Girl for everything, a short story with Manuela

De Valentin@ - julio 20, 2022

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

Manuela boredly dips her sad muffin in her coffee. This week she was supposed to receive a work phone call. From none other than the theatre "La Fragua de Vulcano". But she has bad cards for this call to play. Although last Monday's interview went well, Manuela came out of it with quite a good vibe, it may be that she has no work experience required and no references of any kind. She has fewer employment papers than a jackrabbit. She had nothing. Some occasional work, on the black, serving drinks in a beach bar and little else.

Manu, deludedly and in a display of youthful hope, had recorded the number of the theatre on her broken mobile phone with its cracked screen, to recognise the future call and be prepared. A certain Ana Vergara, director of the theatre, would call her during the week. Today is already Friday. "Perfect, we'll get back to you before the end of the week," she was told.

But she was in deep shit. As the week wore on, she became more and more hopeless. Hope is a good breakfast and a bad dinner. Today, the only thing she has for sure is breakfast with her scrawny muffin sitting on the tiny camping table in the kitchen. And the sight of her boyfriend, Johnny, bumming around naked. A rapturous spectacle. Surrounded by the opulence of living in a 40-square-metre hovel.

She finishes her coffee and just as she's about to get up, the phone starts to vibrate, the sound has long since gone dead. The screen shows the name "Ana Vergara". She can't believe it, can it be possible? She takes a deep breath, grabs the phone and answers with the firmest voice she can muster:

-Yes?

-I'm Ana Vergara, from the theatre. Are you Manuela? Of course you are! How silly of me! Who else would pick up the phone? Well, to the point, don't keep me, I'm very busy. We really enjoyed meeting you last Monday and I think you could fit in with what we're looking for...

Manu can't suppress a wide grin and takes the palm of her hand to hide her braces. She always does this when she's excited and to avoid cruel comments like: At your age you could have had your teeth fixed before, girl.

Her boyfriend Johnny is already, flirtatious as he is, standing next to her, listening.

-We thought that everyone needs a first chance, continues Ms. Vergara, and you're not stingy, demanding a disproportionate salary. Minimum wage minus 20%, OK? That's fair enough since you don't have any experience. And I'm quite legal and you don't have to pay me to give you training...

Manu doesn't believe his ears behind the phone line... or his eyes in front of him. Johnny, with a massive erection, is rubbing his cock against her cheek. He has a huge cock and a gift for impropriety as big as his dick.

She covers the microphone of the mobile phone with one hand and, with the other, slaps the fat prick with her other hand. The cock does the cobra move and wobbles backwards like the mast of a ship in a rough sea, only to spring back with more force to the corner of her lips. You don't have to be a fortune teller to know the intentions of the construction worker. Nor of his bald assistant.

To Johnny "Suck it or I'll put you in trouble", Manu tells him with his eyes to go fuck himself. She'll suck him off later, like she does every day, before he goes to the building site. Lest little boy nervously goes to work and the asshole falls off the scaffolding. His conscience wouldn't let him live.

The cerulean cock returns insistently to Manu's lips, as if knocking at the door. Knock, knock. It's a trap. Neither Johnny is going to let up, nor can she tell the theatre manager who calls later that she has to suck her boyfriend's cock first. So she starts slowly licking his cock while she takes the call and tries to hide it on the phone. With little nibbles on the glans and with her big eyes she begs her boyfriend to come quickly.

-Your tasks will be to satisfy all my needs, organise my appointments, bring me my coffee in the mornings, take my calls... a sort of secretary, what am I saying, what a clumsy... a qualified assistant! -My training is worth gold! Gold! Oh, and you start this afternoon!

-Aha, says Manu, wanking Johnny's fat, sinewy cock with his free hand and sucking the glans. The worker has a firm grip on the back of her neck, forcing her to increase the sucking speed. A very big cock, but the truth is that Johnny doesn't last long once Manu starts rubbing his tongue piercing along the glans. Hand of a saint or mouth of a whore, what difference does it make now. We came here to cum and that's what the vicious fucker is going to get.

-You'll have a schedule from eight in the morning to five in the afternoon. On show evenings you'll leave a little later, but you'll come in at midday too. I'm demanding but I'm not a slave driver... Nobody has given me anything for free, but I'm a fair boss... - Mrs. Vergara reinforces the word boss by deliberately separating the syllables.

