The Price I Paid for Two Bottles of Wine

I was in the office, about to wrap up for the day, when Damian’s message came through.

Bren, did you get the wine for dinner with my boss tonight?

I had completely forgotten. A brutal week of work, my head somewhere else, and I’d let the most important detail slip my mind. I knew what that dinner meant to him, how badly he needed to make a good impression on that man.

I left early, but it was already four in the afternoon. I went through supermarkets, wine shops, two wineries with storefronts facing the street. Everywhere they told me the same thing: that wine had to be imported, and in less than a week it was impossible. No one had it.

When I had already given up and was mentally rehearsing how to confess to Damian that I hadn’t managed to get it, I passed the corner deli. An old, dark place, run by a disgusting guy. But everyone knew they had everything there. If you asked him for something impossible, the old man always said yes.

I walked in with my stomach tight. The little bells on the door rang as I opened it. That old store smell churned me up inside, because it wasn’t the first time I’d set foot in that place, and memory suddenly brought back everything that man had done to me months before, when he had me trapped by a secret I couldn’t tell.

There was no one at the counter. I turned on my heel to leave, and then I heard his voice behind me, that voice that pinned me to the floor.

—Well, look who came to visit old Cholo —he said, mockingly—. You need to buy something, or did you just stop by to say hello?

He leaned on the counter and sized me up with that crooked smile I knew far too well.

—I need a wine that’s very hard to find. For tonight —I said, bluntly, wanting to get it over with.

—And what’s this very special wine? —he asked.

—Gran Toscano, Cerro Bayo Winery malbec —I answered, almost begging him to say he didn’t have it.

—Well, well. Look at the drinks the girl’s into now —he laughed under his breath and shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning back—. Say I do have it. How much would you be willing to pay?

I didn’t answer him. His arrogance disgusted me, but the clock was ticking and Damian was due home with his boss any minute.

—Do you have it or not? I’m in a hurry. If you don’t, I’ll keep looking —I said, putting my hand on the door handle without taking my eyes off him.

He turned around, pulled back a curtain, and disappeared into the back. I didn’t know whether to stay or run.

—Well, thanks —I said irritably, opening the door. That was when he spoke again.

—Leaving without the wines?

I heard the dull thunk of bottles hitting the counter. I turned, and there they were: the two of them. My salvation.

—How much? —I asked, taking out my wallet as I moved closer.

—I already asked you. How much are you willing to pay for the last two bottles I’ve got left? Anywhere else you’d be waiting a week, and if I understood correctly, you need it today, no matter what.

He leaned on the counter again and ran his eyes over me once more.

—Here’s how it is, sweetheart. Business is slow, fewer and fewer people come by. In the old days I used to have a good time, you know how it is. Until recently, there was this young girl who liked an old guy like me. But she left the country and I’ve got too much pent-up desire. —He laughed, disgusting—. You help me let off steam and you take the bottles. Like always: you lean on the stockroom table, I lift your skirt, pull your thong aside, and I shove it in up to the balls. Then I give you the wine and we’re even.

My legs started trembling. The weight of imagining Damian failing in front of his boss because of me was stronger than the disgust. My eyes filled up. Once again that old man had me in his web.

—How many do you need? —the bastard insisted.

—Both. I need both —I answered angrily.

—While you’re thinking about it, time keeps moving. Maybe I close up and then you’re left without wine and without that important thing you need to solve. All because you won’t hand over the cunt you’ve already given me plenty of times.

I glanced down discreetly and his bulge was already obvious beneath his pants, his swollen cock straining the fabric. I looked at the clock. In an hour I had to be home, showered, ready. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded.

—Let’s go. But fast, please. Otherwise I won’t make it.

***

I went behind the counter. My heels clacked on the way to the stockroom. He came behind me, groping my ass over my skirt, squeezing it with those thick fingers while I braced myself on the dirty table in the back.

—I love how provocative you dress. That little skirt, the blouse, the heels, your hair tied up. I bet they line up for you at work —he said, as he lifted my skirt to my waist and pulled my thong down to mid-thigh.

My heart was pounding. My eyes filled with tears I didn’t want to let fall. I felt his rough fingers part my butt cheeks, slide down to my cunt, probe at the entrance, sink in to the knuckles. He pulled them out shining and smeared them over my lower lips, spat on them, and pushed them back in, two, then three, stretching me without ceremony.

