The Man from the App Who Made Me Lose Control

I had turned twenty-three barely two weeks earlier when I decided to open that app. My first serious relationship, the only one really, had ended six months before. Mateo had gone to Berlin to do a master’s degree, and distance, schedules, and exhaustion ended up wearing us down until one day we simply stopped writing to each other.

What I missed most was not affection or Sunday dinners. It was sex. With Mateo we never stopped. We met up almost every afternoon and always ended up tangled together, sweaty, laughing between orgasms. I learned my body with him, and he learned how to touch it by heart. When he left, my fingers in the dark were no longer enough.

It took me a while to make up my mind. The idea of meeting a stranger felt lazy and a little embarrassing. But after the umpteenth half-finished orgasm in my own bed, I opened the app, uploaded two discreet photos, and started swiping.

Daniel appeared among the first profiles. He was thirty-nine, had sober photos, a smile that didn’t try too hard, and a short description with no double meanings. I liked him without thinking, and a few minutes later he did the same. We started talking that same night.

—I don’t have time for anything serious, and from what I can see neither do you —he wrote two hours later.

—Then we’re looking for the same thing —I replied.

Daniel worked rotating shifts at a hospital. I was in my final year of university, and my afternoons were a mess of placements and final papers. Finding a gap to see each other was complicated, so for almost three weeks we limited ourselves to talking.

“Talking” soon became an understatement. A few days later he sent me a voice note describing what he would do to me if I were in front of him. I listened to it three times before answering. I sent him a photo in lingerie, then a short video, and little by little our nights disappeared into exchanging fantasies while I touched myself with my free hand and he, according to him, did the same on the other side of the city.

When we finally both had a free Friday, I couldn’t think of anything else. I had spent the whole week imagining that moment. On Friday morning I shaved everything, put on lotion, and took a nap so I’d arrive wide awake. Around nine I started getting dressed.

I chose a black lace thong I had barely worn, a short faux-leather skirt, a tight T-shirt, and high boots that came up above my knees. As I looked at myself in the wardrobe mirror, I laughed to myself. You look more like a maid than a student, I thought. And honestly, that night I didn’t want to look like anything else.

By the time I called Daniel’s building intercom, my thong was already wet. The anticipation had stayed with me in the taxi, at every traffic light, in the elevator. When he opened the door and looked me up and down without saying a word, I felt a shiver at the nape of my neck.

—Come in —he said, not moving from the doorway.

I had to brush against him to get inside. He smelled of clean cologne and something like my father’s shaving soap. He closed the door behind me and, before I could say anything, gently shoved me against the hallway wall.

—I’ve been thinking about this for three weeks —he murmured near my ear.

—Me too.

He kissed me as if he wanted to eat me. It wasn’t a tentative or polite kiss. His hand went up to my neck and closed around it, not violently, but firmly enough for me to understand the message. I felt the weight of his body against mine, his hard-on pressed against my hip over the fabric of my trousers.

Without letting go of my neck, he led me to the living room sofa. I sat down hard; he stayed standing in front of me. I didn’t need him to tell me what to do. I knelt on the rug and pulled down his tracksuit bottoms just enough to free him. He was hard, thick, much bigger than his photos had suggested.

I ran my tongue all over the base, slowly, looking him in the eyes. Then I kissed the head, sucked him, and took him all the way into my mouth. I choked a little on the first thrust, and he took advantage of it to tangle his hand in my hair and set the rhythm.

—Like that, don’t stop —he panted.

I obeyed until tears slipped from my eyes and saliva dripped down my chin. Only then did he pull my hair to make me let go and hauled me up by the arm.

—Come.

He stripped me as he walked me down the hallway. The T-shirt fell near the sofa, the skirt at the bedroom door, the bra at the foot of the bed. He left me only the thong and pushed me until I was lying down with my legs hanging over the lower edge of the mattress.

He knelt in front of me. He kissed my knees, my thighs, the insides of my legs. When he reached my crotch, instead of taking off my thong, he ran his tongue over the lace. I arched my back and a deep moan escaped me. He laughed, never stopping torturing me with his tongue through the fabric.

—Please —I said, not recognizing my own voice.

—Please what?

—Take it off.

