The Bet I Lost to My Boyfriend’s Father

My name is Carla, and what I’m about to tell you happened when I’d been with Bruno for a couple of years. By then I knew my father-in-law, Horacio, well—a fifty-five-year-old man who kept himself in better shape than most: tall, broad-shouldered, with the confidence that comes from twenty years of daily workouts. He was divorced, and Bruno treated him with a coldness that had always made me feel sorry for him.

The divorce had left wounds, I suppose, and my boyfriend took some of that out on his father. I, on the other hand, got along well with Horacio. He was good company, had a sense of humor, and a way of looking at me that, if I’m honest, sometimes made me lower my eyes without knowing why. More than once, when he came over for dinner, I’d caught him staring at my tits or my ass without the slightest attempt to hide it, and instead of making me uncomfortable, it gave me a tingling between my legs that was hard to get rid of afterward.

That week Horacio was moving into a new house. Bruno had promised to help him load the truck, but afterward he was going to watch a game with his friends and leave him alone with the chaos of unpacking. I felt sorry imagining him like that, arranging boxes until dawn, and offered to give him a hand with the inside.

“You’d really stay and organize things with me?” he asked, his face lighting up.

“Of course. You unload everything from the truck and I’ll put it away. Bruno won’t even realize how hard it is.”

On Wednesday I arrived at the new house while Bruno was already with his friends. It was oppressively hot. Horacio unloaded the large boxes and I carried in the small ones, and once we had everything inside, we started with the bathroom, since it would be the quickest. Because of the heat, he took off his T-shirt and was left in shorts. His bare torso, brown skin gleaming with sweat, the gray hair on his chest, distracted me more than I expected. I’d brought shorts and a camisole just in case, so I changed too.

When I came out, Horacio let out a low whistle, almost involuntarily.

“What happened?” I asked him.

“Nothing, I hit myself on a box,” he said, laughing. “It didn’t hurt.”

I didn’t think anything of it. I was hanging the shower curtain while he organized the shelf when, all of a sudden, I felt a firm smack on my ass that made me jump.

“Hey!” I protested.

“Sorry, you had a mosquito. I killed it before it could bite you.”

“Warn me next time. You nearly scared me to death.”

“If I’d warned you, it would’ve gotten away,” he said with disarming calm.

We finished the bathroom and moved on to the bedroom. Then we went to the room that would be Bruno’s, where we assembled the bed and started on the wardrobe. While we were putting away his underwear, Horacio found a tiny red string among the things—a thong of mine that I’d lost a year earlier.

“Well, well, look at my daughter-in-law,” he said, amused. “I didn’t know you wore these.”

“Yes, and it fits me perfectly. Don’t think I’m so plump,” I replied, playing along.

He came up behind me again and gave me another smack.

“Another mosquito,” he said by way of explanation. “Although, honestly, I doubt that little string could ride up on you. You’ve got too much back there. More than your mother-in-law, I’ll tell you that.”

“That’s not true. She has much more than I do,” I said, laughing.

“Let’s bet on it. If it fits you, I’ll leave the house to you for the whole weekend while I clean out the old apartment.”

“Deal. The whole house to myself—what a bargain.”

I went into the bathroom, took off my shorts, and tried on the string. It barely covered my pussy; the fabric disappeared between my buttocks, and the little strip in back dug into the crack of my ass. I came out walking as if I were on a runway, certain of my victory.

“I won. The weekend is mine.”

Horacio looked me up and down, pretending to be serious, but I could see the bulge hardening beneath his shorts.

“To make sure you didn’t cheat with cream or something, let me touch it.”

“Touch whatever you want. I didn’t do anything. I won fair and square.”

I turned around and showed him my ass. His big, callused hands moved slowly over me, feeling every inch of each buttock, squeezing the flesh with his fingers spread wide, pulling them apart until I felt cool air against my asshole. One of his thumbs went straight down the middle, sliding up and down along the string, rubbing my asshole through the fabric and moving down to the edge of my pussy. He lingered there longer than any inspection required, pressing with two fingers exactly where the string sank into my wet crack. I knew perfectly well what was happening, and I didn’t pull away. I felt my pussy growing wet and the string sticking to my lips. When he was finished, he gave me a sharp smack that made my ass cheeks bounce.

“Looks like I lost,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.

“I told you. And I’m staying like this, so you don’t forget your defeat.”

We continued to the guest room, me in front and him behind, taking advantage of every distraction to give me another smack. From the way his shorts hung, I could tell it affected him more than he admitted: the tip of his cock showed through the fabric, and there was a wet patch right at the front.

