Cortés and Malinalli, in the water, facing each other, looked into each other's eyes and
They discovered their destiny and their inevitable union. Cortes understood that Malinalli was
his true conquest, that there, amid the abyss of the black eyes of that
woman, there were the jewels that he was looking for so much. Malinalli, by his side, felt
that on Cortez's lips and in his saliva there was a liquid piece of God, a piece
of eternity and that she urged to taste it and keep it between her lips. The
clouds in the sky began to move with extraordinary speed. He
atmosphere was loaded with moisture and lubricated both the feathers of the birds, the leaves of
the trees like Malinalli's vagina. The gray clouds, like the penis of
Polite, they made a great effort to contain the water, to retain it, not to leave it
fall, for not releasing your precious liquid. Cortes still had time to ask before
of throwing on her:
"How is that god?"
And Malinalli still had time to respond before being possessed:
"Eternal, like yours, only that his eternity is not invisible to you."
Our god evaporates, makes drawings in the sky, moves capriciously in the
clouds, shouts his presence, spills his conscience and quenches our thirst and our
fear...
Courteous, eyes burning with desire and putting his hand on the
Malinalli's chest interrupted her:
-Are you afraid?
Malinalli shook his head. Gentle, then, stroked her slowly, with the
wet hand He turned the nipple of the woman-girl with the tips of his fingers. Malinalli
He started shaking. Cortes ordered him to continue talking about his god. I thought
satisfy your desire a little but nothing more, I didn't want to break everyone's promise
those who participated in the company that they would respect indigenous women.
Malinalli continued his speech as he could, as Cortés had already put his nipple
in his mouth and licked it with lust.
"Our god gives life eternally ... That is why our god is water ..."
Cortes' ambitious mind could not do more and wanted to possess Malinalli and his
God at the same time. Pleasure exploded in his mind, and the fire of his heart wanted
evaporate forever that god called Tlaloc, that water god. He charged Malinalli,
He pulled it out of the water and there, at the edge of the river, he penetrated it strongly. In that instant the
Heaven also exploded and dropped the rain on them.
Cortes did not find out about lightning, all he knew was the warmth
that was in the center of Malinalli's body, the way his member
He pushed and opened the tight wall of the girl's vagina. He didn't care that his
passion and strength will hurt Malinalli. He didn't care if lightning strikes near them.
He didn't care about anything other than going in and out of that body.
Malinalli remained mute and his black eyes, more beautiful than ever, were
watery, had tears contained. At each attack, Malinalli felt how the
Cortes naked and hairy torso brushed her breasts and gave her pleasure. There he had
the answer to your concern about what it would feel like to touch a skin with hair.
Malinalli, despite having received that violence in his body, in his delirium he recalled
what your grandmother, with a sweet voice, as if the birds, all, had
deposited his spirit in his throat, he had said
day before dying:
—There are tears that are healing and blessing of the lord of the fence and the side.
They are water that is also liquid voice language that sings to the fragmentation of
the light is the essence of our god that unites the extremes and reconciles
irreconcilable.
For a few minutes — which seemed eternal — Cortes penetrated her over and over
once, wildly, as if all the force of nature were contained in
his being. Meanwhile, it rained so hard that passion and that orgasm remained
buried in water, the same as Malinalli's tears, who for a moment
she had stopped being "the tongue" to become a simple woman, quiet, without
voice, a simple woman who did not carry on her shoulders the enormous
responsibility to build with his saliva the conquest. A woman who, far from what
that could be expected, he felt relief to recover his condition of submission, because
the feeling of being an object at the service of the
Men who be the creator of their destiny.
It seemed that no one but God witnessed the outburst of that lustful anger, of
that passionate revenge, of that loving hatred, but it wasn't like that, Jaramillo, a captain
that he was fighting next to Cortes, he had looked at them, and in his conscience he was recorded
Malinalli's figure and he was attracted — as never before — by that woman that Cortes,
his boss had possessed.