—I missed this little cunt so much, sweetheart. Nice and tight, just the way nature left it. You should come by more often.

I heard his zipper, the sound of fabric dropping. Then the fleshy slap of his cock against my ass, heavy, hot, and him rubbing it between my cheeks from top to bottom, soaking me in his own spit, pressing the fat head to the entrance of my cunt to make me feel its thickness before he shoved it in. He grabbed my hip with one hand and, with the other, settled himself. In one thrust he went all the way in, to the balls, and I couldn’t hold back the cry. I felt him split me open inside, pressing against every wall, crashing into the back with a hard stop that knocked the air out of me.

He was pounding me without pause, pulling almost all the way out and then driving himself in again, in that brutal back-and-forth that made the table creak against the wall. I heard the wet slapping between my legs, the obscene sound of flesh hitting flesh, and his heavy balls bouncing against my clit with every thrust. He grabbed my hair, which that afternoon I’d worn tied into a single long ponytail, wound it around his fist, and pulled like a reins, forcing my neck back.

—And to think my wife’s warming my bed at home. That’s a real woman. Not like you, who was born to get fucked and nothing else —he spat between thrusts—. Look how this little whore cunt swallows cock. Suck it with your walls, come on, squeeze it.

He landed a slap on my left cheek that left me burning, then another, and another, until I could feel my skin throbbing. With his free hand he groped my tits under my blouse, yanked my bra up, pinched my nipples until they were hard as stones. I told him to go slower. He ignored me, as always, and sped up even more, so deep I could feel the tip of his cock slamming into my belly.

And then I realized something: every time I begged him to take it easy, he got harder, rougher. So I changed tactics. If I wanted him to finish quickly, I had to turn him on more.

—Slow down, please, you’re tearing my cunt apart, you’re going to break me —I moaned, exaggerating, even though a lot of it was true—. It’s so big, Cholo, it won’t fit, pull it out a little.

It worked immediately. I felt him swell deeper inside, his cock throbbing against my walls, and then suddenly a guttural roar, a brutal tug on my hair, and the whole load emptying inside me, jet after jet, hot, thick, so much that I felt the cum overflowing and running down my thighs. He kept pushing until the last drop, grinding his pelvis against my ass, and collapsed heavy over my back, panting, his cock still buried, throbbing, while the warm liquid ran around the base.

I wanted to sit up to grab the bottles and leave, but he pressed me to the table with his open hand between my shoulder blades.

—What are you doing? —I said, disoriented.

—You think you were going to rip me off? Business is business. Two bottles, two rounds. Get ready, I’m going again.

I felt his cock, which still hadn’t fully softened, go hard again inside me, swelling against my walls. He drove forward again with all his strength, sliding in easily over the cum he’d left himself, not giving me time to adjust. The semen made an obscene sound every time he buried himself, a wet slosh echoing off the stockroom walls. My ass burned, red from the blows and the new slaps he kept raining down on me, one after another, while he rode me from behind like an animal.

—Look what I left inside you, sweetheart. And you still have one more load coming. You’re going home with your pussy full of the old man’s cream. And you’re going to kiss your Damian with the same ass I’m fucking you in.

He bent down and licked my neck, biting my shoulder through my blouse. Then he shoved two fingers into my mouth, filthy with everything, and made me suck them while he kept fucking me. I felt him spread my legs farther with his knee, change the angle, and drive even deeper, each thrust pulling a moan from me I could no longer hide.

—No, please, that’s enough, you already gave me what you wanted. Let me go —I begged, my voice breaking.

He only smiled and pushed harder, gripping both my hips with his hands, using me like a piece of meat. Knowing the second bottle would take longer and my time was running out, I provoked him again.

—Pull it out, you’re going to split me, you’re too big, I can’t take any more —I whimpered, deliberately tightening my cunt around his cock, clenching with every shove to make it feel even better for him.

That was enough. I heard his grunt, felt his balls contract against my crotch, and finally he emptied into me a second time, much deeper than the first, pushed in to the hilt, staying pressed against me until his last spasm died away. He pulled out dripping wet and rubbed his cock over my ass to clean it off. He gave my ass a brutal slap, so hard it left his handprint, and stepped away.

—Done. Take the bottles and go. And be grateful I didn’t put it in your ass too, because I was tempted.

