Chapter 20: El viejo se divierte
The silence in the booth after Amancio’s question was thick enough to chew. María was still on her knees, his cock glistening an inch from her parted lips. Javi stood frozen, his hand on Amancio’s hairy thigh, feeling the muscle twitch with tension.
“Well?” Amancio pressed, his voice a low, grating rumble. “Is he using you, María? Because it looks to me like you’re down here doing the dirty work, and he’s just holding my leg like a scared little bitch. That’s not a friend. That’s a parasite.”
“Fuck you,” María spat, but the insult lacked its earlier fire. It was reflexive, a knee-jerk defense of the dynamic she herself was currently dismantling. She glanced up at Javi, her eyes searching his face not for permission, but for something else—a shared understanding of the trap, maybe, or simply for him to play his part. “He’s not a parasite. He’s my friend. And he’s… he’s helping.”
“Helping?” Amancio barked a laugh that echoed off the metal walls. “This isn’t help. This is him being a pussy. Real help would be getting down here and making this easier for you. Taking some of the load. You’re gonna get lockjaw going at this rate, sweetheart. And I haven’t even really gotten started.”
He flexed his hips, pushing the tip of his dick against her bottom lip. A bead of pre-cum smeared across her skin. She didn’t pull back.
“Javi,” she said, her voice dropping to a strained, practical murmur. “Just… do what he says. For a second. Just lick his balls so he shuts up and we can finish this. It’s just skin. It’s nothing. Think of it like… like licking a stamp. A really gross, hairy stamp.”
“A stamp that’s about to send a very important package,” Amancio chuckled, his fingers tangling in her hair again, not forcing, just resting there, a clear ownership.
Javi’s mind was a white noise of static. The command, couched in her twisted logic of protection, severed the last frayed thread of his resistance. To disobey would be to betray her defense of him. To obey was to taste the very source of his humiliation. In the economy of their fucked-up friendship, the calculation was already made.
He slowly sank to his knees on the concrete. The floor was cold and gritty against his bones. He was now level with María, their shoulders almost touching. The smell of Amancio’s crotch—a pungent mix of sweat, old laundry, and musk—hit him like a physical wave. Up close, his cock was a monstrous thing, thick and ruddy, the veins bulging under the skin. María’s lips were wrapped around the upper half, her cheeks hollowed with suction.
“There’s a good boy,” Amancio cooed, his voice dripping with condescension. “See, María? He just needed a little direction. From a real man. Now… get to work. Show your friend how it’s done.”
María’s eyes, watching Javi from the side, held a complex storm—apology, impatience, a strange, glassy determination. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Javi leaned forward. The coarse, grey-black hair of Amancio’s scrotum brushed against his nose. He closed his eyes, but it only intensified the smell, the intimacy of the act. He stuck out his tongue and made contact.
The skin was surprisingly soft, loose, and salty. He licked, a timid, flat stroke.
“Use your tongue, not like you’re tasting ice cream!” Amancio grunted, his hips giving a slight jerk. “Get in there. Lick the fucking sack. Imagine you’re trying to clean it.”
Javi opened his mouth wider, letting his tongue press more firmly, tracing the wrinkled texture. A low, satisfied groan came from above him. The sound vibrated through the old man’s body. María, prompted by the sound, intensified her efforts, bobbing her head faster, a wet, rhythmic schlop-schlop-schlop filling the booth.
“Yeah… fuck yeah… that’s the team spirit,” Amancio panted. His hands were now on both of their heads, a king blessing his subjects. He guided María’s pace, pushing her down until her nose was buried in his pubic hair, holding her there for a second before letting her up to gasp. With his other hand, he pressed Javi’s face harder into his balls. “Deeper, kid. Get those nuts clean. María’s doing all the fancy work up top, you handle the foundation.”
Javi obeyed, his tongue delving into the hot, damp space between the old man’s thighs. The taste was bitter, alien. Humiliation burned in his gut, but beneath it, coiling tight and undeniable, was a fierce, shameful erection straining against his own jeans. He was licking another man’s testicles while the woman he loved sucked that man’s cock beside him. And she had asked him to do it. She had framed it as a favor to her.
