I Met My First Daddy on an App

This happened about two weeks ago, and I still find it hard to believe that I’m saying it out loud. I was never the handsome one in the group, or the one who drew attention in class. I was always the one who sat at the back of the classroom so nobody would ask him anything, the one who made up excuses not to go to get-togethers, the one who stayed home reading on Saturday nights while everyone else went out for drinks. That’s me. Twenty-one years old, no kisses, no touching, no story to tell.

So imagine that I don’t have a partner either. And honestly, for a long time that didn’t bother me. I live alone in a small studio apartment my aunt left me when she moved to the coast, study graphic design remotely, and work from home editing catalogs for a print shop in the neighborhood. My life fit inside three screens and a cup of coffee.

Until one Thursday night, bored and horny, I started watching videos—you know the kind. I began with the usual stuff, the predictable things anyone watches. But the algorithm is treacherous. It suggested one featuring a guy more or less my age and a man who said on camera that he was forty-six. My first reaction was to skip it. My second was to leave my finger resting on the screen. My third was to watch the whole thing, twice, almost without breathing, with my hand down my pajama pants and my cock harder than it had been in a long time. The man spread the boy’s ass cheeks with his thumbs and licked his asshole before fucking him slowly, and I came in my hand watching the kid moan with his face crushed against the pillow.

Something lit up inside me that night. It wasn’t just lust. It was the concrete idea of a man like that, with big hands, a deep voice, the calm of someone who already knew exactly what he was doing, grabbing me. Taking me. Spreading my legs, pushing his cock all the way inside me, without my having to act or pretend I had experience. That fantasy clung to my chest for days. I jerked off to it twice a day, thinking about having a man on top of me setting the pace, his hard cock pushing into me from behind.

Try an app. It’s that or keep staring at screens.

Since my social skills began and ended with smiling at the baker, creating a profile on a dating app was the only option. I uploaded two photos, one in black and white and another of me with my back to the camera in front of a mural downtown, and wrote an honest bio: “Shy. Curious. Quick learner.” Done. Let the universe do its thing.

The first few days were disappointing. I got likes from guys my age, teenagers who had only just turned eighteen, and men who did nothing for me. I was looking for something specific, and nobody understood it. Five days passed like that. I was starting to think the app was always going to show me the same thing.

Until one Tuesday I woke up late, opened the app still in my underwear, and saw the message. It was from Mauricio, thirty-nine years old, an engineer, light eyes in the photo. No naked torsos or rehearsed poses. It only said:

—Hi. Want to grab a drink on Saturday? I know a quiet place in the old town where we can talk without shouting at each other.

I read it three times. I replied yes before thinking about it too much.

***

At six on Saturday evening, I got off the bus in the downtown square and stood frozen on the corner, hands in my pockets, pretending to look at my phone. I recognized him immediately. He was sitting on one of those wooden benches where tourists settle down, wearing a worn leather jacket, with a little gray in his hair at the temples. He was taller than he’d looked in the photo.

—Are you Tomás? —he asked, looking up.

—Yes —I said, and hated myself for the tremor in my voice.

—Come on. There’s a bar two blocks away.

We walked without touching. He spoke with the ease of someone who had already been on a thousand dates. He asked me about my degree, my family, the places where I’d grown up. I answered in monosyllables, nodded too much, laughed at things that weren’t that funny. At the bar he ordered two craft beers and a plate of fries with melted cheese. He let me do the talking.

After the bar, we walked through the street fair. He grabbed me by the elbow when I almost ran into a couple with a dog. He didn’t let go until half a block later. We went into a used bookstore and he stood looking at a book of poetry while I leafed through a collection of short stories. When we came out, he took me to an electronics store, where he bought a pair of wireless headphones that “someone’s going to need,” he said, and placed them in the palm of my hand.

—You didn’t have to —I began.

—I know I didn’t —he cut me off—. But you can thank me another way now, if you want.

He said it close to my ear without touching me. I felt heat rise up my neck, and my cock began swelling inside my underwear.

—I know a place three blocks away —I replied, and barely recognized my own voice.

I’d looked it up months earlier, just in case. El Sereno Motel was on a side street, with one discreet entrance for cars and another for people coming on foot. Mauricio paid for the room in cash without asking me for anything. We went up a staircase with burgundy carpet and the smell of pine disinfectant. Room fourteen. He locked the door from the inside.

