Saturday, 4th December 2010, 10 pm. Velvet Club, Old Town, Barcelona
Once the crowd, even the adoring fans and Salvat’s closest guests, had cleared the room, only Julia the woman in the beret, Karen, and her defeated opponent remained. The thick silence shattered when James barged in with a couple of towels.
"Your things are in the bathroom," he reported with his usual efficiency.
Karen squeezed her new conquest’s forearm. Big game, no doubt.
"A quick shower? I should warn you, this was an all-male club; there’s only a men’s changing room here, which is mine."
The big man raised his hairy hands.
"What can you do?" he replied ironically.
They entered the restroom, where on one side there were several sinks and urinals, and on the other, open showers with multiple spray heads. Karen pulled down the straps of her tank top, freeing her body from the elastic’s pressure. She picked up the garment—now reduced to a handful of fabric—from the floor with the tip of her foot and, turning her back to her companion, adjusted the water temperature. He watched her with a look of approval and, without a hint of embarrassment, did the same. He wasn’t wearing underwear, so pulling his tight singlet down from his waist took him a little more effort than it did her.
Karen turned on a second shower and invited him to come closer, trying not to pay too much attention to the most striking part of his anatomy, which, in her modest experience with men, she judged to be well above average.
They both lathered themselves up with the only bar of soap in sight.
"So this is your hobby? Beating men at arm-wrestling and inviting them to shower with you?"
"It’s the only thing I like more than sleeping with Julia," she replied, trying to outdo him in boldness.
He smiled, perhaps aware that competing with La Reina in anything was a sure path to total defeat. As if to soften her statement, Karen added:
"I guess you guys can’t wrap your heads around the fact that a girl who doesn’t mind seeing your dick ain’t necessarily sexually interested in fuck you."
"I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve never showered with a chick without taking her to bed afterward. Course, I’ve never showered with a chick who could beat my ass at arm-wrestling either…"
Karen allowed herself a moment of relaxation and gave him a knowing look, narrowing her eyes, which he acknowledged by pursing his lips.
"Can I borrow your shower gel?" he asked. "This soap feels like lard."
"Raise your arms," Karen ordered, and he complied, clasping his elbows above his head. She circled him like a tourist admiring a torso of Heracles in the Classical Greek section of a museum, squeezed a generous squirt of gel into her palm, and rubbed it into his deep, dark armpits.
"You don’t look that tall without your platform boots," he said, following her with the sparkling embers in his insolent eyes. As she ran her hands across his chest, the thick black hair curled around her fingers.
"You, like, hit the gym a lot?" Karen asked, trying to sound ‘casual.’
"From what I’ve been told, not as much as you. In Greco-Roman, we train flexibility as much as, if not more than strength. You’d like it. And with your build, you’d be a dreadful beast on the mat. Plus, you’d get to grind up on some hot chicks…"
Karen reached down to his crotch and squeezed his balls. She expected him to flinch, but he didn’t bat an eye. A slight blush warmed her cheeks. She prayed he wouldn’t notice, but his drooping eyelids told her otherwise, which made her cheeks burn even more.
"The tough girl is blushing," he said with a calmness that betrayed not the slightest hint of mockery. He lowered his arms and locked eyes with her, their faces mere inches apart. Karen was grateful that he was looking her in the face. He remained relaxed, but her lips had parted like a flower brimming with nectar. Or maybe she had wanted him to notice how turned on she was. In any case, he ignored her and turned his back to rinse off the soap.
-------------------
10:35 pm. Barcelona City Center
Sharing a shower had eased the tension of the date a little. Still, Karen felt a sense of unease that she hated to admit. He had shown up looking elegant and smelling of cologne. The collar of his Italian-cut shirt was just the right size to fit his bull-like neck, and the amount of bare chest was enough to catch the eye but not so much as to seem vulgar.
They had been seated at a small table for two in a cozy corner of the restaurant. He leaned forward, resting on his elbows, pressing the fingertips of one hand against the other, creating a triangle that Karen found magnetic.
"I suppose I’ll get a chance for a rematch."
"If you ain’t had enough, then by all means, but you have to get in line. Julia has already booked me a weightlifter and a retired tennis player famous for his biceps. You won’t believe it, but we’ve already turned down offers from celebrities. We don’t want a circus. This is an athletic competition. The only thing we’re interested in is proving that I’m stronger than any man my size. You’re the first dude bigger than me that I’ve ever beaten. You’re more than ten kilos heavier than me; the next one gonna be twenty, and I plan on taking him down just the same. We’re pushing my limits."
