The Daddy in the Mercedes Who Picked Me Up in the Pine Grove

That story began the way all the ones truly worth telling begin: without planning it. It was an ordinary May afternoon, the kind when the sun warms without burning and you don’t quite know what to do with the dead hours. I was sprawled on the sofa, with the blinds half lowered and my phone in my hand, scrolling through profiles without much hope.

And then his message popped up.

He was a married man from Villanueva del Arzobispo, like so many others. One of those men who spend half their lives doing what’s expected and the other half looking for what nobody at home gives them. In his case, as he made clear after just two messages, what he was looking for was a good blowjob. An obedient mouth that would make him lose his mind and empty the balls of a mature man properly, as God intended.

—Where are you? —he wrote—. I’m traveling, around Quintanar. Do you know anywhere?

It had been months since I’d eaten a good cock. Months with a dry mouth and a throat begging for hot meat. And from the way he wrote, it was obvious the guy was serious, that he wasn’t one of those who drag things out and then lose his nerve. So I didn’t think twice.

—I know a place —I replied—. Discreet. Give me ten minutes.

I opened the map and started looking for somewhere that would work for us. I needed someplace out of the way, safe, far from prying eyes. Then I remembered an old nightclub I used to go to when I was young, one called El Faro that had closed ages ago, and a medium-sized pine grove right next to it. A perfect place for cruising, the kind only those in the know know about.

Without giving it another thought, I grabbed my car keys and headed there. I was already hard inside my jeans, imagining the stranger’s cock and how heavy it would feel on my tongue.

***

I arrived first and took the opportunity to check out the area. I’m cautious; the years teach you to be if you want to keep enjoying these things without any nasty surprises.

To the right, there was a covered paddle-tennis court where a few people, young and not so young, were whacking the ball around amid shouts and laughter. They were far enough away not to worry me. What made me a little nervous were the people walking through the pine grove, with or without dogs, because it was just the sort of day that brought the walking fanatics out of their Netflix-and-football caves. The kind who take a twenty-minute stroll and then guzzle beers at the bar while claiming they lead a healthy life.

Even so, the place had plenty of hidden corners. I parked nose-first against the trees, in a clearing accessible only by a dirt track, and sent him my exact location.

He didn’t take long. Five minutes later, I saw a gleaming white Mercedes GLC enter along the track, the kind of car bought by men who have worked hard and want everyone to notice.

He parked a couple of spaces from mine, calmly, without hurrying. And when he got out, I understood everything.

He was tall and well built. White hair, a neatly trimmed white beard, a checked shirt rolled up to the elbows, and a watch with some real weight to it. A textbook daddy. The kind whose coworkers call him “sir” and save him a seat. The kind who can take charge of a meeting simply by lowering his voice. And the kind who, surely, had a thick, heavy cock waiting beneath those pleated trousers.

Fuck, I’m lucky today.

He played it cool for a while, as the rules required. He took out his phone, pretended to check something, and looked over the pine grove as if making sure the coast was clear. Then, little by little, he came closer to my car.

I lowered the window.

—Get in, if you want —I offered, patting the passenger seat.

He shook his head and gave me half a smile.

—This is better, isn’t it? —he said, resting his elbow on the roof of the car and looking down at me—. You sitting there, with that little mouth of yours at just the right height.

And he was right. Standing beside the open door, with him dominating the scene and me sitting down, it had a different edge. Rawer. More direct. More like what neither of us had come looking for. His fly was exactly level with my face, and I was already licking my lips without being able to hide it.

***

I was more than ready to start. Far too ready. I’d spent the whole drive imagining him, and reality far exceeded anything I’d fantasized about.

I reached out and touched the bulge through his trousers. I felt it properly, squeezing it, getting to know its whole shape through the fabric. I could feel his thick, sagging balls, and above them a cock that was already visibly hefty even at half mast. My mouth watered.

—That’s some package you’ve got there, daddy —I murmured, squeezing him again—. It’s begging to come out.

—Then get it out, boy. That’s why I brought it.

I slowly lowered his zipper, savoring the little metallic sound of the teeth opening, and slipped my hand inside his underwear. I drew him out carefully, his thick, hairy balls first, then his cock, which emerged with weight, falling forward like a warm clapper.

