I Posted an Absurd Ad and a Stranger Replied

I’m going to begin this confession by explaining what stage of my life I was at, because without that context, nothing that happened afterward would make any sense.

Because of a job change, I had ended up living alone in Valencia, in an apartment that still smelled of paint. My days were identical: I left the office, went home, ate whatever was easiest in front of my laptop, and went to bed so I could repeat the whole thing the next morning. No friends in the city, no plans, no one waiting up for me.

It was a Thursday when I got home after eight, exhausted and in the mood for nothing. The only goal for the evening was the usual one: watch some porn for a while, have a quick wank, and go to sleep. I turned on the computer, opened the sites I usually visited, and prepared to scroll past the images without paying much attention.

Then a different video appeared.

A woman was eating out a man whose build was similar to mine, slowly and deeply, as if she had all the time in the world. The camera focused close-up on the way she spread his buttocks with both hands and buried her tongue in his ass, going in and out, while the guy trembled and gripped his cock, hard as a rock. I can’t explain why, but something clicked in my head. I had to try that.

I don’t have much experience with women, so the first thing that occurred to me was to pay someone. I went onto hookup sites looking for options, ads from girls who mentioned the service almost in passing among ten other things. The mere idea of a stranger coming into my home and eating my ass without asking a single question turned me on in a way I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

That night I ended up in front of the computer having a truly spectacular wank, imagining every detail. A woman crossing my threshold, kneeling without a word, pushing me against the wall, forcing me to spread my legs and lift my ass so she could thrust her tongue deep inside me. I imagined her spitting between my buttocks, getting my hole thoroughly wet with saliva, sucking my cock while licking my asshole, and slowly masturbating me until I filled her face with cum. With that fantasy in my head, I came across my own belly with a hoarse moan, and fell asleep peacefully.

That went on for two or three weeks. The problem was that imagining it stopped being enough. The fantasy wore out a little more every night, like a photograph that loses its color from being looked at too often.

***

The May holiday weekend arrived, a long weekend when I could finally consider doing something other than working. I was determined to hire a professional and put an end to the obsession once and for all. I sent a couple of messages that never got a reply. When I had already written off the weekend, I saw a button on one of those sites that I hadn’t noticed before: “Post your ad.”

It was a hopeless gamble from the start, but so what? What did I have to lose?

I wrote something very brief, almost embarrassed by myself:

“Valencia guy obsessed with receiving rimjobs looking for a woman who’s obsessed with giving them. Good times together, no strings attached.”

I hit send and called Friday over. To my surprise, on Saturday morning I had fifteen messages in that new inbox. I opened them one by one, my heart racing, and my spirits sank: they were all from men. Not a single woman.

I realized the game was lost. I closed the email, forgot about it, and returned to my usual routine: work, gym, a quick wank, and bed.

***

About three weeks later, on a Saturday after coming back from the gym, I logged into that account just to empty it and check offers from brands I was interested in. And there it was.

An email from someone signing herself “Marina37.” The subject was a single word: “Me.” The body of the message was empty.

Me? Was it another man trying to take advantage of my obsession? Why hadn’t she written anything else? Too many questions were pounding around in my head, but of course I replied.

“Hi, Marina. I’m really glad to have received your email. When you say ‘me,’ do you mean that you would be the person willing to spend some good times with me? I’d love that. I hope to hear more about you.”

I sent it with zero hope that any of this was real. The reply reached my phone almost immediately.

“Hi, Adrián. I’m a married woman with the same tastes as you. If you agree, I need you to understand something: I can’t get involved in anything personal. I value my life too much to risk it, so we wouldn’t exchange a single word. I’m sending you a voice message so you can confirm that I’m a real woman and that I’m serious.”

There was a voice message underneath. I listened to it three times. It was, without any doubt, a woman’s voice: low, calm, self-assured. She introduced herself and made it perfectly clear how badly she wanted to eat a stranger’s ass until she made him come.

The email continued:

“The conditions are simple. I’ll go wherever you tell me. Without saying a word, you’ll get undressed and spread your legs so I can eat your ass, thrusting my tongue deep inside you until you come. The second condition is that you’ll finish on my face, but you won’t be allowed to touch me at any point. If you accept, send me a photo of yourself and a voice message so I can hear you. A kiss.”

It couldn’t be true. I read those lines over and over, looking for the catch. I couldn’t find one. I sent her a photo and recorded an awkward voice message, my voice trembling slightly.

And then, silence. Days passed without a single reply. I understood nothing, but the truth was that my obsession had shot up to a level I could no longer control.

***

A month and a half later, another email arrived. I remember perfectly that it was a Wednesday.

“Hi, Adrián. If you still want to do it, give me an address where I can be on Saturday at seven in the evening. A kiss.”

I didn’t know whether to trust her. I had spent weeks assuming it was impossible, and suddenly I had to make the decision on the spot. But desire outweighed common sense. I replied with my home address and phone number.

As soon as I hit send, I half regretted it. I deleted all the emails, both sent and received, as if erasing them could dilute the risk that the whole thing was a scam. They were the three slowest days of my life.

***

Saturday, 6:53 p.m. The intercom buzzed and my heart lurched. I opened the building entrance without asking who it was and ran to the window to watch her cross from the entrance to the development toward my building.

I couldn’t believe it. A woman in jeans, slightly plump, attractive, wearing a dark blazer, thick-framed glasses, and a serious expression that allowed no joking around. Was it really her?

I remembered her conditions. I simply undressed right there in the hallway, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor. My cock was already half-hard, pulsing against my thigh from sheer nerves. The intercom buzzed again and I opened the apartment door, leaving it ajar, just enough that it wouldn’t seem strange if a neighbor happened to walk by. Then I lay down on the bed, on my back, and waited with my legs barely parted and my heart pounding against my ribs.