***

I threw myself onto my back on the double bed, still wearing my jacket, staring at the white-painted ceiling. I was exhausted from my nerves and from spending the whole afternoon walking around with my body tense. He sat down beside me, took off my shoes one by one, and then leaned over me.

—Turn around —he said softly.

I turned around and rested my cheek against the bedspread. I felt his hands moving over my pants, barely touching me at first, then with more weight. He squeezed my ass cheeks with both hands, unhurried, as if he were measuring something. He pressed his thumbs into my ass crack through the fabric and slowly spread me open, and I closed my eyes and felt a moan escape me.

—You have such a sweet little ass —he murmured—. I’m going to eat it all up.

—Is this your first time? —he asked afterward, his voice already deeper.

—Yes.

—Don’t worry. We’ll take it slow. I’m going to put it all the way in, but I’ll do it right.

He turned me over again. He undid my belt with one hand without looking at me. He pulled my pants down to my knees and left me in my boxer briefs, my erection outlined against the fabric, a pre-cum stain darkening the cotton. He ran his thumb over it slowly, pressing the tip of my cock against the cloth. He didn’t pull it out. Not yet. He bent down and bit me through my underwear, and I felt his teeth close around the bulge and let out a pathetic moan.

—Easy —he laughed—. We haven’t done anything yet.

He straightened up and undressed first. He had the body of someone who went to the gym without being obsessed with it, with hair on his chest and a couple of old tattoos on his forearm. When he pulled down his boxer briefs, I was speechless. He was exactly what I’d been looking for on the screen for weeks. Thick, long, veins standing out, his purple head showing beneath the foreskin, already pulled back, and he held it level with my face with a calmness that finally made me burn. He gripped himself at the base and ran his glans over my lips, painting them with a thick drop of pre-cum.

—Do you want it?

I nodded. I opened my mouth and took it in. It was difficult at first; I gagged twice, my eyes filled with tears, and drool ran down my chin, but he gently placed a hand on the back of my neck, setting the pace. He let me pull away whenever I needed to breathe and guided me back again, pushing my head until the tip touched the back of my throat.

—That’s it, get it all with your tongue. Take it all the way back. Good boy.

Strings of saliva hung between my mouth and his cock every time he let me breathe. He put it back in, and I sucked it with my cheeks hollowed, feeling it swell even more between my lips. He pulled it out and gave me two or three gentle slaps on the cheek with his cock, then across my outstretched tongue, and put it back in.

—Down —he said after a while—. Suck my balls first.

I did as he said. I ran my tongue from the base to his balls and took one of them whole into my mouth. I spent a long while licking him there, sucking them one at a time, then both together, feeling his whole body tense, hearing a muffled moan escape him whenever I ran my tongue over a particular spot. I ran my tongue over his perineum, and he spread his legs and pressed my head against his balls.

—That’s it, eat them all up. You’re doing so well for your first time.

I liked having some control, even if it was an illusion. I went back up along his cock, licking it from base to tip like an ice cream cone, and sank my tongue into the little hole in his glans until he growled and yanked me away by my hair.

—Enough, you’re going to make me come too soon. Get on all fours —he ordered at last.

I climbed onto the bed and got into the position he’d asked for, head down and ass in the air. He pulled my boxer briefs down in one tug and fell silent for a moment, looking at me. Then he spread my ass cheeks with both hands, without gentleness, and I felt his hot tongue suddenly pass over my hole. I let out a shriek into the pillow. I hadn’t known it could feel like that.

He ate my ass for a long time. He licked me in circles, then pushed the tip of his tongue inside, coated me with saliva, pulled back, and blew cool air over my wet skin. He pushed one finger in to the knuckle and I jumped, but he left it there, still, until I relaxed, then began moving it slowly, searching for something. When he found it, a long, stupid moan escaped me and he laughed.

—There it is. That’s your prostate. Remember this finger, because my cock is about to do the same thing.

He inserted a second finger. Then a third. He opened and closed his fingers inside me like scissors, while his other hand stroked my back and squeezed the nape of my neck. My cock was dripping between my legs, hanging hard, and every time he touched my prostate, a thick drop of liquid fell onto the bedspread.

—Please —I said, barely recognizing my own voice.

—Please what?

—Put it in already.

I felt the cold lube on my lower back, running down my ass crack. He coated his cock well, rested it against my hole, and rubbed it over me several times without putting it in, until I began pushing my ass backward, searching for it.

—I see you can’t take it anymore —he said, a smile audible in his voice.

—Ask me again and I’ll beg you —I replied, surprised by how quickly I’d let go.

