Don Aurelio Woke My Friend Up That Afternoon

Sara always laughed at Don Aurelio on the drive home from the winery dinners. She used to say that old man, nearly seventy, with his outdated vest and his white mustache, looked at her as if he could strip her naked with his eyes alone. She found it funny. I didn’t quite so much, because I’d seen the way she held his gaze for a second too long every time.

—He’s an older gentleman, don’t be so suspicious —she’d say, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

—An older gentleman who calls you “girl,” and you go red in the face —I’d answer.

She’d look out the window and not reply.

Don Aurelio wasn’t just any old man. He had a vineyard estate on the edge of the village, enormous hands, and a deep voice that seemed to come from the bottom of a barrel. He weighed a fair bit, yes, and he walked slowly, but when he walked into a room everyone fell silent without knowing why. I’d known him for years; I did some bookkeeping work for the winery, and that October afternoon he’d invited Sara and me to taste the new wine.

***

The winery smelled of damp wood and fermenting grapes. We went down a stone staircase to the room where the barrels rested, and there, with three glasses and an unlabelled bottle, Don Aurelio was waiting for us, seated in a worn leather armchair.

—Sara —he said, drawing out her name as if savoring it—. I thought you wouldn’t come.

—I told Marcos I was curious about your famous wine —she replied, and sat on the edge of a stool, far too upright.

He poured the glasses himself. When he handed Sara hers, his fingers brushed hers a moment longer than necessary, and I saw my friend catch her breath. We drank. We talked about unimportant things, the harvest, the village, the cold that was already beginning to creep in at night. But all the while there was another conversation happening underneath, one nobody said out loud.

—Marcos —Don Aurelio said to me at some point—, why don’t you go upstairs and get the other bottle? The one I left in the study. Your friend and I will keep talking.

I looked at him. He held my gaze without blinking, with absolute calm. And then I understood that wasn’t a request about a bottle.

—Of course —I said.

I went upstairs slowly. I took my time finding the damn bottle on purpose, giving them time, giving her time above all, because I knew Sara might come up behind me at any moment and she didn’t. When I came back down, I stayed on the last step, in the shadows, out of sight.

Don Aurelio had stood up. He was a towering mass in front of her, and yet he was touching her with a delicacy I hadn’t expected. He’d let down her hair, which Sara always wore tied back, and was brushing it away from her face with those thick fingers.

—All night pretending you didn’t want this —he said in a low voice—. And look at you now. Your cunt’s already wet before I’ve even touched you.

Sara didn’t answer. She only closed her eyes when he lowered his mouth to her neck and slipped one whole hand inside her dress, cupping her tits over her bra, squeezing them until he drew a gasp from her.

***

I should have gone upstairs. I should have left. But I stayed there, on the step, my heart hammering against my ribs, watching as that man, three times her age, won her body centimeter by centimeter.

He sat her on the oak table where the glasses rested. He parted her knees without hurry, like a man who had all the time in the world, and positioned himself between them. Sara clutched his broad shoulders. When he finally kissed her on the mouth, she answered with an urgency I didn’t know she had, as if she’d been waiting for exactly that for months, pushing her tongue deep into his mouth, moaning into him.

—Slowly, girl —Don Aurelio told her, laughing under his breath—. I’m in no hurry with you. I’ll fuck you all night if I have to.

And he wasn’t. He stripped her from the waist up without taking his eyes off hers, button by button, and when he unclasped her bra and I saw her tits fall free, nipples already hard and dark, my mouth went dry. He bent down, that huge man, and sucked one nipple into his mouth, slow, closing his lips around it, pulling until he stretched it long. Sara moaned and buried her fingers in his white hair. He moved to the other one, nipped it just a little, and she jerked and let out a “fuck” that echoed off the stone.

He hiked her skirt to her waist. He tore her panties off in one sharp yank and tucked them into the pocket of his vest like someone putting away a handkerchief. He spread her legs fully and stared at her cunt for a long, smiling moment before shoving two thick fingers into her all at once. Sara bent forward, rested her forehead on the old man’s shoulder, and moaned against his neck while he opened her with fingers that seemed to go on forever.

—Look at you, dripping all over my hand —he said, his deep voice filling the winery—. You held out through dinner, didn’t you, girl?