“You see this, Javi?” Amancio moaned, his voice growing ragged. “You see how good she is? She’s a natural cocksucker. Born for it. Look at her.”
Javi opened his eyes, turning his head slightly while still mechanically licking. María’s profile was a study in concentrated effort. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mascara smudged from earlier tears. Her jaw worked, taking him deep, her throat convulsing as she fought her gag reflex. A long strand of spit and pre-cum dripped from the corner of her mouth onto the floor. She was utterly debased, and she was doing it, in her mind, for him.
“She’s defending you right now, with that pretty throat,” Amancio whispered, as if sharing a secret. “Taking this big dick so you don’t have to. What a saint.”
“Shut… up…” María gagged, pulling off for a second, dragging in a ragged breath. Her lips were swollen, slick. “Javi, don’t listen to him. Just… keep going. We’re almost done.”
“Almost?” Amancio laughed, a wet, choked sound. “Baby, I haven’t even warmed up. But you two are so eager… such a good little team… you’re gonna make me lose control.”
He grabbed a fistful of María’s hair, forcing her back onto him with a rough urgency. The rhythm became punishing, less about pleasure and more about dominance. Thrust-hold-release. Thrust-hold-release. María’s hands came up, not to push him away, but to brace herself against his filthy thighs, her fingers digging into the rough fabric of his work pants.
Javi kept licking, his tongue gone numb, his world reduced to the smell, the taste, the sound of strained breathing and wet friction. Amancio’s balls had tightened, drawing up closer to his body.
“Fuck… María… if you don’t slow down… I’m gonna come,” Amancio warned, his voice tight.
Instead of slowing, María seemed to take it as a challenge. She pulled off, gasping. “Then come,” she hissed, her voice raw. “Get it over with, you pathetic old fuck. Come so we can leave.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. She dove back down, but this time she changed her technique. She took just the head into her mouth, her lips forming a tight seal around the corona. Her tongue flickered rapidly against the sensitive slit, then swirled around the swollen glans with desperate, focused energy. Her free hand came up, jerking the thick base of his shaft in a tight, twisting motion.
“Oh, Jesus… you fucking bitch…” Amancio shuddered violently, his knees buckling. His hand clenched in Javi’s hair, holding him in place. “You’re gonna… you’re gonna make me…”
María increased the pressure, sucking the head like she was trying to draw poison from a wound. A guttural, animal sound tore from Amancio’s throat. His whole body went rigid.
In the same instant, he yanked his dick from María’s mouth.
It sprang free, glistening and pulsing, aimed directly at Javi’s face.
Javi had a fraction of a second to see it—the flushed, purplish head, the slit wide open—before the first thick, hot jet hit him.
It struck his cheekbone with a sharp, wet slap. The sensation was startlingly warm, almost scalding. The second blast caught him across the bridge of his nose. The third splattered over his lips and chin.
He flinched, eyes slamming shut. The world became a series of warm, viscous impacts. Rope after rope of cum painted his face, streaking through his eyebrows, dripping from his lashes, pooling in the hollow of his throat. It was dense, and the smell—musky, pungent, overwhelmingly biological—filled his nostrils. He could taste it on his lips, a bitter, salty tang.
He heard Amancio’s final, shuddering groans, the sound of a man utterly spent. He heard María, panting heavily, the sound of her spitting onto the concrete floor.
Then, silence, broken only by their ragged breathing.
Javi opened his eyes. His vision was blurred by semen clinging to his eyelashes. Through the sticky white film, he saw Amancio, trousers still around his thighs, leaning back against the workbench with a look of profound, smug satisfaction. He saw María, still on her knees, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She was staring at Javi.
A slow, incredulous smile spread across her face. Then a snort escaped her. Then full-on laughter, coarse and loud in the tiny space.
