What Happened with My Boyfriend’s Uncle While He Slept

The smell of fresh paint in the new apartment had been buried under the aroma of dinner. Sergio, determined to prove he was already a man with property, had set up a table that was completely out of place for an ordinary Tuesday: white linen tablecloth, crystal glasses, and a huge seafood platter that had cost him half a trainee paycheck. Spider crabs, king prawns, and a North Atlantic crab sat at the center of the dining room like we were expecting a minister.

I was wearing a simple black spaghetti-strap dress, pretending everything was normal. But beneath the fabric, my skin still remembered what his uncle had done to me weeks earlier, on the bare bed frame in that same bedroom. Every time I looked at the bed, now dressed in clean sheets, a shiver ran straight down to my stomach, and my cunt dampened without permission as I remembered the trucker’s thick cock splitting me in two while I bit the mattress to keep from screaming.

The doorbell rang with a shrillness that made my boyfriend jump.

—Uncle’s here! —he announced, hurrying to the door with his napkin in his hand.

Ramón came in and seemed to fill the whole hallway. He had come straight from unloading at the central market, still in the same greasy jeans and a plaid shirt opened almost to the navel, showing a jungle of gray chest hair soaked in sweat. He smelled of diesel, cheap cologne, and something sharp I recognized at once: desire and dominance.

—Well, look at Mr. Big Shot with his own place! —he boomed, slapping his nephew so hard it almost knocked him into the shoe cabinet—. What a spread. You look like a congressman.

In his left hand he wasn’t carrying wine, but a five-liter opaque plastic jug with no label, full of a cloudy yellowish liquid.

—I told you not to bring anything, Uncle —Sergio laughed nervously—. What is that?

—Holy water from the north, kid. Homemade orujo. A buddy on the road gets it for me. This stuff unclogs pipes and turns boys into men.

Ramón crossed the hall and fixed his dark eyes on me. He looked me up and down with insulting brazenness, pausing on my neckline and the way I crossed my legs. Instinctively I pressed my thighs together, because I knew he knew I was wearing no panties under the dress.

—Hello, pretty girl —he growled by way of greeting, with a crooked smile—. You look well. You can tell this place is good for sleeping… and deep sleeping. Though I bet you like it better awake and with your legs open, huh?

Sergio gave a nervous laugh, catching nothing. I swallowed and nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

***

Dinner was a grotesque spectacle. While Sergio cracked the legs of the crabs with almost surgical delicacy, his uncle ate like a starving animal. He broke the shells with his bare hands, sucked the heads of the prawns with an obscene sucking noise, and wiped the grease on his trousers or on the linen tablecloth, ignoring his nephew’s panicked looks.

—I like to suck food right down, get every last drop out of it —he said with his mouth full, staring straight at me while he sucked a prawn head with a sound that shot through my belly—. If you don’t get your hands and face dirty, it means you’re not really enjoying the meat. Right, girl? Same as other things that need sucking all the way down.

I nibbled at a crayfish and nodded in silence. The air was thick. Sergio, completely oblivious to the electric current running across the table above the dishes, laughed at his uncle’s jokes. Under the table, Ramón’s boot had slid until it brushed my ankle and was inching up my calf millimeter by millimeter, leaving my sex throbbing against the chair.

When we finished the seafood, Ramón shoved his plate aside and lifted the jug onto the table.

—Right, less chatter and more wetting the whistle. Bring glasses. Big ones, not those dainty little lady glasses, for fuck’s sake.

Sergio brought respectable-sized glasses. His uncle filled them to the brim. The liquid smelled like rubbing alcohol and stale herbs.

—To the new apartment. And to the people who know how to break it in —Ramón toasted, lifting his glass and looking at me—. A place isn’t a place until you’ve fucked properly in every room.

He downed half in one gulp. Sergio, wanting to keep up, copied him. He coughed, turned red, and his eyes filled with tears. That orujo was pure dynamite.

—Fuck, Uncle, that burns! —my boyfriend gasped, pounding his chest.

—Only burns weaklings —Ramón mocked, refilling his glass—. Come on, let’s see if you’ve got the balls to keep pace with me.

