My Lunch Break Getaway with a Stranger

I woke up with a hard-on that a shower wasn’t going to fix. The alarm said seven-thirty, and before I even got out of bed I already had the app open in one hand and my cock hard over my briefs in the other.

I’d gone three weeks without getting laid. Work at the consulting firm ate up my afternoons, weekends turned into endless family meals, and the few times I managed to line something up it all came to nothing: the guy didn’t show, didn’t have a place, lied about the photo. That morning I decided it was going to be different.

While I shaved, I checked my pending messages. Three guys had written to me in the middle of the night with that anxious three-thirty-a.m. tone. None of them did it for me. I closed the app, drank my coffee standing up in the kitchen, and headed off to the office.

I got to the building around nine. I said hi to Marina at reception and went up to the sixth floor. My desk was in a corner, out of my boss’s line of sight, and that gave me the confidence to open the app again as soon as I turned on my computer.

I started scrolling the grid with not much faith. Faces, torsos, faceless profiles, generic descriptions. Ten minutes later, a new message came in.

—Hi, cute profile. Looking for something today?

The guy was probably around thirty, dark hair, a skinny body, a shy little smile in the main photo that I liked right away. I told him yes, that I was in the mood.

—I want to suck cock —he wrote bluntly—. And I have a place.

That line, written so directly, turned me on more than any photo. I answered that I could after six, when I got out of work. We agreed to keep talking.

Twenty minutes passed with no reply. I got distracted by a report I had to hand in Friday, and when I looked at my phone again I’d almost forgotten about it. But he was still online. I sent him another message.

—Still there?

—Yeah, sorry. Got a shirtless pic?

I sent him one I’d taken a month earlier in the bathroom mirror. Then I asked him for one of himself, ass if possible. Two arrived. One from the front, one from below, showing the curve of his ass resting on the bed. His skin was white, his hole pink, his cheeks firm. I felt my cock start to stiffen under the desk.

—I’m lending it to you now —he wrote—. If you leave it for later, I’ll lose the urge.

I looked at the time. There were twenty minutes left until noon. I had a meeting at three, but before that the time was mine. I thought of a thousand possible excuses. In the end I stood up, grabbed the jacket off the back of my chair, and told my assistant I had an urgent errand, that I’d be back in an hour and a half.

—Relax, Bruno —Damián said from the cubicle next to mine—. I’ve got you covered.

These guys already know everything, I thought, heading down the stairs.

I left the building walking fast. The guy lived in Palermo, twelve blocks away. I wrote him from the sidewalk to confirm the address and asked if he had condoms. He said no, that I should stop by a kiosk.

I went into the first one I found. I asked for a box of lubricated ones, paid without looking the clerk in the eye, and came out with my pocket bulging. I quickened my pace. The blocks felt endless. I’d had a half-hard cock since morning and now it was starting to get uncomfortable in my pants.

***

When I rang the buzzer, he told me seventh C. I went up in the elevator with my breathing a little fast. I looked at myself in the back mirror, fixed my hair, straightened my shirt collar. The apartment door was ajar.

—Come in —I heard from inside.

I pushed the door open with the tip of my shoe. It smelled like freshly brewed coffee and something sweet, like citrus perfume. The apartment was small, tidy, with two windows facing an inner courtyard. I found him in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. He was wearing black boxers and nothing else.

He was better-looking in person. Shorter than he’d seemed in the photos, with his hair still wet from the shower and a shadow of stubble defining his jaw. He smiled at me over the glass.

—Want something to drink? —he asked.

—No, thanks. I’m good.

I walked over to him and put a hand on his waist. His skin was warm, almost hot. I kissed him. At first it was a cautious kiss, my tongue barely peeking out, lips half-open. Then he started pushing against mine with more hunger. I bit his lower lip. He let out a short moan that went straight to my pants.

—Come with me —he said, taking my hand.

We walked into the bedroom. The bed was unmade, the white sheets still rumpled from sleep. He took my jacket off, unbuttoned my shirt patiently, without hurrying, as if we had the whole afternoon. I let him do it. When he pulled my pants down and saw my cock pressing against the fabric of my briefs, he bit his lip again.

—You want it —I said.

—I’ve wanted to suck it for a week.

He knelt in front of me. He pulled my briefs down with his teeth, not using his hands, looking up at me from below. When he felt me in his mouth, I closed my eyes for a second. He had that rare thing guys have when they really know how to suck cock: it felt like all his attention was locked right there. He didn’t rush. He took my cock all the way in until he felt it in his throat, held it there for a moment looking at me, then pulled back, spat on the head, and swallowed it again.

I grabbed his head with both hands, not to force him but to feel his rhythm. His hair was soft between my fingers. He started touching himself while he sucked me. That turned me on even more.

—Come here —I said, and lifted him up by the arms.

