Acknowledgements: Immeasurable gratitude to The Sinner, for his valuable guidance, proofreading skills, patience, and assistance with the drafts of this story.
Thanks to Chase the Wind for an early proofread
Thank you to Ano Otoko for help with the Spanish language
All remaining grammatical errors are the fault of the author
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."
"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.
.... There is more of this story ...