+- Story-Portal (https://time-tales.af/storys)
+-- Forum: Feeling of Joy (https://time-tales.af/storys/forumdisplay.php?fid=24)
+--- Forum: Fantasy, Outtor und Sex Storys (https://time-tales.af/storys/forumdisplay.php?fid=25)
+--- Thread: CUBAN CIGAR (/showthread.php?tid=656)
CUBAN CIGAR - Simon - 11-18-2025
The rich, sweet smell of the tobacco smoke permeates the room. Wisps of silver-grey curl and dance their way through the thick, hazy air. Even after the club has closed, I imagine that the aroma would cling to the fabric of the chairs and in the curtains. It hangs in the air, ready to greet anyone who enters. I don’t smoke myself, so blow away the cloud and waft a clearing with my hand.
A stranger in an unknown place always draws attention. As I stride towards the bar, I raise myself an inch or two. I portray a confident, self-assured man, but inside I am a little nervous. I thrust one hand into my pocket, to give a casual look to my appearance. As if I belong here. During my travels through South America, and now Cuba, it is a tactic that has served me well. Locals are often suspicious of strangers, but here it seems different. No one gives me a second glance. I am immediately put at ease, the adrenalin slowly lowering in my body.
The bar is full of people playing cards, backgammon, and chatting. There is a relaxed atmosphere to the place, which is reflected in the barman’s face, as I pull up a stool and sit down. A pair of brown, alert, but a friendly pair of eyes twinkle back at me, waiting patiently for me to get comfortable.
“What can I get you, Señor?” His voice matches the friendly demeanour as he reveals a set of sparkling, white teeth.
“Cuba Libre, por favor?” I return the warming smile with one of my own.
The barman turns away and begins to mix my drink of rum and cola with a twist of lemon and plenty of ice. While I wait, I look around the room. Everyone is engaged in their own personal conversations and it is as if I wasn’t there. I suppose my Latino looks, derived from my maternal side, help me to fit in. I love Cuban culture and attitude towards sex. It is extremely casual. I have heard there’s good sex, there’s great sex and then there’s Cuban sex. On arrival three nights ago, I was immediately hooked on Cuba, heaven for horny men of adventure.
“Your drink, Señor.” The barman slides the glass in front of me.
“Thank you.” I don’t bother with the Spanish reply and my heavy British accent causes a few heads to turn and a pretty young girl in her mid-twenties, dressed in a pair of black, tight-fitting trousers sidles up beside me. Her legs seem to go on forever and I run my eyes from her head to her toes. She has heavenly tits and an arse to die for. I struggle to keep my tongue from drooling as I examine every inch of her. She says something unintelligible in Spanish and I look to the waiter for assistance.
“She wants to know if you would like a drink with her and sit at a table.” Fucking jackpot! I haven’t even tried and I have pulled already. I fucking love this country.