Penthouse for rent, a short story with Vania

ADULT CONTENT

All English translations are done as honestly as possible by a non-native speaker. However, if there are any mistakes, please feel free to comment.

🇪🇦 spanish version

Leaning out of the window, Vania Guillén curiously watches her potential client arrive at the luxury rental flat in the Chamberí district of Madrid. She needs to close the deal any way she can. This month she's fucked up in figures.

She smoothes down her dark jet leather tight skirt and checks that her snow-coloured blouse that hints at her black lace bra is immaculate. The long reddish hair Vanya boasts has always been an exotic extra in negotiations with potential clients. She knows it and emphasises it by waving her hair in front of her clients who end up signing what she wants while fantasising about fucking her, as if that were a hidden non-negotiable clause. On the other hand, the intimate piercing of her depilated clitoris, culminating in a tattoo of the affable face of the Pink Panther, is new and amuses her husband immensely. All over Madrid she is known as The Pumukl. Being known is definitely a strategic advantage in a business as demanding as this one.

Knock, knock. Vania opens the door with the best of her smiles and is surprised that the handsome young man is not the expected Señor Mayoral aka Long Fingers. She bites down on one of the temples of her glasses. She has never needed glasses, but this is another of the tricks of the good real estate agent. Glasses give you class. But the young man at the door doesn't need any. This young man has nothing to do with Don Fulgencio, sweaty, paunchy and with indiscreet fingers chopped off with an axe. The missing link between the man and the dressed ape. A suit-wearing missing link wearing a coloured tie to appear more modern than the Thyssen Museum. A man of very little grace both in speech and body. A disgrace, more like.

But this young man, on the other hand, is another matter entirely. Athletic bearing, dishevelled hair, grey blazer and faded jeans. He must be Don Porcino's cannonball assistant. It's barely ten in the morning, too early for Fulgencio. Vania is not surprised that he sends his partner. Maybe a bit young, but she's young too, what the hell. Maybe the long-suffering assistant will take a peek at Vania's tits Jarandilla Parador as a present. But first to the business.

-Please come in, I have everything ready to sign, says a resolute Vania, placing the folder with the conditions on the kitchenette block. I am Vania Guillén, real estate agent. I understand that Don Fulgencio has had a setback, but I'm sure we'll manage and we'll get the signature to a successful conclusion. Won't we? The flat is marvellous. Can I offer you a coffee, Mr...?

-Daniel, Daniel is enough, I'm not that old. What a beautiful flat. Very bright. A coffee would be nice. I'd like some. Black, no sugar. I'm still heavy from this morning's caviar. You have to take care of yourself. -as he winks at her and leaves his car key fob with a disproportionate F on it, cheekily on the counter next to his mobile. I don't want to drag this out too long. I've parked the Ferrari convertible in the second row and then a taxi is waiting for me at home to take me to the airport. I have an important meeting in Abu Dabi.

Miss Guillén notices that the prospective buyer doesn't even have a briefcase. He'll have everything in the convertible or he'll make the transfer by cell phone. These aggressive young people are like that. Or maybe he's not really interested in the flat and it's just a courtesy visit? She'll have to try to convince him... she's really fucked up on numbers, otherwise... not. A few days ago, a clumsy pizza delivery boy from the Pizza Lord chain was reprimanded for delivering 30 minutes later than the time advertised by his brand. She also demanded, as compensation for the wait, she got a free seafood pizza and a pussy eating. It's one of her weaknesses.

Vania finishes pouring the coffee for Mr. convertible and sits lasciviously on the black marble countertop in front of him, crossing her legs in "Remove the hiccups" coloured fishnet stockings. She tosses the car keys aside and smiles. Well, well with Don Fulgencio's replacement, she thinks mischievously. She lewdly uncrosses her legs - today she's wearing nothing more than a shy thong - and takes out the folder with the terms and conditions of sale.

