I gave myself to the laborers my grandfather hired

This happened to me a couple of summers ago, at my grandfather Eladio’s house, while he was away on a trip with his domino club friends. He had left me the keys so I could look after the place and receive two laborers who were coming to fix a leak in the back bathroom. I agreed without thinking much about it, especially because the house was far from everything and no one was going to see me coming or going.

That afternoon I dressed the way I like to dress when I’m alone: a short skirt, a thin-strapped blouse, and my low-heeled sandals. I put on my makeup slowly, in front of the hallway mirror, while I listened to music. I wasn’t expecting anything to happen. I just wanted to feel good about myself, free from the clothes I wear the rest of the week so I don’t draw attention.

The laborers arrived a little after four. One was young, no more than twenty-five, thin and with nervous hands. The other was older, around fifty-something, with a prominent belly and arms toughened by years of working under the sun. They introduced themselves as Rubén and Heriberto, though the older man said everyone called him Beto.

When I opened the door, the two of them lingered a second too long looking at me. It wasn’t an aggressive look. It was that pause that betrays what a man is thinking before deciding whether or not to say it.

“Good afternoon, miss,” Beto said, taking off his cap. “We’re here about the bathroom.”

“Come in, come in. It’s this way,” I replied, and I felt their eyes following me down the hallway.

I showed them the leak, offered them cold water, and sat on a kitchen stool while they worked. Every so often, one of them would come out with some excuse or another —that they needed a rag, that where was the shutoff valve— and take the opportunity to look at my legs. I didn’t close them. I crossed them slowly, letting the skirt ride up a little more than necessary.

I knew perfectly well what I was doing.

It was Beto who broke the ice. He came out of the bathroom wiping his hands on his pants and told me, with that bluntness older men have:

“Sorry to say it, miss, but you’re one of the prettiest people I’ve seen in a long time.”

I smiled and played along.

“Say the things you say. You probably tell that to everyone.”

“Not to everyone,” he replied, and took a step closer. “Do you mind if I call you that?”

“No,” I answered, and looked him in the eyes. “I don’t mind at all.”

***

The young man peered out from the hallway. The two of them looked at each other with a complicity they were no longer even trying to hide. I stood up from the stool and walked toward them, hearing my heels tap against the tiles. Beto put a big rough hand on my hip, testing, waiting for me to push him away. I didn’t.

“Just so you know,” I said softly, “I’m not like other girls. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“We noticed already,” Rubén said, speaking for the first time. “And we like it all the same.”

That was all I needed to hear. Beto’s hands slid down to my thighs, first over the skirt, then underneath it, until he grazed the hard bulge already showing against the thin fabric of my underwear. A low growl escaped him when he confirmed it, as if he liked what he found more than he wanted to admit. The young man came up behind me and moved my hair off my neck to kiss the nape of it, while his hands slid under my blouse and squeezed my breasts over my bra, finding my nipples with the pads of his thumbs. Two pairs of hands on my body at once, one trembling and the other firm, made me lose my balance in my head before I lost it in my feet.

They smelled different, the two of them. Beto smelled of cement and long-day sweat; Rubén of fresh cologne, the kind young guys put on before going out. I closed my eyes and let myself be carried by that mix, by the contrast between the old man’s rough beard on my shoulder and the young man’s soft lips on my neck. I had never felt so desired by two people at once, and much less in my own grandfather’s house, with the door unlocked and the afternoon slowly falling over the tiles.

I crouched in front of them, ready to pull both of their pants down, to take their cocks out right there and suck them in turns until they came on my face, but Beto stopped me gently, holding my chin.

“Wait, miss. There’s a problem.”

“What problem?” I asked, almost laughing at the solemnity of the way he said it.

“Rubén and I have been coworkers for years, but...” he scratched the back of his neck. “We don’t like doing this, both of us together and naked at the same time. It’s a matter of respect, you understand.”

I found it incredibly sweet. Two men capable of sharing me without blinking, but incapable of seeing each other naked. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t burst out laughing.

“So how do we do this?” I asked.

“In turns,” Rubén said. “We’ve got about an hour before we have to leave. Half an hour each, if that works for you.”