It was a massacre. In less than three-quarters of an hour, Ramón forced his nephew to drink four full glasses. Sergio, who could barely handle a couple of beers, sank into a pathetic, rapid drunken spiral. First he laughed uncontrollably, then he slurred something about the mortgage, and finally his head started dropping onto his chest.

Between glass and glass, his uncle kept dropping insinuations about us, poisonous darts he let fall right in front of Sergio’s nose. My boyfriend, clouded by alcohol or pure innocence, was incapable of catching the double meanings. I, on the other hand, understood every single one, and I shifted in my chair while a telltale blush lit my cheeks and sticky wetness soaked my thighs.

—I think… I’m gonna go to the bathroom —Sergio managed to say, getting up awkwardly.

He took three steps, tripped on the rug, and collapsed face-first onto the sofa. He tried once more, moaned, and within seconds a guttural snore announced that the owner of the house had fallen into alcoholic coma.

The living room went silent, broken only by the hum of the fridge and those snores. I was alone with him. And he was very drunk.

***

Ramón leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs wide. His face was congested, slick with sweat, his eyes glassy and bloodshot. He loosened his belt and lowered the zipper a little to give air to his swollen belly full of seafood and alcohol. He took a crumpled cigarette from his shirt pocket, lit it, and blew the smoke in my direction, a thick gray column that curled through the hot air.

—Look at him. My sister’s son doesn’t have half a backbone —he muttered, dragging out the r’s, nodding toward the inert lump on the sofa—. He’s drunk two fingerfuls and he’s already snoring. Your boyfriend’s a eunuch, blonde. He probably can’t even find the clit.

I didn’t answer. Fear was beginning to overpower everything else. Drunk Ramón was not the calculating predator from moving day; he was an irrational brute, clumsy and dangerous.

—Come here —he ordered, thick-tongued.

I shook my head, pressing myself against the back of the chair.

—I said come here, for fuck’s sake —he roared, slamming his fist on the table so the glasses and shells jumped.

I stood up trembling. I walked around the table full of leftovers and stopped in front of him. He grabbed the waist of my dress with a rough, sticky hand, yanking me until I hit his spread knees.

—Dinner was good —he said, looking up at me, his breath stinking of orujo and tobacco—. But I came here to collect for the move. And that skinny little shit still hasn’t paid the toll.

He tugged me sharply, forcing me to sit astride his thighs. Without another word, he slid his fingers under the neckline and forced the fabric down until my tits were exposed, pale under the yellow light, with my stiff nipples betraying me without mercy.

—Look at that pair —he growled, with a hoarse laugh that vibrated in his chest—. So white they look like marble, but nice and warm. And the nipples hard as rocks. What a dessert you had waiting for me, slut.

He didn’t wait any longer. He lunged at my tits with the urgency of a man claiming what’s his. The scrape of his gray beard was constant sandpaper as his tongue, hot and rough, traced every curve. He alternated licks with short bites that left pink marks. He trapped one nipple between his teeth and pulled with a pressure that teetered between pleasure and pain until a muffled moan escaped me. Then he moved to the other nipple and tormented it with the same brutality, sucking it fully into his mouth and letting it go with a wet pop.

With his free hand he reached for the glass of orujo still on the table. Without taking his eyes off my frightened ones, he tipped the glass and let a stream of liquor fall over my chest. The cold made me shiver, running down my curves until it soaked the fabric. He didn’t waste a drop: he dove to lick it up with renewed hunger, mixing the taste of the liquor with my skin. His tongue slid down my sternum, lapping up the trail of orujo, burying itself between my tits and climbing back up to bite my neck.

My hands came to rest on his massive shoulders, not to push him away, but so I wouldn’t collapse. The smell of tobacco and stale sweat was a wall around me, erasing every other thought. You shouldn’t be enjoying this. But I was, and that terrified me more than he did. I could feel my soaked cunt tightening against the bulge starting to swell beneath his open fly.

One of his hands disappeared beneath the hem of my dress, searching between my legs with possessive fingers. When he found I wasn’t wearing panties and felt the viscous wetness running down my thighs, he let out a guttural laugh that raised goosebumps on my skin.

—Look at this… the good girl comes to dinner with the boyfriend’s uncle without panties. You’re dripping, slut. A person could drink your cunt like soup.

