What Happened on That Road Trip South

Aurelio and Casimiro had been on the road for more than two hours when they left the last highway sign behind. That same morning they had closed the deal on the Calmares estate: an enormous plot where they planned to set up the machinery warehouse. They were heading back in good spirits, the SUV’s engine purring low, and kilometer after kilometer of dry landscape on either side.

—Another thing sorted —said Aurelio—. My wife already has a new car. I’m keeping this one.

—Mine is happy enough with her sedan. —Casimiro scratched his bald scalp and looked out the window—. You know what? I’ve had a cold sandwich since breakfast. Let’s stop somewhere, man.

—There’s a place on the coast, fifteen minutes away. Lobster and white wine. Fancy it?

—Not going to argue with that.

They ate well. Two fresh lobsters, a bottle of white wine, and after coffee, two cigarettes and two glasses of Scotch the waiter recommended with paternal pride. They went out to stretch their legs along a path that led down to a small cove, almost hidden among the rocks. That was where they heard the music.

—Kids —muttered Aurelio—. Used to be tape decks, and now these speakers you can hear from a kilometer away.

Near the shoreline there was a couple seated on a towel. She was a redhead, short, with slender legs and freckles on her arms; she wore a white tank top and a denim mini skirt. The boy had his hair tied back in a ponytail and a piercing in his nose. When they saw them approaching, the boy changed the song and turned up the volume.

The redhead stood up. She walked toward them unhurriedly, swaying her hips to the beat, until she stopped right in front of them. She turned her back to them, bent her knees, and began moving with a looseness that left Casimiro with his cigarette halfway to his mouth. She crouched all the way down, her ass almost brushing Aurelio’s fly, and from there rose slowly, rubbing herself against his thigh, without touching him with her hands, letting the denim mini skirt ride up until the edge of a red pair of panties showed.

—Fuck —murmured Aurelio.

—Nice show —added Casimiro.

The girl straightened, turned around, and smiled like someone who had just collected what she was owed.

—Are you inviting us to smoke? —she asked.

—I’ll give you a light, come on. Passing through?

—We came to work, but the season’s over now. We have to head back to Robles del Páramo. It’s more than a hundred kilometers away and we’re short on money. We were thinking of waiting for the night bus at some gas station.

—What did you work as? —Aurelio asked, eyeing the boy’s tattoos, the painted nails, her eyebrow piercing.

—Waiters in bars. The season is enough to live on.

—There must have been a lot of pretty young things passing through there, I imagine —said Casimiro with a half smile.

Aurelio and Casimiro looked at each other. Their conversation needed no words: a blink, a nod.

—Look, we’re heading north. We’ll take you. But the toll for the ride, we’ll decide along the way. All right?

The boy laughed.

—I’m Tobías. She’s Lúa. And you…

—Diego and Germán —Aurelio answered without blinking.

***

They stopped on a secondary road, behind some bushes, to roll a couple of joints. Tobías pulled out a pinch of hash and rolling papers; Casimiro recognized the quality at once by the smell.

—Good stuff, kid.

—You know your shit —Tobías replied.

—I know a lot of things. —Aurelio took a long drag and held it in.

When they got back in the car, Lúa sat in front. She plugged a USB drive into the stereo and chose a reggaeton track with a bassline that made the rear speakers vibrate. Still seated, she swayed back and forth as if she were dancing in an armchair. Aurelio watched her out of the corner of his eye between gear changes, seeing how she spread her legs in the seat and how her mini skirt rode up every time the car bounced over a pothole.

In the back were Casimiro and Tobías. The smoke from the last joint was still thickening the air. Casimiro leaned in and slid his hand under the boy’s tank top. He found the small nipples already hard, and pinched them slowly, one and then the other, never taking his eyes off him. Tobías closed his eyes and parted his lips. When Casimiro found his mouth, neither of them protested. Casimiro shoved his tongue deep inside him, while his right hand slid down his flat stomach to the waistband of his shorts, slipping inside, squeezing his cock over the underwear. It was already half hard, hot, throbbing beneath the fabric.

—I see things are heating up back there —said Aurelio, never taking his eyes off the road.

—My friend here is the type to loosen up fast —Casimiro answered through his teeth.

—Yeah, I can see that.

Lúa looked over the seat and laughed with a mix of surprise and fascination. Casimiro had pulled the boy’s cock out and was stroking it slowly, wrapping his whole fist around it, sliding up to the tip and down to the root. Tobías had a shiny glans, already wet with pre-cum, and he arched his hips against the man’s hand. The tension in the back had made its way to the front seat. Tobías lifted his hips and let his shorts drop to the floor. Casimiro unfastened his belt, lowered the zipper, and pulled out his own: thick, shorter than the boy’s but much wider, with his balls pressed tight inside his boxer briefs. He pushed the head toward him without a word. Tobías bent toward the man’s lap and took it all in his mouth, all the way to the throat, and from there began to move up and down, slurping loudly, sucking with hollowed cheeks.