—Beg.

—Please.

—More.

—Please, put it in me. I can’t take it anymore. Break my ass, please.

He did it in a single thrust, without pausing. I felt his cock open me all the way, felt the burn rise up my back, and let out a moan that bounced off the bathroom wall. He stayed still for a moment, his balls pressed against my ass cheeks, letting me feel every inch inside me. Then he grabbed my hips with both hands and began moving with a rhythm I already knew by heart, hard on the way in, slow on the way out, then hard again.

—You’ve got such a tight ass, fuck. You’re milking my cock.

I clenched the bedspread between my fingers and tried not to think about anything. Every thrust shoved my face into the pillow. The bed squeaked at a steady rhythm, and the slaps of his pelvis against my ass could be heard all over the room. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, forcing me to arch my back, then began fucking me even harder, driving all the way in, pulling almost completely out before slamming back into me.

—Do you like me fucking you like this? Say it.

—Yes, yes, I love it.

—What do you love?

—I love you fucking me. I love you putting it all the way inside.

—You learn fast, you little bastard.

He made me change positions without pulling all the way out. He turned me onto my side, with one leg over his shoulder, and kept thrusting from another angle that made me see stars. Then he laid me on my back, folded my legs against my chest, and entered me again, looking me in the eyes as he drove into me. My cock was hard against my stomach, shining with pre-cum, and he grabbed it and began jerking me off in time with his thrusts.

—Look at me while I fuck you —he said—. I want to see your face when I put it deep inside you.

We stayed like that for I don’t know how long. Ten minutes, twenty—I couldn’t say. He pulled out only to spit on my ass, watch his cock go back in, and start again. At one point he stopped, leaned over my sweaty body, and whispered that he wanted to come in my mouth. He turned me over again, made me kneel on the floor beside the bed, and stood in front of me, his red, swollen cock pointing at my face.

—Stick out your tongue. Open your mouth wide.

He worked himself with his hand, fast, keeping his other hand on the back of my neck to hold me still. I licked his balls whenever he brought his glans close. At last he let out a long growl, and I felt the first jet land warm on my tongue, then another on my cheek, and another on my chin. Thick, salty, much more than I’d expected. It ran down my chin, my neck, my chest. I swallowed almost all of it, and what remained outside I gathered with my fingers and put back into my mouth while he watched me.

—Good boy —he murmured, running his thumb over my lower lip—. Now finish yourself off.

I grabbed my cock, and it took four strokes. I came in jets over the motel carpet, my mouth still full of his semen and my legs shaking so badly I nearly fell to my knees.

***

Afterward we got into the shower together. The bathroom had old yellow tiles, and the water pressure was a blessing. He ran his hands over my back while the water poured over us, soaped my ass with an almost affectionate calm, and pushed two fingers inside me again to “clean me out,” he said, and I leaned against the tiles and let him do it. He kissed me once on the temple, almost tenderly, and once on the mouth, now with more calm than desire, using his tongue, holding my face in both hands.

We got out. We dried ourselves. We dressed without saying much. He handed me a clean towel, looked at his watch, and said:

—My car’s around the corner. Want me to take you home?

I accepted. He drove calmly, one hand on the gearshift and the other on the wheel. At the traffic light on the avenue, he rested his palm on my thigh without squeezing, simply leaving it there, moving it up little by little until it brushed the bulge over my pants. We didn’t say anything until we reached my block.

—Whenever you want to see me again, text me —he said before I opened the door—. It’s not a favor. I mean it.

—Tomorrow —I answered without thinking.

He laughed. Not at me. With me.

—Tomorrow, then. And come with your ass nice and clean, because I’m going to put it in you the moment you walk through the door.

I got out with my legs still weak. I watched him drive away in the reflection of the entrance mirror. I climbed the three flights with my keys in my hand and the new headphones in my pocket, feeling my ass open and sore with every step, and I liked it. When I got to the apartment, I sat on the bed still fully dressed, grabbed my phone, and sent him a message confirming the next day. He replied in under a minute with the address of an apartment on the other side of the city.

So I’m going tomorrow. I’ve had my backpack ready since last night. I don’t know whether this will turn into something more or remain a couple of encounters and nothing else. Honestly, today I don’t care that much. For the first time in twenty-one years, I feel like something is happening to me, like I have a story to tell even if I don’t tell it to anyone. I pass the time in silence, listening to music through the headphones and getting hard again thinking about what’s waiting for me.

Wish me luck.