
She will sit with her military boots resting on the dinner table and crunching coffee beans with the butt of her ak-47.
Ready to brew another deep cup of black coffee only for me to decline it when she offers it across the table.
"You're such a western softie. You can't handle the flavour." she'll say in that mocking but accented way she speaks.
"You want me to add some milk for you?" she continues "Are you just intimidated by something dark and strong?"
I'll rise to whisper in her ear "Oh you know I love some things dark and strong" as I run my hand up her soft yet muscular arms.
"Too bad you got weak since you retired from FARC". That comment coupled with my smile so wide she felt it against her ear she can't help but stand up.
"Oh really?" is followed by her pushing me onto the table stopping my smile dead with the application of her lips.
"Yes really." I try to say only to be silenced with more kissing.
I finally manage to say something after an ordeal "I do enjoy this, but, your mouth really tastes of coffee."
She stops kissing me.
She stares at me for a moment.
She turns and walks into the house.
And so ends this fantasy ... with her last words "My pussy doesn't taste of coffee." as she beckons me in.
(Edited 10 seconds later.)