Berto's Roses
By Ben
Part XXXXII
I never realized how uncomfortable Manuella was when riding in a vehicle. She actually clung to the dashboard and chattered incessantly. This, in itself would not have been so bad had she ever let me get a word in edge-wise, or even answer any of her questions. It got to the point where I wanted to strangle her.
I had yet to spend any appreciable time in San Augustin, other than at the Chavez estate. It was a very beautiful town, or, to be more accurate, small city. We drove by the university and I promised Manuella that we would stop on our way back home to see if we could find Berto. The campus wasn't that big, but I would need her help to find out where his dormitory was as all the signs were in Spanish.
We located the factory outlet where we were going to look for the linens. The difference, I found out, from factory outlets in the "states", is that this one was actually part of the factory. I parked the truck and we got out. I followed Manuella as she waddled inside and immediately started inspecting the wares, which were piled on long wooden tables.
A (sales?) representative came over and spoke to us in Spanish. Manuella went into a ten-minute dissertation, all of which was lost on me. She did point to me from time to time, and I guess the man recognized I would be the one to pay for what she selected. What ever she said to him, he began treating her like a queen.
Several times he went to the back room and brought out samples for her. She would examine them closely- touching, even smelling them and holding them up to the light. She would asked questions and accept or reject his suggestions. We were in there for four and a half solid hours. I was reminded how much I hated shopping with my mother when I was a kid.
Finally she had found all she wanted and I was ready to go. It took three young boys to load the truck, each taking two trips. I reached for my wallet, but Manuella stopped me. Now the time had come for haggling. They started off slowly and calmly, but soon there were raised voices, wide arm gestures and heads shaking negatively. At one point, Manuella told the boys to unload the merchandise and bring it back inside. The salesman conceded and I finally paid him.
Manuella led the way to the truck. I could tell she was very pleased with herself. She had a smug expression on her face, so I knew she thought she had gotten the best of the man. I also noticed a similar look on the salesman's face. I started the truck and I took Manuella to see Don Chavez's Estate. We didn't go in, but we could see a lot from the road.
Manuella's eyes got big as baseballs and she kept commenting on the size and beauty of all she saw. I told here that Don Chavez had volunteered to take everybody to Mexico City after the party and she seemed very excited. We drove on to the university.
It took awhile and we had to ask several people, but we finally found Berto's dorm. I walked up the three flights of stairs and knocked at the door. Berto answered the door. His expression was one of surprise and delight.
"Senor Ben! What are you doing here?" Then his face clouded. "Is everything alright? Is Mama okay? Did something happen?"
"No, no. Nothing happened. Manuella is fine. She's waiting in the truck as a matter of fact."
"Mama is here? At the university?" Berto ran to the window and looked out. He located the truck and shouted down to his mother, waving happily.
"We had to come to San Augustin to buy a few things for the house and I thought it would be nice to stop by and see you. Dou you have time to get something to eat with us?"
"Oh, si. I have no other classes today. I can go with you."
"Great! How about Carla, or your friend? Do you think they would like to join us?"
"Raul is working and Carla has probably gone home already." He explained.
Berto was dressed in a dress shirt and khaki pants. He looked fantastic. Because he had been working out, his clothes fit him just a bit tighter than before. His ass was hugged by the fabric of his pants. I walked behind him down the stairs, just so I could check it out.
Even before we got to the truck, Manuella was squealing and crying. She opened the door and burst out in all her glory. She gave her son a gigantic hug and murmured to him, kissing his face. He withstood the sloppy onslaught then crawled into the middle of the seat. Manuella rolled herself in, then I shut the door. I got in and, following Berto's recommendation, drove to a little cantina just off campus.
Following my better instincts, I let Berto order for me. He had been there many times and knew the fare well. The food was excellent and so was the service. Like most places near colleges and universities, the wait staff was comprised of young people anywhere from eighteen to twenty two years old. Most were young men and each more handsome than the next.
I enjoyed the meal, the conversation and the scenery (including all the eye candy). Manella grilled poor Berto about his studies, his friends and girls. He took it all in stride and answered cheerfully, if also with some embarrassment. She wanted to see his dorm room and meet his roommates, but he explained that females were not permitted inside the building. He promised to bring his roommates to the truck when we took him back.
All too soon, it was time to do just that. Berto had to study and we needed to get back to Santa Rosalia before darkness set in. True to his word, Berto bounded up the stairs to fetch his roomies, but returned alone. The three of them were gone somewhere. Berto gave his mother a big kiss and hug, then hugged me. We waved good- bye and made our way back home.
The good-bye had been calmer than I thought it might be. Manuella was okay because she knew she would be seeing Berto in a few short days. She was quieter on the return trip but still held a death grip on the dashboard of the truck. As usual, there was little traffic and no sign of police, so we made pretty good time.
We were home well before sunset and, for once, Manuella allowed me to unload the truck while she hurried inside to begin the evening meal. Taking the parcels into one of the smaller rooms on the first floor, I saw that the furniture and arrived but was, as yet, unassembled and stacked in one room. It would take the next couple of days to set up and be ready for our guests.