—Yes —she panted—. Yes, all the time.

—Thinking about this? About this old man putting his fingers in you?

—About that... and more.

He laughed softly, pulled out his wet, shining fingers, and brought them to his mouth without looking away from her, sucking them one by one.

When he unfastened his belt, she lowered her hand herself to help him, trembling. She unbuttoned his trousers and drew out his cock with both hands. I saw it from the step, and I hadn’t expected it: a thick dick, short but broad at the head, darkened by the years, hanging heavy between Sara’s fingers like something alive. She stared at it for a moment, licked her lips, and without him asking she slid off the table and got down on her knees on the stone floor.

—Good girl —Don Aurelio said, placing a hand on the back of her neck.

Sara took him fully into her mouth in one shove, choking. I heard her cough and go back down, and back down again, sucking the old man’s cock with a hunger I didn’t know she had, holding it at the base with one hand while she stroked his balls with the other. Saliva dripped from her chin. Don Aurelio grabbed her hair and started moving her head to his rhythm, not rough, but not letting her decide, fucking her mouth slowly.

—That’s it, girl. Swallow it all. Make it obvious that this is what you wanted.

She moaned around him and kept sucking until he lifted her by the hair and put her back on the table. He spread her legs again and this time took his place in the gap, dick hard in his hand, and started easing into her slowly, centimeter by centimeter, watching as he disappeared inside her. Sara opened her mouth wide and no sound came out, just a full-body tremor running through her.

What came after was a lesson. There’s no other way to say it. That huge, calm old man fucked her on the table with a certainty no boy our age would ever have, gripping her hips with those broad hands and driving into her whole with deep, measured thrusts, knowing exactly when to go slow and when not to, reading her body like a man who had spent fifty years learning how. Every time he sank all the way in, Sara let out a broken “ah,” and the glasses on the table jumped with the impact.

Sara clung to the edge of the table. The glasses wobbled. One fell to the floor and shattered, and neither of them paid it the slightest attention. He lifted one of her legs, draped it over his shoulder, and from that angle started pumping into her harder, pulling almost all the way out each time to slam back in. The wet slapping sound rose above everything else.

I should leave, I thought. I didn’t leave. I was getting hard inside my trousers.

***

I don’t know how long I watched. Long enough to see her change. Sara had come into that winery like a woman laughing at an old man, and before my eyes she turned into something else, into someone surrendered, given over, begging for more with a broken voice and digging her nails into Don Aurelio’s back while he held her up with one arm, lifted her off the table, and took her standing, never pulling out, her dress bunched at her waist and her tits bouncing with every thrust.

—That’s it —he said into her hair—. Just like that. You’re mine now, aren’t you? This cunt is mine.

—Yes —she panted—. Yes, yours, all yours.

—Say it properly. Tell me what you want.

—I want you to fuck me. Don’t stop. Fill me up completely.

It was that “yes” and those words that pulled me out of the shadows. I didn’t decide it. My feet carried me down the step, into the room, and when Sara opened her eyes and saw me standing there, watching them, the bulge showing in my trousers, she didn’t cover herself or pull away. She held my gaze the same way she’d held his in the car. As if she’d wanted me to see it all night.

Don Aurelio slowly turned his head toward me without stopping fucking her. He didn’t look surprised. I think he’d planned it from the start, from the moment he sent me to fetch the bottle.

—Well, well —he said, still moving against her—. Looks like your friend was curious too. Come here, boy. Don’t just stand there like an idiot. The girl’s got her mouth free.

I looked at Sara. She nodded, almost imperceptibly, biting her lip just like when we used to talk about him in the car, and parted her lips a little more, waiting for me.

I went over.

***

I undid my belt with fingers that barely obeyed me. When I pulled out my cock and held it at her face, Sara didn’t hesitate for a second: she grabbed it and took it all into her mouth while Don Aurelio kept pounding her from behind. I felt her close her lips around me, suck me with her tongue against the head, moan with her mouth full every time the old man drove into her hard, and those moans vibrated all through my cock. No one had ever sucked me like that, with that hunger and surrender, with her throat choking because each thrust from the big man pushed her forward and made her swallow me deeper.