“You’re taking revenge, you bully,” I joked.

“I don’t like being defeated. Let’s make another bet. There’s a pair of stilettos in Bruno’s room. If you can last all day in them without falling, I’ll leave you the truck for the weekend too.”

“The house and the truck? There’s no way I can refuse.”

I sat on the bed and put on the black heels. When I saw myself in the mirror, even I was surprised. At that height, everything changed: longer legs, a more defined silhouette, my ass lifted, that red string disappearing where it belonged. Horacio stared at me with his mouth half open and one hand over his bulge, squeezing it through his shorts.

“Hey, hey, come back to Earth,” I said, snapping my fingers at him.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re incredible, seriously.”

“Thanks,” I laughed. “Although walking in these is difficult. I haven’t worn heels in ages. I might lose this one.”

“As far as I’m concerned, the sooner you lose, the better.”

“And what do you get if I fall?”

“You stay here with me in just your thong and bra all weekend.”

“What? No.”

“You already agreed. Your word is your word.”

“That’s cheating. You didn’t tell me that before.”

“You didn’t ask.”

And, just like that, he gave me such a hard smack that I nearly lost my balance right there. We laughed and kept organizing things. I got down on all fours to put some boxes under the bed, and he stood behind me, handing me things, pressed himself against me. I felt his erection settling against the crack of my ass through his shorts, his hard cock outlined between my buttocks, searching for the gap. The little shoves each time he handed me something turned into a slow, steady rubbing, the tip of his cock pressing the string against my asshole. When we finished, he took me by the waist to lift me up and pressed me against his body, rubbing his hard cock against my backside while one hand moved over my stomach and then dropped dangerously to the edge of the string.

“Hey, it’s not fair that I’m practically naked while you’re dressed,” I said, walking toward the living room with my model-like steps.

“That’s easily fixed,” he replied.

He yanked down his shorts and stood naked. I had seen only one man in my life, Bruno, and this looked nothing like him. Horacio was big and thick, with veins standing out along the shaft and a purple head protruding from his foreskin. Still only half-awake, it already hung heavier than Bruno’s at his best. His balls were large and taut, shaved. My mouth watered before I even realized it.

“Wow, Horacio. And my mother-in-law left you with something like that?” I said, trying to sound teasing instead of as impressed as I was.

“She found me in bed with her best friend,” he laughed. “What can I say? Whenever I see a good ass, I lose my head.”

And he gave me another smack to emphasize the point.

***

We moved into the kitchen. I arranged things on the counter while he kept finding ways to brush against me every few minutes, always apologizing with an excuse neither of us believed. His cock, now fully hard, bumped against my hip, my thigh, my ass, leaving a trail of precum on my skin each time he touched me. I had to squat down to put something in a low cabinet, and he stood right in front of me, his cock at face level as he handed me things. During one of those movements, he turned and brushed my cheek with his hot glans, leaving a shiny streak on my skin. He didn’t react. He did it again, once on each side, while I looked up at him with my mouth half open, smelling the man and the sweat from his balls only a foot from my nose.

When he stretched to reach the last thing on the high shelf, his whole body ended up pressed against my face. His cock bounced against my lips, his balls brushed my chin. Then, when he came close again, I opened my mouth and guided his cock toward it without touching him with my hand. He understood and, without warning, thrust his hips forward, pushing the tip in until I felt the glans strike my palate.

“Oops, sorry, little daughter-in-law,” he said with false innocence, without pulling away, moving his hips so his cock sank a little deeper into me. “It was an accident.”

I tried to answer, but all that came out was a muffled babble against his hot flesh. He freed me for a second. A strand of saliva hung from my lip to the tip of his cock.

“What did you say? I didn’t understand a thing.”

“Don’t worry,” I laughed, catching my breath. “I know it was an accident.”

He stretched again, I opened my mouth again, and this time he put one hand on the back of my head and pressed until there was nothing left outside. I felt it slide down my throat, my nose crushed against his balls, unable to breathe, drool running down my chin to my tits. He held me there for several long seconds, until I started pounding his thigh with my hand. He let me go. I spat, coughed, and dragged in air desperately. I looked at him with tears in my eyes, breathless, a strand of mucus and saliva hanging from my lip.

“Oops, again,” he murmured, stroking my cheek while wiping his wet cock across my face. “You’re going to think I’m doing it on purpose.”

We stopped to have something to drink. He opened two beers, and we decided to leave what remained for the next day. I texted Bruno that I was staying to finish up with his father; he replied that he was spending the night at Esteban’s house playing video games with his friends. I set the phone aside.