The maître d' arrived with the wine list. He looked alternately at both of them until Karen snatched it out of his hands.
"And by the way, I have to give you credit—not all men react as cool as you when an attractive girl beats them at arm-wrestling."
She scanned his sparkling-coal eyes and thought she detected an extra flash when she pronounced the word 'attractive.' Maybe it was her imagination, because he replied immediately.
"Let’s see. I’ve never really practiced arm-wrestling seriously,” he said, gently tapping the fingertips of one hand against those of the other. "You know a bunch of little tricks that threw me off.”
Karen narrowed her eyes, skeptical.
"Well, don’t worry, you’ll go after the tennis player who can’t wear long-sleeved shirts. You’ve got plenty of time to learn 'tricks.'"
Turning to the maître d', she read one of the most grandiose names in the white section and handed the menu back without showing it to El Toro.
"Just one little thing… as for me, I got plenty of time to pack on another ten kilos of buff…"
As if it were the shockwave from an explosion, Karen’s confidence knocked out her dining companion, and he fell backward, breaking the triangle formed by his hands. Slumped against the back of his chair, he changed exceptional. You got any recommendations?”
-------------------
11:30 pm.
"Should we order another bottle?"
The wine had reignited the sparkle in Abel’s coal-black eyes. For her, however, it was blurring her vision. Afraid of seeming shy, Karen nodded.
"Yeah, sure. And they make a homemade liquor here that’s worth trying, if you’re up for something strong."
Julia didn’t drink, and Karen wasn’t much of a drinker either, but she was afraid he’d think she was a wimp. How old was he? Luckily, he’d asked her everything except that. She was terrible at guessing ages, but he must be at least ten years older than her. Much younger than Julia, of course. Ever since she’d broken up with her high school boyfriend, she’d always hung out with older people. Abel would certainly be at the lower end of the age gap spectrum. Salvat, for example, could be her grandfather. And yet, when she talked with them, she managed to establish a relationship of equals. They shared secrets with her and sparked curiosities that her peers never could.
When she met Julia at a jazz concert her mother had taken her to, they fell head over heels in love. As their friends began to leave, Julia said to her mother, "Let her stay a little longer; I’ll drive her home." The next round completely loosened her up. While the coat check attendant went in to get their coats, she planted a furtive kiss on her that set her lower abdomen ablaze. Despite the difference in gender and age, she thought it was the same sweet, burning sensation that kissing her high school boyfriend had awakened in her, only ten times stronger. When the door to Julia’s charming duplex closed, she pounced on her like a panther, ready to compete in passion with the experienced mature woman, and when Julia kicked back with her arsenal of kinky moves, young Karen learned what it felt like to be possessed. Something no man had ever come close to achieving. Of course, Julia was a woman, and her practical knowledge of female anatomy included spots a man couldn’t even dream. Parting her lips just a few centimeters, she had said to her, “It’s not gonna be easy, sweetheart. You know that, don’t you? You’re a very brave girl…”
"You’re a very brave girl," Abel was telling her. But she seemed lost in her own world.
"I know, honey," she snapped, shaking off her reverie. “Can you take me to your hotel? I wanna go to bed with you before I can’t remember anything anymore.”
-------------------
10 pm. Old Town, Barcelona
Irina and I left the Velvet, pressed close together, striding out in long steps. We could have crossed Barcelona on foot without breaking a sweat. As we felt every square inch of each other’s bodies beneath our clothes, we stumbled through the deserted downtown streets toward her place.
Irina lived in an attic apartment with a sofa and TV in the center, a narrow bed against one wall, and a sink and kitchenette on the opposite wall, lit by a double-hung window. The bathroom, shared with the downstairs tenants, was outside her room. She offered me the sofa and made coffee.
"Shall we get started?" she asked, removing the half-dozen rings on her fingers without waiting for my answer. “You have to be at the hotel tomorrow before the Salvat folks come to pick you up.”
Kneeling before me, she undid the buckle and pulled my pants down to my ankles. She took hold of my member and pulled it out from the side of my boxers. At the gentle touch of her white hands—so long missed—it throbbed like a kitten that, upon returning home, savors its owner’s caresses. She lifted it with four fingers and stroked the shaft with her thumb. “Come here, my little one,” she purred, enjoying its silky feel—so different from the fibrous shafts crisscrossed with bluish veins she’d found in her later lovers.
"You’re a beauty, but you know you’re no match for me. I’m a pro at this; I control it at will, you understand?" I boasted, exaggerating a little to get in her head.