—That’s it, you filthy thing, that’s it —Casimiro growled, one hand in the ponytail—. Suck it good, all the way down.

—I need something, this is serious.

—In the glove compartment —Aurelio replied—. Pass it up yourself, go on.

Lúa opened the glove compartment and let out a whistle when she saw what was inside: condoms, lubricant, wipes. She tossed the bottle to Casimiro between the two seats.

—You’re well prepared.

—A matter of trade.

—A sheath? —she asked with one eyebrow raised.

—I’m not worried about getting him pregnant —Tobías said, his voice hoarse and a thread of drool at the corner of his mouth, and they all laughed.

Casimiro dripped lubricant onto two fingers and pushed them into the boy’s ass without ceremony. Tobías shuddered, moaned, and pushed his ass back. Casimiro opened him with one finger, then two, turning them inside, and when he felt him give, he pulled his fingers out and coated his cock completely. The tunnel swallowed it for a few seconds, and the flickering yellow light on the roof lit Tobías’s face as he leaned over Casimiro’s legs. The boy straddled the man with his back to him, spread his cheeks with both hands, and began lowering himself very slowly onto the shaft. The thick tip forced its way in; Tobías clenched his teeth, let out a long moan between his lips, and sank down until he swallowed it whole. What came after was measured in gasps, in short grunts, in the rhythmic sound of the boy’s body slamming against the man’s, in the wet smack of a well-fucked ass. Lúa, who had turned the music down, was biting her lower lip and watching in the rearview mirror. She had slipped one hand under her skirt and was not even trying to hide it.

—Have you been together long? —Aurelio asked her.

—Tobías has been my partner since I was sixteen. When we turned eighteen we split up for half a year. I went to work in a hotel area.

—And you had a good time there.

—Almost every night. —She said it without blushing—. But we came back.

—Well, I’m married and have a daughter at university, and I’ve been at it more than I should. And you seem pretty…

—Available —she finished—. When I want to be, I am.

In back, Tobías was already fitted into Casimiro’s lap, his back against him, feet apart on the seat, head thrown back and mouth open. Casimiro had him by the hips with both hands and set the pace, lifting him up and down on his cock, driving it into him to the hilt every time. The cock went in and out, shining, pulling at the boy’s asshole with every withdrawal. Every movement made the seat back tremble. Tobías’s cock, hard and pointing at the roof, jerked against his belly on each thrust.

—Fuck, fuck, fuck! —Tobías gasped—. Harder, harder, tear my ass apart!

—Hang on, boy, hang on. I’m going to blast the whole load inside you.

—I can’t take it, I can’t take it!

Casimiro went rigid, dug his fingers into the boy’s hips, let out a long growl from deep in his chest, and the two of them froze for a couple of seconds, panting, breath cut short. He came inside him in spurts, pushing the last shot with a dry thrust. Tobías was so far gone that he came while jerking himself off: a clean shot, a thick load that splattered his stomach and left a streak over the gear lever. Aurelio roared.

—Clean up that filthy mess! —he said, and turned sharply down a dirt track leading to an empty lot.

He killed the engine. The two in back got out laughing, falling apart, trying to pull on their shorts and pants at the same time. Tobías had Casimiro’s cum running down the inside of his thigh. Aurelio got out of the car, lit a cigarette, and walked to the passenger-side window. Lúa lit one too.

***

—Your boy was sharp —he told her, exhaling the smoke slowly.

—Yours knew how to handle him.

—And you? Is there any way someone can handle you?

—Depends what you promise.

Aurelio blew smoke into her face and smirked. His left hand went to the passenger door handle, his right to the girl’s neck, and he kissed her with controlled violence that left her breathing through her nose. When they broke apart, Lúa’s mouth was red.

—You’re going to see what a toll is —he said.

He got into the passenger seat, tilted it back, and took off his pants. He pulled out his cock, long and veiny, and jerked it a couple of times in front of her face. He told her to undress, to take her time, he wanted to watch. The girl took off her shirt, braless, her skirt, her small red panties with a heart embroidered on one hip, and tossed them into his lap. Tattoos: a bird between her small pink-nippled breasts, a rabbit in her groin, just above the shaved cunt already glistening. Aurelio tugged one nipple with one hand and ran the other over her waist, lowering it to her cunt, jamming two fingers into her in one go. She was soaking.

—You’re a filthy little bitch, redhead.

—And you’ve got what I need hanging there.

—I’ve got just enough —she said, grabbing it with her hand and weighing it.

—You’ve got what you need.

Lúa leaned in. She started at the top and worked her way down, with her tongue and her hand, sucking first on his nipples, then on his stomach, until she caught his balls in her mouth and licked them one by one. Then she took his cock over her tongue from root to tip, and shoved it in until her nose brushed the pubic hair. While he held her hair up in some improvised bun so he could see her face well, she took it out and put it back in, spitting into her palm and stroking the base while sucking the tip. She was good at it: the technique came from those six months in hotels, surely. Aurelio breathed through his mouth, never looking away, and moved her head at the pace he wanted, pushing it in to the back until the girl choked a little and saliva ran down her chin in a long thread.