I adjusted my position. I put my hands on her head, brushing the hair away from her face, that face I had seen a thousand times and that now had my cock filling her open mouth, and without thinking I started setting the rhythm too. Sara rolled her eyes upward, looked at me, and sucked me harder, her cheeks hollowed out, taking everything. Saliva dripped from her and ran between her tits.

—Marcos —she whispered when I let her pull her mouth off for a second, and then she took me back in on her own.

We stayed like that a long time, the three of us, in that cold stone room where our breath made mist. Don Aurelio led the way effortlessly, dividing us both up with the calm authority of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing. He changed her position without pulling out, put her on all fours on the table, and from there Sara could suck me more comfortably while he opened her ass with his thumbs and kept burying his dick deep inside her. He guided her with short phrases —“arch your back, girl,” “pull me out and lick my balls,” “take it back in”— and she obeyed everything, shining with sweat, her soaked hair stuck to her face. I only had to look at him to understand where to put my hands, when to squeeze, when to ease off.

Sara came first. I felt her tense all over, let my cock fall from her mouth so she could scream, clinging to the old man’s neck, biting the back of her hand to muffle it, and even so a long, animal moan escaped and bounced off the barrels. Her whole body trembled, her thighs trembled, and I felt everything clench around Don Aurelio’s cock, which stayed still inside her, sunk to the root, letting her come all over him. She collapsed onto the table face down, cheek against the wood, and he held her through the whole tremor, speaking softly and stroking her ass until she went limp between the two of us, laughing and crying at the same time without quite knowing why.

—That girl —he said, pleased, giving her ass a slap that rang through the room—. That girl had too much bottled up inside her.

***

Afterward he took his time with himself too. He gently moved Sara aside, left her seated in the leather armchair wrapped in her own half-dressed clothes, her legs still open and her cunt swollen and shining, and came over to me. He looked at my cock, still hard and wet from her mouth, and smiled beneath his mustache.

—You finish on her face, boy —he told me, calmly, like a man assigning tasks—. Let her learn how it ends with a woman like this.

I stood in front of her. Sara lifted her face, opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue. I started jerking off quickly in front of her eyes, and she looked up at me from below with flushed cheeks and that half smile of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing. I came a few seconds later, groaning, and emptied myself all over her: on her tongue, on her lips, on her cheek, a thick stream that crossed her forehead and got into her hair. She closed her eyes, slowly licked up what remained in her mouth, and ran two fingers over her cheek to gather the rest and suck them clean.

Then Don Aurelio took her himself, lifted her out of the armchair as if she weighed nothing, and put her back on her feet against the table. He went back into her. And he finished the way he had done everything that afternoon: without rushing, looking her in the eye, fucking her with deep, spaced-out thrusts, until he gave a long grunt, pulled out at the last second, and emptied himself all over her stomach and tits, thick white spurts sliding down her skin. When he was done, he let out another, deeper groan that seemed to shake the walls and sank back into the armchair, huge and satisfied, his white hair stuck to his forehead and his cock still out, soaked.

Sara stayed leaning against the table, covered in his cum and mine, panting, and didn’t make a move to clean herself.

No one said anything for a good while. All you could hear was the distant dripping of some pipe and our breathing slowly returning to normal.

—The new wine is very good —Don Aurelio said then, completely serious, and all three of us burst out laughing.

***

We got into the car when night had fully fallen. Sara sat beside me with her hair still down and her gaze lost in the dark road. She didn’t look me in the eyes, just like that first time I’d suspected what was going on between her and the old man. But this time I knew. I’d seen it all.

—Don’t say anything —she murmured after a while.

—I wasn’t going to say anything.

—I mean it, Marcos. Not one word. To anyone.

—Relax —I said.

We drove in silence for a couple of kilometers. The village lights appeared in the distance, small and yellow among the vineyards.

—You know the worst part? —she said then, without turning around, with a half smile I could see reflected in the car window.

—What?

—He’s inviting us back on Saturday.

I didn’t answer. No need. The two of us knew perfectly well that we were going on Saturday, and that that afternoon in the winery had not been an ending, only the beginning of something neither of us was ever going to tell anyone about.

Don Aurelio had taught us, in a single afternoon, everything we thought we knew about desire and in fact knew nothing about. And from the look on Sara’s face reflected in the glass, I knew she was already counting the days.