Million Dollar Bella
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Cecilia drove her white Ford Mustang around the dilapidated neighborhood looking for Paul's apartment, regretting her procrastination. She had put off retrieving the tutorial program from Paul for two weeks. Now, she was stuck driving around this neighborhood of over-flowing dumpsters and dirty shirtless kids right before the car show.
She worked for a car accessory company called KZ's Dynamics, a self-important name to be sure. Mostly, she went to events for the company, modeling for their product. Up to now, all that entailed was to be a pretty face and show up at various amateur races wearing something reasonably stylish to show off her feminine form: tight jeans that clung to her ass, an equally tight t-shirt covering her incredible breasts, and a sexy pair of heels. But today, was the Big Car Show. There were to be 20000 people showing up at the convention center, and that was a moderate figure for a Sunday. She was supposed to be there within an hour to sign posters for KZ. For now, she was driving around this strange area, wearing a white nylon shirt with a checkered flag design, silky black shorts, and knee-high boots.
She found the small house where Paul lived and got out of her car to walk up to the front door. She thought about how strange situations could be. Here she was, a Latina, with Grandparents that spoke the language perfectly, having to ask this white guy with glasses for any help he could give to help her to pass the class.
He must be some type of genius, she thought. He spoke rapid-fire Spanish to her professor. He spoke effortlessly to students from Spain, Venezuela, or any other Spanish-speaking country. She had even heard that he learned Mandarin Chinese in the military. She would have to do her best to get him on her side.
Paul opened the door, and looked like he had just awakened, although it was nearly noon. He was barefoot, and wearing a dirty pair of sweats.
"Nice of you to stop by," he stated, gesturing for Cecilia to enter with a wide smile on his face. She returned the smile, showing her dimples and perfect white teeth, and entered.
"Hi, do you have that disk you were talking about?"
"Sure, let me get it for you." Paul ventured to the back of the house, and returned moments later with a disk and a pair of headphones.
"Here's the disk with the program on it. Here's some headphones. I think they work much better. You really need to get started on it. We have a test coming up and the professor isn't too happy with your performance so far," he stated, "just between you and me."
Paul handed her the disk and headphones and gazed from her boots, up to her toned thighs, on to her impressive bust in the white shirt, and then her face. She was not smiling anymore.
"Where are you headed in such a get-up?" he asked.
"The car show. I do some modeling for a car accessory company that has a booth there. I'm going to be signing some posters."
"Posters? Do you have one?" he asked. Cecilia's face faltered a bit, but she responded, "Sure, I'll get it." She returned with a rolled up, glossy sheet, handed it to Paul, and then quickly left. She had to get to work.
Cecilia walked hurriedly down the pathway in front of Paul's house, her arms folded over her chest. She wanted to conceal herself as much as possible from any creepy voyeurs that might be looking from unknown places. She sensed that Paul was leering at her from his front window, but didn't want to turn around. She felt uncomfortable as she got into her car and left for the convention center downtown.
Cecilia got home late that night. She had spent the better part of seven hours signing posters, having men leer at her, and being surrounded by the cacophony of 20,000 people walking past. All she wanted to do now was take a shower and go to bed.
She saw the disk that Paul had given her on the desk. He'd her that she should start studying with it as soon as possible. She had a mid-term in Spanish in a couple of weeks that was worth a significant part of her class grade. Responsibility got the best of her. Cecilia got up off the bed, and installed the program onto her computer.
The first page was a dark orange, and showed the publisher of her textbook, Macnamara Publications. Then, it took her to a page with options. Cecilia chose the option Listening for Signals, and put on her headphones.
Some soft guitar music started playing while the narrator spoke the instructions.
"Hello, welcome to Macnamara Publications Tutorial for Spanish. This program is designed to expand your comprehension of the Spanish language and heighten your ability to read and listen to this remarkable language. "
Cecilia clicked on the prompt. Another orange screen came up instantaneously with a small flag of Spain waving on the right side, very deliberately, turning the 2-D image into one that had a third dimension.
"Section One: Adjectives," Stated the narrator, "Let's begin."
The program started listing adjectives, spoken in the resonant tone of the narrator's voice. The tutorial started out with primary colors: red, blue, yellow. rojo, azul, amarillo. Each color had its own sentence that Cecilia repeated to herself.
El coche es rojo. The car is red
Los flores son amarillos. The flowers are yellow.
El cielo es azul. The sky is blue.
She was going to make the most out of the study session. The tutorial listed every color imaginable, and Cecilia repeated every practice phrase.
Next, were adjectives dealing with other descriptive words. Cecilia listened to the soothing guitar music and the pleasant-sounding voice of the narrator, while her eyes remained transfixed on the Spanish flag, waving, undulating, so deliberate in its movements.