He slid it aside with two fingers and licked me directly. His fingers went in at the same time, one first, then two, while he sucked my clit with a relentless steadiness that was going to undo me. I pulled his hair, locked my legs around his head, begged him not to stop. And he didn’t stop. When I came, I did it with a scream that must have been heard all the way out in the stairwell.

***

He didn’t let me breathe. Before I could even open my eyes, he had already gotten up and was opening the bedside table drawer. He took out a bottle of lube, two vibrators —a small bullet one and a larger one— and a clitoral massager. He lined them up on the sheet like a surgeon before an operation.

—I haven’t even started with you yet —he said.

He switched on the massager and pressed it to my clit. I was still too sensitive and jolted. He used that moment to position himself between my legs and push in with one thrust. He filled me so completely I had to bite my hand to keep from shouting. He began to fuck me at first with a slow rhythm, measuring me, and little by little he increased the toy’s intensity against me.

He handed me the massager so I could hold it myself and freed both his hands. One closed around my neck again. He squeezed just enough for air to become difficult, but not enough to scare me. His eyes never left mine for a second. I moaned through the little room the pressure left me, and between thrusts I felt the orgasm gathering somewhere deep inside, in a place even Mateo had never found.

Suddenly he stopped. He took the massager from my hand, pulled out of me and, before I could complain, turned me over and positioned me on all fours in the middle of the bed.

—Don’t move.

I felt the lube spill into the crease between my buttocks. Then the tip of the small vibrator pressing its way in. It was narrow and I got used to it quickly. When he switched it on, the vibration made me arch my back. Daniel entered me again while the toy was still inside my ass and started fucking me hard, gripping my hair with one hand and landing a couple of sharp smacks on my right cheek with the other.

—For me alone tonight —he said through clenched teeth.

I couldn’t answer. My face was pressed into the sheets and I could only scream. The combination of the vibrator, his thrusts, and the spanks brought me to an orgasm I felt all over my body, down to my toes. My muscles were trembling when I collapsed onto the bed.

***

I thought that was the end of it. I was wrong. Daniel picked up the bottle of lube again. He took out the small vibrator and, before I could react, I felt his cock brush my back entrance. I let out a broken moan.

—Yes or no? —he asked. It was the first time all night he had asked for permission.

—Yes.

He pushed the tip in slowly. I had gotten used to doing it that way with Mateo, and my body accepted him without much resistance, though the burn left me breathless for a few seconds. When he was all the way inside, he waited. Only then did he start moving, slowly at first, finding a new rhythm.

He took the large vibrator and put it inside my cunt. The feeling of being filled on both sides at once was something I had never experienced. Every thrust of his pushed the toy against my most sensitive spot. I held myself up as best I could on one arm, my forehead pressed to the pillow.

—Hold the massager —he ordered, and put it in my free hand.

I placed it over my clit. Three vibrations at once. My head stopped thinking. I could feel myself falling apart from the inside, every nerve ending surrendering. Daniel kept moving, leaving red marks on me with his open palm, saying things in my ear that would have bothered me at another time and that night made me come before I could warn him.

The orgasm was unlike any of the others. It was like falling from somewhere high up. I clenched with my whole body and let out a stream of fluid that soaked the entire sheet. Daniel chuckled softly, thrust three or four more times, and came inside me with a rough growl.

We both lay collapsed on the wet mattress. He stroked my back in slow circles. I couldn’t speak. It wasn’t necessary.

When I managed to get to my feet, my legs were trembling as if I’d run ten kilometers. Daniel took me to the shower and washed me himself, with a patience that didn’t seem like that of the same man who half an hour earlier had marked my ass with his hands. I let him, leaning against the tiles, eyes closed.

***

I went back to his place two more times over the course of that month. Both were similar to the first, though neither reached the same intensity. The third time, while I was getting dressed to leave, he told me his shift had been changed and that from the following week on it would be very hard to make schedules line up.

—I understand —I answered, buttoning my skirt.

And I really did understand. That first night had been the best of my sex life up to that point, and even today I haven’t been able to surpass it. With Mateo, who came back to the city soon after and with whom I took up something like a relationship again for a few months, I never got to that place. Not with the guys who came after either. Daniel was a specific crack in the floor of my life, and sometimes, when I’m alone, I still lean over it to look inside.