Johnny, who's groping Manu's generous tits harder and harder, a sure sign that he's about to let go of the ballast. And the curvature of his member together with the first pre-seminal drops inside Manu's mouth cannot deny this fact either. The coffee cup, sensing the imminent outcome, has moved out of the way and has gone to fuck on the floor next to the muffin. Manu turns it up two gears and starts massaging his hard testicles with both hands. She puts the mobile phone on speakerphone on the table.

-Being a successful woman is difficult, men are afraid to have a woman like that in front of them. They get scared, but you have to forgive them. You can't fix everything by pulling out your dick. You'll work randomly every other weekend... Any questions? -she concludes rhetorically, not really expecting an answer.

At the worst possible moment, Johnny is starting to unload like a colossus. The first salvo grazes Manu's cheek and ends up covering the picture of his maternal grandmother, Inmaculada Segunda de la Concepción, with an unseemly pasty veil: "What did this guy have for dinner yesterday? Johnny backs off and saves the second and third salvo by shoving his cock (he's got the waist of a central defender for that) into Manu's mouth. The latter is unable to swallow the voluminous ejaculate in one gulp. It takes three long swallows. And the asshole keeps chanting out loud: "I've got a milk cow... not just any cow".

-Girl, are you still there? -asks the owner of the theatre.

-Yes, excuse me, Mrs. Vergara, I was just finishing breakfast. I'm very sorry. No, I have no questions. Well, yes. When can I start and how do you like your coffee?

The question pleases Mrs. Vergara very much, and she replies that she should come by the theatre today with a Frappuccino and two sugars to sign the contract. And that she should pay for the time being. They will do the accounts later.

A bit later

Manu wipes her mouth thoughtfully with her napkin. She finishes her coffee on one leg, presses her glasses to the bridge of her nose, looks for her iPods for ten minutes, finds them, puts on her blue and white checked shirt over her "The Ramones" T-shirt, loses her iPods again, puts on her black woollen cap, finds her iPods again. She takes one last look in the mirror and confirms that she is indeed very pretty. She leaves the house only to find Johnny smoking a cigarette, lounging on the sofa. When she asks him if he doesn't have to go to work one day or at some time, he replies that he was laid off last week. That something will come up.

Enraged, she tells him to fuck off, slams the door behind her and Johnny shouts at her from the dining room that she has a bad temper. That he used to be cooler. Then she turns on the TV and the console with no desire to look for a job.

Shortly after arriving at the theatre, carrying a Frappuccino that had cost her a kidney at the place with the logo of the open-legged mermaid, a stagehand tells her where to find Ms. Vergara's office.

-You can't miss it, the man tells her without further explanation, just stiffen up and that's it.

Excited by her first real work option, Manu is overjoyed, everything seems wonderful to her, the hustle and bustle of the workers, the actors rehearsing... the out-of-tune noise of a piano? What's more, such an unnerving sound seems to come from Mrs. Vergara's office. Indeed, the horrifying sound is from the office. Manuela knocks her knuckles and waits patiently at the door, smiling nervously at anyone who passes. After waiting a decorous five minutes with an iced coffee, she decides to enter the room. Inside, the music is accompanied by a gasp - is that an Aria? She doesn't know, she has so much more to learn about this world!

Stunned, but without saying a word, she observes that Ms. Vergara is being mercilessly fucked from behind by a muscular black man with a dirty electrician's dungarees adorning his ankles. The worker holds his employer with both hands on her shoulders as he rhythmically penetrates her. Ms. Vergara moans like a cat with her eyes rolled back in her head. The wild thrusts cause her ripe tits to rhythmically, talentlessly, rhythmically play all the keys of the piano. Clanc, clanc, clanc. Ana gasps with every thrust of the black man, demanding that he fucks her properly. Otherwise she'll fire him for being incompetent, for being a lazy prick, for whatever, but she won't stop him from busting her cunt with his wild black African cock. Samuel, who already knows his way around -and the pussy-, gives her another whack and shuts her up with an authoritative: "Shut up, bitch, Daddy's at home and he's getting a headache from all that white girl talk".