He was hot. Hot and only half hard, but that was a matter of minutes and desire, and I had plenty of both. He was thick and well formed, the head still partly covered by a thick foreskin belonging to a mature male. I smelled his balls first, burying my nose in the hot crease between his thigh and groin, and filled myself with his scent: car sweat, expensive cologne, and a man in his fifties with loaded balls.

I opened my mouth and took him all the way in.

I’ve always loved that exact moment. The first one. When you feel it pass between your lips, brush your tongue for the first time, still warm, still not completely hard. It’s like opening something without knowing how it’s going to turn out.

I sucked him slowly, skillfully, without gagging and without rushing. I ran my tongue along the underside of his glans, searching for the frenulum, and felt him shudder as soon as I touched it. I drew back his foreskin with my lips, slowly, leaving the head bare inside my mouth, and gave the whole tip one long lick. He tasted salty, with that transparent drop that appears when the blood starts flowing.

I worked him with my tongue, moving up and down and helping myself with one hand at the base. I spat a thick glob over him and spread it with my fist, up and down, while continuing to suck the tip with my lips tight around it. And he responded, growing, hardening inside my mouth until I could barely fit him. His cock rose fully, stiff as a post, veins standing out and the swollen, purple head shining with my saliva.

—My God, you suck it so well, boy —he murmured, his voice strained—. What a wonder. What a mouth you’ve got, you little bastard.

He wasn’t the first to say it. Everyone who has passed through my mouth has ended up saying the same thing: that I suck like the best, that they never expected anything like it. And on top of that, I swallow. Where are you going to find anything better than that?

I grabbed his thighs through his trousers to feel them tense. I slipped my other hand through his open fly and caught his balls, warm and heavy, rolling them in my palm and gently tugging at the skin. He put one hand on the back of my neck. Not to force me, but to set the pace, to guide me. That firm hand belonging to a man accustomed to having things done his way.

—That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Take it all. Swallow it right down.

And I obeyed. I opened my throat wider, loosened my jaw, and lowered myself until my nose bumped against his zipper and his white hairs tickled my chin. I stayed there for a few seconds, feeling him pulse deep in my throat, swallowing around his cock so he would shudder. When I couldn’t hold it any longer, I rose slowly, leaving a thick strand of drool hanging from my mouth to the tip of his cock.

***

And then, as always happens when things start getting good, people showed up.

A family. Father, mother, and a small boy running a few yards ahead of them. They were coming through the pine grove, still far away but getting closer.

I let go of his cock abruptly, and he tucked it away with professional skill, like someone who had been doing it all his life. I sat up straight and pretended to look for something in the glove compartment, my mouth still full of drool and the taste of cock. My heart was racing, half from the scare and half from the heat being cut off at the knees. The daddy’s cock was still tattooed across my tongue, hard and throbbing, and I could barely think about anything else.

Luckily, the family didn’t come as far as we were. They stopped to play with some cats that seemed to live among the pines, a couple of skinny little kitties who let the boy pet them. They stayed for a while, then turned back the way they had come.

I wondered whether the father had seen the older man leaning against my car and imagined what was happening. And if so, whether he too was one of those men who understood these things, one of those who might one day come to a pine grove under the pretense of stretching his legs.

Meanwhile, the paddle players carried on, oblivious to everything. I thought about what would happen if one of them sent the ball flying toward our side and came to retrieve it. I thought about how fine the line was between a turn-on and a serious mess. And I decided I’d rather not think and focus on what mattered: finishing what I had started and milking that bastard’s load out of his balls.

—Shall we continue? —I asked, looking up at him with my lips still shining.

—You bet —he replied, opening the car door again and lowering his fly without a trace of modesty—. You’ve left me ready to burst, son.

***

I pulled him out again, and this time I didn’t bother with delicacy. He was hard again before I had time to get a proper grip on him, standing up, red, his head swollen and a thick drop of pre-cum hanging from the tip. I licked it off in one stroke, savoring that salty preview, and swallowed him whole in a single movement.

I needed him, and he needed me. I took him all the way down again and again, letting him brush my throat, swallowing him completely until my eyes watered, then coming back up for air. I made filthy noises around him, saliva gurgling together with the wet slap of flesh, and he responded by pressing the back of my head harder against his groin.