His thick fingers, rough from carrying boxes all day, forced their way between my labia. Two at once, with no preparation, sinking in to the knuckles. I arched over him with a strangled cry. He started pumping his wrist, sliding those fingers in and out like sausages, sloshing through my juices, while his thumb pressed my clit in crude circles. The wet sound of my soaked cunt swallowing his fingers filled the living room above Sergio’s snoring.

—That’s how you like it, huh? Well-fucked from the inside. Look how your cunt sucks my fingers, like it’s hungry.

The other hand grabbed the back of my neck and forced my head down into a rough, virile kiss, full of that smell now flooding everything. It was a kiss that asked for no permission: his tongue invaded my mouth, searched for my palate, while his fingers kept hammering my cunt with a faster and faster rhythm. I felt a pre-orgasmic spasm, a warning that if this went on ten more seconds I would come on his hand.

—Look at me —he ordered, pulling back only a few millimeters—. Look at me and tell me who’s in charge here.

I opened my eyes, clouded by a mix of humiliation and a spark of fire beginning to catch in my belly. I couldn’t form a word. He smiled, yanked his fingers out with a motion that made me moan with emptiness, and ran them over my lips, smearing them with my own juices.

—Suck. Taste what a hot slut tastes like.

I opened my mouth and he shoved the two fingers all the way down my throat. I had to suck them clean, tasting my own salty, thick flavor while he watched me with a triumphant smile.

***

Then he made me stand. With no ceremony, he hauled my dress up in one jerk to my waist, leaving me naked from the waist down in front of him, my soaked cunt at face level. He licked his lips and gave me a long tongue stroke from my entrance to my clit that made my knees buckle.

—Another day I’ll have breakfast on you properly —he growled, forcing his mouth away—. Right now, get on your knees.

I obeyed, lowering myself slowly until I touched the floorboards, right between his work boots. I was two meters from the sofa where Sergio snored peacefully. Ramón put out his cigarette in a dirty plate, pulled his zipper down the rest of the way, and took out his cock.

I noticed something odd immediately. The beast was asleep. What I remembered as an imposing steel rod now hung flaccid, heavy, thick but lifeless. Excess alcohol and digestion had taken their toll on the trucker’s hardened body. It was a mass of dark, veined flesh, impressive in its thickness even at rest, with a half-hidden purple glans under a thick foreskin and a pair of enormous balls hanging in a wrinkled hairy pouch. Impressive, but soft. I swallowed, feeling both a temporary relief and a deep terror, because I knew what that meant for a man like him’s ego.

—Come on, suck it —he demanded impatiently, tossing his head back—. Wake it up. It’s been a long day.

I opened my mouth and took the soft cock. The flesh filled me by sheer volume, but there was no tension. I licked the whole length first, from the balls to the tip, dragging my tongue flat along the underside where the thick vein throbbed. I sucked each testicle whole, taking them into my mouth one by one, pampering them with my tongue while feeling them stick to his body. I went back to the shaft and swallowed it whole, no teeth, pushing it down my throat. With my other hand I massaged the base and weighed his balls, squeezing them gently. I tried every trick: long suction with hollowed cheeks, the tip of my tongue lashing the frenulum, swallowing my saliva with his cock inside to provoke that pressure that had driven him crazy other times. Two, three endless minutes passed. The sound of wet sucking could be heard, and in the background, my boyfriend’s snores. But he didn’t react. He barely swelled a little before deflating again seconds later.

Ramón began to lose patience. He leaned forward and grabbed my hair violently.

—What the fuck are you doing? —he growled, yanking my head back. I had tears in my eyes from the pain—. You’re grazing it with your teeth, useless bitch!

—Ramón… it won’t wake up —I stammered, terrified, strings of saliva hanging from my chin—. You’ve drunk too much.

That sentence was a deadly mistake. His pride, soaked in alcohol, exploded like a bomb.

—What did you say? —he roared in a furious whisper, bringing his red face close to mine—. That I don’t work? The problem is you, that you’re not good for anything!

