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Heat of the day brings Heat of the Night.

I stared that butch down. I watched her speak in her fast spanish to her friend about the music selection. She knew what she wanted for her birthday. I put my hands on my thighs and discreetly rubbed the insides of them. I don't know if she saw me rub my thighs, but she got the vibe and sat down next to me. She put her arm around me and touched my back and my side. She whispered that she liked my outfit.

Then her song came on. We had to get up to dance to this Colombian beat for a minute. Oh my god, it's so sexy and she's so sexy! While we were dancing - and she danced with everybody in the room, whether they were up or sitting - she suddenly kissed me. Not long, but right on the lips, nailing it. We danced a couple of more songs. I kept looking down at the dark perky tops showing under her shirt. I imagined my hands feeling them. "C'mon, let's go." She had bragged to her friends earlier that she was taking me home for her birthday. She took me by the hand and snuck me out while the others were dancing.

She led me to an apartment building off of Esplanade. The building was full of South and Central Americans. She thought her Honduran landlord was immigrant friendly and trying to giver her a boost up after arriving to the States. Later she found out that he had a tiny hole above her loft, from which he would watch her ass while she topped all the girls she brought home from the clubs.

The room was a tiny loft above the office in the large, open, dark lobby. It was really a large closet at the top of a stairwell that led to nothing else but a little Colombian lesbian freak party. I'm not kidding, like all night, every night. A full-sized bed in the corner filled most of the room. It was a real bachelorette pad. It smelled of body lotions and bike tires. Art posters covered the walls. Some people feel proud to decorate, no matter how humble the space. She had this amazing spark of life in her, no matter what.

She put on some Madonna and started dancing with me, sexing me up. She took off her shirt, showing her amazing raspberry points. She danced to "Shining Star," telling me that she started the Madonna Fan Club in Colombia. She turned around to get two toothbrushes and washcloth. She loaded our toothbrushes, then took me down through the dark lobby to the tiny communal bathroom, just big enough for the two of us. She stood and danced close to me, rubbing up on me from behind while she washed my face and neck. She took off my shirt and bra. We looked at my light, almost nippless tits in the mirror in front of her raspberries. I watched her feel them up.

She sang something cute in Spanish as she washed my stomach and tits. She began feeling me up from behind. My tits got hard as she rubbed them with the cool washcloth. She washed my back gently. I put down the brush and held up my arms so she could wash under them, then she rubbed my exposed, cold little light-pink tits some more. I watched her in the mirror. She smiled and hummed and took care of business.

She washed my legs under my skirt. She washed and squeezed my butt cheeks. She put down the washcloth, pulled down my panties and put 'em on the sink, looking at me in the mirror the whole time. She ran her hands under the water and brought her fingers to my pussy to wash it out. Her fingers were cold and my pussy was hot. It was slippery to her wet fingers and she slid them right in. Slipping and sliding her fingers in and out of me, wet and slippery. Up and around my wet belly and tits, sliding back down and slipping back in, and moving her other fingers around and around my clitty.

She turned me around with her hands around my hips, fingers going in again from behind and fingers squeezing my tits. Her mouth on mine and her tongue goes in. Fingers and tongues, wet and slippery. "Let's go upstairs," she says, taking my clothes and grabbing her stuff. She led me, almost naked, but for shoes and a skirt, through the dark lobby to the stairs. I could see the light and hear Madonna's voice from the purple neon slit under the door.

Her little room was like a

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