Paradais by Fernanda Melchor
Author:Fernanda Melchor
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780811231336
Publisher: New Directions
Published: 2022-03-26T00:00:01+00:00
In the beginning he thought it was just talk, more of Franco Andradeâs fucked-up fantasies, more shit spewing from that lecherous twatâs mouth because he didnât have the slightest clue what he was talking about. It was so obvious the prick had never been with a woman, had never put his flaccid little dick anywhere near a pussy, which is why he was so obsessed with boning the one bitch whoâd smile and talk to him without wincing at the sight of his love handles and repugnant teenage spots. The slut must have known the kid was crazy about her, that he only ever went to their house to lech over her, running back to his room later to rub one out, and maybe it even amused her to turn the idiot on, maybe she got a kick out of it too and liked the attention, enjoyed being desired by that lard-ass who could no longer think of anything but boning her. And it wasnât like the woman wasnât hot; there were photos to prove it, she was always in those gossip magazines the doñas in Paradais loved so much. She still had it, and any red-blooded male would be more than happy to bend her over and give her a seeing to, right? But fatboyâs obsession went way beyond just being turned on. Who knew what treasures or marvels he expected to find up that snatch; who knew what he thought would happen when he did finally stick his cock inside her. Sometimes Polo felt like telling him it wasnât such a big deal. Yeah, it felt good; yeah, you forgot about everything when you were pumping away, you felt like the baddest motherfucker on the planet, but that feeling never lasted long enough and sooner or later you had to pull out and deal with all the other stuff, all the whining and sneaky shit from the woman youâd just screwed. Fatboy would be better off just hiring a whore, some tender lovinâ woman who looked like his neighbor and would be more than happy to pop his cherry for a modest sum. But no. Fatboy didnât want to plow any old bitch; he wanted Señora Marián de Maroño and it was he who reached the conclusion that heâd have to do it by force, and before his grandparents shunted him off to Puebla to the military academy where they planned to transfer him the second the summer holidays were over.
Once again they were back inside the mansion ruins, sitting on the steps in the covered entrance hall, this time getting pissed on caña diluted in large cartons of orange juice because they were totally broke. As always, Polo had his eyes on the interior past the zaguan where the undergrowth and bindweed formed a miniature forest full of fireflies and what sounded like a strident army of cicadas. The caña had gone to his head and was making the insects glow brighter still, filling his sight line with blinding speckles that every so often dazzled him and made his heart race.
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