Mrs. Vergara seems to agree with the tone of the answer and cums for the second time with the black's cock plunged into her soaking wet pussy. Before good old Samuel can flood the cunt again with his life-giving juice, Ana turns around to receive the generous, impending cum on her breasts. Without delay, she grabs the cock with both hands and speeds up the pleasurable finale.

-Oh Mami, Mamacita, don't be mean to Papi, the black man starts to say as the life begins to drain out of his black shaft.

It is only now, about to be showered with white gold, that Mrs. Vergara becomes aware of Manuela's presence. She looks at her and before she can say anything, she is machine-gunned by a volley of eight bestial cumshots, which make her close her clear eyes. The electrician begins to ejaculate uncontrollably over Ana's breasts and face. Dense streams of warm semen spurt onto the cold floor from the flooded face and loving breasts to the ground.

Manu, stunned, can't manage to say anything, puts aside some documents and a thong, leaves the coffee on the table with the sugar packets and closes the door behind her.

After five minutes, Samuel comes out of the office with his toolbox (both the metal one and the meat one), smiles at Manu with his beautiful Ivorian teeth and leaves. He's nice and quiet and better off unloaded.

Come in, Manuela, demands Mrs. Vergara, who rather than Vergara would now be more like Mrs. Verga*, lighting a cigarette, from inside. You haven't seen anything, do you hear me? Nothing.

-I don't know what you're talking about, I brought your coffee to your office and I've gone. I don't know what you're talking about. I hope the coffee is to your liking. Manu restrains himself from making the easy joke of asking if it's good with milk, since it would be obvious, and Mrs. Vergara is not short of it.

-I like you Manuela, you're discreet. I like people who know how to be quiet. My husband, that greasy bastard, has his adventures too, and I have mine, but you don't have to tell everything, do you? What happens in the theatre stays in the theatre. You'd get on well with my daughter Lucía, she's a bit of a bullet. You might see her around one of these days, she's a hamster like you.

-Hipster, dares Manuela to correct her.

-What difference does it make? You're rebels, Ana continues. You're not subjugated to any man. If you feel like getting laid, you go for it. Lucía is a bit too crazy for my taste. A bit of a whore. She's gone out to her father's whoremonger. What she's got plenty of tits, she lacks in head, but I can see you two look alike. I'm sorry, I'm giving you a hard time. Sign here. In barely a month, the virtuoso tenor Marcel Vásáry will give the world premiere in my theatre of his new work, "Around the adagio in 80 worlds" and not at the Madrid Opera, no! ...in my fucking theatre. See to it that he lacks for nothing. See you tomorrow at eight o'clock and thank you.

Manu, who hadn't said a word, couldn't believe his joy. Hired! She definitely likes this little world. Everything is so exciting, so extraordinary, so big. Like the electrician's cock, she discovers herself thinking about it.

When she gets home, Johnny is still sitting on the sofa with one hand in his pants. The house looks like a lion's den. He asks what's for dinner, to which Manu responds with a polite; "Your whore mother in sauce and on horseback" and goes to the shower. She bolts the door. The sexual collision has set her off like a rocket, but she's not going to give her friend the pleasure of fucking her. Fuck him and let him keep watching Atlético lose on TV. She slides her slender fingers into her wet pussy and while she pours some expensive body oils, a gift from her sister Mar, she starts massaging her flaming nipple. She gasps and turns up the water pressure to avoid being overheard by her asshole boyfriend Johnny.

*Verga is another words for cock in spanish.

A few days later, the tenor politely introduced himself, one by one, to all the members of the theatre, thanking them for their invisible but indispensable work. He is a young man, in his early thirties, with a talent on a par with his sympathy, multilingual, polite. He greets, flattering, kissing each one of them, from the cleaning lady to the director Vergara, with two sincere kisses. To them he reserves a sincere embrace, as if they were his brothers. Always correct. Every mother's ideal son-in-law... or, for that matter, the one who would fuck all of them, even their fathers if need be. He is a man who would pull down your panties in a heartbeat .... but hides a hidden vice that Manuela would discover, by chance, a few days later.

Manuela has just finished her duties, and is thinking of smoking a cigarette before taking the metro. Cigarette means joint. As she goes out into the alley, an attractive figure is finishing a cigarette on the sly. He notices Manu's unexpected presence and hides in the shade of some bins.