I straightened my thong —already soaked through— and my skirt without saying a word, feeling the cum seeping down the insides of my thighs with every step, took the bag, and left. My heels clicked again in that thick silence. The apartment was two blocks away. Luckily, I got there before Damian.

***

I showered quickly, scrubbing between my legs with the sponge until it burned, trying to get rid of the old man smell, the spit, the cum that still kept leaking even under the hot water. I thought about putting on loose pants, but the clean thongs I had were smaller and I was afraid what was still draining out of me would show. I chose a black dress, matching shoes, a discreet necklace, and my hair tied up in a long ponytail. I put on just a little makeup, took a deep breath, and got myself in the mood to play the perfect hostess.

The keys in the lock. Damian came in with his boss.

—Hi, baby. Didn’t you answer my messages? —he said, smiling.

—I was running around doing errands, sorry.

—Did you get the wine?

—Yes, yes, I got it —I replied, pretending enthusiasm.

—Look at that. One of the messages told you to skip it, that the boss was bringing some from a friend. Anyway, now we’ve got plenty, thanks to you.

He took the bag his boss handed him and passed it to me to add to mine. To break the ice, I asked the man where you could get such a hard-to-find wine.

—Nothing special. Just two blocks from here there’s a deli that has everything. The family knows the place. When I was a kid, I always went there to buy from old Cholo. I went, because my mother hated him. I never knew why.

I did know why. My blood ran cold. The friend the old man had been expecting in five minutes, the one he’d mentioned to me laughing, was Damian’s boss.

Dinner went on normally, aside from the awkward looks I exchanged with him more than once. At the end, he raised his glass.

—Good dinner, good wine, nice apartment, nice girlfriend, Damian. You’ve set the bar very high. And I’ll take this chance to say today is your last day at the company.

The color drained from Damian’s face.

—Your last day as a worker. Because starting Monday, you’re the new head of external relations. You did well. Congratulations.

Our souls came back into our bodies. We hugged, clinked glasses, celebrated.

—We have to celebrate this! I know the best ice cream shop in the city —Damian blurted out.

—Baby, that place is twenty minutes away and there’s always a line. You’ll take an hour. Are you going to make your boss wait? —I said, trying to stop him.

—I’ll wait as long as it takes for good ice cream —the man laughed, crossing his legs on the sofa.

—I’ll be right back. You won’t regret it. I’m going, baby!

He kissed me and left.

***

As soon as the door closed, I started clearing the table, nervous, and carried everything into the kitchen. He followed me with his eyes, silent, champagne glass resting on his knee.

—Don’t be scared —he said suddenly, making me jump—. I understand my presence carries weight. But today everything went perfectly. You’ve got an honest, dedicated boyfriend with a future. I’m fond of Damian. I’m going to push him all the way to the top.

Focused on the dishes, I answered too casually.

—It’s good to have a sponsor. So nobody gets in his way.

I put the sponge back where it belonged and felt him right behind my back, his voice brushing my ear.

—That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Getting in the way. Sometimes it doesn’t come from the company. Sometimes it comes from home. From the girlfriend herself.

His cologne wrapped around me.

—What? I’d never do that —I said, trying to wriggle out of it.

He grabbed my hip and wouldn’t let me move.

—Listen, I’ll make it short. All night we kept exchanging looks. You put on that dress instead of pants. Every time you walked in those heels, your ass moved all over the place and it drove me crazy. —Now he was squeezing me with both hands, digging his fingers into my flesh—. My cock gets hard just looking at you, sweetheart. Touch it.

He took my hand from behind and placed it over his pants. I felt the hard, long bulge throbbing beneath the fabric. He rubbed it against my palm so I could feel it properly.

—It wasn’t my intention. It’s a misunderstanding, I’m not like that —my voice was trembling just as much as his.

—I’ll make it even shorter. Either you let me have you here and now, or on Monday I tell Damian the board wanted him out and that I couldn’t do anything. Imagine the look on his face when he finds out he lost his career because of your whim.

He pressed his pelvis against my ass and pushed me toward the counter, crushing my stomach against the cold marble. I had no choice. I arched my back, shaking with fury, begging Damian to walk in and see the kind of man his boss really was.

