The Familiar Tone.
CHAPTER 2 (part 1)
MI woke up lying on the living room sofa. Dizzy and with a bothersome headache pain. My grandmother was sitting beside me, holding an ice bag against my head. I had red eyes, as if I'd cried, and could see relief in them when she realized mine were open.
—Ah, son, thank goodness! Are you okay?
That she was so concerned about me despite what I had done said a lot about how good and compassionate she was. Remembering what happened in the kitchen made me feel guilty and I felt like hugging her, although it didn't seem like a good idea to touch her at that moment. My battered brain tried to find a way to justify what had happened without coming across as a sexual maniac. I wasn't thinking of telling her about the tonic, that was clear. She took the ice off my head and I touched the painful bump with my fingers.
Don't touch it, sky, or it'll get worse.
What... has happened? Have I fallen down? —I asked, feigning confusion.
don't you remember?
She looked at me surprised, but didn't show any signs of doubting my word. If I managed to convince her that my actions had been involuntary, which was true in the end, maybe I would get away with it from that situation. I looked at the ceiling squinting my eyes, as if trying to remember something.
I remember being seated in the kitchen. It felt like I was getting dizzy, my vision blurred and... I woke up here. Did I pass out?
I returned to touch the bump with my fingers. My grandmother pulled away my hand and put an ice pack on my head. Her eyes were getting wet again. She sighed and took off her glasses to wipe them with her handkerchief.
No, you'll see... I did that to you. I got very nervous and... Sorry, son, but you were acting crazy. You looked like an animal.
I sat down on the sofa a bit, with a gesture that mixed surprise and concern. I don't think I'm a great actor but my interpretation that day was worthy of an Oscar.
---But what has happened? Didn't I hurt you, right?
No, that wasn't it. You'll see, you've... You've had... I've had...
The poor one was red like the tomatoes from her garden when they ripened. She stammered and avoided looking at me. I took one of her hands in mine and was glad to find she didn't shun my touch. She was having a bad time and it was obvious she didn't want to talk about what had happened, but to keep up the pretence I had to make her talk.
Come on, tell me, please. What have I done, grandma?
---You've had me... You've had me touched ---he said at last.
What do you mean I've touched you? What do you want to say?
Then that's it, Carlitos, you've got me. Suddenly you started rubbing my... body in a very... obscene way.
I returned to let my head fall on the sofa cushion and covered my eyes with one hand, in a melodramatic air. I was pushing the plot but it was going well. Meanwhile, my cock continued hard and pulsating in my pants. The tonic's effect had disappeared from my brain but remained active in my body. I realized she must have seen me, in all my splendor, and had pulled up my pants when I was unconscious. She must have taken a good look before returning it to its cotton and polyester lair. Imagining that scene and listening her describe my deplorable acts excited me quite a bit, but I couldn't let that distract me from my notable performance.
It can't be... How could I have done something like this to you? Forgive me. I... I'm so sorry -- I lamented, feeling remorseful.
It's nothing, sweetheart, calm down. You weren't yourself. He must have given you a hangover and your head got messed up.
I limited myself to nodding, as if I were incapable of speaking. I was surprised by my good luck: the victim of my lustful outburst not only wasn't angry with me but was trying to justify my actions.
—You spent a lot of time in the full sun washing the car—continued, in a compassionate tone.—And then you worked like a donkey in the storage room, which is an oven.
—The truth is that I started feeling bad around mid-morning. My head hurt and my vision was a bit blurry, but I didn't give it much importance.
Yes, I had noticed you were weird already. You were very quiet and looked at me like a scared rabbit. From tomorrow on, you'll put something in your head when you go out. And we're going to take things more calmly from now on, there's no rush at all.
I had come out better than I expected. I was sure she felt more guilty about the slap that annoyed me for my attempt to give her a head-butt against the counter. She took the ice off my head, combed with her hand my wet locks and leaned in to give me a kiss near the bump. Her breasts rested on my chest for a second and that relieved me more than the stupid ice.
Hey, grandma. No... Don't tell my parents, okay?
Of course not. This stays between us, and let's not talk about it anymore.