-Marcel, is that you? Why are you hiding? -asks Manuela curiously, lighting up the joint already prepared from home.

-Oh, hello, Manu, sorry, I had gone out to get some air," replies the tenor, embarrassed.

-To smoke, you mean?

-Well, yes, my little secret. I shouldn't... in fact, my manager and my insurance have forbidden it, but I just can't give it up... I love smoking. I've given up so many things in my life, smoking is a little luxury I allow myself from time to time, do you disapprove?

Manu takes a puff from the joint, takes a few puffs at the sky, looks at him carefully with his big eyes and resolutely passes him the cigarette.

-Well, let's smoke together, I'm all out... let's share it, okay? -I don't have any known illnesses..." she laughs ostentatiously, looking up at the sky again and holding her chin.

Marcel smiles with his perfect teeth, and takes a wide puff of the joint marked on his mouthpiece with a crimson ring. Happy as a kid with new shoes.

They smoked and laughed, and what was a slip of the tongue became a shared secret between them. A small complicity. They would pass each other tiny notes with smoking schedules, and she would always invite him on the condition that he would tell her about all the cities he knew. She was spellbound listening to him, looking at him like a calf about to have its throat slit. When she got home, she closed the bathroom door, undressed thinking of his hands and finished masturbating thinking of his lips trapped between her legs. She, in her fantasies, while he smoked, would blow the smoke into his bum and order him not to stop licking, otherwise she would report him to the insurance company. Silly, isn't it?

A few days later...

On the day of the world premiere, the theatre is packed. Long queues have formed from the early hours of the morning at the doors of "La Fragua de Vulcano". Manuela is overjoyed. How exciting it all is. Nervously, she keeps fingering the buttons of her petrol-coloured denim dungarees, where she carries in her central pocket all the necessary instructions from Ana. A tight-fitting white shirt of Lobo Rufino on a motorbike completes her outfit. The electricity of the big events is palpable.

Looking back, Mrs. Vergara, apart from her occasional slips with the black Samuel, or with other theatre workers or whoever was in range, has turned out to be much less demanding than usual. Although it is true that Manuela has given him no cause for complaint either. She delivers his coffee religiously, arranges his appointments in good time and on more than one occasion has even had his back when Justiniano Cardoso, a sleazy, sweaty man who tried to grope her on the first day with a smile full of crooked teeth, was desperately looking for Ana to introduce her to some investors. Manuela told him that she had just gone to the printer's and was meeting a councillor for lunch, and that she would let him know when she returned. In reality, Mrs. Vergara's shaved pussy was being licked a few metres away by the Romanian stagehand with an exquisite gift for tongues. All this while mercilessly riding a beardless young bellboy who only had a sad cap and an unloaded cock left from his uniform. The poor bellboy had cum at the very first moment, but in order not to be out of place, even though he had no more wood left to feed his boss's vaginal fire, he was still at the foot of the cannon with his red-hot, beaten cock.

Manu, watched curiously from the shelter of the door with what naturalness Ana disposes of her pleasure. Without asking permission. Taking what she needs. And what did she have at home? An idiot, an unemployed man who was squeezing bottle after bottle after bottle after losing to see his Atletí over and over again. Even the sex was already bad, lousy. Routine. Without emotion. Not like the one Marcel should surely be having. Something sublime, loving, powerful. But I loved Johnny with all his faults, he wasn't bad, he was just a caveman.

The audience begins to sit down, soon the show will start. Manuela goes to Marcel's dressing room to attend to Vásáry's last requests, like his pineapple juice with a third of water in a large glass. She knocks on the door and, surprised, hears the normally polite Marcel cursing over and over again in her own language.

-Marcel, what is it? -asks Manuela as she enters the dressing room without knocking.

Marcel is half-bent over on his back with his trousers and pants down. As he turns around, Manu notices his nice cock in his hand. The tenor, as it turns out, doesn't just have enormous talent.

