"I'm coming!" she whispered, "I'm coming!"
"Me too!" he answered laconically.
Then she came, her ass ploughing up and back in an attempt to match El Gallo's fierce thrusts. Her plasm flowed all over her and under her and about her, enveloping her in its effulgent caresses. And, at the same time, she felt three short spurts against the walls of her cunny together with a pleasing, smooth, fluidic inundation of his juice gushing into her. Together they lay and she wrapped her legs around his legs. And she stuck her mouth to his mouth. She cleaved her tongue to his tongue, and rolled her hips to his hips. She knew that nothing now was ever going to part them, that their bodies were one, their lives were one, their future was one.
Their orgasms over, neither said a word. Both were puffing mightily.
As if to heighten his emotion, La Tarantula nipped the flesh of his cheek playfully. It sent an electric current through him so that he gave his limp prick in her moist cunny a muscle jerk. She reciprocated in turn with the muscles in her cunt, contracting them so that they felt like a ring of fire around his cock. They continued to do this playfully for some time, the while their laboured gasps became normal. But, by the time they had managed to breathe right, they discovered that, in their playfulness, she had worked his quondam flaccid prick up to a hard-on again, so that it bulked in her quim once more. And, to boot, she had worked herself up to another pitch where she itched for the violent fuck thrusts once again. There was nothing that could be done about it except fuck. And so, having rested from the terrific ardours of the first orgasm, El Gallo set to work once more, throwing his enlarged prick into his lover's awaiting organ, sensing the lovingness with which she followed his every motion, his every action, his every labour of love.
He too sensed the fact that this was different. That this was love such as he had never before known to be existent. His frequent fucking jousts with the putas and lumias of the streets and the stage, they, compared to his reactions now, had merely been knotholes in a fence. Their simulated attempts at passion were as child's play compared with this flaming volcanic eruption of love under him, that loved every inch of him and for whom he had regard such as he had never before known.
She was as vital to him now as life itself. He must never let her go from his sight.
She, too, was thinking the same thing. And when she told him her thoughts, the while he was pumping his cock into her, they sealed their marriage, as it were, with a pure lipkiss that was devoid of the customary passion and tricks that they practiced.
Again La Tarantula became aware of the closeness of another orgasm.
Again she whispered to El Gallo that she was going to come. Again he prepared himself so that he could come into her the moment he felt her body stiffen under him with her legs wrapped around his legs, her hands clutching his torso, her tongue amorously searching for contact with his tongue.
Again they flooded each other with bliss. Their bodies churned in the throes of the passionate maelstrom. His cock bolted in and out like a stallion. Her cunt received it avidly, sucking its entire length into its cavity. They laboured in panted breaths. And then they receded into the afterfuck that comes as a postlude to passion and lay still, their hearts beating, bodies electric with love, their limbs quivering in the wake of their excitement.
For a while, El Gallo allowed the shrivelled cock to remain in her cunt and wallow in the fluids there. But soon he turned over on his back and stared up at the ceiling, the while he played with her breasts.
At that point, they heard the sound of voices approaching.
Immediately, El Gallo leaped up from the bed, helping La Tarantula to her feet, too. She scampered into a side room with her dress. When she returned calm and composed, but her cheeks flushed, she saw Zurito and a number of others of El Gallo's cuadrilla of aides imploring with him as he adjusted his trouser flap. Zurito was helping him on with his elaborate jacket and cape.
"They are demanding El Gallo!" he begged.
"Then it will be El Gallo they shall get!" he said, preparing to leave. He took La Tarantula in his arms and kissed her. "Boys!" he said, "this is to be the future Senora El Gallo!" Then he swept out of the room crying,
"A los toros! to the bulls!"
When La Tarantula found herself once more in her box, she discovered that the picador Zurito had mounted his rangy horse and was preparing his long lance like pic for the bull. Her El Gallo was standing to one side watching the proceedings. Her heart went out to him when she recalled the hectic half hour they had just spent together.
Then she saw him place himself behind a flat plank shelter jutting out of the barrera. One of the officials, the alguacil, rode over to the president's box and asked for the key to the red door behind which the bull to be killed was waiting. He caught the thrown key in his plumed hat as the crowd clapped. Then he rode over to the bullpen where he gave the key to the doorkeeper. Ring servants smoothed down the hoof prints of the horse. El Gallo stood behind his burladero. Two banderilleros, one on each side of the ring, stood against the fence. It was very quiet now. La Tarantula's heart beat faster because she realized that this was all for her lover, El Gallo, whose name had just been shouted to the skies by the excited fans. The president gave his signal with a wave of his white handkerchief. The trumpet sounded.
And an old white bearded man unlocked the door of the toril where the champing bull was penned, pulling heavily on it.
The bull came bellowing out of the toril. La Tarantula gasped. It was the Miura bull of last night! It was the bull that she had allowed to fuck her. A deep sense of shame crept over her. But this was changed immediately when she saw that El Gallo, too, had recognized the Miura. For he looked up to where she was seated and waved to her. He would avenge this insult with the death of this bull, he would kill it cleanly and neatly and with dispatch.
One of the banderilleros ran across the course trailing a cape. The bull followed the cape. Then the matador El Gallo stepped out from his shelter. Standing in front of the bull, he waved the cape. El Gallo began to put him through his paces. He cited him from the front, standing still as the bull charged, and with his arms moving the cape slowly just ahead of the bull's horns, passing the bull's horns close by his body with a slow movement of the cape, seeming to keep him controlled in the folds of the cape, bringing him past his body each time as he turned and recharged. He did this five times and then finished off with a swirl of the cape that turned his back on the bull, thus cutting the bull's charge brusquely and fixing him to the spot.
La Tarantula thrilled when she saw her man, puny compared to the huge hulking beast, playing tricks with the animal, it being completely at his mercy. And when she saw the dangling sac of the bull's balls, she thrilled in the knowledge that her man, too, was endowed with almost as large a ball-sac, and, to top it off, he had three instead of two balls. Thoughts such as this made her squirm, for a hot spot appeared in the region of her cunny and she became riggish for the feel of El Gallo's prick.
The three acts of the bullfight had begun in earnest now. Picadors on horses, armed with long spiked poles, prodded the point of the pole into the muscle hump of the bull, enraging it to a point of madness.