The Neighborhood Tough Guy Had a Secret

I’d been living in that neighborhood for almost a year when everything changed. I’d moved in with Natalia, who was five years older than me and had inherited an apartment from her aunt in that part of the city. It wasn’t dangerous exactly, but it wasn’t peaceful either: working families, shopkeepers who knew your name, and guys like El Rulo.

El Rulo was unavoidable in that neighborhood. Small-time hustler, always with a little chain around his neck and two or three guys trailing after him everywhere he went. What people talked about most, in low voices and with a strange mix of scandal and fascination, was that no woman from the neighborhood who had been with him had ever come away without wanting a repeat. They talked about him like he was a force of nature: something you couldn’t control that left a mark. People said he had the thickest cock in the neighborhood and knew how to use it, that he fucked hard and long, that he left women walking funny for two days. I said hello when I ran into him on the stairs or at the corner store. That was it. Until that afternoon.

The message came at six twenty, from a number I didn’t have saved. It said only: “If I were you, I’d come home now.” I read it twice, then three times. I was at a bar about fifteen blocks from the apartment, having a drink with a coworker. I paid for what I’d ordered without finishing my glass, told him I had something urgent to deal with, and went out to the parking lot where I’d left the bike.

I cut the engine half a block away. I pushed the bike to the corner and left it leaning against the gate of a closed shop. I went into the building through the back door, which was always stuck shut with the same key nobody ever changed. I went up the stairs pressed against the left wall, where the old wood didn’t creak as much. I knew exactly which step to put my foot on so I wouldn’t make noise: I’d been living there almost a year, and the floors taught you how to listen to them if you paid attention.

The second-floor hallway was silent, except for what was coming from the back of the apartment. The front door wasn’t fully shut. From inside came voices and something else: low, intermittent moans, the unmistakable sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the wet slap of a soaked cunt swallowing a cock all the way down, the kind of sounds you recognize without wanting to recognize them.

I nudged the door open with the tip of my foot. The living room was dim, the last light of the afternoon coming through the window at the back. The bedroom door was open, and what I saw from the threshold stopped me cold for several seconds.

Natalia was standing, braced against the wooden dresser, hands on the mirror and her face turned to the side. She had her T-shirt pulled up to her neck, her tits hanging and bouncing with every thrust, her nipples hard and dark brushing the wood. Her skirt was wrinkled at the waist and her panties were hanging off one ankle. El Rulo was behind her, his pants down on his thighs, one hand spreading one cheek and the other planted on her hip. He was fucking in and out of her with a slow, deep rhythm, his whole cock shining with slick every time he pulled back before burying himself again to the balls. They were both wearing less than necessary for a Tuesday afternoon, and they’d been at it for a while: it was obvious in the way they moved, in the comfort of their positions, in the sounds they made without caring about anything, in the little puddle that had formed under Natalia’s feet.

“Do you always have to do it from behind?” Natalia said, her voice somewhere between tired and not quite a complaint, arching her ass a little more to take him in. “One day you’re going to do me face-to-face.”

“This is how I like it, baby,” El Rulo answered without changing pace, giving her left cheek a sharp slap that left the red mark of his five fingers. “What’s a little forbidden tastes better. Besides, look how your cunt’s leaking when I fuck you doggy.”

He dug his fingers into her hips and drove in three times in a row, harder, deeper, all the way. Natalia let out a long moan, almost a bark, and pressed her forehead to the mirror. You could see her thighs trembling, the way her knees softened every time he yanked his cock out and slammed it back in.

That was when I saw it. El Rulo’s free hand wasn’t on Natalia’s hip or braced on the dresser. It was behind his own body, moving in a way that had nothing to do with what he was doing up front. One of his fingers, slick with spit, going in and out of his own ass at the same rhythm he was fucking her. A small gesture, almost automatic, one he probably didn’t even register consciously. But I had seen it.

This man has a secret nobody in the neighborhood knows, I thought.

I had a work knife in the side pocket of my backpack. A black-handled one, with a ten-centimeter blade, the kind I used to open boxes in the warehouse where I worked two days a week. I took it out slowly. I didn’t think too hard about what I was going to do with it. I just knew I needed a solid leverage point for what came next.

I approached from the angle where El Rulo couldn’t see me. The distance kept closing without either of them moving from the spot: he kept fucking, she kept moaning with her cunt dripping down her thighs. When I got within less than a meter, I set the blade against the side of his neck, slowly, without pressing.

“Don’t move,” I said.

Natalia let out a short scream and jerked away, his cock sliding out of her with a wet sound that filled the room. El Rulo froze instantly, his dick still hard and dripping, pointed at the ceiling. For a second nobody spoke.

“What is this,” he muttered.

“One question,” I said. “I saw what you were doing with your hand. Yours, not hers.”

Silence. Natalia had pressed herself against the wall beside her and was staring at the scene with wide eyes, one hand still touching between her legs almost without realizing it. There was something on her face that was hard to describe: not exactly fear. Curiosity.

“It was nothing,” El Rulo said.

