What Happened at the Hotel After the Málaga Festival

Music festivals have always served as an escape valve for me. That September weekend, I booked a single room in a hotel two streets from the venue in Málaga, with the perfect excuse to disconnect from the noise of the office in Zaragoza and lose myself for two days among stages, beers, and new people.

I dropped off my suitcase on Friday morning, left my things in the room, and met up with the usual crowd on a terrace near the harbor. Iker and Salva were already on their second small beer, and a few minutes later another group of friends from Málaga showed up to join the weekend. One guy I didn’t know came with them.

“This is Rubén, a coworker,” Iker said. “He decided to come at the last minute.”

I held out my hand, and the moment his fingers closed around mine, I knew that festival wasn’t going to be like the others. Tall, lean but wiry, with brown hair shaved at the sides and a short beard framing his jaw. When he lifted his face to greet me, he fixed me with green eyes that stayed inside me. I don’t know whether he noticed, but the handshake lasted a second longer than it should have.

“A pleasure, Iván,” he said.

The pleasure’s going to be all mine, handsome.

We had another round and entered the grounds just as the sun was beginning to set. The first concerts passed in a blur of jumping and singing along, and I tried to keep up with the group’s conversation, but every couple of minutes my gaze drifted toward him. The way he danced, the way he ran his hand over his neck to wipe away the sweat, the way the line of his shoulders showed beneath his white T-shirt. At one point he turned his head and caught me looking at him. Instead of looking away, he smiled, and that smile was a clear invitation.

I gave him a shyer smile, half in profile. He raised an eyebrow. The rest of the afternoon turned into a game. A feigned brush as he passed behind me to ask for a beer. A hand resting on my shoulder longer than necessary. A lingering look while the main stage filled with the opening chords of the headliner.

At around ten, he tapped me on the arm.

“Hey, Iván, I’m fucking dying to take a piss. Will you come with me, and we can grab a couple of shots on the way back?”

“Let’s go.”

We made our way through the sea of people. During one of the crushes, he reached a hand backward and caught my fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I laced mine through his without thinking. I could feel his thumb stroking the back of my hand with every step, and with every caress, my trousers grew a little tighter.

The bathrooms were those circular booths with four spaces around a central post. We squeezed into the same stall, facing each other. I pulled out my half-hard cock, forced myself a little, and started pissing while he did the same. I looked up and found him staring straight at me, smiling with his teeth clenched. Then I noticed his right hand moving slowly up and down, shamelessly. The bastard was jerking off in front of me, my cock out and the noise of the festival pounding against the canvas over our heads.

He finished, pulled his trousers up halfway, and instead of leaving through the front, he went around the central post and positioned himself behind me. I still had my cock out. I felt the hard bulge of his pressing against my ass over my jeans, and his mouth came close to my ear.

“Stop looking at me and let’s fuck, Iván. I’ve had a hard-on for you all afternoon.”

That was the starting gun. I tucked my cock away as best I could, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him out of the stall. As soon as we were out of the line, I shoved him against a less brightly lit side wall, grabbed the back of his neck, and devoured his mouth. He answered by biting my lower lip and pulling me toward him. A long, dirty kiss, our hands already slipping beneath our T-shirts. People moved around us, and we didn’t even look at them.

“I need you to put it in me,” I whispered, squeezing his cock through his jeans. “Now.”

“I’m going to fuck you until you don’t have the strength left even to moan.”

We left the festival grounds without saying goodbye to anyone. We walked the two streets to the hotel half running, stopping every few meters to devour each other against some wall. When we got into the elevator and the doors closed, he yanked open his jeans, pulled out his rock-hard cock, and pushed my shoulders down with both hands.

“Open your mouth.”

I dropped to my knees without thinking. It was long and thick, with a slight curve to the left that made it even more obscene. He thrust it in hard, halfway down, gripping my hair, and began fucking my mouth to the rhythm of the elevator rising. I drooled uncontrollably, drops spattering the floor, and the bulge in my trousers had become hot and damp. When the elevator beeped at the seventh floor, he barely managed to tuck his cock away, and I wiped my chin with the back of my hand. We walked down the hallway with our arms around each other’s waists, half laughing and half panting.