“It works for me,” I said. “Who goes first?”

They played rock, paper, scissors right there in the middle of the kitchen, like two kids deciding who gets to kick first. The young one won, but he immediately gave the turn to the older man.

“You go, Beto. Seniority.”

The old man laughed, flattered, and held out his hand to me like a gentleman.

“Would it be all right if we go to the bedroom, miss? Your grandfather’s, I mean, since it’s the only one with a big bed.”

“That’s fine,” I replied, and looked at Rubén. “Are you staying here?”

“Yes, don’t worry. I’ll watch TV and wait. We’ve known Mr. Eladio for years, don’t think we’re going to touch anything except you.”

I laughed at his remark and let Beto lead me by the hand down the hallway.

***

My grandfather’s bedroom smelled of old wood and cheap cologne. Beto sat on the edge of the bed, took off his dusty boots, and patted the mattress for me to sit beside him. I did. We started kissing slowly, unhurriedly, and I was surprised by how tender he was. His lips were dry and he smelled of cement, but he kissed like someone who savored every second, sucking my tongue with the hunger of a desire long held back.

“Since I got married, very young, I hadn’t had anyone as young as you in my arms again,” he murmured against my ear.

“Does it bother you that I’m not exactly what you expected?” I asked him, because I always need to hear it.

“On the contrary,” he said, and slipped a hand under my blouse to pinch a nipple, drawing a gasp from me. “I was always curious. And look at where I came to scratch that itch.”

He sat me on his lap, astride him, and I immediately felt the old man’s hard bulge pressing against my crotch through his work pants. I yanked my blouse over my head and gave him a clear view. He stared at my tits like a hungry boy, both hands cupping them, sucking on them one after another, tugging at my nipples with his lips until they stood up hard like little stones. While he kissed my neck, his thick rough finger pulled my panties aside and searched for my opening under the skirt, feeling around with a patience I hadn’t expected from a man like him. He slid one finger in first, then two, all the way in, moving them in circles, feeling me from the inside with the same calm with which a bricklayer measures a wall. He breathed hard, almost trembling, every time I arched against his hand and smeared his fingers with how wet I was.

“Look at this, my queen,” he murmured, dripping off his fingers in front of my eyes. “It’s begging for it.”

“Take it out already,” I told him, my voice hoarse. “I want to see it.”

He stood up, pulled down his pants and underwear all at once, and put it up at my face. It was short but thick, broad as a can, with swollen veins and a purple, shiny glans from how taut it was. I licked my lips and took it with both hands; one wasn’t enough. I ran my tongue underneath it, from the balls to the tip, slowly, tasting the sweat from the day’s work. Beto jolted and gripped the headboard.

“Ay, miss, not like that... not like that, I can’t take it...”

I shoved it all the way into my mouth in one go, deep, until the gray hair tickled my nose. I started sucking him hard, loudly, sucking him like I was drinking the juice out of him. With one hand I squeezed his heavy balls, and with the other I stroked his hairy belly. Beto held the back of my neck with a trembling hand, not pushing, letting me do what I wanted, murmuring things under his breath. A thread of saliva slipped from the corner of my mouth and ran down his shaft to his balls. When I felt him tense up, I pulled him from my mouth in one yank and squeezed the base so he wouldn’t come yet.

“Not yet, Beto. Not yet.”

“All right, my queen, all right,” he panted. “Get into whatever position you want.”

I took my panties off completely, climbed onto the bed, and got on all fours over my grandfather’s blanket, feeling excited and naughty for doing it right there. I lifted my ass high, with the skirt bunched up at my waist, and showed everything: my cunt open, dripping, and my little asshole, tight. Beto went silent for a few seconds, looking at me as if he couldn’t believe it, and then he knelt behind me and gave me one long lick, from the clit up, missing nothing. I screamed into the pillow. He licked my pussy with his whole tongue, sucking my lips, pushing the tip inside me, and then he went up and licked my asshole too, circling it with his tongue, soaking me. I hadn’t expected that from an old man like him, and precisely because of that it made my legs tremble.

“Put it in already,” I begged him. “I can’t take it anymore.”

