Rio In Bloom (Patreon)

Rita Farrar, also known as Senorita Rio, was ready to be cool and unwelcoming to whoever had disturbed her peace on a lazy Sunday afternoon. When she opened the door, nostalgia disarmed her. There, giving her a shy smile, was Juan.

He looked so young and innocent, but years ago he’d shown a man’s bravery in endeavoring to save his sister from Rodriguez Guerca, head of the Spanish Nazis. He’d been captured before he could summon the gauchoswho would eventually rescue everyone, but Rita was still impressed by such determination in one so young. Now he was growing up straight and true, taller than she was, but still so boyish.

She could not be cruel enough not to return his smile. “Juan! Can that be you? You’ve grown so—surely it can’t have been long enough for you to grow so much!”

Juan had always been a sharp-tongued boy. If it weren’t for the fact that Rita was so beautiful, he would’ve answered her readily. But she was even more gorgeous than his boyhood memories of her. He had crushed on her heavily at the time, but it was clear now that he still hadn’t appreciated her loveliness nearly enough.

He could only stare stupidly at her until he found his stammering voice. “It is I… yes… Juan Martinez. I had heard our paths crossed, crossed again… I live so close… you live here… I am your servant, if there is anything…” His voice cracked. “You need done.”

“That’s very kind of you, Juan.” Some instinct stopped Rita before she could turn down his hospitality. He looked so very cute; the effect he had on Rita made her realize how much she longed for company. It was a lonely life she led. The new house struck her now as one that had only known silence. “It’s hot out. Why don’t you come in for some lemonade and I’ll see if I can find anything for you to help me with?”

Juan was disappointed to find that she really did have only lemonade, with no alcoholic accompaniment. He was beginning to learn the adult world and he knew men and women drank at any opportunity. His sensitive, newfound adulthood told him that this light drink was served because she didn’t see him as a man.

But he was determined to bear his despair gentlemanly.

“I know,” Rita said, totally unaware of Juan’s private torture. “I’ve been meaning to rearrange the kitchen cupboards. They’re set up very inconveniently at the moment. Why don’t you help me out? We’ll be finished before you know it and then I won’t feel I’ve wasted a whole afternoon on such a petty chore.”

“Bueno.” She could’ve said she needed him to lift her oven off the ground until it was done cooking a pie and it would’ve been okay with Juan. Just sitting with her and experiencing the smell of her perfume made this feel like a worthy endeavor, even if his slowly accruing maturity told Juan that he was giving himself false hope.

“Okay then. Let’s get to work.”

Juan walked ahead of her to the kitchen, eager to get started. She noticed that although he was long and lean, he carried himself in the manner of a man with great strength. Even though not a laborer, Rita wondered if he’d busied himself with enough horseback riding and dueling to make himself powerful. She’d had some very satisfactory lovers—noble in title if not always in deed—who were that way.

Rita didn’t let herself think, really, of exactly the pleasure she enjoyed from Juan’s presence. He was quiet, not brash and outspoken like the standard of machismo demanded. That silence gave him a kind of mystery.

His eyes admired Rita every time they lingered on her, which was often, and she was pleased by the attention. Pleased to have the interest of a boy who was so much younger than her… well, not that much.

It hadn’t been so long since she’d been a schoolgirl herself, with tongue-tied schoolboys desperate to hold her hand and carry her books. Juan unexpectedly reminded her of those first stabs at love.

Juan, however, didn’t know how his inability to speak was profiting him with Rita. He feared she thought he was boring. While Rita enjoyed their companionable silence, Juan feverishly tried to come up with something to say.

He sat on the floor beside her stool, taking the dishes she passed down and setting them into the lower cupboard she wanted them in. It was hard for the boring task to keep his attention; Rita’s looks were so much more engaging than this repetitive task could ever be.

She wore shorts at the very top of her long, shapely legs. The beginnings of the swell of her ass could just be seen from where she towered over him, so much like when they’d first met—him a boy and her still such a lady.

Each time he looked at her, Juan felt the start of an erection. He knew that if he didn’t look away, try to busy himself with the job he’d given him, that he’d have a magnificent stiffness. He was horrified she might look down from her work and see him with a hard-on.

“Hand me the duster. I should clean these shelves while they’re bare.”

Juan dutifully gave it over. It was hard for him to picture her as the fierce Valkyrie she’d been, riding into the chapel to save his sister. If he’d not seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed that woman and this were one and the same.

He was in awe that such beauty and such strength could be mingled; a part of him understood now the long-vanquished Guerca, because marrying such a woman would almost be worth the dastardly wrongdoings the man had committed. Nothing justified such a thing, of course, but Rita came closer than even Juan’s blessed sister.

“That’s good. I’ll store the staples up top and put the dishes down here where I won’t need a footstool to get them. That makes sense, wouldn’t you say?”

Juan didn’t know anything about domestic matters, but he politely agreed, watching her well-rounded ass as it came down the footstool. Rita was about to ask Juan if he’d care for another round of lemonade when she noticed the pronounced bulge in his trousers.

Juan noticed that she noticed—he saw her eyes grow wide and her sentence trailing off before it could end. He was scared at first, but his cock still throbbed insistently; moreso, as he realized that if Rita were truly offended, she would look away. Not continue to devour the sight as if she didn’t know quite what to do with it… and needed more knowledge of it to make up her mind.

Hope flamed in Juan’s heart.

Rita swallowed hard and tried to take hold of herself. She didn’t have much success. Her pussy shuddered. Her hands shook. She realized she was as nervous as a schoolgirl after all the book-carrying and handholding developed to their natural conclusion.

She still enjoyed the memory of that purity, that gentleness—would she like it now, when it was hers for the asking but she had changed so much?

Her young would-be rescuer now stood before her with his manhood straining to get to her. He clearly burned with her nearness. And the more she looked at his bulge, the more she enjoyed how close he was, too.

Temptation was within arm’s reach of Rita. In a shape that was young and virile and charming. Rita had always had a sweet tooth and here was a kind of sugar she hadn’t had in so long. Could she resist just because it properly belonged to a girl his own age, to make the kind of memories that now had Rita so nostalgic?

The answer was simple: no.

Rita couldn’t stand to think of what she was doing, but she did it. Reaching to the swollen fullness at Juan’s fly and cupped it in her hands. Squeezing it to feel that it was as firm as she could hope for in a dildo, and throbbing passionately as no sex toy ever could.

Juan’s teeth sank fitfully into his lower lip. All his dreams seemed to have escaped from sleep and crowded into his reality. He felt weak. He wasn’t sure he could stand up to such ecstasy. But after so much temptation, now the thought of actually having Rita—it was like a bottle of fine wine, one so marvelous it had to be drunk to the last drop or he wasn’t worthy of it!

But despite such bold thoughts, Juan still wasn’t ready as Rita was, nor as impatient. While he was still steeling himself to make his next move, she pulled down his fly and slid her hand deftly inside.

It was not hard to find the inescapable hardness that consumed all the space within Juan’s briefs. It practically forced itself into her hand, an animal that knew well it would be properly cared for with Senorita Rio.