Cafeteria "La verbena de doña Milagros", a few hours before

For a foreigner unaccustomed to the typical din of a Spanish café, the clatter of crockery, the incessant murmur of a television on, the loud laughter of the customers, the noise is unbearable. But it's not the din that has Daniel up to his ears. What has got him up to his balls is the loud mouth of the businessman Don Fulgencio. There isn't a day that goes by when he serves him coffee with his two porras in the cafeteria that doesn't make his head spin with how much he earns, the incredible holidays he spends with the most beautiful models - who he always ends up fucking without being able to help it - and the spectacular dinners he enjoys with Madrid's business elite.

-I know all of my clients, they're all crooks. If I were to talk, more than one company would fall, he says after a while after leaving the toilet, carrying a strip of paper napkin in his right shoe as a gift. He mutters, "Coffee, cigar and clay doll" as he dunks the third churro after the two compulsory porras in the coffee, and returns to the charge with his immense Sunday reverend wisdom. -Thank goodness I'm super discreet. Boy, give me another carajillo, I'm really mad today. Have I told you about the flat in Chamberí? Well, I'm going to buy it as a love nest. Fuck the money and the missus. I'm going to fuck, I've got enough work to do every day. And that chick, the real estate agent of MundoPiso2025, the one they call The Pumukl, she's going to suck my balls, otherwise no deal. She's going to do it, the slut! What's with the carajillo, Dani? You're slow as fuck today, says Don Fulgencio as he wipes his moustache with a paper napkin and throws it on the floor.

Dani knows very well the one Fulgencio's slimy friend calls "The Pumukl". The redhead comes every morning to have a coffee before starting her day. He always stares at her. She's a real queen. Absorbed in his thoughts, Don Fulgencio brings her back to earth with a vocal snap, asking him to put the carajillo on, and this time to be less stingy than usual. Daniel wields his thousand times rehearsed smile, puts the carajillo on and finishes discreetly pouring the rest of the contents of "HappyEnd". A potent laxative that will leave him sitting on the throne for hours while he takes his longed-for place at the visit to the building later.

-Don Fulgencio, no one takes any chances with you. You have an eye... -Daniel declares as he finishes wiping a coffee cup with a rag and dunks the empty vial of laxative into the bucket three metres to the right without touching the rim, while uttering an inaudible mec, mec.

Mr. Mayoral laughs like an asthmatic reindeer with hiccups, red as a brick, as he asks for change for the slot machine. Daniel finishes scheming his perfect plan, depicted as a bluish blueprint of Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner in his head.

Barrio Chamberí, now

-Well, what do you think, sir? -says Vania, as she shows him through the various rooms, starting with the bedrooms, each winding step accompanied by the click of her heels. Large windows that let in natural light most of the day. Fully furnished rooms. Each room with a different, personal style. The bedroom in colonial style. Hydromassage bathtub. American style open plan kitchen... ready to move into. A bargain in these troubled times, Vania finishes after pulling down her skirt, which she had libidinously hiked up when she opened the curtains, exposing her pink thong. Standing with her arms up in the air, the estate agent awaits her client's first thoughts.

-Uff, it's certainly all very nice, but the woodstock yellow colour of the rooms puts me off. I don't think I can relax with such intense colours. I'm very Zen. And I'm more inclined towards the industrial or neo Noir style. Besides, you are, even if you are hot for a while, too young, too inexperienced I'm afraid. I prefer to discuss the signing of the deal another day, with a more experienced person.

Daniel thought he'd read in the decoration section of HobbyConsolas or Jara & Sedal magazine that it always put real estate agents off.

-You mean the amber colour, of course. That's not a problem. Tomorrow we can have a reputable company paint the whole flat in the shade you want. No problem, no extra cost. As long as there is a serious commitment to rent. As for the industrial style, you really don't know what it is, do you? And I can assure you that I have plenty of experience in whatever field I have to battle it out without the need for third parties.

-Well, right, I'm also concerned about heating and community costs. So expensive! With so many square metres and such high ceilings!

