The Bet I Ended Up Paying on My Knees for a Week

Some bets are paid off with dinner, and some bets stay with you for years. Mine was one of the latter. To understand how I ended up there, I have to start with the corner newsstand, the one right next to the bar where we had lunch almost every day.

The owner was named Don Aníbal. He was in his sixties, though he had an energy many younger men would envy. He was one of those old-fashioned charming men: kind, talkative, and openly fond of looking at women. Whenever I stopped by to pick up the paper, he gave me a measured compliment, never crude, always accompanied by that mischievous smile that ended up making me laugh.

“You’re prettier today than the cover of any magazine I’ve got here,” he would tell me, and I played along.

Martín, my coworker, was a loyal customer at the stand. We stopped by together almost every day, and the two men had the kind of neighborhood rapport that included comments about female customers, old anecdotes, and the occasional racy confession that, far from bothering me, I enjoyed listening to.

That morning, we had been arguing over a work matter. One of those silly arguments where neither person gives in because each is convinced he’s right. Martín, competitive even when it came to breathing, came up with the idea of a bet just as we reached the newsstand.

“Let an impartial third party decide,” he said, nodding toward the old man.

That was how Don Aníbal became the judge. The forfeit would be decided later; first, we had to see who was right. We sealed the deal with a handshake, and the three of us laughed as though it were a children’s game.

***

Three days passed. When we met up with the old man again to hear his verdict, the result was clear: I had lost. I accepted defeat sportingly, until I asked what the damned forfeit would be.

Martín had the answer ready, and he delivered it with a calmness that froze my blood. The forfeit was sucking Don Aníbal’s cock every day for an entire week. Sucking him all the way, until he came in my mouth. Seven days straight.

I was struck dumb. It wasn’t because I couldn’t, I thought, because I had never had a problem enjoying my own body or someone else’s, and a good cock in my mouth was one of the things I liked most in this world. What held me back was something else: Martín was exposing me with a man who knew half the city, who talked to everyone from behind that counter. Discretion didn’t seem to be part of the plan.

Don Aníbal, seeing my hesitation, intervened with a gentleness I hadn’t expected.

“You don’t have to make that face,” he said. “It’s nothing out of this world, and you have my word it’ll stay between us. Absolute secrecy.”

I accepted reluctantly, but I accepted. And since Martín demanded proof that I was carrying it out, I set my own condition: I would record every encounter on my phone and show him the videos afterward. No other cameras, no witnesses. My cellphone, my rules.

I barely slept that night. I tossed and turned in bed, imagining the scene, half uncomfortable and half curious to discover how I myself would react. I admit that the thought of Don Aníbal, with his years and his old-fashioned manners, wasn’t as unpleasant to me as I wanted to believe. There was something in the way he looked at me, in that mixture of respect and restrained desire, that intrigued me more than I was willing to admit out loud. I ended up fingering my pussy while thinking about what face the old man would make when I pulled out his cock for the first time.

***

We agreed on the schedule. I usually passed through the area at least half an hour before the newsstand opened, so Don Aníbal would leave me a copy of the key so I could get in before raising the shutter. He lived in the back of the shop with his wife, who, according to him, slept late and never noticed what went on in the mornings.

I arrived on the first day with my stomach tied in knots. He was already waiting for me, as eager as a child on the eve of his birthday. I still hadn’t quite convinced myself. Without many words, the old man sat down in a chair and began unbuttoning his trousers. I knelt in front of him and pulled his underwear down to his ankles.

The first thing that surprised me was how generously built he was. A thick cock hung between his legs, still sleeping, with his heavy, wrinkled balls resting against the edge of the chair. I had to push aside his gray hair to get into position, and at first I was clumsy, almost like a beginner whose hands were trembling. I took hold of it with my right hand, felt its dead weight, and brought it to my mouth like that, soft, to wake it with my tongue. I covered it in saliva, licked it from top to bottom, played with the tip against my palate, and within seconds it began to grow between my lips.

As he grew harder, I loosened up too. The tension of the first few minutes turned into something like pleasure, that surrender in which the body takes over and the mind falls silent. His cock became hard as a rock, much longer than I’d imagined, and suddenly my mouth filled with the smell of an old man that, to my surprise, finally got my pussy wet.

When he was ready, I turned slightly to grab the phone and set it down at just the right angle. I continued, this time more slowly, more attentive to each of his reactions. I began sucking him rhythmically, taking him deep into my throat, gagging a little on purpose so he could see my eyes filling with tears. I made wet noises with my mouth, let strands of saliva fall onto his balls, then gathered them up with my tongue. Don Aníbal let out hoarse grunts that grew with every movement, his hands gripping the seat as if he didn’t dare touch my head.

“Oh, sweetheart… like that, don’t stop,” he murmured in a broken voice.