-Manu, I'm sorry you see me like this, I'm very nervous. I... I don't know what to do. I'm afraid of making a fool of myself in front of the whole of Madrid. It's been a few years since I was. My last performances in Vienna and Paris I had to cancel them because I can't control my anxiety. I thought that, performing with less pressure in a more secluded theatre, it would be different. I don't drink or take drugs, I take care of myself, well I smoke as you know, and now I'm a mess. I don't know what to do. I'm having another panic or anxiety attack. I thought that maybe by letting off steam I would calm down, but I can't. I'm not able to. I'm a fucking phoney. I'll fail again. -comments a distressed Marcel.

In the stalls, the audience is starting to get impatient, shouting Vásáry! among them Mr. Cardoso, swollen like a capon, together with three friends, whisky in hand. Ana, impatient, can't understand why the performance is taking so long to start. She had spoken to the tenor barely an hour before and he seemed serene. New cries of Vásáry! flood the theatre, which is not helping poor Marcel at all.

-Relax Marcel, I'll help you relax. Listen, a silly question... would it help your problem if I gave you a blowjob? Do you come quickly? - asks Manuela as she pushes her hair to one side and takes half of his cock in her mouth. She slams the door shut behind her.

Before Marcel can answer what he thinks of the idea, our Manu, still wearing his woollen hat, uses his secret weapon of tongue piercing while she's messing around with his foreskin. She licks with devotion a cock that for the first time in her life is not her boyfriend's, enjoying all the textures, the fat veins, the rhythmic panting of the artist, his huge prick only matched by his talent, throbbing in her mouth. It's a sublime cock, an artist's cock.

-Thank you very much, Manu, thank you very much, that's what I needed. I never like to ask for anything. I'm so embarrassed. God, fuck, you're doing it fucking great, I'm already relaxing... I feel like... .... I feel like... I'm going to come like a bull...

Manu nods his head, stops and tells her not to worry, that everything is in order. That artists should be allowed to bring out all their art. And milk.

-Marcel, listen to me... now you're going to cum... all over my face, my hair, my cap, or in my mouth, whatever you want, whatever comes out of your cock. You just cum without taking care of anything. You are Marcel. You are the greatest, the fucking master of Madrid, go out and conquer the stage. Show them who's got the biggest cock here.

Manu's mobile rings. It's a very upset Ana asking what the fuck is going on. Manuela calms her down. In a few moments, Marcel will be giving the performance of his life. I'll bet he will. He's already warming up. What a turn of events, once again, she's caught with a cock in her mouth. But this time it's different... she chooses, she decides and it will be like that from now on. No man is going to tell her how to live her sexuality, no man is ever going to stick a cock in her mouth without her wanting it.

Marcel can't take it anymore. It's impossible. You can't put gates on the sea. He grabs Manu gently by the head and unloads in his mouth. He cums like a fifteen-year-old on Manu's extended tongue, who clicks his tip again and again on his swollen glans. The tenor was so tight, Manu can barely swallow the whole load and has to open his mouth to avoid choking to death. Marcel's already deflated cock withdraws from his mouth dripping wet. He's given his all. The tenor finishes trembling, thanks Manu a million times for his involvement in the art, drinks his glass of pineapple juice in one sitting with his eyes closed, saints himself three times and after dressing, goes on stage... and gives the show that Madrid is still talking about 15 years later.

More than 50 minutes of standing ovation and an audience at his feet. Marcel would be crowned several more times that night. Manu, backstage, weeps with happiness. She, a nobody, has saved the show. A hand with neat crimson nails claims her attention, gently tapping her shoulder. It is a girl no older than herself with long dark hair and a pair of atom bombs for tits. She introduces herself as Lucía Cardoso.

-You must be Manuela García. My mother has told me so much about you. That you're like me. You must bolt the door if you don't want them to see what you do with the artist. I've seen it all and you've made me horny as a bitch. What art you have! Enjoy the applause today, it's partly yours too. Don't doubt it. I'm going to stay for a while in Madrid in a shared flat and you... you're coming with me -demands a very convinced Lucía, like a lawyer about to win a trial against a multinational -No excuses. Leave your asshole boyfriend (in the end that wouldn't happen until many years later) and stop with the moral bullshit. You're one of mine. There are no such things as faithful husbands or boyfriends, there are only men who are ugly as lizards and men who don't get their pussy handed to them. Men don't fuck, men GET FUCKED. And buy yourself a new mobile. You, -she hits his chest again with her majestic crimson-nailed index finger. -You and me, we don't belong to the vulgar, we belong to the clouds, travelling from one part of the world to another, with no strings attached, and fucking whoever comes out of our cunt. I'll show you... Wouldn't you like to fly to a thousand places, to see hundreds of places? Do you know the international airline OpenFly Air? I want to work there as a stewardess, it's the best company in the world.