"Grande. Big. Pequeno. Small." The tutorial continued. Cecilia repeated the words and the succeeding sentences and phrases.
"Los Estados Unidos es un pais grande". The United States was a big country
"El nino es pequeno." The little boy was small.
"Rapido. Fast. Despacio. Slow"
"Duro. Hard. Suave. Soft"
"Caliente. Hot. Frio. Cold"
"Me gusta chingar rapido y duro. Me gusta un pico duro."
I like something or other, thought Cecilia. She couldn't understand most of those words. Hard and fast she did know. Cecilia thought of an anonymous hard cock on a faceless man. Yes, hard and fast. She grinned widely, as the flag kept waving in front of her eyes, and the guitar continued strumming.
The next section was nouns. The list was plentiful and lengthy. Cecilia heard Spanish words and their English equivalents ranging from technological devices (televisor, telefon, computerdora), modes of transportation (coche. car. tren. train), and occupations (maestro, professor, doctor). The Spanish words for nurse and waiter were enfermera and camarero.
Halfway through the section, the words changed to those describing appearance.
"Nariz. Nose. Oreja. Ear."
"Pierna. Leg.""
"Te gusta sus pierdas?"
Did she like her legs, the program asked. Cecilia reached down between her legs and felt the smooth skin, bringing her soft hands over the insides, around the knees and over the tops of her boots, and back around the outsides of her thighs. "Si, me gusta." She answered blankly.
"Divertido. fun. Aburrido. Boring"
"Tu eres una chica divertida?" asked the voice. Is she a fun girl?
"Si, claro." Of course Cecilia answered.
The program started incorporating all the different forms of vocabulary discussed so far.
"Ajustado. Tight. Flojo. Loose"
"Brazo. arm. Pecho. Chest"
"Sentirse. To feel"
"Su pecho sientese adjustado." Your chest feels tight, remarked the narrator. Cecilia's bra felt like it had shrunk dramatically. She reached under her shirt and unclasped it, letting her large breasts free. Her flimsy white shirt draped atop her large breasts.
"Liso. Smooth. Su pecho es liso." Cecilia glided her hands along her ample tits, running them underneath and clasping them in her soft hands. "Ahh!" she sighed.
The beautiful young Latina ran her hands all over her body while staring at the ever-moving flag on the screen. Her legs, her breasts, her arms. Heat emanated from between her legs, but it felt like she didn't have the proper instruction to touch herself down there. Just then, the narrator gave her that for which she was so desperate.
"Pico. cock. pinocha. pussy."
Cecilia closed her eyes, imagining a familiar man standing in her room naked, his hard cock pointing at her. "Mojado. wet. Su pinocha es mojada?" asked the narrator.
"Si, muy," she moaned.
Cecilia felt her pussy baking, and anticipating a touch. She was becoming wet rapidly. It was time for the next section of the tutorial.
"Section three: verbs"
"Limpiar. to clean. limpiarse. to clean oneself."
"Manejar. to drive. quitar. to remove"
"Tocar. to play. tocarse. to play with oneself."
"Quita sus ropas y tocase." suggested the narrator. Cecilia slipped her fingers furiously inside of her skin-tight shorts and pushed them and the thong underwear off her hips in one motion.
Cecilia felt the cold of the metal chair on her smooth ass. Her shorts and panties ended up around the bottom of her boots, confining her legs like shackles. Her pussy was smooth and bare, just shaved cleanly this morning.
She followed the tutorial's instructions, and moved her hand to her wet softness. She moaned softly as she spun the tips of her fingers and manicured nail around her flesh. She leaned back as much as she could in her chair, and worked her clit with her middle finger, flicking it with her nail, quivering with her eyes closed.
"Es bueno, si?" inquired the narrator.
"Si, es bueno!" exclaimed Cecilia. Her finger slipped intermittently inside of herself while rubbing at her pussy. Her mind went to work, trying to format a fantasy for her self-pleasure. She thought of a faceless man, a stranger she didn't know. Her mind went to an image of her boyfriend of three years, Jason. The image shifted out of her mind. Next, she envisioned Paul. Sexual pleasure flooded from her brain and throughout the rest of her body.
"Oh God, yes!" This image fit in this situation. She worked her fingers, knees open wide under her computer desk, thinking of Paul, servicing him, letting him maul her body, suck on her great tits.
Cecilia's pace quickened. It was coming, she thought in the recesses of her dazed mind. She moaned loudly, stiffened and quaked as she climaxed.
She hazily opened her eyes and resumed looking at the flag, and listening to the voice, and the guitar music in the background. A voice came into the headphones.