I hadn’t meant to hurt him, not at all. Deep down, I thought it was almost a feat that, after eight hours on the road and a night of excess, he still had enough vigor to demand this of me. You only had to look at the sofa to confirm the difference: there lay Sergio, thirty years younger, floored by alcohol, turned into a lump unable to keep up with his uncle.

But Ramón didn’t see it that way. Alcohol had erased any trace of control, and he projected all the frustration of his impotence onto me.

—My ex got hard just from looking at me, and you, who are practically a kid, don’t even know how to give a proper handjob —he spat at me—. You’re as useless as your boyfriend. A pair of weaklings.

I was crying silently. He let go of my hair and shoved me, throwing me onto my back on the floor.

—You’re going to learn. Open your legs —he ordered.

***

Paralyzed by terror, I obeyed mechanically. Ramón let himself fall forward, more a collapse than a movement, and sat heavily on my stomach, pinning me to the cold floor right beside the sofa. He didn’t even bother to undress: his trousers, barely lowered, covered only his calves.

—You don’t know how to get a real man going —he muttered, manhandling my tits roughly, pinching my nipples until I cried out against the back of my hand—. You’re used to the charity of that wimp. I’m going to have to fix it myself.

He rubbed his flaccid cock with his own broad hand, shaking it angrily against himself and against me, smearing it across my face, my lips, my tits, leaving trails of spit and sweat on me. I understood that my only way out was to satisfy that wounded animal before his fury made him hurt me for real. I gathered my strength and gave a hard shove to his belly so he’d understand his nearly hundred kilos were suffocating me.

He reacted with the growl of a bear being woken by force and started to get to his feet with exasperating slowness, staggering. Without waiting for him to regain his balance, I threw myself back onto his crotch. This time there was no technique: there was desperation. I wrapped both hands around that massive trunk, kneaded the base fiercely, and shoved it down my throat to the back, deliberately choking myself, letting my tears fall over his thighs. I swallowed again and again with his cock jammed in my throat, forcing retches that made my throat vibrate against the glans. I pulled the cock out for a moment, breathed noisily, and swallowed his balls whole, sucking them with ravenous hunger while with one hand I jerked the shaft with wrist turns and with the other I stroked his perineum, searching for that spot behind the balls that drives men insane.

—That’s it… that’s it, slut… swallow the whole cock… —he began to pant, his voice less and less thick.

My absolute, tearful submission was the lubricant the beast needed. Seeing me dragged across the floor, choking with desperation on his cock while Sergio slept a yard away, made something click in some primitive corner of his brain. Absolute power over me broke the barrier of alcohol.

I felt it in my mouth. First a dull pulse. Then the flesh began to harden, slow but inexorable, filling my hands, growing until it regained its intimidating size, pressing against my palate, tightening against my tongue like an iron bar wrapped in hot skin. The glans, now fully uncovered, gleamed purple and swollen, with a thick bead of pre-cum hanging from the tip. Ramón closed his eyes and let out a low, rough roar. The giant had woken from his stupor, and now he was enraged.

—There it is… —he growled, grabbing my throat and fucking my mouth with short thrusts, making me swallow that flesh again and again—. Now you’re going to know what it’s really like. Now you’re going to remember why you came begging to your uncle’s bed.

***

He lifted me effortlessly, like I weighed nothing, and threw me face down onto the rug, just inches from the sofa where Sergio was still sunk in his coma. He positioned me on all fours, ass up, and gave me two hard slaps on the butt cheeks that echoed through the room. My skin burned and I felt my cunt clench, dampening again from the slap.

—You’re going to swallow every last drop of my nasty temper —he growled. His voice was a dull thunder, heavy with alcohol.

He dropped to his knees behind me and spread my cheeks with his big hands, exposing me completely. He spat hard onto my soaked cunt, and then a second time onto my closed asshole. He positioned the tip of his cock between my lips, rubbing it up and down, wetting the glans with my juices, but the drunkenness had robbed him of precision. As he pushed, his body tilted to one side and the tip veered a few inches, finding a different resistance, a tight ring that would not give. Without stopping, he pushed.

—Aaaah! No, Ramón! Wait! —My scream cut the air, sharp and loaded with sudden pain.

I felt a searing, dry stab when only the head forced the wrong entrance, opening my ass for the first time with that enormous cock. My body tensed like a bow, my hands reaching back to try to stop him.

