On and on we climbed, finally emerging at the cliff-top, where the crumbling remains of a dazzling white building rose against the cerulean sky. Clara paused to recount the mission's history, then, leaving the group to mill about the sun-baked ruins, she wandered off down a steeply sloping bank. Certain of her intent, I followed after a modest pause. Once, twice, I slipped and fell onto my bottom, finally rounding a vine encrusted stone buttress to discover the tour guide leaning against the shaded foundations of the mission. Almost brusquely, she removed the large silver hoops from her ears and thrust them into the pocket of her shirt. She looked at me with frank challenge.
"Kiss me."
Her black hair was thick and wiry between my burning fingers. I took her head between my hands and slid the tip of my tongue between her lips. Clara murmured into my mouth.
"Don't tease, Jay. You want me, you take me. All of me…"
I kissed her hard and felt her sensuous spirit collide with mine, just as strong, every bit as hungry. Aggressively, she pulled at my thin cotton shirt and a button gave way, skittering off down the precipitous bank. Her hands sought my breasts, wresting them from my sweat-soaked bra. I gasped as her hot wet mouth surrounded one nipple with velvety heat. Clara burned with the kind of visceral, powerful, forceful energy I seldom find in a man, never mind a woman. Closing my eyes, I had the oddest sensation that we were both male and female, conqueror and vanquished rolled into one. Where she began and I ended was unclear. I longed for her to penetrate me like a man and, as if reading my mind, she thrust one hand down my trousers and roughly pushed two fingers into my cunt. I moaned softly and she laughed:
"Don't tell me you want me to be gentle. I don't believe that."
"No… Oh god…"
It was my turn to be pressed up against the warm stone surface and I parted my legs to accommodate Clara's hungry mouth as she knelt before me, her wild hair escaping from its loose ponytail. My trousers were about my ankles, my breasts bared to the midday sun, as I looked up to see the Boner-Drippits glaring down at me from a vantage-point above. Unable to resist the temptation to tease them both, I ground my pussy against my Latin lover's face and threw back my head in ecstasy. I heard two exclamations of disgust and a muttered "bloody unhygienic" before my first orgasm swept through me like a veritable electric shock. It was all I could do not to scream at the top of my lungs. Will and Frippery disappeared from view and Clara stood up, deftly pulling my trousers to my waist. Swiftly, she replaced her earrings and combed her tousled hair with her fingers.
"Time to go. Next time, you take me, not the other way round. You weren't quick enough."
"You make it sound like a game!"
The tour guide only laughed and began to climb the crumbling slope back to the ruined mission and her flock of restless charges. I tried to follow at a discreet distance but my legs appeared to have turned to jelly. Perhaps it was the intense heat of the day or the after-effects of a powerful orgasm but I suddenly felt rather odd. Trembling slightly, I slowly clambered up the bank. It didn't really matter if the group went on without me, as there was but one road up to the mission and we would simply be retracing our steps back down to the beach. Realizing that my problem might be caused by dehydration, I sat down within the cooling shade of a tree and unscrewed the top of my water bottle. At that moment, I overheard the Boner-Drippits having what sounded remarkably like a minor marital tiff. It seemed that the group had begun the descent to the bay, but Frippery and Will lingered on in the sun-drenched ruins. For some inexplicable reason I began to feel almost afraid. Frippery's voice sounded high and self-righteous, magnified by the remains of the mission walls.
"No, I don't know what happened to it, Will. Perhaps that nathty thpider ate it. Don't be tho suthpithush! What would I do with your voodoo doll?"
"Well, if you haven't touched it, who did? There were no signs of a break in."
Frippery laughed, a callous, mocking crow:
"Maybe Raoul came back from the dead and thtole it. I don't know, Will. But thith much I will say. I'd like to make a model of that Jay to match the one of my wretched ex-huthband. Filthy little thlut."
A surge of indignation rallied my weary body as I heard Will murmur in assent. I remembered the hurt of his violent rejection of my womanly juices, my feminine essence. The man had actually recoiled in unconcealed disgust. Then and there, I vowed to dunk him in a veritable bath of girlie love juice. Retribution would be mine. Gritting my teeth in determination, I resumed my scramble up the bank. I didn't care if they saw me. I was angry enough to give them both a swift right hook on the chin. Rounding a crumbling wall, I stopped dead in my tracks. The Boner-Drippits were stark naked in the midday heat.
Good heavens!
It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. Silently, I drew back behind the mission wall and tiptoed to a narrow, vine-draped window, which formed a perfect vantage-point. Peering through a small gap in the greenery, I watched Boner and Frip lay out what appeared to be some form of voodoo shrine. It seemed that Will had brought Yorrick along in his backpack and he reverently placed the skull in the center of a circle of black candles.
"I hope you remembered the matches."
I hope you applied lots of sunscreen!
Frippery rummaged in the backpack, then looked up at Boner in dismay.
"Oh dear!"
My former partner glared at his hapless wife and I stifled a giggle. This was getting better and better! I wondered if he'd resort to the Boy Scout trick of rubbing a couple of sticks together. Will was furious, his face rather red above the pallor of his body. Of course, he would be very careful about exposing himself to the sun and was doubtlessly slathered in Factor 45. Suddenly, he stomped over to a nearby tree and broke off a long limber twig.
"That's it, Frip. I've had about enough of your disorganization. Bend over. I'm going to switch your bare bottom."
Frippery snorted and drew herself up to her full height, which was basically the same as her husband's.
"Over my dead body, you will! If I've told you onthce, Will, I've told you a thouthand times, I'm jutht not that type of female. In fact, if there's any thwitching going to happen, it'll be your backthide, not mine."
Boner bristled and brandished the twig like a riding crop. So, there was a bit of a power imbalance at work in the Boner-Drippit marriage. Actually, it looked as if "imbalance" was the understatement of the century. Frippery's apparent public compliance with her husband's many edicts seemed to be merely window dressing. I watched, enthralled, as Harry's ex marched over to the same tree and selected her own green twig. Twigs at noon in the old mission ruin.
"Bend over, Will! I know you like it. After all, it'th not ath if it'th the firtht time!"
A steady spray of spittle issued from Frippery's mouth. She was getting quite put out. Boner stood his ground, slowly tapping his twig against the palm of one hand. They both looked very thin and very white, like a pair of dueling tapeworms. I listened intently as my ex went through a familiar speech.
"I admit I enjoy the occasional bottom warming. And why not? A man can still be manly when he lies across a woman's knees."