"We’ll see about that soon," she retorted, unimpressed. "But first, I wanna show you everything I’ve bought for you these past few days."
And with her free hand, she opened the little cabinet on her nightstand and began to lay out an army of colorful little pots on the bedspread.
“A complete treatment that only a champion deserves,” she joked, raising her eyebrows.
First, she spread a collagen conditioner over me, massaging it in until it was fully absorbed; then a cream base for ultra-sensitive skin, especially suitable for the glans, and finally a fruit-scented ointment that she offered me to smell before taking great care to apply.
After the third layer, I had achieved a rather impressive and gleaming expansion that seemed to satisfy her. Her movements gained energy, shifting from delicate caresses to surprisingly vigorous squeezes.
"I’ve been working on my hand strength with these gym grippers. You see it? Betty had some real goddam strength in her hands, and I bet that’s a big part of why she’s killing it."
As if to show off, she squeezed hard enough to make me wince in pain.
"But the other part is technique, and look, I got this Vietnamese friend who promised to introduce me to a Yut Su instructor—a traditional Vietnamese art kinda like your tekoki. In Vietnam, they got local, regional, and interstate championships, and this instructor was a national champ four years straight. Now she’s retired and has opened a studio in Barcelona frequented by celebrities trying, you know, to spice up their dead sex lives. I’m saving up for the tuition."
By digging her nails between the base of my shaft and my pubic bones, she’d reached erogenous zones that had me as hard as a stallion ready to mount his mare. She smiled but continued working on the base, not yet attacking the rest.
"Saving up? Why don’t we talk to Salvat? It seems like a great idea for his crazy shows. Everything behind a screen so only the contestants’ faces are visible. You can’t beat me yet, but you’d turn amateurs into mush in a matter of seconds."
Perhaps feeling offended, she launched her attack, striking the middle of the shaft with one hand and the head with the other. Using her newfound strength, she pounded both fists in opposite directions. The dull thud of her fists sounded like heavenly music to me.
I slid my hands under her sweater, lifted her bra without unhooking it, and stimulated both her nipples, feeling them grow hard against my thumbs. When she broke out in a sweat, I smiled.
"I think I can make you cum without laying a hand on you from the waist down."
"You’re full of yourself, Ji," she replied, yet her cheeks were no longer pale but flushed like embers, and her lower jaw trembled slightly. I dipped my fingers into her own mouth and teased her so slowly that she gasped at the slightest touch. What truly aroused her was my restraint. She worked me with both hands, pumping so hard that the legs of the sofa creaked. Her other lovers had already blown one after another, but I remained erect and defiant.
Sometimes I whispered that she had me on the edge, partly to fuel her excitement, partly because it was true.
"Come on, cum already, please, pleeease," she begged me, pouting, strands of her long hair falling across her angelic face with the force of her thrusting. Making me cum earned her the right to her reward, and every pore of her skin oozed with concentrated hormones in anticipation.
By surprise, I yanked hard on her nipples. They had gotten so hard I could have hung a pork rib on each one. Feeling me drip, she lifted her sweater and pressed the tip inside her wide, soft navel. We shed our pants, and she carried me in her arms to the bed.
"Get over here, baby… Irina's missed you so much!"
-----------------
12:15 pm.
When the restaurant closed, they walked through the streets of downtown, surprisingly busy at that hour of the night. Karen was linked arm-in-arm with her partner. The fresh air and lively conversation were invigorating her, so she found herself telling Abel details she wouldn't normally share.
They called her Reina because, having just arrived midway through the year, she became the leader of the high school. She got her nickname from her boyfriend at the time, Dick, a bright boy from a good family who never got into trouble but always managed to surround himself with interesting people. The boy adored dominant girls, and Reina exuded energy from every pore. But her most striking feature was her ample bust.
"Being a busty girl changes your personality," she had told him during one of their romantic walks through the wooded part of the park. "You don’t go unnoticed, so you learn to shut people up." When her breasts began to develop, she started wearing loose-fitting clothes, but by the time her father was transferred and she enrolled in a high school where she didn’t know anyone, she changed her strategy and stopped hiding her new figure.
Ninfa, a senior who boasted of having the best chest in the school, got into it with her. Karen rose to the challenge, and the girls resorted to a measuring tape to settle the dispute. They went into the girls’ bathroom accompanied by the super-cool psychology teacher, who volunteered to referee, and Karen humiliated the busty senior with a half-inch lead, which they say was thanks to rubbing her nipples with saliva beforehand.