-Excuse me, sir... a flat like this, in the heart of Chamberí, are you going to tell me that a few euros are going to be a determining factor in your final decision? Besides, they would be included in the rental fee. But, of course, if you want to appear to be something you are not, these kinds of questions are of the utmost importance. By the way, you do know that the key fob on your car is a Ford, don't you, or do you say sleeper or jalopy among your friends' pimps? I'm afraid you have no intention of buying anything. At most you can afford to buy the Monopoly North Station in instalments. Besides, you've never eaten caviar in your fucking life. Tell me the truth, Daniel... Why did you come here? To make fun of me? Did you come here to fuck me? I read your intentions as soon as you walked in the door. I could see you coming from the doorway. Is this a joke from my friend Claudia?

-Look, you're right. I'm just a waiter at a coffee shop three streets down and I've had enough of hearing Don Fulgencio talk about how great his life is. I wanted to meet you, take a couple of Nigerian prince-type photos and pretend on Instagram. At least for a day, I don't know, a few hours... And stop being the king of churros making coffees wrapped in smoke like Wile E. Coyote after getting a rocket in his coconut. I want, just once, to win. Less plaf plaf from the Coyote (Carnivorous Vulgaris) and more mec mec from the Road Runner (Accelerati Incredibilus). Even if the Road Runner is a cheeky guy, to whom nothing goes right, he is not bad. He's not like the cheesy fucking mouse Jerry who, on top of busting poor Tom the cat's balls, always gets away with it. I hate his guts. And it's true, I haven't eaten in a good restaurant since my brother Agustín's wedding. And I take the day-old pastries to my mother's house on Sundays. And I have such a faded Tweety Bird tattoo on my shoulder that it looks somewhere between pissed off and dead. You know all about it. I'm sorry, Vania, confesses a defeated Daniel without looking away, having had his bluff called sooner than expected, while Vania can't stop laughing at Daniel's similes, slapping her lust-grilled thighs. And I fuck less than a dog tied to a fig tree.

The latter wasn't true, his wife could vouch for that, but she didn't need to know that.

-You're a real catch, you troglodyte, but you're sincere and funny. I love it. More basic than a lollipop mechanism and more primal than a caveman, but able to recognise his weaknesses. I thought they didn't exist anymore. You've said two very, very interesting things that have left me thoughtful and wet. Tell me, troglodyte... why do they call you the king of the churro and how long has it been since you've eaten a Pink Panther?

A few minutes later

Vania has thrown her soggy, sticky thong against the bottle of red wine she had planned to uncork after closing the lease on the property one of these days. These have been left dangling from the neck of the sparkling wine after gracefully twirling two full turns and defeated they look like a fallen flag from a successful climb up an unknown mountain.

Now spread-eagled with both of her shapely thighs resting on Hornius cavernicolus waiterus shoulders on the wide couch, Daniel has pushed her plump intimate lips aside and begun to lick and bite her aroused, yet elusive, vulva with almost religious dedication. Her nipple is swollen with arousal while her right leg keeps pounding an angry Tweety of which only the three hairs on the bald crown of her head are visible. Her lover's hands, trapped in the nets of her white stockings, prevent her from making use of them, and her diabolical tongue is the only tool the poor waiter has left at his disposal. She curves her back and pushes her head into his volcanic incandescent sex. He pretends, wanting to be funny, to withdraw his mouth from the volcano's mouth.

-What do you think you are, you Neanderthal? Keep sucking! Vania orders him between gasps, pissed off at being deprived of her well-deserved reward. I'm fucking sick of you!

He goes back to his duties with his smile hidden in the redhead's wet pussy. Before the king of the churro can play the fool again, Vania unloads in his mouth while she keeps holding his head. Without warning, for being a Neanderthal.

Daniel greedily drinks the milky feminine liquid poured out after Vania's orgasm without complaint and when he's finished he finally releases his reddening cock from his tight jeans.

-That's enough sucking, now I want to fuck you, split you in half, says Daniel, churro in hand, ready to plunge it into Vania's "pussylate" while the Pink Panther with raised eyebrows looks on curiously.