Epilogue.

Late into the night, after countless bottles of sparkling wine and a multitude of anonymous and well-known phone calls, it was Ana's turn to secretly watch her daughter and her assistant fuck the renowned tenor in the dressing room. Marcel, after endless applause and satiated with appreciation, retired to his dressing room. There, Manu and Lucía were getting closer to their new friendship by eating each other's tits and pussy.

A mobile phone, to whom nobody pays any attention, is crying his eyes out, buried under jeans, dungarees and underwear on a sofa. Manu and Lucía, smeared in smelly talcum powder, are dressed in the burlesque-style corset of the ladies of the 18th century French nobility with ostentatious rococo-style albino wigs to match. Manu in velvety whorish red with black stripes and Lucía in immaculate, innocent pale pink. Manuela's nipples are covered with heart-shaped nipple covers with straps. She rides Marcel at a full gallop, mercilessly, while she keeps sucking and licking Lucia's plump, hard tits. Lucía gasps ostentatiously, whispering over and over again in French, deep in her role of Parisian courtesan with a mole on her cheek, that if there's no money for bread, then let the vulgar eat cake. And with lots of cream, as she does... hand whipped cream. So much whipped cream, so much complaining, so much complaining... putain!

Marcel, being the excellent professional that he is and freed from his restraints, once again gives a high-flying recital.

-Thank goodness I'm on the pill, Manuela repeats to herself mentally, Thank goodness, with the cum that Marcel has just unloaded inside me, I would have got pregnant with at least triplets for sure... thank goodness... thank goodness.

Voluminous, warm spurts of semen mix with the talcum powder and slide down between Manu's legs, creating a perfumed paste. Marcel has yet to pull his cock out and threatens a second round. His arms this time do not paroxysmically smack Manu's gorgeous garter-bedecked ass, but lustfully grasp the hips of Lucía, who, sitting on his face, has cum in the tenor's mouth, without warning (she has never done so in her life) again, smacking his muscular chest with a small pink riding crop. Vásáry's fat cock rises again like a phoenix inside Manuela and is devoured again ipso facto by Manu's hungry, igneous sex. Strong palpitations tell our theatre assistant that this time the performer will take much less time to come than last time. She has already got the hang of the "secret smoker". She feels the fat veins of the tenor's cock swell inside her soaking wet pussy, slapping her vaginal walls like a drunken man on his way home. She looks lustfully at Lucía, pouts, and takes a good bite out of her atomic bombs of mass destruction.

-You're so hot, you slut, she says.

Lucía smiles and lowers her hips even further, burying Marcel's face completely. The tenor's cock starts to unleash like an Andalusian country hose that had been clogged for too long and buries the remnants of the semen from five minutes ago with another voluminous voluminous load of cum in exaggerated, uncontrolled lashes. Both Lucía and Manu gasp and cum in satisfaction as their tongues dance in a chotis in their mouths... in the meantime the tenor's raging cock begins to swoon and give way, a fact that his strong hands still on Manuela's hips don't do. Lucía wastes no time and takes the opportunity to rub her vulva over the tenor's lips in protest.

Johnny would continue to call Manu's mobile for hours without success... in the increasingly vain hope that they would make him dinner. He turned on the TV just as Atletí conceded their fourth goal in 15 minutes and in a rage smashed the TV remote against the wall... fucking soccer team.

The next day, the Marcel, had to cancel the show citing a very painful and imaginary lumbago that he claimed to have had while rehearsing, but that didn't matter, Madrid was surrendered at his feet and Ana couldn't be prouder of her daughter and assistant... she saw herself reflected in them, and while whispering; "good girls, more whores than hens, but good girls" she reached her second clitoral orgasm with her nimble fingers, which she had previously moistened in her mouth. ... she loves the taste of it when she's horny....

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To be continued...