I feel a tear of gratitude run down my cheek.

He licks the tear from my face, then cups my face in his hands so that he can kiss me long and deep. He looks into my eyes and I see love. I am not, to him, a whore. I am a woman worthy of his love. And yet he does not make me feel ashamed of what I have been. I am astonished to realise that I did not ask him for payment before we began, but then I realise that this was never a commercial transaction. From the very first moment this was about giving and receiving, not about selling and exchange.

I ask him, ‘What Is your name?’

‘Pablo, sweet girl,’ he says.

I ask him ‘What is ‘T’la?’

‘”Lovely” and “Sacred”,’ he says. ‘In my language they are the same thing, and you are both to me,’ and I weep afresh.

He helps me to pack my things into a shoulder bag and we leave this building and this way of life, hand in hand. He leads me into the jungle. At first I am afraid. I have never ventured in here. I came by boat up the big river, then up a tributary, the jungle impenetrable on either side, except where there was a tiny village built on stilts, to avoid the floods, and men fishing and women grinding something in a quern.

Pablo leads me through tracks visible, at first, only to him, but after a day’s walking I begin to recognise the broken leaf, the paw-marked patch of mud, which mark the passage of man and beast. We spend our first night together on a platform in a tree. Pablo says that these hides are used by his people to overnight relatively safely when they travel about the jungle. He doesn’t call jungle ‘jungle’ but by a name which he tells me means ‘a shared space’, because his people regard themselves as being allowed to share the jungle by the wild creatures. That night he asks me if he may take me and, of course, I say ‘Yes’. We make love slowly and he pays attention to each part of me before we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

The next day we walk further. He points out to me the spoor of different animals and I am delighted when I begin to recognise them for myself. I ask him why he came to me in the whorehouse. He stops and turns to me.

‘This is a serious topic and we must treat it seriously. Can I wait to tell you when we stop tonight?’ he asks. Of course, I agree. xslot Güncel Giriş

We walk on and I become entranced by Pablo’s knowledge. Also, as I walk in his footsteps I study him: the shape of his head, the movement of his shoulders, the stride of his legs, the taper from great back to narrow hips, the rise and fall of his arm as he uses a machete to cut a way only just adequate for us where the path has been overwhelmed by the jungle, so as to disturb as little as possible. I long to place my lips on every part of him and for him to enter me again and take me as his.

Today we walk further. I realise that he is getting me used to walking by stages and I know that this is another example of his care towards me.

When we stop for the night I say to him, for the first time, ‘I love you.’

He kisses me and says, ‘I love you also.’

He has brought provisions for us both and he supplements them with wild fruit as we go along. After we have eaten he cradles me in his arms and says ‘I have a story to tell you.’

‘In the mythology, as you would call it, of my people, we are the last remnants of those who stayed behind, when the majority of our people travelled north many millennia ago and formed the Mayan civilisation. The hardships encountered on their journey gave rise to their idea of the gods as violent and capricious, requiring human sacrifice to propitiate them. We retain our pastoral vision of the gods as essentially benevolent except for those gods who are entirely uninterested in us.

‘My people believe that there are special people who are able to interpret the wishes of the gods. Usually these people are like you. They are born male but feel themselves to be female and they enjoy sex with men. We regard acts of loving sex as being part of our communication with the divine. Do you remember I looked at your palm? I am a reader of palms and of signs in the earth. In your hand I saw unmistakeably the lines of one who is beloved of the gods and who, if she is cherished, will develop the ability to read the heavens and the winds.’

‘So you are not a miner. How did you know of me?’

‘Many of us come to work in the mines from time to time to earn the money we need to buy those things we cannot make for ourselves. We choose to live separated from the rest of the world, but we are interested in all that happens elsewhere out of curiosity and because it may impact on us. One of our young men visited you during his stint in the mines and he reported that he thought you were one of the special ones. I came to find out if this was true. You are.’

Gently Pablo removes my dress. I am naked. He runs his hands down my thighs. One hand cups my clitie whilst the other fingers my cunt. His tongue enters my mouth. He withdraws long enough to ask, ‘May I cherish you, my princess?’

I say ‘Yes’ by running my hands across his almost hairless chest and taking his nipple into my mouth. I suck on him before descending to his cock and balls. The column is rising and I cup his hairy balls with my hands and lick along the underside of his shaft before taking his glans into my mouth. He gasps and I receive a gift of pre-cum on my tongue. He pushes his cock deep into my throat, pulls back, then returns and I am entranced by his taste, his smell, the texture of this silken rod. Then follows the greater gift of his cum as he shudders and his cock plunges spasms of love juice into me. I suck out the last of his precious sperm. I draw back to look up at him, but how differently from the way I looked at my landlord. This is an exchange of love, freely given and thankfully received, as I had realised after our first love-making in that frowsty room. I truly love this man and I believe that he truly loves me. He is my man. I am his woman. I am cherished and as I look up beyond the canopy of the trees to the stars the face of heaven itself is changed. It becomes a book and I can read it.

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