TEN: The Panama Chronicles:
He wore a finely tailored business suit, to match his very tasteful and expensive shoes. His was lean – not skinny – I guessed his height to be about 5'9'. I knew he
was older because he had traces of gray hair – I would learn later during our engaging conversation that he was 14 years older than me. Behind thin framed glasses were his dancing eyes. When he looked at me – I felt like
I was naked. There was one other thing about him ...
the accent! The absolutely seductive and sexy accent. At times; his accent was very thick – I had to pay attention
to understand what he said.
Who is this and where is he from? He reminded me of the men I met in Mexico. I was drawn to his swagger; he wore his confidence like a surgeon's glove – his posture, his presence – strong and sure of himself. It was not an act; it was who he was.
"Hello."
I replied with my little girl smile. I didn't realize that was a turn on for him.
"Where are you from?" I asked curiously.
"Guess."
"I am not sure; I can't pick up on the accent."
"I'm from Panama, have you ever been?"
"No"
"Have you ever met a Panamanian man?"
***
The next day to my surprise and delight Panama called me at work.
"I coming to kidnap you," Panama said.
"What?"
"I want to see you," he was straight to the point.
This time of year; the sunset late – close to 9pm. The sun was slowly going down as the street lights were jumping to life. I've always liked watching the street lights come on. Each one methodically taking its' turn to come on. Later in our relationship; Panama would tell me that driving near a streetlight when it came on was some type of omen. That it meant something for the person. I always thought it was just how the lights were timed.
For about 10 minutes we drove in silence – complete silence – no talking or radio. Panama's facial expression stern and intent. I didn't speak, shit but I wanted to know "where the hell are we going to now."
Noticing that we were on Route 1, I finally spoke...
"Where are we going?"
"You are still being kidnapped; you'll see," was his only reply.
I turned and looked out of the window. Route 1 reminded me of movies about truckers and serial killers;
it had the appearance of an abandoned small town. We passed several small businesses – a few liquor stores, shabby looking restaurants that I wouldn't drink a glass of water from and a motorcycle club. About 20 minutes later we arrived at the Terrace ... MOTEL!
Now something inside of me should have mustered up enough courage to say, "Take me the fuck home now!" but instead I said nothing – maybe I was curious – hell I didn't want to leave him; I was definitely attracted to him; no denying it. I was drawn to him and yet I didn't know why because I didn't know him.
Conveniently, the Terrace Motel had a drive up check-in window. (Yep, I said drive up window). I think the room cost something like $33 for three hours. I watched him as he paid the motel attendant; an old man who barely looked at us; who was used to hookers and deadbeats checking in all night. I thought to myself; "you have got to be kidding me; YOU want to screw, but you think you can bring me to a fucking hooker motel!"
***
"Where are we going?"
"You are still being kidnapped; you'll see," was his only reply. About 20 minutes later we arrived at the Terrace ... MOTEL!
"Why did you, bring me here?"
"I brought you here to be alone with you."
"Someone is there?" I said repeating his words. "Why didn't you tell me before now? Are you married?"
My head was spinning. I had experience with men but not this type of man. Red flags were hanging from the ceilings, but I ignored them – all of them!
Panama walked over to me and extended his hand. I took it; he motioned for me to stand. He leaned into me and kissed me softly on my lips. "You are so pretty and black. I am jealous of this beautiful black skin." His accent was overpowering. "You are everything I want," he whispered in my ear before kissing me on my neck. He pulled me closer; our bodies touching. "I want you."
The room was spinning fast as I floated out of my body to watch the scene from the ceiling. What was going on? This was all too fast my inside voice screamed. "Say no, DON'T, DO IT!" I was frozen – I could only react to his voice, his touch and his words. "Princess, I can have you?" he asked more like a statement than a question. As he sucked he removed my shorts, my underwear and then my shirt – so fast that I was naked before I had a chance to protest. It was no stopping this now! He placed his hands between my legs pushing them open. "Open up for me Princess." I opened my legs wider to allow him in. He first began to caress my vagina then he stuck his middle finger into me. His finger went into easily – I was like Niagara Falls. "Who were you expecting? He said gazing at me. "Aren't you going to turn off the lights?" I asked sounding like a 16-year-old girl. "Nope" he said quickly. I watched as he took off his underwear. DAMN
1129603677
was older because he had traces of gray hair – I would learn later during our engaging conversation that he was 14 years older than me. Behind thin framed glasses were his dancing eyes. When he looked at me – I felt like
I was naked. There was one other thing about him ...
the accent! The absolutely seductive and sexy accent. At times; his accent was very thick – I had to pay attention
to understand what he said.