He settled in behind me, grabbed my hips with those enormous calloused hands, and guided himself with the other until the head of his cock rested against my opening. He pushed slowly, just the tip at first, then a little more, until I felt the width of that thick cock opening me inside centimeter by centimeter. He filled me in a way that made me bite the pillow. When he was all the way in, he stayed still for a few seconds, breathing hard, as if he needed to get used to it too.

“Ay, little God, you’re so tight,” he murmured. “You’re going to kill me.”

He started slowly, pulling almost all the way out and shoving it back in with one firm thrust. He held my hips and adjusted me to his liking, lifting my ass higher, arching my back. Then he went faster, and faster, until the sound of his balls slapping against me filled the room. The old bed creaked with every thrust and I clenched the blanket in my fingers, biting my lips so I wouldn’t scream and make the young man even more impatient out in the living room. Beto was driving it into me all the way, with his whole belly pressed against my ass, murmuring things under his breath as if he were praying.

“Like this... so good... wow, so nice... just look at that... what a little pussy you have, miss... I want to eat the whole thing...”

He slapped my ass, not very hard, more surprising than anything else, and made me shiver. Then he lowered one hand and took me from the front, searching for my clit with his wet finger, surprised and fascinated to find me just as turned on, that little hard bud throbbing against his fingertip. He started circling it while he kept fucking me from behind, and I felt an enormous orgasm rising from deep inside me, climbing from my guts to my throat. I came on his cock with a muffled cry against the pillow, squeezing him with my whole cunt, so hard that he let out a curse and had to brace himself against the mattress so he wouldn’t finish right then and there.

“Oh no, no, not yet,” he huffed, staying still inside me and letting me tremble all the way through.

When the shaking passed, he asked me to turn over. He wanted to see my face. I lay on my back, with my legs wide open and my knees near my chest, and he settled on top of me, his sweaty belly pressed against mine. He shoved it back in with one thrust, and this time he fucked me while looking me in the eyes, holding one breast in each hand, sucking them one by one between thrusts. He moved with affection, with a care I would never have imagined in a fat, easy-laughing bricklayer. It wasn’t what one expects from a man like that, and precisely because of that it struck me as so filthy.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him against me, feeling how that short thick cock hit bottom with every push, how the gray hair of his pubic area scraped my swollen clit, how his belly bumped softly against my stomach. We kissed like that, with him on top, moving faster and faster, until I felt his cock swell even more inside me.

“I’m going to come,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking. “Where do you want it, my queen?”

“Inside,” I answered without thinking, clamping my heels against his ass so he wouldn’t move. “Leave it all in me. I want to feel you.”

And that’s what he did, driving it into me all the way with a long growl that ended in an almost relieved sigh. I felt him unload in hot spurts against my walls, one warm lick after another, while he trembled all over on top of me. He stayed inside me a few more seconds, still hard, holding me from behind, breathing against my nape. When he finally pulled his cock out, a thick white thread ran down my thigh and stained my grandfather’s blanket. Neither of us made a move to wipe it away.

***

We lay there for a while. He wouldn’t stop caressing me, tracing me with the tips of his fingers as if he wanted to memorize me, idly playing with the semen that was slowly leaking out between my legs. He told me about his wife, about his grown children, and also, in a lower voice, about the boys he had liked over the years and never dared to do anything with.

“You’re the first one,” he confessed. “And you have no idea how much weight that takes off me.”

Then he asked me for a favor that melted me.

“Will you let me call you Mariela? Like this, the way you’re dressed, you remind me of a girlfriend I had in high school. I loved her very much.”

“Call me whatever you want,” I told him, and kissed his forehead.

We had lost all track of time. He had made me come in an unexpected way, slowly, with none of the roughness I had assumed. But the half hour had already stretched too long, and suddenly there were soft knocks at the bedroom door.

“Beto,” Rubén’s voice said from the hallway, “is it my turn yet?”

The old man looked at me, winked, and chuckled while searching for his pants on the floor. I fixed my hair in front of the dressing table mirror, still with my legs trembling and the warm semen running down the inside of my thigh, and I thought the afternoon was only halfway over.

But what happened with the young man, I’ll tell you another time.