PEDRO
AND CONSUELA
This Is A Fictional
Short Story Of The Successful Meeting Of Two People Who Are Loving And
Sharing. It Would Make A Good Operetta
Or Madrigal Sung To The Music Of Joachim Rodrigo’s Guitar Concertos Such As
“Fantasia Para Gentilhomme.”
By Izzy Ess Of Happiness
Pyotr Vladimir
O’Bramovitch wrote blogs and was sometimes censored by his government because
of sexuality. Born in St. Petersburg in
Russia, he lived in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and had published poetry
extensively in collections that sold modestly.
So, he found out how to publish in the USA by using a popular website,
Blogger®, built by Google® of the USA. There, he met no real resistance to his blogs
which often centred on those three big categories that all of us had learned to
never openly discuss in mixed company, religion, politics and sex. Of course these are the most interesting of
the subjects to discuss, he found, with kith and kin and passing strangers and
with women, eh? Pyotr had long ago
turned off the criticisms of his kin.
His first wife had remarked that she expected him to be struck down by
lightning! Perhaps it just was wishful
thinking on her part since she was planning a divorce as soon as he was making
enough money for it to be advantageous to her.
His second marriage only lasted six months before his wife ran off with
a younger, richer man. Senor
O’Bramovitch taught English as a second language to the mainly Spanish-speaking
students at a local Catholic, all girls, Concepcion Inmaculado Junior college, in
the centre of the Capital.
Pyotr, renamed Pedro by
his students, ogled all the nubile quite young women that attended his small
classes at the College. The women noticed
his attention to their features, especially their breasts, and they dressed
appropriately so that he would gaze at them quite hungrily. A lot of them wore see-through blouses or
very tight, bright sweaters. They would
smile so knowingly when he would stutter or forget his Spanish when he spotted
something startling, like a tiny hardened nipple peeking out between the
threads of yarn on a loosely knit tight sweater. Consuela Martinez wore such a sweater that
she herself had knitted just especially for her handsome Pedro. Consuela also wore the shortest skirts in
class without a stitch of underwear. She
would sit in the front row and spread her thighs to give her Pedro a quite
clear view of her natural black bush of pubic hair as well as both her lower lips
and upper, inner thighs. Her class-mates
did applaud her bravery, and were secretly just mostly envious.
Consuela was a little
older than the others as she had taken a two year break in schooling to take
care of her sick father when he had a massive heart attack when he was having
oral sex with her. Consuela loved her
father dearly and had learned from him the father-daughter customs that were
customary in her family. Her mother was
quite passive and she had learned about her sexuality from Consuela’s ancient
grandfather who was still alive, and had come to Connie for some oral sex when
Consuela’s father passed away.
Consuela’s mother was relieved of her responsibilities and expressed her
thanks to her own loving daughter.
Connie was extremely bright and excelled in academics at her all-girl
Catholic schools whose teachers were mainly the nuns of a convent which had
built the college she was now attending.
When Connie was a
twelve year old, a young priest had taken her for his confessing angel and had
arranged to have her come to his own chambers for private Catechism lessons and
a special confession every weekday afternoon.
Monsignor Juan da Franco was quite handsome and looked like her own father. He would lift his robe and asked her to
confess while on her knees and underneath his robe. She understood her duty to her Holy Father
who possessed a manhood that she could feel was quite substantial, much bigger
than her father’s and her grandfather’s and her older brother’s, Jorje and her
Jesus. She liked his bag of balls, and
fondled them while she took Monsignor Juan da Franco’s huge, hard, throbbing
masthead deep within her throat.
Consuela felt quite blessed and internally anointed by the huge amount
of semen that she swallowed hungrily. It
moistened her young honeypot and she lay supine upon the floor and offered it
to Holy Father’s new erection for some special blessing. He complied and straddled her young shapely
hips. Consuela, still beneath
Monsignor’s robe, lifted up her private parts to make her lubricated honeypot
easily, though snugly, receive the inner blessing and anointment he delivered
religiously with, “Dios! Dios!” on his
lips. Connie saw the stars and singing
Angels as she did experience the Kingdom of His Heaven, here on Earth! The weekday afternoon confessions ceased when
Connie graduated from her elementary classes and as Valedictorian had one last
blessing from her handsome Holy Father, Juan da Franco, still wearing her new
graduation robe with nothing underneath.
The ancient priest,
receiving the young high school level student’s cool confessions, was too old
to think of sex, apparently. One young
teaching nun, in grade XII, did like to exchange fondling after classes. Consuela found it only mildly stimulating as
they rubbed each other’s nipples and each other’s private parts. She missed her own loving father and her
former Holy Father, Juan da Franco. She
excelled again in all her subjects and was again Valedictorian and wore her
graduation gown with nothing underneath.
Connie liked her Pedro
from the start. She wanted him to make
his move before she did make hers. She
knew that her shenanigans were having an effect. She yearned to consummate the strong attraction
that was obviously there. She scored so
highly in his classes and perhaps that was inhibiting the handsome teacher, but
she decided he was gun-shy, presuming his experience with women had been quite
unsatisfactory, up to this date. She
wanted badly to change his attitude.