Who is this and where is he from? He reminded me of the men I met in Mexico. I was drawn to his swagger; he wore his confidence like a surgeon's glove – his posture, his presence – strong and sure of himself. It was not an act; it was who he was.
"Hello."
I replied with my little girl smile. I didn't realize that was a turn on for him.
"Where are you from?" I asked curiously.
"Guess."
"I am not sure; I can't pick up on the accent."
"I'm from Panama, have you ever been?"
"No"
"Have you ever met a Panamanian man?"
***
The next day to my surprise and delight Panama called me at work.
"I coming to kidnap you," Panama said.
"What?"
"I want to see you," he was straight to the point.
This time of year; the sunset late – close to 9pm. The sun was slowly going down as the street lights were jumping to life. I've always liked watching the street lights come on. Each one methodically taking its' turn to come on. Later in our relationship; Panama would tell me that driving near a streetlight when it came on was some type of omen. That it meant something for the person. I always thought it was just how the lights were timed.
For about 10 minutes we drove in silence – complete silence – no talking or radio. Panama's facial expression stern and intent. I didn't speak, shit but I wanted to know "where the hell are we going to now."
Noticing that we were on Route 1, I finally spoke...
"Where are we going?"
"You are still being kidnapped; you'll see," was his only reply.
I turned and looked out of the window. Route 1 reminded me of movies about truckers and serial killers;
it had the appearance of an abandoned small town. We passed several small businesses – a few liquor stores, shabby looking restaurants that I wouldn't drink a glass of water from and a motorcycle club. About 20 minutes later we arrived at the Terrace ... MOTEL!
Now something inside of me should have mustered up enough courage to say, "Take me the fuck home now!" but instead I said nothing – maybe I was curious – hell I didn't want to leave him; I was definitely attracted to him; no denying it. I was drawn to him and yet I didn't know why because I didn't know him.
Conveniently, the Terrace Motel had a drive up check-in window. (Yep, I said drive up window). I think the room cost something like $33 for three hours. I watched him as he paid the motel attendant; an old man who barely looked at us; who was used to hookers and deadbeats checking in all night. I thought to myself; "you have got to be kidding me; YOU want to screw, but you think you can bring me to a fucking hooker motel!"
***
"Where are we going?"
"You are still being kidnapped; you'll see," was his only reply. About 20 minutes later we arrived at the Terrace ... MOTEL!
"Why did you, bring me here?"
"I brought you here to be alone with you."
"Someone is there?" I said repeating his words. "Why didn't you tell me before now? Are you married?"
My head was spinning. I had experience with men but not this type of man. Red flags were hanging from the ceilings, but I ignored them – all of them!
Panama walked over to me and extended his hand. I took it; he motioned for me to stand. He leaned into me and kissed me softly on my lips. "You are so pretty and black. I am jealous of this beautiful black skin." His accent was overpowering. "You are everything I want," he whispered in my ear before kissing me on my neck. He pulled me closer; our bodies touching. "I want you."
The room was spinning fast as I floated out of my body to watch the scene from the ceiling. What was going on? This was all too fast my inside voice screamed. "Say no, DON'T, DO IT!" I was frozen – I could only react to his voice, his touch and his words. "Princess, I can have you?" he asked more like a statement than a question. As he sucked he removed my shorts, my underwear and then my shirt – so fast that I was naked before I had a chance to protest. It was no stopping this now! He placed his hands between my legs pushing them open. "Open up for me Princess." I opened my legs wider to allow him in. He first began to caress my vagina then he stuck his middle finger into me. His finger went into easily – I was like Niagara Falls. "Who were you expecting? He said gazing at me. "Aren't you going to turn off the lights?" I asked sounding like a 16-year-old girl. "Nope" he said quickly. I watched as he took off his underwear. DAMN
TEN: The Panama Chronicles:
He wore a finely tailored business suit, to match his very tasteful and expensive shoes. His was lean – not skinny – I guessed his height to be about 5'9'. I knew he
was older because he had traces of gray hair – I would learn later during our engaging conversation that he was 14 years older than me. Behind thin framed glasses were his dancing eyes. When he looked at me – I felt like
I was naked. There was one other thing about him ...
the accent! The absolutely seductive and sexy accent. At times; his accent was very thick – I had to pay attention
to understand what he said.