After dethroning Ninfa, no one challenged Karen for the title of High School Queen. She made her way through the crowds of kids crammed into the hallway between classes like Moses parting the Red Sea. But Karen still didn't feel comfortable with her appearance, and the psychology teacher advised her to get breast reduction surgery. Her boyfriend was against it, but she was suffering from back pain, and Dick didn’t want to come across as selfish, so he promised to support whatever decision she made. He did drop a hint, though, in his learned wisdom, that 90% of a breast is fat, and that exercise alone would be enough to reduce it. Karen didn’t like gyms, but she wasn’t keen on surgical rooms either, so as the lesser of two evils, she decided to give weight training a go. The result wasn’t quite what she’d expected, because her hormones turned out to be indomitable, and exercise just added new curves to her arms, legs, shoulders, and butt. Not only could she hold her own against Ninfa, but now her formidable physique turned more heads than ever.
When they reached the block where her hotel was located, Karen was staggering a bit. To avoid any trouble at the front desk, they went in through the café.
"One last drink?" he teased, which earned him a sharp slap on the back of the head.
"You think I’m drunk?" she retorted, putting her hand on his chest. She extended the thumb of her other hand to one side and added, "Well, look here, cutie, not at all, and to prove it to you, I’m going to give you a piggyback ride up the stairs to the room."
Abel tilted his head, relishing the moment.
"Great, it’s room 906. Do you know what that means?
She raised her eyebrows as her brain processed the information. Then she turned around and leaned forward.
"A measly nine flights,” she said.
With a leap, 'El Toro' hoisted his two hundred pounds onto the Queen’s shoulders and wrapped his arms around her neck to hold on.
"C'mon, I’ll switch with you on the fourth floor."
In fact, on the fourth floor, he’d had to clamp his legs tightly around Karen’s wide hips to stop himself slipping. Her clothes were soaked with sweat, and her heart was beating like a drum against her ribcage, but she never once thought of giving up. Step by step, she let out warm gasps that Abel inhaled, feeling every part of his carrier that could serve as a grip and enjoying her intense, warm body scent.
Upon reaching the ninth floor, she mule-kicked open the fire door and screamed, overflowing with euphoria.
He set his feet on the ground and gave her an exaggerated bow.
"Karen, I have to admit I’m impressed. I’ve been doing cardio my whole life, and I don’t know many people who could do that while carrying half my weight."
"Want to take a shower?" he added, swiping his card to open the door.
"Do you find my sweat unpleasant? What a letdown. I thought your idea was to make me sweat. Shall we play chess?"
As if to stress the obvious, the room was all bed. To get around it, Karen had to slip between his feet and his suitcase, which lay open. She stopped to snoop around, picking up a pair of boxers and stretching them between her fingers.
"So you do know about underwear…"
Without playing along, Abel began unbuttoning his shirt. She marveled as she watched him pull his bulky arms out of those delicate sleeves without bursting the seams. Then he unbuckled his belt and took off his pants with the same ease he’d shown in the showers. He went into the bathroom and came back with a condom.
"Just one?"
Abel took a while to respond. The girl’s sharp tone betrayed her discomfort, while he seemed to be in his element.
"We won’t need any more; it won’t come off while it’s still hard."
Karen felt a suffocating heat. Her heart was still racing, but it wasn’t from the physical exertion of the stairs anymore. She was out of her comfort zone, so she decided to give in and let him take the lead.
"Okay, tough guy, whatever you say. Let’s see what you can do."
She took off her boots, blouse, and pants and sat down on the other side of the bed, keeping two meters between them.
"What are the rules?" he asked, crawling toward her on all fours. His brazen, coal-black eyes sparkled. "Typical of men. We have to spell everything out for you."
She almost regretted her words, as Abel seemed offended and pushed her down, positioning himself on top while not touching her. With unexpected ease, he slid a hand under her back and unhooked her bra.
"Okay, I set the rules. When you can’t take it anymore, slap the bed hard three times. Otherwise, I won’t stop."
He stuck two fingers in his mouth to coat them with saliva, then gently prodded her. When he felt her yield to the pressure, he smiled, baring his teeth, pulled his fingers out, and showed her the silvery fluid he had extracted from her private parts.
Karen’s muscular neck was still beaded with droplets of sweat. Part of her wanted to surrender to the pleasure, while another part urged her to stay aloof and not give that big man the satisfaction of knowing he was driving her wild with desire.
'El Toro' turned onto his side and put on the condom. Karen peeped as he unrolled it all the way, but it still couldn’t fully cover his entire length.