Finally, he asked if she would stay right after his last class and
discuss her future as a writer. He had
already indicated that she was quite talented and felt she should attempt to
publish her great poetry as soon as possible.
She received an A+ grade for the sonnette she had written just last
week:
“I yearn to drive you
to distraction, my
Dear Pedro. You are like a sports car, sleek
And strong. I want to settle my turned on
Posterior in your
expensive leather
Bucket seat and feel
your strength surge through
My body from my toes to
nose. I want
To grab the knob of
your slick gear shift and
Manipulate your gears and
feel the charge
Of your great energy,
as you accelerate.
I want to deeply
lubricate your rod.
I yearn to feel your
pumping steadily.
I want to feel the
plunge of your thick piston
As it thrusts and then
withdraws in beats
That match my own. I want to hear your Keats!”
Our Pedro was obviously
nervous as he sat as his big desk reviewing her essays and her poetry, her
short stories and her clever short novellas.
She was really talented, he remarked to himself. Her descriptive prose was excellent and
deserved the high marks that she received.
Consuela stood beside him, reading over his shoulder and put her hot
hand on his biceps as a friendly gesture.
She didn’t want to scare him, she thought. She was wearing no underwear underneath her
see-through blouse and extremely short, homemade, pleated mini-skirt of Black
Watch woollen tartan. She had open
sandals on her pretty feet. He and she
both noticed that his groin was bulging and started throbbing. Consuela made her move. “Is there something I can do for your
reaction to my writing? You are reading
my short story of a man who loves his daughter and wants to educate her about
what would please a man. May I please
you?” Pedro looked directly at her big
brown eyes and tried to speak but was really tongue-tied and stuttering.
Consuela put her finger
up to her lips to indicate that words were not necessary. She reached down to his fly and did unzip it
to release a masthead that was flushed and throbbing. She thought it was magnificent. She kneeled between his knees and took his
masthead right into her luscious mouth and let it slide down into her waiting
throat. Pedro let his semen fly as he
grunted and then suppressed a squeal.
Consuela gulped the semen hungrily while tonguing his manhood
expertly. He put his hands on her
shoulders and pulled her head into his groin.
She moaned and felt her honeypot begin to lubricate profusely. She stood and pushed her breasts into his
face. He tore her blouse with his teeth
and took her nipple and her breast into his mouth and licked the nipple until
it was extremely hard. Consuela’s juices
started running down her shapely thighs.
She turned and pointed her quite gorgeous derriere directly at his
renewing manhood. She sat and let it
slide right into her own juicy honeypot.
She started having waves of wonderful feelings and started having spasms
of her honeypot. Pedro started pumping
with an accelerating vigour. He exploded
once again and screamed with delight.
Connie squealed and felt the waves of pleasure taking strong control of
her body.
When they disengaged,
they cleared the desk and undressed completely.
Pedro lay supine upon his desk, his masthead pointing, throbbing in the
air. Connie straddled him and mounted
her great Pedro, front to front. He massaged
her breasts with both his hands and murmured, “You are wonderful, my darling
Connie! I have your key to happiness
prepared. Please, darling, put your lock
around it tightly and we shall reach Nirvana, once again!” She complied and they did reach Nirvana once
again and many times again that night.
And, they reached
Nirvana and beyond so many times, forever after. Pedro moved all his belongings into the
ancient Casa Martinez. Monsignor Juan da
Franco married them in the sexiest ceremony ever done in Argentina. Connie’s mother was delighted and she loved
the manhood of her new son-in-law and was stimulated to do oral sex with Pedro
as often as she could. She even tried
her honeypot, again, for the first time in a long time. Connie was delighted at her mother’s sexy
renaissance, thereby. Her grandfather
was delighted to have Connie and her mother back, available again for oral sex
and any sex he might desire. Jorje and
Jesus were also happy to be able to have social and sexual intercourse with
their sister, once again. They also did
admire the grand equipment that Pedro did display and often brought their
girlfriends home to try it on, or in, for size.
Some girlfriends also liked to fondle Connie who was wont to just
reciprocate.
In the evenings,
frequently, Consuela and her Pedro did do readings of their prose and
poetry. One such sonnette was composed
by both of them:
“Two star-crossed
living lovers, not our Romeo
And Juliette, but our
grander
Pedro and our quite
statuesque Consuela,
Who did share their
love with everyone
At Casa Martinez. Our kith and kin
And strangers, all are
welcome, eh? From Timbuktu
To Xanadu, from
Mandalay
To Hudson’s Bay, from
Tokyo to Toronto,
From Argentina to the
Dardanelles,
There is no finer
Kingdom of Nirvana
Here on Earth. When Pedro and Consuela
Do make love, the
Angels play their harps
Above the Upper
Firmament, with larks,
And children play so
happily in parks.”
Our Pedro and Consuela
published most of what they wrote on Google’s Blogger, eh? It was highly successful and increased its
readership exponentially.
AMEN
AND HALLELUJAH!
THE
END
© izzy sommers, md
Welland, Canada
December 18th 2013
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