—Not there! You’re hurting me, stop! —I insisted, pushing with all my strength.

Only then did the words break through the fog in his head. He stopped dead, blinking slowly, as if trying to remember where he was. He withdrew with a clumsy movement that tore another moan from me and, amid stammering, repositioned himself, aiming properly this time, fitting the thick head against the wet entrance of my cunt.

—One day I’ll put it in there too, don’t think you’re getting off that easy —he muttered, laughing.

There was no preparation, no caresses, not the slightest attempt at gentleness. He let all his weight drop onto my back and then drove in. It was brutal, dry, devastating. The whole cock entered in one single thrust until his balls slapped against my clit. I had to bite my forearm not to scream, feeling my cunt stretch to its limit to accommodate that throbbing trunk. He wasn’t looking for pleasure; he was looking to punish me, mark me, claim what he considered his by sheer force, making me take every centimeter up to the neck of my womb.

—There you have it! —he roared, pressing his mouth to my ear, choking me with his tobacco-and-brandy breath—. You wanted a real man? Well, here you go! Take trucker cock, slut!

The rhythm was frenzied, relentless, the blind fury of a rampaging animal. He drove into me, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in to the hilt, each thrust a hammer blow that pushed me forward and forced me to brace myself against the sofa so I wouldn’t smash my head. His hairy belly crushed my back while he collided with me with a wet, obscene sound of flesh against flesh, the slosh of my juices and the slap of his balls against my clit echoing through the entire living room. The floorboards creaked under both our weight, and the rug bunched up with every thrust.

He slipped one hand underneath, found a tit, and milked it roughly, yanking the nipple back like a rein. The other hand clamped onto my hip, five fingers digging into the flesh and leaving bruises, guiding me against his cock so I would take it to the base.

I could do nothing but take every thrust. Tears of pain and humiliation mixed with sweat. But in the darkest corner of my mind, the poison of submission was starting to take effect. A drunken beast was tearing me apart on the floor of my own brand-new home, while my boyfriend lay a breath away, useless, unable to defend his territory. And a part of me wanted exactly that. I started moving my ass back to meet each thrust, feeling my cunt surrender to his uncle’s cock, how it opened, how it sucked him in with its walls.

Ramón grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, forcing me to turn my neck until my blurred eyes met his.

—Look at your stupid boyfriend —he ordered, marking each syllable with a deep thrust that made me shriek—. While he sleeps off the booze, I’m splitting your cunt in two. I’m the owner of this house now, and the owner of this cunt too. Do you hear me? Say it!

—Yes… yes, Ramón! —I sobbed, unable to resist—. You’re the owner…! You’re the owner of my cunt…!

—Louder. Let the whole building know who’s in charge here.

—You’re the owner! Fuck me, Uncle, fuck me hard! —I moaned, with no resistance left, arching my back to offer him my ass—. Break my cunt, give me everything!

He yanked his cock out all at once, shining with my juices, and held it pointed at me, panting. He looked at me open, stretched, soaked.

—Turn over. I want to see your slut face when I blow you apart from the inside.

He flipped me himself with a rough hand, laid me on my back on the rug, and folded my legs against my chest, holding my ankles with one hand. He set his cock at my entrance and entered me again, this time slowly, millimeter by millimeter, looking into my eyes as he slid all the way in. When he reached the limit, he stayed still, clenching his teeth.

—You feel that, huh? All the way inside. To the balls.

He started moving again, now with long, deep thrusts, bracing himself with both hands beside my head. His hairy belly hit my lower stomach and his balls slapped my ass from underneath. In this position his cock hit a spot inside me that made me see stars, and a tremor settled into my thighs.

—Look at my cock. Look at how it goes in and out of your slut cunt.

I lowered my gaze and saw myself. The gleaming shaft went in and out, shining with the flood of my fluids, white foam gathering at the base, dragging my inner lips inward every time he entered. The sight, raw and obscene, made me clench around him with an involuntary spasm.

—Ah! That’s it, squeeze my cock with that cunt, squeeze it hard —he gasped.