Who is this and where is he from? He reminded me of the men I met in Mexico. I was drawn to his swagger; he wore his confidence like a surgeon's glove – his posture, his presence – strong and sure of himself. It was not an act; it was who he was.
"Hello."
I replied with my little girl smile. I didn't realize that was a turn on for him.
"Where are you from?" I asked curiously.
"Guess."
"I am not sure; I can't pick up on the accent."
"I'm from Panama, have you ever been?"
"No"
"Have you ever met a Panamanian man?"
***
The next day to my surprise and delight Panama called me at work.
"I coming to kidnap you," Panama said.
"What?"
"I want to see you," he was straight to the point.
This time of year; the sunset late – close to 9pm. The sun was slowly going down as the street lights were jumping to life. I've always liked watching the street lights come on. Each one methodically taking its' turn to come on. Later in our relationship; Panama would tell me that driving near a streetlight when it came on was some type of omen. That it meant something for the person. I always thought it was just how the lights were timed.
For about 10 minutes we drove in silence – complete silence – no talking or radio. Panama's facial expression stern and intent. I didn't speak, shit but I wanted to know "where the hell are we going to now."
Noticing that we were on Route 1, I finally spoke...
"Where are we going?"
"You are still being kidnapped; you'll see," was his only reply.
I turned and looked out of the window. Route 1 reminded me of movies about truckers and serial killers;
it had the appearance of an abandoned small town. We passed several small businesses – a few liquor stores, shabby looking restaurants that I wouldn't drink a glass of water from and a motorcycle club. About 20 minutes later we arrived at the Terrace ... MOTEL!
Now something inside of me should have mustered up enough courage to say, "Take me the fuck home now!" but instead I said nothing – maybe I was curious – hell I didn't want to leave him; I was definitely attracted to him; no denying it. I was drawn to him and yet I didn't know why because I didn't know him.
Conveniently, the Terrace Motel had a drive up check-in window. (Yep, I said drive up window). I think the room cost something like $33 for three hours. I watched him as he paid the motel attendant; an old man who barely looked at us; who was used to hookers and deadbeats checking in all night. I thought to myself; "you have got to be kidding me; YOU want to screw, but you think you can bring me to a fucking hooker motel!"
***
"Where are we going?"
"You are still being kidnapped; you'll see," was his only reply. About 20 minutes later we arrived at the Terrace ... MOTEL!
"Why did you, bring me here?"
"I brought you here to be alone with you."
"Someone is there?" I said repeating his words. "Why didn't you tell me before now? Are you married?"
My head was spinning. I had experience with men but not this type of man. Red flags were hanging from the ceilings, but I ignored them – all of them!
Panama walked over to me and extended his hand. I took it; he motioned for me to stand. He leaned into me and kissed me softly on my lips. "You are so pretty and black. I am jealous of this beautiful black skin." His accent was overpowering. "You are everything I want," he whispered in my ear before kissing me on my neck. He pulled me closer; our bodies touching. "I want you."
The room was spinning fast as I floated out of my body to watch the scene from the ceiling. What was going on? This was all too fast my inside voice screamed. "Say no, DON'T, DO IT!" I was frozen – I could only react to his voice, his touch and his words. "Princess, I can have you?" he asked more like a statement than a question. As he sucked he removed my shorts, my underwear and then my shirt – so fast that I was naked before I had a chance to protest. It was no stopping this now! He placed his hands between my legs pushing them open. "Open up for me Princess." I opened my legs wider to allow him in. He first began to caress my vagina then he stuck his middle finger into me. His finger went into easily – I was like Niagara Falls. "Who were you expecting? He said gazing at me. "Aren't you going to turn off the lights?" I asked sounding like a 16-year-old girl. "Nope" he said quickly. I watched as he took off his underwear. DAMN
was older because he had traces of gray hair – I would learn later during our engaging conversation that he was 14 years older than me. Behind thin framed glasses were his dancing eyes. When he looked at me – I felt like
I was naked. There was one other thing about him ...
the accent! The absolutely seductive and sexy accent. At times; his accent was very thick – I had to pay attention
to understand what he said.