He grabbed my hair, lifted my dress up to my waist, and stared at my ass for a long time, breathing hard, like a man licking his lips before a meal. He yanked my thong down to my knees, then to my ankles. He slid his fingers between my legs and found me slick, my cunt soaked, dripping. He thought I was aroused. He didn’t know it was what the old man had left behind and was still draining out, now mixed with what his own touch was making come out of me without meaning to.

—Look at you. All wet, dripping inside and out. Poor Damian, he deserves a real woman, not this soaked slut —he murmured, while he spread my lips with his fingers, parted them, put them in his mouth and sucked with a disgusting noise—. You taste like a whore, sweetheart. You taste like a whore.

I heard the belt, the zipper, his pants dropping to his ankles. Then the weight of his cock settling over my ass, hot, I felt how big it was, thick, different from the old man’s but just as threatening. He rubbed it between my cheeks, up and down, leaving a trail of pre-cum on my skin. With the tip he searched for my cunt first, went in a couple of inches to test the tightness, pulled out, went back in, pulled it out dripping.

—No, please —my helplessness made me cry.

—I consider myself a fair man. That’s why I’m asking you: front or back?

—Please, no.

—That’s not a hard question —he insisted, pressing the tip against my asshole and pushing just enough to make me feel the threat.

—Front. Not from behind, please —I said, trembling—. I’ll let you finish, but not there, nobody’s ever put it in there.

—Then it’s going to be from behind. Because nobody tells me what to do. And if that little ass is virgin, even better. I like breaking them in.

He gathered saliva in his mouth and spat a thick glob between my cheeks, then lowered his hand and spread it around my ass with his finger, shoved his thumb in, twisted, loosened me. He spat again, this time directly onto his cock, smeared it up and down, and set the head against the opening. He pushed slowly, firmly, and I felt the ring give way, open, burn, while the head popped in with a wet pop. I screamed into his arm, biting my forearm so I wouldn’t wake the whole building. He didn’t stop: he worked it in little by little, centimeter by centimeter, forcing his way through until his balls bumped against my soaked cunt and I knew he had the whole thing buried in my ass.

—Damn, what a tight little ass you’ve got, sweetheart. Just like I imagined all through dinner. It was well deserved.

He held still for a second, savoring the squeeze, and then started pumping. Long thrusts, pulling almost all the way out, showing me how my asshole stretched around the base, and driving back in again to the hilt. Each motion dragged a muffled moan out of me, the sensation of being split in two, my ass burning, the old man’s cum seeping out of my cunt with every blow.

—Look how it takes it, look how it sucks my cock in. You were born for this, to get it from every angle. Damian has no idea what he’s got at home.

He reached around to the front and started fingering my cunt while he fucked my ass, pushing in two fingers, then three, rubbing my clit with his palm. He felt that I was full of something thick and frowned for a second.

—You’re so wet, so worked up, you look freshly fucked. What were you doing before I got here, huh, slut?

I didn’t answer. He sped up, grabbing my hair with one hand and my hip with the other, fucking me so hard the counter creaked. He fucked my ass with short, quick thrusts, then long, deep ones, alternating, chasing his own pleasure without caring about anything. The pain started blending into something else, a warm humiliation climbing up my back that I didn’t want to admit.

Enduring the string of filth he said while he fucked me was almost worse than the pain. Until he swelled, growled, buried himself to the hilt and unloaded in my ass, jerk after jerk, filling me with hot cum. He stayed pressed against my back for a moment, panting in my ear, grinding his pelvis just enough to empty the last drop. Then he pulled his cock out slowly and I felt a warm stream run down the back of my thigh. I straightened up without a word, feeling my asshole throbbing, parted open, unable to close all the way. He tucked himself back into his pants, returned to the sofa, and just then the key turned in the lock.

I forced a smile while I squeezed my legs together so nothing would show.

—Let’s get the tubs out for the ice cream! —Damian said, thrilled.

—Yes, yes —and I handed them over.

We ate the ice cream. After a while, his boss got up, said it was time, and Damian saw him out with a handshake and a huge smile. We were left alone. We kissed, finished the champagne, and he wanted us to make love.

—Baby, it’s so late and I’ve got yoga early tomorrow. Tomorrow, okay? I’m exhausted tonight.

And that was how that impossible day ended. Though, deep down, feeling so used —with my cunt still full of the old man and my ass dripping with the boss’s cum— left me with a forbidden rush I didn’t dare confess to anyone.