***

At one point, Sergio stirred on the sofa. He gave a confused grunt, moved an arm, and was about to open his eyes. My heart stopped. I forgot to breathe, terrified he would wake up and see the scene: his uncle, sweaty and unbuttoned, fucking me with his cock out among the remains of the seafood feast, his sister’s niece with her legs spread wide on the new rug.

But Ramón didn’t even flinch. On the contrary: the threat of danger only set his sadism alight. He smiled, showing his teeth, and instead of easing up, he sank his cock all the way in and stayed there, buried, in silent defiance, grinding his hips in slow circles so the glans would stir my guts. Sergio murmured something unintelligible, turned over with his back to us, and returned to his thick snoring.

Ramón let out a low laugh that ran through my body from the inside, transmitted through the cock buried in my cunt.

—That poor bastard almost caught us. He would’ve died of shame if he found out his girl was screwing his uncle in the living room —he whispered—. We’re almost there. Get ready. I’m going to flood your cunt.

He changed the rhythm. He started pounding me with short, savage thrusts, teeth clenched, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my tits. His balls slapped against the crease of my ass with a rhythmic crack. He let go of my ankles and buried his thumb in my clit, rubbing it in fast circles while he kept drilling me.

I squeezed my eyelids shut. And then, despite the panic, a biological betrayal began deep in my belly. The humiliation of being possessed like this, with the nephew a few meters away and the smell of seafood and alcohol hanging in the air, mixed with the brutality of a man who seemed inexhaustible. Against all logic, the pain turned into an electric spasm that raced up my spine. I muffled a cry against my own shoulder while my body arched, surrendering to a violent, bitter orgasm that left me trembling, my cunt convulsing around his uncle’s cock in uncontrollable waves, soaking both of us, hating myself for feeling pleasure in the middle of that disaster.

Ramón felt the spasm race through his cock, felt my walls squeeze and milk him, and a satisfaction stronger than the orujo flooded his chest. Seeing me defeated by my own body was the final balm for his wounded pride. He straightened, swelling his chest with the smugness of a man who has just won.

—You’re a filthy slut… See? In the end you like being handled rough, don’t you? —he said with a sneer—. All that primness about whether I’ve been drinking or I’m tired, and you came before I did, soaking my balls.

The last thrusts were erratic, purely animal. Growling like a boar, he hammered me mercilessly, his cock growing thicker and thicker inside me until, with a roar he couldn’t hold back, he emptied himself inside me. It was a violent, endless release, shot after shot of thick, burning semen flooding against the neck of my womb. I felt every hot lash, every pulse of the cock buried to the base, while he kept pushing to get the last drop in. When he finally pulled out, dripping semen and juices, the cum overflowed from my flooded cunt and ran down the crease of my ass, forming a thick puddle that stained my thighs and the fibers of the new rug Sergio had bought with such excitement.

He stayed collapsed on top of me for several minutes, crushing me, breathing hard, his cock still half-soft against my stomach. Then the alcohol haze seemed to clear, giving way to the satiety of a predator that has just devoured its prey. He withdrew slowly, with a wet sound, and dropped down to sit on the floor, leaning his back against the sofa arm where his nephew was still asleep.

He didn’t even look at me. He rummaged in his shirt pocket, took out another cigarette, and lit it. The flame lit up his weathered, arrogant face in the dim living room thick with sex, sweat, and semen.

—Clean yourself up, pretty girl —he said at last, blowing smoke through his nose and nudging my thigh with his boot—. And give that rug a good scrub. Or better yet, leave it. Let your idiot boyfriend wonder where that fucked-out-pussy smell is coming from when he wakes up hungover.

He pulled up his zipper, now smeared with my fluids, fastened his belt without bothering with the shirt buttons, and grabbed the nearly empty jug by the handle. There were no farewell kisses or complicit looks. He walked to the door, boots dragging, and left, slamming it shut so hard the whole hallway trembled.

Alone, with the biting smell of tobacco, rubbing alcohol, and raw sex, with his uncle’s semen still dripping down the insides of my thighs, I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my knees. I listened to Sergio’s rhythmic, peaceful snoring above me, knowing with a terrifying certainty that the beast had marked me again, and that there was no turning back. Because once again, and in a way I still can’t explain, I had enjoyed it.