—Swallow it, fuck, swallow it all —he whispered through clenched teeth—. Don’t hold back. That’s what it’s for.

I began working him with my hand and mouth at the same time, a fist twisting at the base while my lips worked his entire head, squeezing hard and sucking eagerly. Every so often I went down to his balls, took them into my mouth one at a time, rolled them with my tongue, coating them completely in saliva while continuing to jerk his cock with both hands. He braced both hands against the roof of the car, head bowed, watching as his cock disappeared between my lips and emerged again.

—You’re such a filthy bastard. So filthy. That’s it, with the balls too.

I did as he said. I ran my tongue underneath him, searching for his perineum, pressing there with the pad of my thumb while I kept sucking his cock. He melted. I could feel it in the trembling of his legs, the way he clenched his teeth to keep quiet, in the restrained moans that slipped out between them.

—Keep going, sweetheart, keep going —he pleaded softly—. You’re getting a reward. This is all for you. The whole thing, down to the last drop.

And he certainly gave me my reward.

I felt his balls tighten, felt them draw up against his body, felt his cock grow even harder just before it happened—that unmistakable sign that there was no turning back. His cock thickened inside my mouth, pulsed twice against my tongue, and he let out a muffled growl.

—Here it comes, here it comes, swallow it…

I increased the pace without letting go, without stopping my tongue, and then I felt the first hot jet at the back of my mouth. It came out forcefully, thick, striking my palate, followed by another, and another, and yet another. He filled my mouth with hot semen, so much that I struggled to swallow it as quickly as it came. I felt the pulses of his cock against my lips, each throb releasing another thick glob inside me.

I didn’t pull away. Quite the opposite. I swallowed everything, down to the last drop, savoring the texture, the thick, salty taste of the load from a greedy daddy who knew God only how long had been holding it in. I fed on him slowly, luxuriating in it, squeezing his cock with my lips from top to bottom to milk out every last pearl he had left inside. A little white drop escaped at the corner of his mouth, and I collected it with my finger and sucked it off in front of him, looking him in the eye.

—You son of a bitch… —he muttered, with a tired smile—. What a beast.

I let out a long sigh. He dropped his head back, still panting, his cock continuing to throb in the air, now soft and shining with my saliva and the traces of milk I hadn’t managed to catch.

Yes. I got my reward. And a very generous one.

I gave him one last lick so I wouldn’t leave anything behind, cleaned his head with my lips, kissed the tip like I was saying goodbye to a good friend, and let him go carefully. He pulled up his zipper with hands that were still trembling slightly.

—Worth it, wasn’t it? —I said, licking my lips without hiding it, the taste still clinging to my palate.

—Oh, you bet —he replied, letting out a hoarse laugh—. Worth every bit of it.

***

He stayed leaning against the car for a moment, catching his breath and looking at me with the mixture of gratitude and mischief only mature men possess. There were no more words. They weren’t needed. In encounters like these, anything unrelated to what had just happened is superfluous.

—Maybe we’ll do it again another day —he said at last—. When I’m back in the area. And maybe next time I’ll fuck you in the ass, if you let me.

—I’ll be here —I replied, smiling—. And I’ll have my ass ready, daddy.

He got into his white Mercedes, started it with the discreet purr of an expensive car, and drove off along the dirt track, kicking up a little dust. I watched him disappear in the rearview mirror until the pine grove swallowed him.

I stayed a while longer, the taste still in my mouth and a foolish, satisfied smile on my face. I could still taste the salty residue of his milk stuck at the back of my throat, and I licked it up greedily several times before starting the car. Then I turned on the engine and headed home, to my town, twenty minutes away.

I live in an area where finding a good cruising encounter isn’t easy at all. You have to look for it, be patient, know the places and the people. But precisely because of that, when you manage it, when an encounter like that afternoon’s comes together, it tastes twice as good.

I parked in front of my house, looked at myself in the mirror, fixed my hair a little, and wiped the corner of my mouth in case any incriminating trace remained. And as I climbed the stairs, I thought that daddy from the Mercedes would come back. I knew it. Men like that always come back.

And I, for my part, fully intend to be waiting for him. With my mouth open and my ass ready.

To be continued.