“Of course it was something. You were sticking your finger up your ass while you were fucking her. The whole neighborhood knows you as the hard guy, the one who doesn’t turn anybody down. But the body doesn’t lie, and I saw what I saw.”

El Rulo tried to move to one side. I pressed the blade a little harder.

“We can settle this two ways,” I told him, not raising my voice. “You walk out that door right now and tomorrow I’ll tell everyone in the neighborhood what I found. Or you stay, and we settle things the way they should be settled. Your choice.”

He didn’t answer right away. But he didn’t move toward the door either. And his cock, the one famous for splitting women in two, wasn’t going down even a centimeter. On the contrary: it kept pointing up, heavy, the tip purple with a thick drop hanging from the glans.

I made him step away from Natalia and turn toward the bed. What I found matched what I had seen: his body had already moved ahead of whatever decision his head wanted to make. He looked at me once, with that hard expression he’d perfected over years of walking the neighborhood like he owned it. Then he lowered his eyes.

“So the tough guy,” I said quietly, almost conversationally. “Years in the neighborhood, fucking whoever he wanted, never letting anyone do the same to him. All that time pretending.”

“Don’t say anything,” he murmured.

“I’m not saying anything your own body doesn’t already know.”

I told him to take off his pants, his shirt, everything. He stripped piece by piece without looking at Natalia, without looking at me. He had that street-hardened body, tattoos on his arms and ribs, and a firm round ass he’d kept hidden under loose clothes for years. I told him to get on all fours on the bed, face down in the sheets, ass up. He did it slowly, pride fighting him every step of the way, but he did it.

I unzipped my pants and pulled mine out. It had been hard since the moment I’d put the knife to his neck, maybe even before. I spat on his ass twice and ran my thumb over his hole to slick it up. The opening gave slightly at the touch, easier than I’d expected. This guy had done this before, many times, even if nobody knew it.

“Loosen up,” I told him. “You already know how this works.”

I pushed in slowly, no rush, the tip first. El Rulo bit the sheets and let out a grunt that came from deep in his chest. I pushed a little more and felt the ring give way, swallowing me. When I got all the way in, my balls pressed against his, a breath escaped him that had nothing hard about it and everything needy.

“Look at him,” I said to Natalia over my shoulder. “The terror of the neighborhood, with my cock all the way inside him, and he still hasn’t said stop.”

Natalia didn’t say anything. She had leaned against the doorframe, one hand on her nipple and the other spreading the lips of her cunt, watching everything.

I started moving. First stiffly, his muscles tight, his jaw clenched like someone enduring something he didn’t want to admit he wanted. I fucked him slow, pulling almost all the way out and then burying it back to the hilt, listening to the wet sound every time my balls slapped against his. Then with less resistance: his ass began to relax, settle, start following my movement by pushing his hips back. And then, when there was no room left to keep pretending, with a kind of surrender that felt more honest than anything he’d voluntarily said in the last ten years.

“Say it,” I told him, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back. “Say what you are.”

“I’m a faggot,” he panted, eyes closed. “I’m a filthy faggot, give me more.”

I gave him more. I grabbed his hips with both hands and started fucking him for real, setting a rhythm that made his forehead hit the mattress. His own cock, still hard, was jerking between his legs with every thrust, soaking the sheets with precum. He grabbed it and started jerking off to my rhythm, without a trace of shame.

Natalia hadn’t moved from the wall. She watched the scene without blinking, her fingers buried in her cunt.

“Don’t move,” I said without turning around.

“I’m not moving,” she answered, and her voice was completely different from the one she’d had at the start.

El Rulo moaned with his face buried in the sheets. At first it was a contained sound, almost inaudible, the kind of whimper someone makes when they don’t want to be heard. But it changed. As his body adapted, the sounds became less controlled, more direct, more honest. They were the sounds of someone who was finally doing something he had needed for a long time without knowing how to ask for it.

“Harder,” he begged. “Fuck me harder, come on.”

I fucked him harder. I leaned over his back, bit his shoulder, drove my cock into him with short, brutal thrusts that made him shout into the pillow. The smell of sex filled the room: Natalia’s cunt, his sweat, saliva and slick mixing together.

“You see it?” I said to Natalia without turning, without stopping.

“My God,” she whispered, two fingers inside herself and her thumb pinching her clit.

“The neighborhood tough guy had tastes he never told you about. Look at him jerking off while he’s getting fucked.”

Natalia didn’t answer. But she never once looked away. Her knees were weak with how much she liked watching.

El Rulo came first. He let out a long groan and his cock jumped twice, shooting thick ropes onto the sheets while his ass tightened around my cock like a fist. I rode out the contractions and kept fucking him, now into a hole even hotter and tighter from the orgasm. He stayed trembling under me for minutes, muttering obscenities into the pillow.

When I came, I pulled out at the last second and shot the whole load across his back and ass. Thick spurts ran down his crack and fell between his cheeks. I stayed there a second, dragging the tip over his open hole, smearing it in good and proper, marking him.

