Date: 10/28/2017, Categories: Trans, Author: pentup47, Source: LushStories
Michael had been in Havana for four days and still hadn't got laid, despite the assurances of a work colleague (who had raved about Cuba as a holiday destination for singles) that it was 'as easy as falling off a log'. The hookers on the notorious Prada avenue were all dumpy and overweight and clad in lurid purple or orange lycra body suits, and there had been a recent police purge of the more glamorous jinetera amateur prostitutes. So Michael was left with the handful of unattached single women staying in his hotel, the best of whom had already been snapped up by Cuban hunks. He sat on a bench in the city's huge Parque Central, reviewing his options. Should he make a pass at the girl at the next table to his at breakfast - who was about as attractive as Angela Merkl - or hang the consequences and try a quickie in a dark doorway with a Prado hooker? It was noon and hot and he was very horny. He was about to seek the refuge of an air-conditioned bar for his first rum cocktail of the day, when he spotted an attractive young dark-skinned Cuban woman, talking to an old gardener tending one of the park's flowerbeds. He picked a single cream bloom from a butterfly bus and handed it to her with a smile. She placed it behind her ear, thanked him and strolled off across the square. She was very tall - Michael guessed nearly six feet - statuesque and 'leggy'. Her deliciously-long gams were unstockinged, with their slender thighs disappearing beneath the edge of a ... microscopically-short pair of denim shorts. If the shorts had been one inch shorter her crotch would have been on display. She wore a snugly-fitting white T-shirt, which emphasised her ample bosom and her jet black hair was bunched up high on her head, held by a tortoise shell clip. From a broad muscular shoulder, the rope of an ancient straw basket hung. Michael's heart missed a beat when he realised that this heavenly apparition was making a bee-line for his bench. "Phew, I'm bushed!" were her opening words as she slumped down, fanning herself with one hand. At close quarters, she was stunningly beautiful, with big dark brown eyes, long eyelashes and lush, sensuous ruby lips. "Yeah, hot isn't it?" "Hey, where are you from?" she asked eagerly, on hearing his accent. "England." "Wow! I've always wanted to visit England.' "Personally, I'd say you were better off here." "Why so, honey?" "Because England is cold and wet and expensive!" He'd noted the use of the word 'honey'. "How long are you here for?" "Only four more days, I'm afraid." "Where are you staying?" "At the Seville Plaza." "Hey, how swanky! I've always wanted to see inside there." He paused to reflect on whether he should make a pass now. Why not? "When you came up just now, I was toying with the idea of finding a bar to have a drink. I was wondering...would you care to join me? The Seville Plaza serves a wonderful mojito?" "Why I'd love to!" She sounded genuinely thrilled. "My name's Michael, by the way." "And I'm Gloria." She pouted ...