We finished several beers on the sofa, me in heels and that tiny string, him naked and still hard after all that time. Every so often he ran a hand over his cock without attempting to hide it, staring at my tits.

“Horacio, you’re going to explode,” I told him. “Go to the bathroom and take care of it.”

“No way. I’m not the kind of man who does that alone,” he laughed. “Ever since I accidentally put it in your mouth, I haven’t gone soft.”

“That was an accident. It can’t happen again.”

“I know. I was joking. Better yet, let’s make another bet, a juicy one. I’ll flip a coin: if it lands heads, I’ll give you five hundred dollars to spend this weekend.”

“And if it’s tails?”

“You suck me until I come.”

“You’re crazy. I’m your son’s girlfriend.”

“That’s exactly what makes it more fun.”

I thought about it longer than I’d like to admit. The beer, the heat, the way he’d looked at me all day, the taste of precum still on my lips. I agreed. He tossed the coin, and it landed heads. I jumped for joy, and my movements left him staring once again at my tits bouncing beneath my blouse.

“Best two out of three,” he said. “A thousand dollars, two weekends with the house and the truck.”

“All right.”

He tossed the coin. Tails. He picked it up and tossed it again; I watched it rise and fall in slow motion. Tails again. I’d lost. He leaned back on the sofa, victorious, spreading his legs, his cock pointing toward the ceiling, heavy and throbbing.

“Come here. Kneel down and start paying.”

I knelt on a cushion he put down for me. I took it in my hand—it was too big for me to close my fingers around completely—kissed it from the base, and moved up the shaft with the tip of my tongue, following the thick vein running along its underside, all the way to the crown. I licked the glans in circles, tasting the thick drop emerging from the slit, and took it into my mouth as far as I could. With my other hand I grabbed his balls, weighing them, playing with them while my tongue circled his head. I moved back down the shaft, licking it all the way to his testicles, and took one into my mouth, then the other, sucking them slowly while I stroked him with my hand, sliding the foreskin up and down.

“For someone who claims not to know what she’s doing, you’re wonderful,” he panted, throwing his head back.

I went back up to the tip and swallowed him again, deeper this time, until the pit of my stomach contracted and I gagged. He held my head with both hands and began moving himself, fucking my mouth at his own pace, not letting me breathe between thrusts. Saliva poured down my chin and neck, running between my tits. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, choking at times, feeling his glans strike my throat again and again. We went on like that for a good fifteen minutes until he warned me, gripping my hair more tightly.

“I’m coming, little daughter-in-law, I’m coming…”

He stood up, pulled his cock out of my mouth, and masturbated in front of me with his hand closed around the swollen glans. The first spurt hit my forehead and ran down the bridge of my nose. The second, thicker one, landed on my lips and chin. After that he finished in smaller spurts across my cheeks, tongue, and tits. My mouth was open and my tongue was out, licking the tip whenever I could, swallowing whatever landed in my mouth. When he was finished, his cock kept dripping, and I cleaned it with my tongue, sucking until the last drop was gone. Then he collapsed onto the sofa.

“There, I’ve paid my debt,” I said, wiping myself with my fingers and putting the cum in my mouth before returning to my beer.

“No. You still owe me one. We doubled the bet, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

“That was one of the best blowjobs I’ve ever had,” he said. “It stays between us.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a vault.”

***

I lay facedown on the rug, my legs slightly apart, my face still shiny with semen. Horacio got off the sofa and lay down beside me, running his fingers over my buttock, gently at first, then with his whole hand, squeezing now and then, spreading my cheeks to look at my asshole and the string buried in my pussy.

“They’re perfect,” he said. “We should bet them.”

“Not a chance. I always lose. I only won the first one.”

“Then sell them to me,” he joked, giving me another smack that echoed loudly in the silence.

“They’re expensive. You couldn’t afford them,” I played along, naming a high figure, a sum I mentioned only to bring him back to reality.

“Wait,” he said, suddenly serious.

He got up, disappeared down the hallway, and came back. He tossed a bundle of bills over me, scattering them across my back and ass.

“There’s what you asked for, and a little extra.”

“What? You’re crazy.” I froze, unable to understand where he’d gotten it.

“I’m buying your entire weekend. First you finish paying off the bet. Then we have the whole night.”

He stood in front of me. I knelt again, my mouth already open before he reached me. He grabbed my hair with both hands and thrust all the way in, this time without pretending, excuses, or apologies. He fucked my mouth with long strokes, pulling completely out and driving back in until his balls, forcing me to take every inch. He whispered things in my ear no one had ever said to me, things Bruno would never have dared to say.