He grabbed her legs below the knees and yanked them up into the air with a sharp tug, pressing his scalding member against her crotch without yet attempting to penetrate her. Karen broke his hold and wrapped her powerful thighs around it. He leaned back and started sliding it between her quadriceps, until it began to brush against her swollen lips.
Karen’s vision grew increasingly blurry. All she could see was the gleam of his perfect teeth, and all she could feel was his scorching tip obediently knocking on the entrance, seeking her permission. Then, as if granting it, she squeezed his buttocks.
When he felt her fingers digging into his glutes, he lifted her by the hips and entered her gently, studying her face with each slightly deeper thrust.
“Don’t hold back… it’s not easy to hurt me.”
“All right, hold on tight—here we go.”
Abel crouched, wrapped his arms around her, and stood up with her still impaled, pressing her chest to chest against the wall. She clung to his neck, looking at him defiantly. They were so close she had to squint.
“Hey, 'Toro,' go for it, give it your all, stud.”
And 'El Toro' did. He pounded her with his hips until he felt himself completely inside her. He was killing her with pleasure, but Reina the warrior held back her climax, tightening her grip, and eventually he came, grunting like a monkey.
They fell back, sitting face to face, palms pressed against the mattress, still joined at the hips.
“Keep going,” she ordered through clenched teeth. “I’m starting to like this.”
Supporting themselves on outstretched arms, they rammed into each other, hips swaying back and forth like head-butting buffaloes. Nearly two hundred kilograms of muscle making the large bed shake like a devastating earthquake; their powerful bodies fuming like steam locomotives facing off at full power. With every collision, 'Toro' went deeper and deeper into virgin territory, and Karen received him, agitated by a storm of sensations she'd never felt before.
Suddenly, the bed’s back legs snapped, and Abel, who was at the head of the bed, fell on top of Reina. She crushed his ribs, and they both burst out laughing. But Reina wouldn’t stop squeezing, and he began to cough, choking.
“They say not breathing gives you a hard-on,” she whispered, loosening her bear hug just a little.
The big man accepted the challenge and continued thrusting bravely until he came inside her again.
Reina finally let him go and, curious, slithered down to his crotch. She removed the condom and checked the amount of semen.
“Is this normal, or does having it this big also make you shoot more?” she asked, her voice full of sincere, youthful curiosity.
Nothing was going the way he wanted, and yet he was unable to feel angry or embarrassed. That girl, with her colossal brute strength and a body like a Sports Illustrated model, was also a fun kid.
Abel jumped off the bed and grabbed one of the front legs that hadn’t broken. Flaring his muscles a bit for her, he snapped it in two with his bare hands. He walked around the bed and did the same to the fourth leg, leaving it flush with the floor as if it were a Japanese futon.
“We’ll just tell Salvat to cover these extra expenses,” Karen laughed.
“Lie down here, sweetheart,” he invited her.
Karen stretched out on the mattress and spread her legs. He walked over until he had a foot on either side of her head and plunged into her flesh. He wrapped his powerful arms around each of her thighs and pulled them apart until her adductors tensed like crane cables and her swollen sex offered itself like an overflowing goblet. Using his tongue to pull the swollen clitoris out of its hood, he sucked it in with his lips and began to bob his head.
Reina relaxed her neck and her head fell limply onto the mattress, bouncing slightly before rolling to one side. A thread of saliva ran from the corner of her mouth. With one hand, she felt her way down El Toro’s crotch until she found his member and gripped it tightly, like a passenger needing to hold on to something steady on a winding road.
Abel felt the strong woman’s fingers making his stiff member creak with every harder bob of his head.
“Keep going, big guy. Don’t stop now.”
But Reina’s fingers had painfully dug deep into his erectile tissue, and the hunk had curled up in a fetal position, begging her to let go. She did, and slipped her arm around his shoulder.
“My bad, man. I ain’t really sure what the fuck’s wrong with me. I think this whole thing’s been a really bad idea. I’m sure you got a beautiful chick waiting for you in Granada. And Julia’s gonna ask me about it, and I won’t know what to tell her.”
Abel looked at her, bewildered. The embers in his eyes had gone out. His massive member looked like a dead snake.
“I’m sorry, kid, but you don’t wanna fuck me—you wanna rip my dick off.”
As if scolding herself, Karen lowered her head, tucked her chin between her collarbones, and squeezed the back of her neck tightly. She was frightened by her own behavior.
“Forgive me, Abel. Call me a taxi, please; I need to go home.”