"Hola Cecilia, I know that this program is helping you immensely. Be sure to listen to future editions of Listening for Signals. You'll pass that test excellently." The last sentence was spoken in Spanish, but Cecilia understood it. "Comprendes, senorita?
"Si, comprendo" said a lethargic Cecilia.
"Now, Cecilia, what are you wearing right now?"
"My car show uniform," she replied to her empty room
"Still?" said the voice in the headphones. "What type of underwear are you wearing?"
"No underwear. Shorts too tight." Replied the girl.
The narrator asked her a handful of additional questions, all in Spanish, while Cecilia listened to the strumming guitar and gazed at the waving flag. The phantom interviewer on the computer wanted to know if she shaved her pussy. She did, a duty of her occupation. It was necessary when wearing a bikini or thong underwear. It asked if she painted her toenails. Of course, she replied. It asked if she had any tattoos or piercings. She had none besides her bellybutton and ears. The interview was quick, taking less than a minute.
Finally, the Voice said, "Good girl! Now listen to the nice Spanish man tell you a story. When he is finished, you will take a shower, and have a nice dream tonight. Remeber to continue your studies with subsequent editions of the series."
Cecilia awoke sitting upright in the plush chair facing her computer monitor. She had drooled onto her chin. "I need a shower," she whispered to herself. Afterward, she crawled into bed naked, as was usual, and fell into a deep sleep.
On Monday mornings, Cecilia had Spanish class to start off the week at the local state university. She awoke her usual two hours before class. In fact, she woke up two hours before she went anywhere. She needed the time to shower, shave her body, apply her make-up, and pick the right outfit.
She remembered vaguely that she needed to get another disk from the teacher's assistant Paul. Did he remind her of this at his apartment yesterday? It didn't seem like she was there long enough, and she didn't remember him saying much. With her tight jeans swaying and her black high heels clacking, Cecilia walked out to her car.
Professor Guitierrez's class met three times a week. It always consisted of the instructor, a gruff looking Hispanic man with a thick mustache and glasses, trying to prompt his students to return conversation in proper Spanish. He was only moderately successful, as most students either remained silent or spoke in broken slang Spanish that highly perturbed Guitierrez.
Paul sat in a lone desk in the front of the large hall, along the sidelines of the professor's lecture area. Cecilia never paid much attention to him, but today she let her mind wander to thoughts of him.
He has a lot of good qualities, she thought. I wonder how much he really knows, how much he can help me. She watched as Paul sat, listening to the professor intently, legs akimbo underneath the plain one-piece desk.
Unintentionally, her mind wandered to an image of her fucking Paul, his cock pounding away into her from behind while she supported herself on the professor's desk in the front of the room. Her pussy quivered.
Cecilia shook it out of her head. She had a boyfriend of three years, Jason. She had met him in high school and liked the way she felt with him. She tried to imagine a fantasy with Jason, his square-jawed face and dark brown eyes staring into hers, his body hard from his arduous line of work, his thick cock gliding into her. For some reason, she didn't feel like fantasizing anymore.
"Bueno class, don't forget the midterm coming up. Don't wait until the last minute!" exhorted Gutierrez.
Class was over, and Cecilia made a beeline to Paul through the mass of exiting students. "Paul, Paul," she called, "Did you have another disk for me to study with?"
Paul had bags under his eyes and looked tired. He must be working hard for the professor, thought Cecilia.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to give this to you yesterday." Paul reached into his disheveled backpack and pulled out another disk, marked with a Roman Numeral II. "This should help you with your conversation skills. It's alot of conversation so listen to it with little distraction." He handed her the disk.
She took it from him. "Thank you, Paul" she said flirtatiously, gliding her French-manicured hard across his shoulder and displaying her dazzling, dimpled smile. "You're a big help." She smiled as she walked away, knowing Paul was gaping at her swaying ass, giddy with sex appeal.
The day was surprisingly sunny and clear. Cecilia decided to wear a simple red cotton skirt with small white flowers, a beige-colored blouse, and some stylish heels. She was on her way to the mall, to look for a present for her boyfriend Jason. It was his birthday, and she had a big night planned for him.
She thought of the Spanish tutorials that Paul had given to her. They must be working, she thought. She found herself thinking of Spanish phrases and conversation in her head. She was even tempted to switch the radio dial to a Spanish language station to test her new knowledge. Maybe Paul could give her something to play in her Mustang, she pondered.
It was a weekday afternoon, and the mall had a scant crowd. Cecilia browsed the various shops. She stopped into the lingerie shop and had a look around. She gave in to temptation and bought a dark blue lace underwear and thong set. She would wear it for Jason tonight, she thought. It would make the day even more special.
Jason was a stylish man, and wore his clothes well. Cecilia stopped at a few high-end men's clothing stores and bought her boyfriend some jeans and a couple of brightly-colored shirts that would look good on his muscular frame.