“Look at you, kneeling in front of your father-in-law, your ass covered with my money, swallowing the cock that made your boyfriend. You’re going to be my wife, little daughter-in-law. You’re going to be my whore. I’ll fuck you every weekend, in the house I promised my son, in my bed, with that little whore’s mouth open for me.”

I answered with muffled moans, gripping his balls with one hand and using the other to masturbate the part of him that wouldn’t fit in my mouth. When he warned me he was coming again, he pulled out and finished over my face and tongue. I collected what fell on the floor with my finger and put it in my mouth while looking him in the eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

I stood up and leaned against the kitchen island, my elbows on the surface, my back arched, my ass raised and offered. He came up behind me, pressed his chest against my back, and embraced me, one hand rising to knead a breast through my blouse, the other dropping to push the string aside and slide two fingers into my soaking pussy.

“You’re so wet, little daughter-in-law. Sucking me got you hot as a bitch.”

“Shut up and do it,” I begged, grinding myself against his fingers.

“I’m going to make you my wife,” he whispered, moving his fingers inside me, searching for the perfect spot, pulling them out and pushing them back in while the heel of his hand struck my clit.

“Then you’ll have to convince me,” I replied softly, already panting, unable to hide it.

He spat into his hand, spread it over his cock, moved the string aside, and placed the tip at my entrance. He pushed the head in and opened me slowly. I moaned loudly, gripping the edge of the island. He was much bigger than Bruno, much thicker, and he entered inch by inch, stretching me, forcing me to adjust to him. Every so often he withdrew slightly and pushed back in, a little deeper, until I felt his pelvis strike my buttocks and his balls hit my clitoris. He stayed there for a moment, buried to the hilt, breathing against the nape of my neck.

“All the way in, little daughter-in-law. Do you feel how full you are?”

“Yes… God, yes…”

He gripped my hips with both hands and began slowly, drawing out until only the tip remained and then thrusting all the way in again. He gradually increased the pace until the sound of flesh striking flesh filled the kitchen and I could no longer contain my moans, saliva dripping from my mouth onto the marble counter. With one hand he grabbed my hair and pulled me backward, arching me farther, while with the other he smacked my ass hard enough to make me scream.

“Oh, Daddy, like that, like that, don’t stop.”

“Daddy now, huh? Good little whore. Scream louder. No one can hear you.”

He took me to the sofa, put me on all fours over the cushions, and continued from behind, this time gripping my hair with both hands as if they were reins, thrusting so hard my buttocks shook with every blow. His cock slid in and out, shining with my juices, and I felt my orgasm building down below, my clitoris on the verge of exploding. He put a finger in my mouth and I sucked it; then he pulled it out, lowered it, and placed it against my asshole, pressing slowly until the whole finger sank inside while his cock continued hammering my pussy. It was too much. I came screaming into the sofa, spasms clenching his cock inside me.

“That’s it, come on my cock, my love. Come like the whore you are.”

Afterward he sat down and let me ride him. I settled on top facing him and impaled myself slowly, feeling him open me again. I began moving up and down, bracing myself on his shoulders, while he took my tits and sucked my nipples through my blouse. We kissed for the first time, with tongues, slowly, without stopping our movements, feeling his cock touch deep inside me each time I sank down. I bit his lip, grabbed the back of his neck, and rode him faster and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore and asked me to kneel again. He took my mouth once more for a few seconds and finished over my tits and neck, hot spurts sliding down to my stomach.

We cleaned ourselves up, he made something to eat, and in the early hours we ended up in his bed, where he had me in every position: on my back with my legs over his shoulders, spooning while he whispered filthy things in my ear, riding him backward, on all fours with my face against the pillow. He penetrated my ass for the first time that night, slowly, with plenty of saliva and patience, and when I came, I learned how to orgasm with a cock buried where I’d never had one before. One by one, I discovered things I’d never imagined with Bruno: what it felt like to be spat into, to have my hands tied with a belt, to be called a whore while someone came inside me. The next morning we showered together, and he made me kneel beneath the spray and swallow everything he had left. We finished organizing the house and returned to the bedroom before I left, for a quick goodbye against the wall.

When I got home, I had several messages from Bruno. I replied that I’d just left his father’s place and that everything was already in order. We talked for a while, and I told him I’d be busy that weekend. He said it was no problem, that he’d be out with his friends.

So I would have the house, the truck, and, above all, the whole weekend free for myself. And for Horacio. But that’s another story.