I threw him onto the bed and yanked his boxers off. He was hard, not as big as mine, but nicely shaped, his balls firm against his thighs. I got on him backwards, in the classic sixty-nine position, and put my cock in his mouth at the same time as I spread his cheeks and ran my tongue over his opening.

I heard him moan around my cock. He was loud, which I liked. There are guys who hold back, who try to act tough. Not him. Every time I touched his hole with the tip of my tongue, he let out a long sigh against my dick, and the vibration went all the way to my balls.

I started easing a finger into him. Just the first knuckle, without forcing it. He sucked me faster, almost choking on every thrust. I pushed my finger deeper. My saliva mixed with his sweat made it go in easily.

—Get on all fours —I asked.

He got into position without arguing. He planted his hands on the bed’s wooden headboard and arched his back. He spread his legs a little. Pushed his ass back. I saw him like that, offering himself, his hole shiny with spit, and I almost came just looking at him.

I took a condom out of the box, tore it open with my teeth, and rolled it on slowly. I grabbed the bottle of gel from the nightstand and poured a generous squirt into my hand. I slicked up my cock and ran my lubed finger over his entrance to get him ready.

—Slow at first —he asked, looking at me over his shoulder.

—Slow.

***

I pressed the head against his hole and pushed gently. I felt the resistance and eased off. Pushed again. This time he gave a little. I grabbed his hips with both hands and moved forward centimeter by centimeter, attentive to his breathing.

—All of it? —I asked when I already had half of it in.

—All of it.

I shoved the rest in with one thrust. He let out a long groan, then a sigh of relief. I stayed still for a while, letting him adjust. I could feel the heat inside, the muscles tightening around the base of my cock.

—Move —he said after a few seconds.

I started slowly, with long thrusts, almost pulling out all the way before sinking back in. I fucked him like that for a good while, watching him arch every time I hit a good spot. Then I asked him to turn over. I lifted one leg over my shoulder and entered him from the side. In that position my cock went all the way in, right to the base. I heard him moan louder, without holding back.

—I like it better like this —he panted—. Like this.

I fucked him in that position until I felt I was about to come. I had to stop and take a deep breath. I asked him to suck me for a bit, to bring the intensity down.

He sat on the bed, took the condom off me carefully, and took me into his mouth. He started jerking himself while he sucked me. I slid a finger between his cheeks and he moaned again around my cock. We stayed like that a long time, him sucking and touching himself, me fingering him slowly, feeling the entrance loosen up.

—I want to feel you without the condom —he said at one point, pulling his mouth away from my dick—. Just the head. A little bit.

I thought for a second. Looked him in the eyes. Then I told him yes.

He got back on all fours on the bed. I rubbed the head against his entrance, teasing him, not pushing in. The area was very hot, giving off heat. I pushed gently and only the tip went in. It felt different, without the condom in between: warm, tight, alive.

—Keep going? —I asked quietly.

—A little more.

I pulled out, pushed back in, two centimeters, no more. The fourth or fifth time I pushed deeper, halfway with one thrust. He gave a short, surprised cry. I pulled out right away. His hole stayed open for a second, still stretched from the pressure.

—Mmm, now, now —I said.

He turned around without saying a word. He took my cock with both hands and shoved it all the way into his mouth, right to the back. I told him I was going to come inside him and he nodded, still not taking his mouth off. I grabbed the back of his neck and started thrusting at the rhythm I needed. Three, four, five times, and I exploded in his throat. He swallowed everything. He didn’t let a single drop out.

Afterward he kept me in his mouth a little longer, sucking gently until he felt me soften. Only then did he let me go. He sat up and lay down beside me on the bed, with a tired little smile and his breathing still ragged.

—I liked feeling you without the condom —he said softly.

—Me too.

***

He offered me the bathroom to clean up. It was small, white, neat like the rest of the apartment. I washed my face and my cock, fixed my hair in the mirror. My cheeks were still flushed. I got dressed in the bedroom while he smoked a cigarette lying back on the bed, the ashtray resting on his chest.

—Are you coming back? —he asked when I reached the door.

—If you behave.

I went down in the elevator checking the time on my phone. It was barely ten to two. I had time to stop at a bakery before the meeting, pretend I’d gone to run an errand, and get back to the office with a sandwich, a coffee, and a believable smile.

I walked the twelve blocks back with my legs still weak. The afternoon sun hit my face. Work doesn’t seem so heavy when I’ve got something like this waiting for me in the middle of the day, I thought.

Back at the office, Damián looked at me like he was in on the secret when I returned. He didn’t ask anything. I showed him the sandwich, gave a vague gesture of tiredness, and sat down at my computer.

I opened the report I’d left half-finished. The letters swam a little. I could still taste his kiss in my mouth and smell the citrus perfume clinging to my shirt collar. I smiled without meaning to.

That week, no question, I was going back.