—Thanks. I'm so sorry, really.
I've already told you it wasn't your fault. Come on, rest, I'll finish the meatballs. With all this fuss at the end we're going to eat so late.
He stood up and watched the impressive rear that my cock had brushed against a little while ago disappear towards the kitchen. It was definitely an extraordinary woman, and I had to avoid losing control like that again by all means. Although technically innocent, I felt a bit guilty, and decided I should do something to make it up to her.
I spent the rest of the day there lying down, and in a few hours it hardly hurt anymore. My grandmother kept me company sitting on a couch, and we had a pleasant afternoon watching TV and chatting, without mentioning the incident at all. She only left me to do some minor household chores and prepare dinner. At night I took a shower and had a good masturbation under the warm water, remembering what happened in the kitchen, especially the sensation of those breasts in my hands and the rubbing of my cock on her ass. The tonic's effects must have been wearing off, because I finally managed to get rid of the persistent erection, which was already becoming painful.
In bed, I treated myself to a shot and meditated on the effects of the peculiar potion. It was clear that it worked, and its side effects were dangerous, at least for someone with my hyperactive libido. I assumed the problem had been the dose. Judging by the size of the bottle, the tonic must have been intended to be taken in a spoonful, and I had downed almost half the content in one gulp. I would let some days pass and try a smaller dose. What was the worst that could happen?
As my hostess had promised, from the next day on we took up the work with more calmness. To protect my sunburned head from the sun, she gave me a horrible baseball cap that her uncle used to wear when he was a teenager. Of course I told her I loved it and wore it all day. We resumed cleaning the storage room but kept stopping often to rest. Sometimes we would sit in the shade of the porch, on some comfortable wicker armchairs that had been there since I can remember.
In her attitude there was no trace that what had happened the day before had clouded our relationship. On the contrary, she showed herself more attentive and affectionate than ever. At every moment she would ask if I was feeling well, if I wanted to rest or if my head hurt. As she walked past me sometimes she would caress my neck or touch my arm. These were innocent gestures of affection, but for me her increasingly closer attitude was fueling my fantasies.
After eating she fell asleep on the living room sofa, which was habitual for her, and I took advantage to take care of something. Her naps were brief so I hurried as much as I could. I went up to the mountain of trash we had taken out from the garage and looked for the wooden box that contained the nine remaining tonic bottles. I couldn't let that treasure go to waste. Luckily it wasn't buried too deep and I only had to move a couple of things, very slowly so the noise wouldn't wake up grandma.
I couldn't hide it inside the house because she knew every nook and would find it during one of her meticulous cleaning sessions. I opened the rear door of the Land-Rover and lifted up one of the rear compartment benches, revealing a spacious enough compartment to accommodate the box. I put it in there, covered it with an old blanket, and replaced the seats back in their place. It was a good temporary hiding spot until I found a safer one.
He been thinking all day about what I could do to make up for the trouble I caused grandma yesterday, and getting into the vehicle made a great idea come to mind. Something she would love and that would also let me do a small experiment.
When I returned to the living room she was still asleep. Her slow breathing was muffled by the humming of the fan and the loud Venezuelan voices from the soap opera. She woke up after a few minutes and looked at me, hiding a yawn with her hand. I was lying on the sofa as if I hadn't moved from there.
Oh my god, I think I'm still a little turned on.
Ah, yes, just a little —I said, cheeky—. You've missed the best part. Victor Alfredo has confessed to Esmeralda that at the lawyer Valverde's wedding he cheated on her with his cousin's stepmother.
In fact, I had also hooked up to that nonsense. In my defense, I'll say the actresses were very good and the plot could be followed half asleep.
Don't tell me! With Mrs. Valentina?
—Yes, that foxy.
—Hey Carlitos! —she scolded me, although a little laugh slipped out of her.
Sorry. I sat down and stretched as if I'd been lying there for hours. It was time to put my plan into action... Hey, grandma. Do you mind if I head to the village in a bit? I need to buy tobacco.
—Of course I don't mind. You can go whenever you want.
I'll be here soon. Do you want me to bring you something?