After her shopping trip, Cecilia had a few hours to kill before Jason picked her up for dinner and clubbing. She thought about taking a nap, but decided to take a look at the second disk that Paul gave her yesterday.
She went to her bedroom, and installed the program contents onto her computer. She put the headphones on. For some reason, the sound would only come through on the headphones that Paul gave her, and not through the regular computer speakers.
The familiar orange screen came up, the orange and yellow Spanish flag rolling on the screen. A low, sonorous trumpet playing smoothly replaced the guitar music of the previous disk.
"Welcome Cecilia, to Listening for Signals." The trumpet played a welcoming motive. "Section Four: Conversational Practice."
The Spanish narrator went into a dense, verbose monologue. Cecilia, already prepared for concentration, became immersed in the words, trying to decipher them as fast as possible. Her eyes focused intently on the Spanish flag's coat-of-arms, the only emblem on the orange and yellow symbol. "Zapatos azules," were two words that Cecilia heard. Blue Shoes.
Fifteen minutes later, with the conversational practice continuing, Cecilia was nude except for a pair of blue, strappy high heels that she hardly ever wore but had retrieved from her closet. Her legs were lewdly and unashamedly spread on both sides of her computer, the pointed heels of her shoes pointing toward the wall.
She had tilted her pelvis to position herself on the metal chair as comfortably as possible, while she masturbated intensely. Various words sent images into her mind.
"Coche blanco," Cecilia thought of her own white car, being fucked hard on the hood.
"Sesenta- nueve" The number 69 - Cecilia was on a handstand sucking on a cock while an unknown stranger sat on an old couch, licking and feasting on her brown, bare pussy.
Cecilia's fingers were slick with her own juices. She moaned deeply throughout her self-pleasuring session. Nobody else was in the neighboring apartments in this late afternoon, but regardless, Cecilia didn't care. The melodic brass continued playing into the headset, accompanying the narrative.
"Inteligencia - mas importante, Inteligencia y Espanol" intoned the narrator.
Intelligence and Spanish, Intelligence and Spanish, these words went through Cecilia's mind. Connecting the two brought her to an image of Paul. Images of Paul giving her the disks. Images of Paul speaking fluidly with the professor. Images of Paul lying on her bed, clean soft sheets beneath him, Cecilia atop of him pumping his cock hard into her pussy, Paul pulling her down to suckle on her thick brown nipple.
This last image sent Cecilia into explosive ecstasy. "Oh God!!" she screamed, mind blank from climax. The narrative ran down as Cecilia's climax faded.
"Muy bien, Cecilia!" praised the voice from the computer. "You are moving along nicely."
Cecilia stared blankly at the screen, one high-heeled foot resting on the floor while the other heel crooked into the edge of the desk.
"Quite flexible, si?' asked the narrator, "No matter, you have a big night tonight. Have fun, but remember your Spanish lesson. It is very important to not let your skills and memories of studying wane. Comprendes?"
Cecilia answered yes. "Muy bien, now get dressed, take a nap, and you will feel refreshed for tonight. Again, be sure to remember this special study session. It will be extremely helpful. Also, be sure to listen to subsequent editions of Listening for Signals. You know where to get them, si?"
"Other versions - Si - Paul." Cecilia answered.
"Very good. Now, go"
Cecilia, headphones still on, deliberately put her shopping outfit back on. The narrator ceased talking and the trumpet stopped playing. She removed the headphones when fully dressed, fell on her bed, and went to sleep.
Cecilia awoke two-and-a-half hours later, lying on her bed, clothes and hair disheveled. It was the outfit she'd worn to the mall, but she didn't remember wearing the blue high heels. Why would I put these on, she asked herself. Must've wanted to see how they looked for tonight, although she hadn't planned on wearing blue.
The room smelled like sex. Cecilia could smell it on herself. Do women have wet dreams, she wondered. She glanced at the alarm clock next to her bed, and saw that she needed to hurry. Jason would be there to pick her up soon.
Cecilia showered and washed. She applied her make-up and blow-dried her hair. Thinking about the blue shoes from earlier, she decided on a baby-blue dress that would hug her curves deliciously and show off her impressive cleavage. This will drive Jason wild, she thought. Jason had been wholly agreeable two years ago when it was decided that she would get breast augmentation. She had to admit that he was right in this case. Her clothes looked better, and the exponential sex appeal was incredibly helpful to her blossoming modeling career.
She heard a honk from outside. It must be Jason, she thought. She hurried outside to his glimmering red truck, her blue heels clacking staccato on the walkway. Music poured from the inside, and custom-made rims on his wheels (courtesy of her association with KZ Dynamics) glistened.
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