I climbed the stairs and found Jake and Bob in Bob's office. They were talking on the speakerphone to Mack and his partner, Nathan. The conversation seemed to be centered around their trip to Mexico City the night of our party. They had made plans for their hotel and Mack was going to the clinic with Bob for hie chemo treatment.
After they rang off, we sat and chatted for a bit until Manuella shrieked up the stairs to us that supper was ready. We went down and talked about what all need to be finished with the house over our meal. Bob told me he had ordered new furniture and a larger bed for my room, but once it got here, he realized that it wasn't going to fit, so he was sending it back.
I had a sudden thought. "Why don't we just set it up in the studio? There is plenty of room in there, and, if I get the urge to paint in the middle of the night, then I can just get up without disturbing anybody. We can use the room I'm in now as a sort of V.I.P. suite. Maybe Don Chavez would like to use it if he decided to stay overnight."
"Well, I hope you don't get any urges to paint in the middle of the night before I go back to Jax." Jake remarked.
"Hell, I could drive a freight train through the room after you fall asleep and you'd never even know it. You are the soundest sleeper I have ever met. Especially after sex."
Jake grinned and asked, "Am I going to sleep soundly tonight?" He wagged his eyebrows at me.
"After my trip with Manuella today, that may be all you are going to do tonight. That is unless you bunk with Bob." I teased.
"Alright! Let's go upstairs!" Bob stood up suddenly and pulled on Jake's arm. They both laughed.
I guess it is about that time. Manuella had cleared away the dishes and the coffee was gone. It was pitch- black outside. Heavy clouds blocked the stars and the moon. We carried the coffee cups and carafe into the kitchen and rinsed everything. Manuella had already gone up to her room. Bob climbed the stairs to his room and Jake and I went to mine.
As soon as we shut the door, Jake asked me, "Is something wrong? Did I do something to piss you off?"
I turned to look at him, my forehead wrinkled. "What?"
"You didn't want to fuck last night and tonight you don't want to have sex again. I just thought you were mad at me."
I looked at his pouty lips and puppy-dog eyes. "No Jake, you haven't pissed me off since we were coming back from San Augustin. Last night I was tired from the trip and I've been on the road all day today too. If you're a good boy, I'll let you christen my new bed tomorrow night. You can have me any way you want me."
Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Any way? I got a better idea. Why don't we test out all the beds we put together tomorrow? You know, just to test them. You wouldn't want to have to worry that your patrons might get hurt by a defective bed. Imagine the lawsuits!"
I closed my eyes and shook my head at him. "You are so full of shit, flyboy. But, since I'm making you wait, okay, let's do it. Now, come here and gimme a kiss."
I held Jake and we kissed tenderly. I have to hand it to him. He behaved himself for once. He did unbutton my shirt and removed it for me from the back. He kissed my shoulder and then pulled my shorts down, leaning over to kiss my right butt cheek.
Jake pulled the covers down and I crawled in the bed. He undressed and turned off the light. I felt him slide under the covers and snuggle up to my back. God his cock was hard. I started feeling guilty and turned toward him, grasping his erection.
Jake kissed me and said, "What are you doing? I thought you were tired."
"Well, I'm not that tired. I figured I could take care of this little problem you have here." I squeezed his cock and then slid beneath the covers to envelop the head with my lips. I slowly and lovingly bathed his entire cock with my tongue and lips, finally sucking the entire thing into my mouth. Jake gasped and held my head between his hands.
I moved my mouth over his cock in an up and down motion, my tongue sliding everywhere as I sucked him. Jake pushed his hips up in fucking motions to meet my lips. His hands pressed my head, encouraging me but not in a controlling way. He wanted to cum, but was being patient, knowing I would soon make it happen.
"Oh, God, Ben." He groaned. "I needed this so badly."
I backed off his cock and took both of his balls into my mouth. I moved my tongue over them and pressed my lips hard against his body. Jake worked his fingers into my hair and me moaned loudly. I worked his nuts over for awhile until he pulled me off them causing an audible "pop" from my wet mouth.
"Oh man." He groaned. "Suck me. Please suck me."
Who was I to say no? "I dove back onto his cock and sucked him hard and fast. The time for being slow and gentle was over. Jake needed to blow and his need was urgent. I sucked and moved my mouth over his cock rapidly. Jake's breathing became labored and he raised his hips off the bed-pressing his pelvis into my face.
He shuddered hugely and held my head hard. His entire body convulsed once, twice, seven full times as he shot warm spooge into my mouth. I kept up my sucking and tongue work until he was pulling on my head and begging me to stop. Jake's cock was super sensitive after he cums and I loved to torture him. Something I learned from a hot little Asian guy, who used to do it to me.
I finally relented and slid back up to cover his mouth with mine. He opened his lips and I gave him some of his semen back. Our tongues wrestled in it for a brief time and then we both swallowed. Jake kissed me again and then said, "Now wait a minute. This doesn't void our deal about christening beds tomorrow does it?"
I laughed. "You are insatiable. No nothing is voided horn dog. Now shut up and let's get some sleep."
Ah, the much awaited next chapter. More to come and soon. Expect the unexpected. My audience has become international, with readers in Asia and South Africa. Glad to have you as well as my "old faithfuls". Please write to me at ben_sc@hotmail.com. If you haven't read any of my other stories, check them out under the "Authors" link. Look for "Lyle Benton".