Who is this and where is he from? He reminded me of the men I met in Mexico. I was drawn to his swagger; he wore his confidence like a surgeon's glove – his posture, his presence – strong and sure of himself. It was not an act; it was who he was.
"Hello."
I replied with my little girl smile. I didn't realize that was a turn on for him.
"Where are you from?" I asked curiously.
"Guess."
"I am not sure; I can't pick up on the accent."
"I'm from Panama, have you ever been?"
"No"
"Have you ever met a Panamanian man?"
***
The next day to my surprise and delight Panama called me at work.
"I coming to kidnap you," Panama said.
"What?"
"I want to see you," he was straight to the point.
This time of year; the sunset late – close to 9pm. The sun was slowly going down as the street lights were jumping to life. I've always liked watching the street lights come on. Each one methodically taking its' turn to come on. Later in our relationship; Panama would tell me that driving near a streetlight when it came on was some type of omen. That it meant something for the person. I always thought it was just how the lights were timed.
For about 10 minutes we drove in silence – complete silence – no talking or radio. Panama's facial expression stern and intent. I didn't speak, shit but I wanted to know "where the hell are we going to now."
Noticing that we were on Route 1, I finally spoke...
"Where are we going?"
"You are still being kidnapped; you'll see," was his only reply.
I turned and looked out of the window. Route 1 reminded me of movies about truckers and serial killers;
it had the appearance of an abandoned small town. We passed several small businesses – a few liquor stores, shabby looking restaurants that I wouldn't drink a glass of water from and a motorcycle club. About 20 minutes later we arrived at the Terrace ... MOTEL!
Now something inside of me should have mustered up enough courage to say, "Take me the fuck home now!" but instead I said nothing – maybe I was curious – hell I didn't want to leave him; I was definitely attracted to him; no denying it. I was drawn to him and yet I didn't know why because I didn't know him.
Conveniently, the Terrace Motel had a drive up check-in window. (Yep, I said drive up window). I think the room cost something like $33 for three hours. I watched him as he paid the motel attendant; an old man who barely looked at us; who was used to hookers and deadbeats checking in all night. I thought to myself; "you have got to be kidding me; YOU want to screw, but you think you can bring me to a fucking hooker motel!"
***
"Where are we going?"
"You are still being kidnapped; you'll see," was his only reply. About 20 minutes later we arrived at the Terrace ... MOTEL!
"Why did you, bring me here?"
"I brought you here to be alone with you."
"Someone is there?" I said repeating his words. "Why didn't you tell me before now? Are you married?"
My head was spinning. I had experience with men but not this type of man. Red flags were hanging from the ceilings, but I ignored them – all of them!
Panama walked over to me and extended his hand. I took it; he motioned for me to stand. He leaned into me and kissed me softly on my lips. "You are so pretty and black. I am jealous of this beautiful black skin." His accent was overpowering. "You are everything I want," he whispered in my ear before kissing me on my neck. He pulled me closer; our bodies touching. "I want you."
The room was spinning fast as I floated out of my body to watch the scene from the ceiling. What was going on? This was all too fast my inside voice screamed. "Say no, DON'T, DO IT!" I was frozen – I could only react to his voice, his touch and his words. "Princess, I can have you?" he asked more like a statement than a question. As he sucked he removed my shorts, my underwear and then my shirt – so fast that I was naked before I had a chance to protest. It was no stopping this now! He placed his hands between my legs pushing them open. "Open up for me Princess." I opened my legs wider to allow him in. He first began to caress my vagina then he stuck his middle finger into me. His finger went into easily – I was like Niagara Falls. "Who were you expecting? He said gazing at me. "Aren't you going to turn off the lights?" I asked sounding like a 16-year-old girl. "Nope" he said quickly. I watched as he took off his underwear. DAMN
17.95
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TEN: The Panama Chronicles:
188
TEN: The Panama Chronicles:
188
17.95
In Stock
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781987000696 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Barnes & Noble Press |
| Publication date: | 09/21/2018 |
| Series: | TEN , #1 |
| Pages: | 188 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.40(d) |
About the Author
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