I closed the door with my foot. We didn’t make it to the bed. We tore each other’s clothes off, biting at each other’s necks, and I knelt in front of him again. I gripped his cock with both hands and took it all the way in while looking into his eyes. I started slowly, savoring the skin, moving my tongue around the head before swallowing it whole. The only sounds in the room were my wet saliva sliding down his cock and his hoarse sighs.

“Like that, fuck, like that,” he panted, his head thrown back.

I increased the pace. I sped up, slowed down, pulled it out to lick his balls, then swallowed it down to my throat again. He grabbed my head with both hands and took control. He thrust deep, making me choke, and I let him, my eyes watering and drool running from the corner of my mouth. He pulled out for a few seconds so I could breathe, then lay me on my back on the bed, my head hanging over the edge. He opened my mouth with his thumb and shoved it back in all the way.

“Hold me like this. Swallow the whole thing.”

I felt every inch sliding down my throat, his balls hitting my nose, his hands squeezing my nipples. He stayed like that for a good ten minutes, fucking my mouth without pulling out, setting the pace with his hips. His cock swelled inside me. He began moaning more sharply, panting through clenched teeth. He drove it all the way in, and I felt the first spurts running down my throat, hot and thick. He pulled out halfway through his orgasm, and the last jets landed on my tongue, my lips, and part of my cheek. He lifted me by the shoulders, licked my face slowly, and put his semen into my mouth with his own, sharing it with me. We swallowed it between kisses.

“I haven’t even started on you yet,” he murmured.

His cock hadn’t gone down even a fraction. I pushed him against the mattress, climbed on top of him, and traced his neck, chest, and nipples with my mouth. I bit him gently, and he arched his back. When I straddled his hips, he grabbed his cock and aimed it at my hole. I lowered myself slowly, and it slid in without resistance, as if it had already been waiting for me inside. I let out a long moan when the tip brushed the deepest part, closed my eyes, and started moving. Slowly at first, enjoying every inch. Then faster, up and down, bracing myself against his chest with both hands. He looked up at me from below, his face flushed and his lips parted, biting his lower one.

“Fuck me harder,” I asked him.

Rubén grabbed my hips and began thrusting up into me. The bed creaked, my balls bounced against his stomach, and I collapsed onto his chest, biting his shoulder so I wouldn’t scream. He sped up, and the penetration turned savage, an animal rhythm interrupted only when he drove it all the way in and held it there for a second before starting again.

“Get up,” he said suddenly.

He pulled out of me, took my hand, and led me to the window overlooking the street. I pressed my palms and cheek against the cold glass and arched my ass backward. He spread my cheeks with his thumbs, spat, and drove back into me with a hard thrust. I screamed against the glass. He began pumping into me, holding my hips with both hands, hard and deep, giving me no respite. I could feel every vein on his cock dragging along the walls of my ass.

I opened my eyes. In the building opposite, behind a half-open curtain, a guy was watching us. A man in his mid-forties, in his underwear, with a glass in one hand and his cock in the other, jerking it to the rhythm of what he was seeing. The light from his living room illuminated his face. He didn’t look away.

Knowing we were being watched was like throwing gasoline on the fire. I began moving my ass backward against him, asking for more, begging him for it through my moans. Rubén slapped my ass and thrust faster. I was sweating, my heart racing, squeezing my ass around his cock without meaning to. I felt the orgasm rising through my legs without having touched myself even once. I let out a long moan against the glass and came in thick spurts that struck the window and slowly ran down, leaving a glistening trail. The neighbor across the way quickened the rhythm of his hand.

My legs gave out. Rubén noticed, hugged me from behind, and carried me back to the bed half in his arms. He lay me on my back, lifted my legs onto his shoulders, and shoved back inside me. I didn’t have the strength left even to moan. He kissed me while he fucked me, slow and deep, searching for my tongue between thrusts.

“I’m going again,” he whispered.

He pulled out, straddled my stomach, and started jerking off two inches from my face. His second orgasm burst over my chest, neck, and jaw. He collapsed on top of me, not caring about getting his skin dirty. He sought my mouth with short, slow kisses, filled with something that wasn’t just sex.

We stayed like that for a while, motionless, listening to each other breathe. Then he hugged me from behind, I rested my head against his chest, and I listened to his heart gradually slow down.

When I was on the verge of falling asleep, he murmured against my ear:

“Remember, tomorrow’s the second day of the festival.”

I laughed softly, my eyes already closed. I had no intention of leaving that room until the sun went down again.