I heard her come in. Firm footsteps through the living room. She appeared in the bedroom doorway, looked me up and down without the slightest hint of complicity, and went back out. I heard her set her handbag on the table and take off her blazer. When she returned, she was wearing only a thin blouse that revealed the suggestion of a black lace bra and outlined a pair of large, heavy tits that swayed with every step.

She approached the bed without saying anything, just as she had promised. She took the pillow and, with a sharp gesture of her hand, indicated that I should raise my hips so she could place it underneath me. I obeyed without thinking. I was in her hands, and we both knew it. She gripped my ankles firmly and spread my legs wide, leaving my ass raised and exposed, my asshole fully visible beneath the bedside lamp. I felt an equal stab of embarrassment and arousal.

She lay face down between my legs and brought her face closer. First I felt her warm breath traveling up the insides of my thighs, stopping right there without touching me. Then the tip of her tongue, one long, flat lick that came down from the base of my cock, passed over my balls, and continued downward, soaking the entire path with saliva all the way to my ass. She repeated the route three, four times, each time more slowly, while I pressed my fingers into the sheets.

When her tongue finally moved down to my hole, a moan escaped me. I felt her trace circles around it, tightening, relaxing, pressing the tip against my closed asshole. She spat without looking up and spread the saliva with her flat tongue, coating my entire ass. Then she pressed again, and this time her tongue went in.

It was a slow, wet, obscene push. I felt myself opening from the inside, felt that tongue sink in and withdraw with a rhythm that left no room for doubt: she knew exactly what she was doing. She thrust it in all the way, twisted it inside me, pulled it out, and licked the rim of my asshole before burying it again. My mouth was hanging open, panting at the ceiling, my cock harder than ever, bouncing against my belly with every thrust of her tongue.

At the same time, she raised one hand and wrapped her fingers around my shaft. She began to jerk me off slowly, very slowly, squeezing just enough, sliding my foreskin up and down with a patience that was driving me crazy. Every time her tongue sank into my ass, her fingers squeezed the tip of my cock a little harder, and I could feel precum building in my glans, sliding down into her hand.

She sped up. Her tongue was now moving in and out at a steady rhythm, her hand jerking me with more enthusiasm, spitting into her palm from time to time to leave my cock wet and slippery. I began moving my hips against her face, thrusting my ass against her mouth, seeking more tongue, more depth. She responded by pressing her face more firmly between my buttocks, eating my asshole as if she had been starving for that taste for months.

She didn’t say a word. She didn’t look at me. She just carried on, with a precision that drove me insane. I could hear the wet sound of her mouth working my ass, the smack of her hand moving up and down my slick cock, and my own ragged breathing above it all.

There was my fantasy, exactly as I had imagined it for months, and yet I hadn’t come close to anticipating how much I would enjoy it. I had a stranger eating my ass in my own bed, her tongue buried deep inside me, jerking me off in time with the movements of her mouth, without us having exchanged a single word.

For a moment she began sucking me. Without stopping the finger she now had inside the hole opened by her tongue, she took my cock all the way into her mouth. I felt the heat of her throat surrounding me, her lips tight around the base, her tongue curled around my glans. She sucked hungrily, moving her head up and down and making obscene noises, and every time she pulled my entire cock out, a string of saliva fell and stained her chin. Then she went back down to my ass, burying her tongue in me again while the finger, wet with saliva, moved in and out of me at an unhurried pace.

She alternated like that for what felt like an eternity: mouth on my cock, tongue in my ass, finger inside me, hand jerking me off. I couldn’t take any more. I could feel my load gathering at the base of my balls, rising up through my shaft, my entire body tensing. When I was about to come, I looked into her eyes for the first time. And found hers waiting for me, dark and bright, as if she had known beforehand what was going to happen.

She spat into her hand without taking her eyes off me, slowly pulled her finger out of my ass, raised herself a little, and began masturbating me again, this time much faster, pressing my cock against her face. I felt my glans slide against her cheek, the bridge of her glasses, her parted lips. She stuck out her tongue and licked the tip every two or three strokes of her hand, never breaking eye contact, wearing an expression of pure, restrained desire that finally pushed me over the edge.

The pleasure rose so quickly that a long, hoarse moan escaped me, almost animal-like. Just then she slowed down and let me finish gradually, squeezing my cock with her tightly clenched fingers. The first jet streaked across her forehead and tangled in her hair. The second landed squarely on her glasses, thick and white, sliding down the lenses. The third filled her upper lip and chin. She didn’t close her eyes. She didn’t turn her face away. She kept jerking me until the last drop, wringing the cum out of me moan by moan, covering her face as I don’t remember ever having done before.

She stayed like that for a second, my semen running down her cheeks and neck, breathing heavily through her nose. Then she let go of my cock, ran her tongue over her lip to collect what remained there, and slowly licked her lips, never taking her eyes off me, as if that were the signature she placed at the end of the contract.

Without a word, she stood up. I heard her wash in the bathroom, collect her things, and get dressed. Before leaving, she appeared in the bedroom one last time, held my gaze for a second, and said the only thing she uttered the entire afternoon:

—I’ll write to arrange the next day.

And she left.

I remained sprawled on the bed, the pillow still beneath my hips, my ass still throbbing from being thoroughly used, and my heart racing, wondering whether it had really happened or whether I had invented it after wanting it so badly. Three weeks earlier, I had been a bored guy repeating the same routine every day. Now I was waiting, with a mixture of fear and desire, for an email from a woman whose real name I didn’t even know.

And, God forgive me, I couldn’t wait for it to arrive.