by Kimberly Taylor

John Anthony…oh, my god was he sexy! A half-Black, half Mexican stud. He stood average height, but towered over my petite frame. Just the sight of him made me weak in the knees and fluttery between the legs. His skin was like a convergence of honey and caramel. He smelled like exotic oils and danger.

John Anthony Salazar. God’s gift to women. I knew that if I snagged him, he would take my virginal world and set it ablaze. The heavens would shudder and celestial tears of glory would rain down on us as we consummated our love. Okay…maybe our lust. After all, I was a nineteen year-old virgin…what do you expect? I had to have high aspirations. I just knew that our seismic love play would make the world a better place.

From the start, I was a sexually aware young girl. Every Thursday I would lay on my bed with my head in my hands, drooling over Captain Kirk in his tight yellow uniform shirt, neat back pants, and sharp boots. Mrs. Captain James Tiberius Kirk…that sounded so right! Sometimes I would even pretend I was Lt. Uhura, batting two-inch long eyelashes, craned on the edge of my chair, waiting for the command from my superior…”Yes, Captain, what can I do for you?”

So it was no surprise that this brown-skinned Latin lover, this striking Rico Suave would soon belong to me. When I first saw him I was a freshman in college. I had been writing since I could lift a pencil, so English as a major was a natural selection for me. I was very naïve, but very willing to be his conquest. Being unskilled in lovemaking, I fantasized a lot. A lot!

Until I could muster up the courage to approach him in the neighborhood (the corner store was where I often stalked…excuse me, watched him) I would often put my fledging writing to work by penning tantalizing short stories or messages to John Anthony. Naughty Notes are what I called them. Five turned into fifteen, and so on and so on and so on:

Naughty Note # 12
He opened the door to find her standing there in a black leather knee-length coat and red stiletto heels. Staring deep into his dark eyes, she stepped up closer and into the door towards him. He stood there in only pajama bottoms and bare feet.

Standing just an inch from him and coming to a height just under his chin, she tilted her lips up towards his, opened her coat to reveal her red lace bra and panties, and pressed her warm, brown skin against his.

She said nothing, but he could feel her breath on his lips. It smelled like fresh cherries. As she pursed her lips to speak, he gently grasped her neck, pulled her to him, and began tasting her lips. She tasted like cherries as well. He began sucking on her thick lips so hard that she felt he might consume her. With one hand, he ripped off her panties. She pressed closer to him in pleasure. As she moaned in ecstasy, she glanced behind her and noticed the door still ajar. As she pushed the door closed, she caught sight of one of his male neighbors passing by. Coyly, she pulled away from his kiss, smiled naughtily at his envious neighbor, and slammed the door.

Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her to him and in a Fred and Ginger type move guided her to the nearby love seat. Quickly, she pushed him down and straddled him. With one hand, she threw off the coat and they began making sweet love.

Naughty Note #18
Sitting in the steaming hot club with tendrils of smoke circling around him, he desperately searched the room. “Where is she?” he thought to himself.

Across the room, the dance floor pulsed. It was mixture of gyrating bodies, syncing up in fast and slow rhythmic motions. The music sounded desperate, yet inviting. Up and down, the cascading wave of bodies became one. In the tumultuous volley of lights he caught sight of a sweat -lined thigh. Next, he viewed a beautiful woman’s cleavage glistening under a lavender spotlight. Eerily, the hues cast aberrant shadows across the floor turning the club-goers into what seemed like a huge seamless mass. In that small space he noticed red lips against flesh, craning necks searching for hungry lips, and mouths spouting fresh chains of smoke. In this soul-train like affair, the passengers were dripping salty-sweetness from their brows.

“Ugh…” he sighed and looked to towards the door. That‘s when he saw her. His heartbeat sped up as he stared at her. She was wearing a crimson, halter dress that stopped mid-thigh. She was beautiful in the changing light. Her long hair was the same caramel color as her skin. Her eyes were large and dark, but as the light met them, they sparkled. Her dress showed the curvature of her thighs. He felt the hardness creeping up between his legs.

She caught sight of him, smiled, and walked towards him swinging her hips gently from side-to-side. Several men stopped to look. Two men who had been dancing with their partners paused on the dance floor. The lights accented the highlights in her hair, which swayed across her back as she neared him.

Instead of stopping, she walked past him towards the back lounge area. He jumped up and followed her into the dark secluded hallway adjacent to the restrooms. As he approached, she grabbed him and pulled him close to her, throwing them both against the wall. Planting her lips on his, she gently reached down to his belt and unbuckled it so fast that he didn’t realize that she had hold of him. As she worked on him with authority, he pressed his lips down harder on hers and sucked on her tongue. She moaned in pleasure. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He pushed his hand under her dress and ripped off her panties. They were red as he had expected. Bracing himself, he grabbed her thighs and picked her up. She gasped in pleasure and held on tight. Turning his head to the left, he caught glimpses of the dance floor and the unaware partiers. Her nails dug into his shoulders. He gave one final shuddering thrust and his grip loosened and he could feel her warm breath tickling his ear.