No, I don't need anything. Thanks, heaven.
An hour later I put on my jeans and a decent t-shirt and got into the Land-Rover. I used the trip to throw some junk away in the container, so my grandmother would see that I wasn't slacking off at work. In just ten minutes I was parking near the town square, under the shadow of the ancient Roman church.
At that hour it was still very hot, but even so I ran into quite a few locals on my way to the store. I knew all of them, some greeted me by name and with two of them I had to stop and chat for a bit. That's what small towns have.
What they called a tabacconist shop in that village was actually a store where they sold everything except tobacco. Drinks, magazines, tools, shotgun cartridges, candies, and almost anything else. Amidst the crowded shelves I found Monchito, the village idiot, wandering around. He was a giant of about thirty years old with the brain of a five-year-old child. Despite the heat, he wore his usual woolen jacket and flannel shirt, which explained much of his intense body odor. His head was shaved and he had a three-day beard. His little eyes fixed on my face and his tongue poked out between his lips, due to the effort of trying to remember my name.
—How are you, Monchito? —I greeted him—. I am Carlos, the grandson of Doña Felisa.
—I'm bi-good —he said, with his hoarse and raspy voice. Then he stretched out his thick neck and looked behind me—. And Mrs. Felisa?
Unlike other locals, my grandmother was always nice to Monchito and sometimes gave him fruit from her garden or some candy. It wasn't surprising that the poor retard had affection for her and asked about her.
---She's home. Do you want me to pass along a greeting from you?
Cheers!
Said that Monchito lost all interest in my person and started flipping through the magazine I was holding with his hands. I went to the wine rack and continued with my plan for that night. I didn't understand a damn thing about wine, so I chose the most expensive one my meager economy could afford. I went to the counter and got a pleasant surprise. Instead of the usual old Don Jacinto, the owner of the place, I found a chick around 25 years old. She wasn't beautiful but her coarse features had a certain rough-around-the-edges charm. She was heavily made-up and her plump pink-fuchsia lips called attention from several meters away.
When I approached and put the bottle on the counter, she barely looked up from the fashion magazine she was reading. She held a lit cigarette between her fingers, with long nails painted the same color as her lips. It wasn't familiar to me, which was rare in that town.
Is there anything else? He asked with a tone of annoyance, as if he were doing me a huge favor by attending to me.
A package of Lucky.
She stood up to grab the tobacco and I could see she wasn't feeling bad. Some good-sized peaches were visible under her yellow shirt and her short white skirt left a pair of long legs, with municipal pool bronzing, in view. She was a redhead, and the long horse's booty braid that gathered her hair, adorned with a striking multicolored headband, shook when she leaned over the counter to yell across my shoulder.
Hey Monchito! I've told you a million times if you're not going to buy anything just go to the street, damn it!
The village idiot, who was lounging around the place, looked at her with eyes of a slaughtered lamb. His chunky body shrunk as if they were about to hit him and he went out onto the street with his clumsy strides.
Leave it, woman. He's good people —I said, in a conciliatory tone.
A release is what it is. As soon as you can try to rub against or touch tit, the idiot of the balls.
I didn't know the hot side of Monchito, so I said nothing and focused on the foul-mouthed salesgirl. I'd say she wasn't my type, but back then any human specimen with tits and a vagina was my type.
—What's your name? I come here a lot and have never seen you before.
—Sandra. Anything else? —she said, putting the wine and tobacco in a bag while she did it.
I'm Carlos. Hey, if you want when you get out of work let's take a spin. I have a car. We can go to the city or wherever you want.
She put the bag in front of me on the counter and looked at me with a twisted smile, holding back a laugh and giving me a long gaze of obvious disdain. I already imagined she would reject me, but I wasn't losing anything by trying.
Where am I going with you, little one? Go and get ready over there.
Well, there's no need to be so unpleasant either.
I paid for the merchandise and prepared to leave. When I was several steps away from the counter, I turned my head and gave him a malicious smile.
See you another day, sweetie.