—That’s it, that’s it, suck it like you did in those hotels —he told her—. Swallow, swallow good.

Casimiro and Tobías had stayed by the rear wheel smoking. The passenger door was still open and from outside they could see the scene: the naked girl, kneeling sideways on the seat, her small ass stuck out, with the man’s cock going in and out of her mouth.

—Your girl has training —said Casimiro.

—She picked it up that season.

***

The engine of a tractor broke the stillness of the empty lot. An old, dull green machine appeared on the side track. It was driven by a man of about fifty, cap pulled low, prominent belly, a roll-your-own cigarette stuck to his lip. He cut the engine and stayed with his hands on the wheel, looking toward the open door of the SUV.

—Need anything? —he asked out of pure formality, not looking away.

—Nothing —Casimiro replied without blinking—. We’re resting.

—What a rest. —He climbed down from the tractor and took a couple of steps closer. At that moment Lúa was lying on her back on the reclined passenger seat, legs raised to her shoulders, taking Aurelio at a rhythm that made the car’s springs bounce. The man’s cock sank all the way into her cunt and came out shining, with white threads clinging to the flesh. Her small breasts bounced with every thrust and the girl held on to the roof handles with both hands—. Jesus Christ.

—Be my guest, if you want to watch —said Casimiro—. The boy here already got his.

—Don’t say.

—From behind. I left his ass wide open.

The tractor driver burst out laughing, spat on the ground, and went up to the driver’s window. Without asking permission, he undid his pants and pulled out a short, thick cock, red, with his big balls hanging underneath. He started hammering at it with his fist, right against the glass, never taking his eyes off Lúa’s cunt. Aurelio, who had already noticed the newcomer out of the corner of his eye, decided not to stop: on the contrary, he lengthened the rhythm, paused between thrusts, separated the next two drives with a louder smack, pulling almost all the way out and then slamming back in to the balls. He wanted an audience, he wanted eyes on him, he wanted a witness. He turned the girl around, put her on all fours on the seat with her ass aimed at the window, and shoved back into her from behind, grabbing her hair with one hand and one cheek with the other. He gave her a couple of sharp slaps that left her ass cheeks marked.

—Look close, asshole, look at how a real redhead fucks! —Aurelio shouted at the tractor driver.

—Fuck, fuck —the man from the tractor growled, one hand against the car and the other pumping his cock at full speed—. What a cunt, what an ass, mother of God.

—I’m coming! —Lúa warned, pushing her ass back against Aurelio’s hips—. I’m coming, don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck!

—Hold it.

—I can’t, I can’t!

The girl came with a muffled cry against the seatback, squeezing around the cock, her legs trembling. Aurelio pulled out at the very last second, flipped her over onto her back again with a jerk, and unloaded over her freckled breasts, over her neck, over one cheek, in three, four thick spurts that left her skin stained from collarbone to chin. He let out a deep bellow and stayed there, leaning in, both hands on the seatback, his cock still dripping over her belly. The tractor driver, beside them, was finishing too, panting, shooting his load against the car door and staining his shirt.

—When you leave, don’t drive over my crops —the man said, wiping himself with his own shirt—. And the girl, homegrown, you can tell. She’s fucking hot.

***

Two days later, at a car wash on the outskirts of the city, a woman in her mid-forties was waiting with the ticket in her hand. Patterned silk dress, Chanel sunglasses, bracelets on her wrists, just out of the hair salon. She smelled of expensive perfume from three meters away.

—I’ve come to pick up the SUV. My husband is indisposed.

—Something serious?

—A kidney stone. He’s better now.

The manager handed her the keys and the bill.

—Two hundred and fifty euros? That seems a lot.

—I’ll check, ma’am.

The manager went inside, closed the office door, and looked at his youngest employee.

—Why so much?

—That thing was a fuck pit, boss. It stank of semen and pussy. There were stains even on the ceiling.

—Go on, tell her yourself. Tactfully.

The boy went out. The Chanel smell reached him before the woman did.

—Ma’am, forgive me. We had to clean the entire upholstery. The stains wouldn’t come out, there was even some on the dashboard. The amount is fair.

She held the silence for a couple of seconds, her gaze fixed behind the sunglasses. She took out her card without saying a word.

—One more thing, ma’am. On the floor, under the passenger seat, we found this. We didn’t want to open the glove compartment.

The boy handed her a transparent plastic bag. Inside were a pair of small red panties with a heart embroidered on one hip and unmistakable semen stains.

The woman looked at them for a second. Just a second. Then she signed the receipt, took the keys, and walked toward the car with the same measured step she had used to come in. The manager, from behind the glass, watched her drive off without looking back and wondered whether that night there would really be a kidney stone.