He didn’t take long to surrender. I felt his pulse in the vein underneath, the one that swelled before he came, and pressed my lips against the tip. He finished with a long shudder and a thick, hot release that filled my mouth all at once. I swallowed it all without letting a drop escape, and still kept sucking until I milked out his last spasms. I left him spotless, his cock gleaming with saliva, and stood up with a calmness even I hadn’t expected.

***

On the second day I arrived with a surprise in my handbag. I took him to the little bathroom in back and, with a warm towel and a razor, took the trouble to leave him neat and smooth. I soaped his balls, shaved away the gray hair with a barber’s patience, and then ran a hot cloth over him, leaving his skin bare and pink like a boy’s. He watched me work, incredulous and grateful at once, his cock already awake and asking for attention.

Once he was ready, I propped the cellphone on the shelf and devoted myself to him without rushing. The clean skin felt different against my mouth, warmer, more mine. I licked his balls first, one by one, sucking them whole, playing with them on my tongue while slowly jerking his cock with my hand. Then I went up beneath the shaft, following the thick vein with the tip of my tongue, and when I reached the glans I took him deep in one single thrust.

“Goddamn, what a mouth you have,” the old man blurted out, his eyes shining.

This time Don Aníbal held out much longer than the day before, as though he wanted to stretch out every second. He drove himself into my throat with short thrusts, gripping the edge of the sink, while I let him bury himself until I drooled onto the tiles. I licked his frenulum, slapped his cock against my lips, smacked my cheeks with that hard shaft, and he came close to coming three times before finally giving in.

When he finally yielded, I pulled his cock from my mouth just in time and let the first jet paint my face. I caught the second with my tongue out, and held the next ones in my mouth without swallowing. I shamelessly showed him how I savored the moment, rolling his cum between my teeth before swallowing it slowly in front of him. The look on his face was priceless.

***

By the third day, I had taken the reins. The old man didn’t dare touch me; he merely offered himself, docile, almost shy for someone so outspoken behind the counter. I decided to change that.

I arrived fifteen minutes early. We went to the bathroom again and, this time, I took off the long coat I’d worn, leaving myself completely naked in front of him. I had nothing on underneath. I brought my breasts to his face and ran one nipple over his lips, then the other. When he felt his breathing quicken, he finally reacted. He sucked my tits like a starving man, nursing hard and nibbling my nipples until I let out a moan I couldn’t hold back.

He took me by the hips with clumsy hands and, almost asking permission, tried to sink his fingers into my pussy. I was already soaked, my thighs glistening, and I opened my legs, planting one foot on the edge of the toilet so he could position himself better. He thrust two thick, calloused fingers all the way inside me and moved them with a clumsiness that made me tremble. He searched for my clitoris with his thumb, squeezed it, and I began riding his hand right there, moaning into his ear.

“That’s it, old man, put them in nice and deep…” I begged, biting his neck.

I let him play for a while, until he nearly made me come. Then I knelt, pulled his cock from his trousers, and lowered myself to fulfill my quota for the day. I sucked him with more enthusiasm than ever, tasting myself whenever he brought his fingers to his mouth, fascinated, sucking the juice he had drawn from me. I worked his cock with both hands and my mouth at once, jerking him while licking the tip, swallowing halfway down and pulling off noisily. He came quickly, and this time the burst was so long that some of it escaped from the corner of my mouth. I gathered it up with my finger and gave it to him to suck. He obeyed without hesitation.

***

On the fourth day, Don Aníbal was waiting for me early, transformed. His shyness was behind him. As soon as I entered, he took off my coat and latched onto my breasts as if he had spent his whole life dreaming of that moment. He squeezed my tits with both hands, sucked my nipples, and nibbled the skin of my neck. I let him, surprised by the desire I had awakened in him.

I sat in the chair and opened my legs for him. The old man knelt—irony of the bet—and buried his face in my pussy without any preamble. He licked me with a dedication I hadn’t expected from someone his age: first my outer lips, then the inner ones, spreading them apart with his thumbs, and finally my clitoris, which he latched onto as if it were a candy. His tongue, the faint rasp of his beard against my thighs, his broken breathing warming my skin: everything combined until he made me finish with a shudder that took me by surprise. My back arched, I pressed his head against my pussy, and I came in his mouth without shame.

“Swallow it all, old man,” I told him, panting, and he did, dripping.

Afterward I returned the favor, slowly and thoroughly. I sucked his cock for a long while without letting him come, stopping every time I felt him getting close. I sucked his balls, licked that piece of skin between his testicles and his ass that drives men crazy, and went back up. When I finally let him come, hardly anything came out anymore, and even so he spilled onto my tongue with a weary moan. I left him exhausted, his limp cock resting against his thigh.

Before leaving, still breathing unevenly, I made him a promise.

“Tomorrow,” I whispered in his ear, “you’re going to fuck me. And I’m going to let you come inside me.”

***

On the fifth day I got a surprise: he was completely alone. His wife had gone out early. That gave us a freedom we hadn’t had until then, so we went straight to his bedroom.