He responded with a kind of snort and went back to his magazine as if nothing had happened. Already on the street, I muttered some insults and lit a cigar. That foxy managed to put me in a bad mood, although it passed a bit when I remembered that at home there was a woman better than her in every sense. A few meters from the kiosk, Monchito was sitting on a stone bench, looking down and thinking about whatever retrasados think. By his way of looking towards the local door, and what had happened inside, I intuited that the unfortunate one was in love, or at least obsessed with Sandra.
A perverse idea took shape in my mind. Maybe it was worth extending my visit to the town a bit to put it into practice. I went to the Land-Rover, stored the wine and, after making sure no one could see me, lifted the rear bench and pulled out one of the tonic bottles. I put it in my pocket and returned to the tobacconist's street. Monchito looked at me without much interest and nodded at me when I sat down beside him on the bench.
It's hot, isn't it? I said, to start the conversation.
Not too much.
I was sweating in a short sleeve and he was wearing a jacket and shirt, so I didn't question his opinion.
I've been talking to Sandra, the one from the tobacco shop. She's pretty, isn't she?
—S-si, she's g-gorgeous —stammered, lowering his gaze, as if he were ashamed.
Do you like her, what if? Would you like to go out with her?
Monchito's broad face turned red, closed his little eyes and moved his head in a way I couldn't tell if he was nodding to my question or denying it.
—I'd like-like. But she's bad-bad with me.
Don't worry about that. Women are like that, I'm telling you. Sometimes they're cold with the guy they like. And I think she likes you. You should ask her out.
I don't know. I-I don't know either... murmured, confused.
So I looked both ways down the street as if I feared someone might see us, and pulled out the little bottle of tonic from my pocket. I got a bit closer, despite its concentrated smell of sweat, and spoke to him in a conspiratorial tone.
—Look, you get along well with me and you're my grandmother's friend so I'm going to help you. This is a special liquor they sell in the city. —I showed him the bottle, covering the label with my fingers, although it's probably that he wouldn't know how to read—. This liquor gives you confidence when you have to talk to a girl, and makes her like you more. It's holy hand, I swear to you. I've hooked up with many girls thanks to it.
Is that for real? —he asked, looking at the bottle with fascination.
Of course. Why would I lie to you? Besides, I'm doing you a big favor by offering it to you, because it's not easy to get. But since you're you, I'll let you take a sip.
I uncorked the bottle and offered it to her, keeping an eye out again towards the sides. There was no one in sight on the re-heated pavement of the street. I wasn't good at seducing women but apparently my lips worked with mentally deficient people, because Monchito grabbed the bottle and took a good swig.
—Okay, okay, it's already done. You just have to drink a little.
Mmm, that's good... Tastes like re-regaliz —said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve.
I stored the bottle and put my hand on his shoulder.
Now you have to wait for a bit, okay? Stay seated here for about half an hour and then go talk to Sandra. You'll see how you get her to go out with you. And don't tell anyone about the liquor, okay? It's a secret.
He nodded seriously. I got up and walked a few meters, taking refuge in the shadow of an archway. I didn't know how long it would take for the tonic to take effect, but I was willing to wait. If that idiot was already crazy enough to try to grope Sandra, I was looking forward to seeing that foxy face her suitor under the effects of the potion. I had promised my grandmother to return soon and didn't want to disappoint her, but if my prank dragged on too long I'd come up with some excuse.
I didn't have to wait long. After fifteen minutes Monchito was rubbing his hand over his forehead, nervous and sweaty. He took off his jacket and rolled up the thick flannel shirt. The guy had arms capable of breaking someone like me in two. Luckily he wasn't aggressive, but I was careful not to get caught looking at him. A little later he got up and walked around the bench like a caged lion. Every now and then he would touch his tremendous erection that showed through his wool pants. The tonic was already doing its job, and his victim didn't take long to head towards the entrance of the tobacconist.
I left my hideout and peeked out at the establishment's closing time. I saw Monchito approaching the counter, but the blonde wasn't there. I assumed she'd be in the back room, which you could access through a curtain. My friend must have come to the same conclusion, as he pushed aside the curtain and entered. I slid into the store quickly, eager not to miss a second of the scene. I rounded the counter and stuck to the wall next to the curtain. The opening was wide enough for me to see what was happening inside.
