#3206: Nicaragua
Original photo: cinemamonamourpage
A pottery studio in Nicaragua, a flirtatious student, and a teacher who can't look away. When Juana walks into Victoria's family-run studio in San Juan de Oriente, the chemistry between the two women is impossible to ignore — and when the other students leave, neither of them pretends otherwise.
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Transcript
Pottery is a lot of work. Somehow, this thought never visited me before I started to teach classes. I grew up with the craft — my whole family was involved in it — and I never questioned whether I should follow in their footsteps. It was inevitable, like learning to walk. I couldn't imagine my life without it, so I simply continued, no matter how many times I lost inspiration or wondered whether there was anything left to create. There was always more. I could only move forward.
When I started teaching, I had a goal: to show people that it wasn't as hard as they imagined, and that there was nothing more special than looking around your home and seeing things made by your own hands. Before every class, I would bring in fresh clay. I knew all the best spots for finding it, and there was something deeply grounding about working with clay pulled straight from the earth — a connection to my ancestors I could feel but never quite explain.
That day, only five people had signed up, which I preferred. Fewer students meant more real learning. There were two couples and one woman who came alone. I noticed her immediately — her top and shopping bag both looked hand-knit, and I always had a weakness for crafty women.
I explained the basics and moved through the class. The couples barely listened, using the session more as a date than a lesson. I didn't mind. The woman who came alone, however — Juana — was completely focused.
She was beautiful, with long black hair that curled along her back and dark, deep eyes. A piece of art herself. I stood back and let her work, until I slipped and offered some advice. Pottery is a messy business, requiring plenty of water and careful hands, which can create unintentionally suggestive situations. I didn't think twice when I told Juana to make it wetter and go slightly deeper — but she heard me loud and clear. She turned with a smile that told me the clay wasn't the only thing on her mind, and did exactly as I said. The heat in her eyes made it clear she was taking everything I said in more than one way.
I won't pretend it was professional — I abandoned the couples entirely and focused on Juana, helping her with the position of her fingers, the speed of her movements. She kept giving me that knowing look, the one that said she'd flirted with a woman before and knew exactly what she was doing.
At some point, the walls of her pot kept collapsing and she had to call me over. She looked far too capable for it to be an accident, and I suspected she wanted a reason to have me closer. I sat beside her, took her wet, clay-covered hands in mine, and guided her fingers into place. I tried to focus on the work in front of me, but I couldn't. Juana wasn't looking at the wheel — she was looking at me, her breath warm against my neck. She was flirting openly, and I would've been a fool to let the moment pass.
The couples eventually grew bored and left. Juana stayed, claiming she wanted to make her pot more elaborate. I was more than happy to help. We sat together on a bench, our thighs pressing close, our breath mingling, until she turned and I found myself looking directly into her deep, dark eyes.
We kissed, abandoning all thoughts about the piece in front of us. The wheel stopped its movement, but even if it hadn't, I wouldn't have cared. Juana's warm lips moved against mine, making me feel the heat rush through my body. The only reason I didn't put my hands on her and reach out to touch her was that I knew they would leave a muddy trail over her skin. But maybe that was something I wanted to happen.
We kissed deeply, igniting the fire between us, and I felt it with every part of my body before we had even fully touched. Her lips moved slowly against mine, making me want more, and I knew that Juana wanted the same.
Once we pulled apart, I told her that we needed to wash our hands. She laughed at that, as if it were the last thing she expected to hear, but I insisted. I felt her eyes on me as we went to the sink to clean our hands and make sure there was no dirt left underneath our nails. I kept looking at her, asking if she wanted to continue, and by the way she pulled me back to her again, I knew that she was happy to.
We walked up to the second floor of the studio, where I lived. It was a small space with barely more than a bed in it, and I liked it that way, but suddenly felt self-conscious about Juana seeing it. She didn't seem to care. All of her attention was focused on me, just as my attention was focused on her — her lips, her eyes, her body.