Don Aníbal explored my whole body unhurriedly, repaying everything from the previous days many times over. He laid me on my back on the marital bed and licked me from my ankles to my navel, deliberately avoiding my pussy to make me beg. When he finally lowered his mouth to where I wanted it, he ate me with the hunger of a condemned man. He pushed his tongue all the way in, thrust it like a small cock, and sucked my clitoris until I screamed in that house that wasn’t mine. He made me finish once more with his mouth, my thighs clenched around his head.

When I felt him ready—the cock hard, swollen, red with desire—I climbed on top of him. I positioned myself, aimed his cock at my entrance, and impaled myself slowly, taking him all the way in, feeling him open me completely. I rode him slowly at first, watching the pleasure slacken his face, my hands braced on his gray-haired chest. I pressed my tits against his mouth, and he sucked my nipples while I moved up and down.

Then I changed the pace. I slammed myself down on him, letting his cock reach my uterus with every downward stroke, shaking his hips with a rhythm that left him breathless. I leaned back, supported by his knees, and showed him how his cock slid in and out, shining with my juices. The old man watched with his mouth open, speechless. He finished inside me with a long moan, gripping my hips as though he feared I would leave, and I felt the hot jets emptying inside me. I stayed seated on him until the end, squeezing his cock with my pussy so I wouldn’t lose a drop.

***

The sixth day was different. I dared to ask for what I wanted, and he, by then entirely free of shame, gladly obeyed. I asked him to eat my pussy from behind, with my ass raised, and he settled in behind me, working me with his tongue and fingers until he made me come twice in a row. He slipped a finger into my ass while licking me, and by then I wasn’t thinking about the bet or Martín or anything except that room.

Since we were still alone, I took him to the bed and offered myself in a new way. I got on all fours, my chest against the mattress and my ass held high, and asked him to drive into me like that, looking at me. He let me take him slowly, carefully, with the patience possessed only by men who no longer need to prove anything. His cock slid in and out with wet sounds, and the old man gripped my hips to drive himself all the way in. He gave me gentle smacks on the ass, tugged my hair shyly, and settled over me to nibble the nape of my neck.

“Put it all the way in, old man, all the way,” I moaned into the pillow.

When he was about to come, I asked him to pull out. I quickly turned over, knelt down, and took his release in my mouth. He came less forcefully than the day before, but he still filled my tongue. I cleaned him afterward with my mouth, sucking the tip until the last drop, the closing of a ritual that already felt as much mine as his.

***

On the seventh and final day, we decided to change locations. Martín lent us his apartment for the afternoon, and I had Don Aníbal take a blue pill so the finale would live up to the occasion. For once, the old man didn’t finish exhausted after only a few minutes.

I drew out his first burst with my mouth. I worked his cock until I had it hard as in his best days, helped by the pill’s effect, and he came all over my face in a more generous burst than during the previous days. It dripped down my chin and breasts, and he watched me with shining eyes as I spread his cum around with my fingers.

He returned the gesture with his own. He laid me on my back at the edge of the couch, opened my legs, and sucked my pussy until I came in his mouth for the second time that afternoon. Then I mounted him. I sat facing him and impaled myself all the way down. I took his hands and brought them to my tits while I rode him. I fucked him slowly, then quickly, pulling his entire cock out and pushing it back in, until he finally emptied himself inside me with a hoarse moan.

And he still had enough left for one more round. We lay on our sides on the couch, he lifted one of my legs, and he entered me from behind in that position, seeking my sweet spot with slow, deep thrusts. I took his hand and guided it to my clitoris so he could stroke me while he fucked me. He came for the third time, weaker and slower, and was truly exhausted at last, melting into the couch with his damp cock resting against his thigh and a grin from ear to ear.

***

The story’s conclusion came the next day. The three of us met in the same apartment so Martín could review the videos and confirm that I had fulfilled every part of the deal. I had, of course. And Martín’s arousal was so obvious as he watched—his cock had been outlined beneath his trousers since the first video—that the afternoon ended in a way neither of us had expected.

I took it out myself, without saying a word, kneeling in front of him with my mouth already open. He thrust it down my throat in one go, taking advantage of all the heat that had built up over an entire week of watching. I sucked him with the same dedication I had shown the old man, then rode Martín on the very same couch where Don Aníbal had melted the afternoon before. Martín came inside me with a short grunt, squeezing me against him.

Don Aníbal, on the other hand, arrived tired from the previous day’s exertions. The poor man only had enough strength this time for one last caress with his mouth—he ran his tongue over my pussy while Martín was still dripping inside me—before falling asleep on the sofa, more satisfied than ever.

And so a silly bet about something I don’t even remember anymore became the most intense week I’d lived through in a long time. Every so often I still stop by the newsstand. Don Aníbal gives me the same compliment as always, I play along, and we both know that behind that smile is a secret we’ll keep forever.