It's about time, the cock seems to nod. He grabs Vanya by the hips and thrusts into her, leaving her speechless, her eyes rolling back in her head and her tongue lolling out. Anyone watching would have thought he'd killed her with his cock. The churro king is unyielding and shoves his fat, hard cock into her aroused, volcanic cunt without a second thought.

One violent thrust after another. Daniel withdraws his cock to carry Vania between his muscular arms towards the main bedroom. He unceremoniously throws her on the bed. She's left with her ass in the air, legs together, her back sunk. Her long fiery hair is parted like a waterfall in two perfect parts on either side of her lush body. The waiter gropes her tits from behind, and with the palm of his hand he pushes her back even further onto the bed, so that now, with her arse even higher, he can shove an atomic attack of supersonic, pussy-destroying cock into her. Vania can't even articulate a word of reproach as her face is sunk into the 100% cotton cushion.

-You're going to tear me apart, Daniel, says Vania, as she spreads her labia a little wider to allow more cock in. I want to feel you up to your balls.

Daniel, who has a clinical eye for his clients' needs before they formulate them, slaps Vania's ass three times until it's red hot. He accompanies them with aggressive but slow penetrations. Vania bites her lips. With each thrust, the king of the churro slowly pulls his reddening cock out, enjoying every inch inside her, and then, when only his glans is left kissing her clit, he gives her another violent penetration. The poor real estate agent won't be renting the penthouse today, but she's just cummed again on the waiter's 20 cm cock. Her aroused nipples rub against the delicate silk bedspread again and again, putting her in the front row to get to Mars without stopping.

Our Coyote can't take it any more either, and when he pulls the genie out of Vania's marvellous lamp, he cums like a bull on Vania's ass and back to the cry of ¡Viva España! Thick lashes of hot semen cover the agent's ass cheeks and back up to the nape of her neck. The droplets slide lazily down her back and make a mess of the double bed. As Daniel is very caveman, he wipes his cock with her hair, and once he's cleaned himself up, he gives her a final blowjob to let his cock deflate inside her. Mec Mec.

Barrio Chamberí, later

Vania and Daniel are lying exhausted and sweaty on the kitchen floor. She sits up looking for her panties while Daniel doesn't miss the opportunity to slap her reddened ass again and threaten to bite her asshole.

-Viva España! -he says as he blows out the smoke from his cigarette. You're so fucking hot, Pumukl. You've got me dry. Today in this flat, a few days ago I was a pizza delivery boy. My dick is red-hot. I just need a bandage.

-You talk too much, love. -When do you have to go back to the cafeteria? My little cup of chocolate has been craving more churro, says Vania, leaning over her husband for an extra session. It makes her like a bitch in heat to do it at work.

-Don't you dare touch him! threatens Daniel, trying to protect his most precious friend from the red-haired gorgon's furious attack with both hands.

-Come on, caveman, let me give it a quick lick and then you can go to work in your wonderful, luxurious Ford or to the airport, she smiles as she bites his foreskin after removing all the skin from the tool with one deft movement of his right hand. You're looking forward to it... just like me.

Daniel throws his hands back from his head with a snort and lets Vania, budding breasts swaying with rosy nipples, work his cock with her thick lips thoroughly, knowing that he, like the good Neanderthal he is, will take a good cumshot in her mouth. That's what you'll get for being smart, Pumukl.

Role-playing is a constant in his eventful life and although he has already entered into a few conversations, a possible threesome with Vania's best friend Claudia or Daniel's soulmate El Banano, for the moment these encounters are enough to ignite his sex life. Who knows? Maybe later on. They don't like to rule anything out.

And while Daniel kept watching his voluptuous wife's lips slowly bobbing up and down on his sinewy cock with the healthy intention of unloading one last time, Don Fulgencio was still reigning in the dark in the cafeteria's toilet "shitting", and never better said, on the Most High.

If you liked Vania's story, don't miss her first sexual collision under the following link and don't forget to leave us your comment!

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