“Joder, Javi,” she wheezed, shaking her head. “Look at you. You look like a fucking glazed doughnut. I told you not to get in the way!”
He just knelt there, dripping, unable to form words. The warm cum was already cooling, becoming clammy on his skin.
María pushed herself to her feet, her legs unsteady. She brushed off her knees, a futile gesture. “I swear to God, every single time. We come here so I can defend you from this pig, and you always, always end up with his fucking load all over your face. What is wrong with you?”
Amancio chuckled, hauling his pants up over his hips, not even bothering to clean himself first. He fished a crumpled cigarette from his pocket and lit it, the match flare bright in the dim booth. “He’s got a talent for it. A real face magnet.”
“Shut up, you,” María shot back, but there was no real heat in it. She sounded almost fondly exasperated. She reached out and poked Javi’s shoulder. “Come on, get up. You’re a disaster. A complete and utter disaster.”
Javi rose, his body moving on autopilot. The semen felt like a mask, tightening as it dried. He could feel a glob of it slowly sliding down his neck under his shirt collar.
María shook her head again, looking him up and down. “I said we were just going to confront him. Just tell him off. And what happens? We end up here, on our knees, both of us sucking his dick. What does that make us, huh?” She laughed again, a sharp, brittle sound. “It makes us two fucking whores. That’s what. God, you’re unbelievable.”
She said it as if it were his fault. As if his presence alone had conjured the entire sordid tableau. She had been his fierce protector, his defender, right up until the moment she’d taken the concierge’s cock back into her mouth with a zeal that had nothing to do with protection and everything to do with submission. And now she stood there, scolding him for the inevitable, ridiculous outcome, while the man she’d just serviced smoked his cigarette and leered.
“Let’s go,” she said, pulling the door open. The cool night air rushed in, a shocking contrast to the booth’s oily heat. “I need a drink. And you need a shower. A really, really long shower.”
She stepped out without looking back at Amancio. Javi hesitated, his eyes meeting the old man’s. Amancio winked, took a deep drag, and exhaled the smoke in a long, contented stream.
“See you around, Javi,” he said, his voice rich with promise. “You’re always welcome. Bring your friend.”
Javi stumbled out into the night. María was already a few paces ahead, walking with her usual assertive stride, as if they’d just left a mildly annoying party. The streetlights painted her form in stark pools of orange and shadow, highlighting the powerful, rolling curve of her ass with every step.
He hurried to catch up, the dried semen cracking on his face. She didn’t slow down.
“You’re not going to say anything?” he finally managed, his voice a croak.
“What’s there to say?” she replied, not looking at him. “We did a stupid thing.Again. Lesson learned. Maybe next time I’ll just let the old creep have his way with you and save us both the trouble.”
“You defended me,” Javi said, the words tasting as bitter as the semen on his lips.
“Yeah, well,” she sighed, the defensiveness finally seeping into her tone, a crack in her brittle nonchalance. “That’s what friends do, right? Even when their friends are total fucking messes who can’t seem to avoid getting cum-facials from geriatric perverts. Now come on. My place. I have some makeup wipes that’ll get that shit off. You’re not getting on the metro looking like that.”
She finally glanced at him, and in the flickering light of a passing car, he saw it—not regret, not guilt, but a faint, unsettling glimmer of amusement. And beneath that, something darker and more complicit. She had enjoyed it. Not just the sex, but the absurd, degrading theatre of it all. The power of being the supposed protector while willfully diving into the filth. And she had loved watching him be dragged into it with her.
She linked her arm through his, pulling him close as they walked. The gesture was one of friendship, of solidarity. But his arm was stiff, and her touch felt like a brand. He could smell Amancio on himself, and on her breath.
“You know,” she said, her voice conversational now, as if discussing the weather, “for a guy with a tiny dick, he sure produces a lot of cum. Must be all the preservatives in the cheap food he eats.”
Javi said nothing. He just let her lead him through the sleeping city, the taste of another man’s orgasm still on his tongue, and the image of her hungry, devoted mouth seared permanently behind his eyes.