This is chapter 2, part 5 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here.
Chapter 2 – Part 5, A Shaky Start to Marriage
That same night in the early morning hours, a serious earthquake wracked Guatemala, destroying about half of Antigua. My house cracked but stood, and I spent the next three days helping to dig-out victims and move injured people to safer areas. As I carried out medical equipment out of the hospital Hermano Pedro to the soccer stadium, I worried about María. I went to the magazine shop and asked passer-byes if they knew her, and several people said they had seen her – she and her family were OK.
Among the foreigners, I had one of the few intact houses, so my house filled with foreigners that had nowhere to go. Afraid to sleep under roofs, we dragged mattresses out to the patio and slept two or three to a mattress. I slept with a blond American girl who was terrified and excited by the aftershocks and ground waves. The illusion of “solid ground” had been shattered. Her Guatemalan boyfriend was missing since the earthquake. With each tremor, she hugged me, and sucked my penis as if were her last night on earth. I decided this earthquake gig was not so bad after all.
Three days after the main earthquake, a strong aftershock hit, and people went crazy. I watched adults jumping, trying to escape the earth only to fall back and jump again. Over and over, surreal. I decided to find María anyway possible. The magazine shop was closed and I didn’t know where she lived. I finally asked the right person for her, and found her at her parents’ house. She and her family were fine, and I discovered she came from a humble family.
I could easily see María had inherited many of her mother´s physical traits that accounted for her beauty and sensuality. I could see just as clearly María wasn’t the daughter of her “father”. Her biological father must have been as handsome as her cuckold father was ugly. I was pleased her mother had been an unfaithful slut and had passed the trait on to María.
I should have been more careful for what I wished for.
María’s mother wanted to name her María María, but the cuckold wouldn’t allow it, so she named her María Pura (Pure María). In junior high school, that name was quickly corrupted to the nickname Mari-Puta (María Whore) after she did a threesome with some classmates. She hated that nickname, hated being insulted for activities that were natural and felt so good. She was not a puta!
Grateful for her safety, again astonished by her beauty and sensuality, and by my good fortune to have her fall in my hands, I asked María to marry me right then. She accepted just as quickly. We set a date for a few weeks hence. I didn’t know if I’d actually marry her or not, but I wanted to lock-in access to her vagina and hopefully lock-out all other men.
When I asked for her hand, María’s family rejected my marriage proposal. I was a grubby hippie, I wasn’t Catholic and couldn’t marry her in the church. Her father ejected me from their house. María said she was the least favorite of the children and her father mistreated her. The other children shared many of the father’s unattractive physical traits – maybe he suspected María was not his seed. The ugly cuckold father hated the idea of María with a hippie, and absolutely was opposed to her marrying me, surely a wise decision.
Of course, word spread she had been jilted, and María began to receive an increasing stream of Guatemalan suitors. The cuckold favored these men. Fearful of losing her to another man and impatient to get her permanently into my bed, we decided to elope.
I rented a one bedroom house next to the old market. She wanted to escape her cuckold father and crowded house. We were young and crazy – I still wore bell-bottom jeans and tie-dye T-shirts, and her skirts were so short she was forced to wear panties to have something to sit on.
María-date: +five months+ six days.
The morning we married, she took her suitcase to work, and we meet at siesta time. I took her to the cheapest lawyer I could find. María signed the contract confidently with a joyful flourish; my hand trembled as I signed, but we married. It was inventory day at her shop, so she returned to work. I went to have drinks with some gringo friends, who, envious of her beauty, suggested she trapped and married me for interés (gold-digging), to get US citizenship, a meal ticket to the good life.
María returned from work upset and immediately went to shower. I wondered if she had “buyer’s remorse” over our marriage, but she emerged relaxed and happy from the shower. We went out for dinner, drinks, and dancing, then made love for the first time as husband and wife. Before we started, I examined and photographed her face and body again in minute detail. María was perfectly symmetrical in body and face. I did find some defects: a tiny misalignment of one of her upper front teeth, and a light brown skin discoloration, probably a birthmark, under her left arm. I was relieved – absolute perfection would be too good to be true. I asked her,
“Why didn’t you fuck me while you were still engaged to the other guy?”
“You didn’t try hard enough!”
So we began married life together, not well-to-do but not deprived. My export business had its ups-and-downs and María worked at the magazine shop. I detested having rubber between her flesh and mine, so I put her on the Pill, which seemed to increase her sex drive. Her favorite brand had a bigger dose of testosterone. We had sex almost every day, life was good.
Right after marriage, I bought her a new wardrobe that matched her fabulous body, and she blossomed sexually to match her wardrobe. If her new, slinky dress said slut, she was a slut. I made sure her wardrobe screamed sex and slut! She developed out after our marriage, free from the dysfunctionality of her family, and my gringo culture shielded her from the oppressive Catholic morality of Antigua. Now, with her sexy wardrobe, and natural prick-teasing personality, I became almost a bystander in her rush for a sensual life.
We felt some resentment among Guatemalan men that a foreigner had taken one of their best women, but I didn’t care. I was just an ordinary guy proudly showing-off my beautiful slut-wife, and I didn’t care. I remember an incident where I sat with María in a restaurant. A macho Guatemalan sat at an adjacent table surrounded by three pretty foreign girls panting to fuck him – but he couldn’t take his eyes off María and I. Not only because she was stunningly beautiful, but because she sat with a gringo. A gringo had dared to steal a Guatemalan girl! I could see trouble ahead, I was about to confront that dark heavy Mayan blood, so we left.
End of book content.
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