We kissed again, and this time allowed our clean hands to roam over each other's bodies. I pulled her closer, caressing and touching with more heat to it. Her body felt soft and responsive in my hands, much like clay would, and I smiled to myself at the thought. She was something to me, something important, and I wanted this connection to continue.
We undressed each other, and I lay her down on the bed, kissing Juana's body, every part of it, slowly, feeling her tan skin grow hot under my touch as she arched her back and let my name drop from her lips. It was magical and so very teasing in its own special way. She looked perfect; the shape of her in every way was everything one might dream about, and I certainly knew I'd be having dreams about her. She was perfect in every single way, and I knew it. She knew it too.
Her hips lifted against me as she asked for more, and I quickly took it as a challenge. I kissed my way down her perfect body to end up between her legs. If I thought that she was perfect before, I certainly thought so now. Even the shape of her pussy, the symmetry of it, was everything I might've dreamed about. I thought to myself that I should memorise it, every fold, so I could later recreate it in my art. But Juana was impatient. She didn't want to be explored like a work of art; she wanted to be taken and satisfied, and I was willing to give her that. I dived between her legs, collecting all the wetness there with my tongue, tasting her and enjoying it more than I thought possible. She moaned out into the air, throwing her arms up, opening herself up even more. I looked up at her as I continued to eat her out, and it felt amazing to have her like this, all to myself. She was perfect; she felt right, and I wanted to give her everything she might ever want.
My own greediness also started to slowly wake up, letting me know that what I was doing wasn't enough. Juana deserved more. My tongue started to move faster against her, tearing more moans from her throat, and I felt each one reverberating inside of me. It was magnificent the way she reacted to my touch, and I felt greedy for more. Nothing existed anymore, only her in front of me, asking and aching for pleasure she knew only I could give. Her mind was swimming in that warm, soft place just before the pleasure would hit, and I wanted nothing more than to take her there.
I pushed my fingers into her, feeling just how hot and slick she was around them, taking them with ease and asking for more. She whimpered as I continued to both fuck her and eat her out. She was amazing in that moment, perfect in every way. The line of her breasts rising with her chest was pure art, and I kept looking for as long as I could while I satisfied her in every way I knew how, pulling from her all the desire and need she could show me. It was such a beautiful moment, and I just wanted her to give me more. But only if she wanted it too.
I smiled widely, watching her contract around my fingers, her pussy throbbing as she finished in front of me, her moans slowly dying down. I pulled my fingers out of her and slowly sucked her slickness off them, wanting to taste her even longer. She looked at me with hooded eyes and told me that she wanted to return the favour. I wasn't against it, not at all.
Juana rolled me onto my back, and I closed my eyes, fully relaxing under her touch. She knew how to touch me to make it feel good; there was no doubt about it. I arched my back and moaned when she would caress me just right, and I loved the way she did it. So perfect, so right. I finally felt her hot breath between my legs and smiled, looking at her. She stuck out her tongue and began a slow, teasing motion that drove me crazy from the start. I moaned out, my hips pushing up, making me feel so weak with desire. She barely had to try, and I was already undone, the heat between my legs turning scorching hot from just a few touches. I moaned and moaned as her tongue lapped against me, her breathing growing even hotter. I felt the pleasure starting to slowly spill all over my body, taking over me, making me feel weak.
She pushed me to my peak with the slow movements of her tongue, never rushing even for a second, as if she wanted to prolong it for as long as she could — for as long as she wanted to — and she wanted me to feel every single moment of it. I smiled as I looked down at her, her mouth covered in wetness, her eyes shining. She was beautiful as she continued to eat me out, pulling a second orgasm from me with ease, simply because she knew how to do it right.
In the end, we both fell against each other, our bodies intertwining and our breaths mingling in the small space between our faces before we kissed again. This heated moment was everything I wanted, and I didn't regret it in the slightest.
We agreed that Juana would return to my class again. She needed to finish the pot, after all, and I always enjoyed having an eager student.