The back room was a storage room filled with boxes and junk, almost as chaotic as my grandfather's garage. The scarce light entered through a small, dusty lattice window. Among the boxes there was a desk covered in papers, an overflowing ashtray, a phone, and a gray casing computer that was already old even at that time. Sandra was standing next to the desk, with her back to the curtain, reading an invoice or something similar. When she heard Monchito's deep breathing behind her or perceived his unmistakable scent, she turned around and jumped in surprise, startled. The fear didn't last long.
Who told you to come in here, idiot? Get out on the street now, you stupid girl!
I fixed my gaze on her and realized she wasn't as tall as I had thought before. She wore yellow and green sandals with a decent heel, but still, her face was at the same level as the giant's broad chest, considering Monchito always stood slightly hunched. When I saw that the intruder ignored her, staring fixedly at her, her made-up face reddened with rage and her eyes flashed sparks.
Are you not listening to me, idiot? Get out of here right now or I'll kick your butt!
This time Monchito did react, but not in the way she expected. With a growl he got down his pants until his knees, leaving his thighs like trunks and a virile member whose size even surprised me. I'm sure it exceeded twenty centimeters and its thickness was considerable, marked by thick veins and topped off with a menacing purple glans, partially covered in brunette skin. It also had large and hairy testicles like coconuts. I won't deny feeling some envy. Sandra let out a brief scream upon seeing such a sausage, her plump lips forming a fine fuchsia line and she took a step back so that her thighs hit the edge of the desk.
—But what are you doing, piece of pig? Pull up your pants and get out, damn it!
Far from obeying, Monchito wheezed and took a step forward, bringing his bobbing head closer to the cashier, whose bravery was fading by seconds. His hand was shaking when he extended it towards the counter.
Are those ours? Well I'll call the Civil Guard! You'll see how a night in the barracks will calm you down, stupid!
For a moment I feared that the arrival of authorities would end my entertainment, but Sandra's hand didn't reach the phone. Monchito grabbed her arm with one of his hands and with the other ripped off all the buttons from her shirt, leaving her breasts exposed on top of a green lime bikini with yellow moons. She probably planned to go to the pool after work or had gone before starting. She had a good pair of tits, undoubtedly the most attractive part of her coarse physique. A sharp scream echoed in the warehouse and the woman started punching and kicking her attacker, who barely noticed the blows. Luckily, the histéyummy store owner didn't manage to kick him in the balls, and that was an easy target.
Let me go! Son of a great slut! Let her go already!
Monchito responded with another growl and ripped off the bikini. Seeing the bronze marks on the trembling breasts and dark nipples, my own cock began to grow in size. Although the scene was stimulating, I couldn't jerk off there. If a customer came in and found me giving myself a hand job, it would be hard to explain the situation. I'd have to settle for looking and enjoying my revenge.
Without releasing his arm, Monchito began to rub her breasts, which almost fit entirely in his rough farmer's hands. She continued struggling without success, screaming and mixing insults with threats.
—How sweeties... —he said. His voice sounded more raspy than usual and he breathed like a steam locomotive—. How soft...
When she got tired of the rough mammary massage, she grabbed her platonic love by the waist and forced him to turn around. She handled him like a rag doll. She made him incline easily over the desk, despite his resistance with all his might, with his breasts and face flattened on the paperwork. He took advantage of the opportunity to try to grab the phone again, but Monchito threw it with a swipe against the wall, making it unusable. The estanquera's unending wiggles and kicks also made several folders fall to the floor, a filled notebook of pens, and the ashtray. Ash and cigarette butts scattered on the floor while the fool lifted her skirt up to her waist and ripped off her bikini briefs, revealing the pale part of her buttocks in contrast to her bronzed thighs.
I had the typical ass-folder, wide and rather flat, but in that position it was attractive enough for my erection to already be marked out in all its splendor against my pants. Monchito grabbed his dick and hit Sandra's cheeks several times with it. The head was totally exposed and its size made me fear the worst. If he thought about putting it up her ass, I'd send her to the hospital, the police would tighten her screws and she'd be talking about me and the tonic. Luckily, despite his mental retardation and extreme heat, the idiot knew what he was doing. He spat in his free hand and dug between the shopkeeper's thighs until he found her tight slit.