Then I made him get up and kneel beside Natalia on the floor, in front of me. Both of them in the same place, both of them at the same level, both of them taking what came next: I made Natalia lick what was left on my cock, and then him, pushing it to the back of his throat until he gagged. They both obeyed without arguing. Then I pointed to El Rulo’s clothes with my eyes.

“Pick up your things,” I said.

He dressed slowly, in silence, without looking at me, with semen still running inside the fabric of his pants. At the bedroom door he paused for a moment, as if he were going to say something.

“If you open your mouth,” I said, “tomorrow everyone knows. If not, this stays here between us.”

He looked at me from the threshold. For the first time since I’d known him by sight, he didn’t have the expression of someone who ran the block. He nodded once and left.

***

Natalia was still kneeling on the floor when we heard the front door close. She lifted her eyes slowly. Her lips were glossy and a drop of my cum was hanging from her chin.

“Don’t go,” she said.

I was already opening the closet to take out the canvas bag.

“There’s not much to discuss.”

“I know. I’m not going to look for excuses or explanations.” She paused a long moment. “But I’d never seen you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like someone who knows exactly what he wants and takes it.” She got up slowly from the floor, her legs still trembling. “I’ve spent almost a year living with the other one, the one who comes in, asks what’s for dinner, and falls asleep with his phone in his hand. This one now is completely different.”

“The one now showed up because somebody anonymous texted me telling me to come home.”

Natalia didn’t say anything. She held my gaze.

I took her arm carefully and put her against the wall. She offered no resistance. I ripped off her shirt in one tug and pulled her skirt down to her ankles. She braced her hands against the plaster and arched her back as if the position were natural to her, as if she’d been waiting a long time for someone to ask for it this way. Her cunt was red, swollen, lips parted and still leaking from the previous use.

“You’re still dripping from him,” I said, running two fingers through her slit from top to bottom.

“I know,” she whispered, pressing her ass back against me. “Fuck me anyway.”

“That’s what I thought.”

I grabbed one tit from behind, squeezed it hard, pinched her nipple until she moaned. With my other hand I lined my cock up between her thighs and rubbed the tip against her clit, not putting it in yet, feeling her legs trembling. She was soaked, dripping down her thighs, and not all of it was his.

“Put it in me,” she begged. “Please.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Put it all the way in, come on, fuck me like you fucked him.”

I drove it in with one thrust, all the way, until it hit her cervix. Natalia screamed against the wall, a long scream that broke in her throat. I started fucking her hard from the start, with no preamble, pulling almost all the way out each time before driving it back in with my full body weight behind it. The wet sound of her drenched cunt swallowing me mixed with my hips slapping against her ass.

It was direct and to the point. There was no tenderness but no cruelty either. What there was was clarity: we both knew exactly where each of us stood. I grabbed her hair from the nape and yanked her head back, biting at her neck while I kept thrusting. She pressed herself against the wall, looking for the angle, arching her ass more, chasing that fucking depth until I gave it to her all the way.

“Did you like watching me fuck him?” I asked in her ear, without stopping.

“Yes,” she panted. “Yes, I loved it, keep going, don’t stop.”

“How long have you been fucking him?”

“Three months. Four. I don’t know. Fuck me harder.”

I lifted one of her legs, setting it on my hip, and came at her from another angle. Her cunt opened wider and my cock sank deeper. She was sobbing in a way that wasn’t pain, mouth open against the plaster, muttering broken obscenities every time I snapped into her. I put two fingers in her mouth and she sucked them like they were another cock.

She came twice before I did, squeezing my cock with her cunt until it hurt. The second time it ran down her thighs to her knees. I took all the time I wanted, no rush, until the end: I pulled out at the last second and shot my load between her ass cheeks and across her back, marking her just like I’d marked him, the cum running down her crack and hanging from her skin.

When I was done, I let her go. She stayed there with her forehead against the wall, shoulders moving with her breathing, my semen dripping slowly down her back.

“Now I’m leaving,” I said.

“Are you coming back?”

“I don’t know yet. I need to think about where I’m living this week.”

I packed what I needed into the bag, slung the backpack over my shoulder, and left the apartment. I went down the same stairs I’d climbed an hour earlier, this time not worrying about the noise the steps made.

At the corner was El Rulo. He wasn’t alone: three neighbors were standing with him, guys from the neighborhood I knew by sight, the ones the tough guy usually hung out with. They were talking in low voices, and one of them had his hand on El Rulo’s shoulder in a way that lasted a second longer than normal, then slowly dropped to the small of his back, almost to the base of his ass. El Rulo was smiling in a way I’d never seen him smile at any man.

The four of them turned together toward the hallway of the Portuguese guy’s building on the first floor and disappeared inside.

I started the bike. I rode off.

Every neighborhood has its stories. Most are told in low voices, with the door closed, among people who later greet each other like nothing happened on the corner. El Rulo would be back tomorrow, walking the block with his chain around his neck and his reputation intact, and nobody would know a thing. Or almost nobody.

But I had arrived at exactly the right moment, and that couldn’t be erased.