Naughty Note # 27
I was thinking about you last night, wondering what it would be like to kiss those pink, perfect lips. Due to my family and expectations, I am far more reserved in front of others. Being with you I know I could break out and be me. Adventurous. Naughty. Riskier than normal. You make my heart race. I keep thinking about kissing you and sucking on your tongue.

Those were my musings for and about John Anthony and eventually, I made my move. As I said previously, I was a clean-cut school girl with a dirty, expectant mind. Yet, even at the tender age of nineteen, I was crafty and manipulative. I knew that it would only take a matter of time and a few micro mini skirts to bring him into my lair.

After three weeks, he was mine. We went everywhere together: concerts, movies, the pool hall, the swimming pool. But my new Latin love was elusive. He never wanted to talk of his past. That was fine, because each day I fell more and more in love with his dark, brooding side. He was an undercover bad boy. Little did I know how bad he actually was!

Finally, the big day arrived. I had not planned it as I had so meticulously planned the apprehension of John Anthony’s heart and soul. It just kind of happened and the day had been perfect. We went to the local botanical gardens and the place was stunning! We packed a lunch and walked into a huge, colorful courtyard. Directly in front of us was a huge fountain that was the length of an Olympic sized swimming pool, but could have been no more than two feet deep. ‘What are these things called?’ I remember thinking to myself when I laid eyes on it. It was like a fountain you’d expect to see within the walls of Versailles. The pool actually flowed into the botanical building. The building was short and cylindrical, with a huge dome in the middle. The architecture no doubt was Roman.

I had to explain to John Anthony that Roman designers borrowed their style from the Etruscans and the Greeks and that many architects working in the city during the late Republic and early Roman Empire were Greek or of Greek descent. The botanical center made use of those Greek architectural orders often used to decorate the exteriors of the buildings. From our vantage point, we could admire the Ionic and Corinthian columns as well as the marble inlays and three -dimensional bodies sculpted weightlessly into the structure.

“You have good taste,’ John Anthony told me as he chuckled and kissed me.

I smiled and was proud of myself since I had impressed him with a few weeks worth of Cultural Arts 101. Glad I studied!

We people-watched for a bit and then the rain started. People began to run and we watched them making their escape. They fled like ants being pelted with water balloons. As they fled, we turned back to each other and resumed kissing.

We arrived home as the sun was coming back out, but setting in a golden hue. We were wet, yet on fire. No one was at my house and at that point, I felt IT was going to happen!

"Get ready for the fireworks, Kimber!” I thought to myself.

John Anthony had that look in his eyes. You know; that deep, dark, sensual look. I was so excited; I don’t know how I kept myself from jumping up and down and clapping my hands together. Looking back in hindsight, that would have been really embarrassing. The point is that I was ready. With a man this hot and handsome, there had to be something monumental waiting for me beneath that zipper. I was like a kid waiting for the Candy man to hand over a huge lollipop. The kind that’s as big as your head with the hypnotizing swirls.

In my mind I was repeating, “Yes, yes, yes…here come the fireworks!”

I was so ready for fireworks and mad passion just like in the movies. I even expected to hear bells and whistles. I had high expectations. It would be magical. My only fear was that he’d be so large that I would not be able to do the deed.

Five minutes later, not only was I not scared about size, I was actually pissed off. There were no bells, no whistles, no magic, and the passion was not even close to my expectations. In fact, if Marilyn Manson and Arnold Schwarzenegger were bosom buddies, their passion for each other would have been about equal to.

After I received “the look” from John Anthony, he had swooped me into his arms and carried me to my twin bed. Tight fit. The moment was right. The lighting was perfect. He laid me down, climbed on top of me, cradled me in his arms, and kissed me deeply. I inhaled and tossed my head back expectantly.

“Yippee!!!!” I was screaming in my head, “Beam me up, Scotty! I’m going to heaven!”

And then I felt a small bit of pressure, heard a few grunts, and my Latin stud collapsed on my chest and rolled to the side, almost falling off the twin bed. At that point, I wish he had.

“What just happened?” I thought to myself.

I was utterly confused. The insides of my thighs were wet, but there had been no stirring in my loins.

“Did I miss it? Was this the way all sex was going to be? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

I looked over at my love and he was beaming with pride. I looked further down to see the miniscule penis between his legs, which had single-handedly dashed my girlhood dreams. And I was mad. Not angry, anger was for lucid people, I was mad.

You’ve got to be kidding me! Kept echoing in my head.

Needless to say, John Anthony and I didn’t make it too far past that day. I found out a week later that he was a fugitive from the law. He had been under surveillance and San Antonio SWAT and the Federal Government had tracked him down. One evening they cornered him in his house like a dog and pulled him kicking and screaming from behind the washing machine.

He was on the run for participating in a robbery that left one man dead.

And this was the gem I hand-picked to deflower me.

You’ve got to be kidding me!