—No! Don't even think about it, you jerk! Stop!
The screams and kicks didn't stop the thick finger that entered and moved inside the reticent pussy. A second finger soon joined the first, and they were entering and leaving more quickly each time. From my position, I couldn't see if the moisture was due only to saliva or if, against her will, she was getting wet. After a few minutes, Monchito pulled out his fingers, sucked them as if they were covered in honey, grabbed the cock and brought the tip to the buttocks of his captive. She rolled over with renewed intensity, futilely struggling against the grip that kept her immobilized against the desk.
—Don't even think about it, son of a whore! If you screw me, I swear I'll kill you! I'll kill you!
The death threats didn't do anything either. The fool let out a long sigh while his venomous hammer sank slowly into Sandra's pussy. She clenched her teeth and stretched her legs, as if she were being impaled.
No... No, damn it... Bastard, I'm going to kill you.
Her cries lost volume and intensity, and when Monchito grabbed her by the hips with both hands, leaving her more freedom of movement, she barely tried to defend herself again, as if having such a block inside her body paralyzed her. The first thrusts were slow, and they accelerated as the narrow tunnel yielded to the imposing size of her invader.
Damn... I'm going to hell for being a slut... Damn... Shit...
Then I started noticing that the string of foul-mouthed and blasphemous words spilling out of the lips painted fuchsia had changed tone, and they mixed with moans and continuous gasps. Or the heat and exciting situation were provoking hallucinations or the damn usher was enjoying herself. When Monchito accelerated the pace my suspicions were confirmed. The girl stopped talking and only sharp moans and muffled screams of pure pleasure could be heard.
The sandals had fallen off for a while and I could see the toes of her feet curving, her legs bent in the air trembling as if she were having an epileptic attack, her back arched and her hands closed around the papers on the table, wrinkling several of them. With her forehead pressed against the wood of the desk, she didn't stop screaming like a pig during the entire duration of that long orgasm. Because, this is how, our dear shopkeeper was coming maybe not as hard in her whole life.
Monchito didn't stop drilling the now soaked pussy and was also about to climax. He had his face and neck soaked in sweat, with the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips. With each wild thrust, the desk shook and I would swear it had moved several inches from its original position. Sandra lifted her head and looked back. Her bronzed skin also shone due to sweat and she breathed as if she had just finished a marathon.
Don't rush inside... huh? He said. His voice sounded more grave than before, hoarse from the screams--. Get out... !Get out or you'll ruin me, damn it! Inside not, stupid balls!
Whether it was because he obeyed the woman or simply wanted to, Monchito pulled her out at the last moment, pressed her against his own buttocks and an impressive ejaculation shot out of his venous cannon. The first wave was so powerful that it reached Sandra's head, filling her cheek and now disheveled ponytail with thick lather. The subsequent ones, less impetuous but more abundant, filled her back with white streaks and thick droplets.
When they recovered their breath, she sat down at the table and leaned forward to grab Monchito's shaft, still erect. She licked a drop of semen hanging from the tip, gave several kisses along the trunk, and caressed the hairy testicles.
Damn... If I had known before... Uff, what a ride.
The scene had gotten me hotter than McDonald's deep fryer, but I was also a bit angry. I wanted to get back at the unpleasant shopkeeper and instead I gave her a dust-up. I felt like a fool who would have brought the village idiot's cock to the eager old man of that fox. I decided it was time to go home and I slipped out silently onto the street.
I thought about what had happened on the way home and my bad mood disappeared little by little. I hadn't gotten revenge, but at least I had done a favor for good old Monchito. I had stuck it to his object of desire, and judging by the devotion with which the shopkeeper kissed her cock, he would do it again many times. Besides, I had been able to test the tonic's effects on another human being, and the result had been satisfactory. Although the real experiment I was proposing to do hadn't started yet. It would take place that very same night, and I couldn't wait to get it going.
CONTINUES...
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