The College Boy Who Waited for Me in an Empty Apartment

I arrived in Valencia on a Thursday in October for a sports nutrition conference. The whole day was talks, booths, and bad thermos coffee, but the night—that night—was mine alone. As soon as the last lecture ended, I locked myself in the hotel room, showered, and opened the app without thinking twice.

My profile was straightforward. A photo of my tattooed torso, my braids falling over one shoulder, and a three-line description that left no room for doubt: “Norse, thirty, five-ten, one-sixty-five. Just passing through for one night. Looking for a young guy who’s into taking charge.”

It took less than five minutes to go off.

His name was Hugo. Twenty-one. A Sports Science student, flatshare near the center, face-less photo but with a defined abdomen that didn’t look edited. He talked little and well, which is exactly what gets me going.

“Are you just passing through?” he wrote.

“One night only,” I replied.

“My roommates are out until three. I’ve got the place to myself. Come now.”

He sent me the location before I could answer. That confidence, from a kid who doesn’t even consider that you might say no, turned me on more than any photo could.

“Twenty minutes,” I wrote, and I was already putting on my shoes.

***

The entrance was old, with worn tile and a timer light that went out halfway up the stairs. I climbed up behind him, two floors, breathing in his fresh cologne and something else: that smell of anticipation the skin gives off when someone knows exactly what they’re going to do to you. Hugo hadn’t come down to open the front door out of politeness. He wanted to watch me come up.

He opened the third-floor door with the key already in his hand. Dark hallway, only a faint red light spilling from the back room. It smelled like a young guy, like deodorant and unwashed sheets, and that cocktail undid me.

I didn’t have time to say a word. As soon as he shut the door, he shoved me against the hall wall with both hands, grabbed my braids at the nape of my neck, and kissed me like he’d been thinking about it for weeks. Deep tongue, teeth clashing, his breath coming hard against my mouth. I, who was nearly ten years older and had a few gym-built kilos on him, melted against the cold plaster like it was my first time.

I felt his erection hard as a bar against my stomach through his shorts. This kid is going to eat me alive and all I want is for him to do it, I thought.

“Take that off,” he said against my neck, and before I could react he’d already yanked my shirt off in one pull.

He threw it onto the hallway floor without looking where it landed. His eyes drifted slowly down my torso, over the tattoos that cross my chest, over my pecs and the stomach that tightened on its own from nerves. He let out a very soft “fuck,” almost to himself, and bit my neck like an animal. I could feel the mark settling in there from the first second.

“Is this what you wanted?” I asked, my voice already broken.

“Shut up and get on your knees.”

***

I pulled down his basketball shorts in one tug. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His cock sprang free, straight and thick, the head already glossy, his heavy shaved balls hanging low. A twenty-one-year-old shouldn’t be able to drop a thirty-year-old man to his knees just by showing it, but the tiled floor was already cold against my legs and I didn’t remember lowering myself.

I looked up, opened my mouth, and took him all the way in at once. I felt the head hit the back of my throat, the balls against my chin, his clean scent filling my nose. Hugo threw his head back and let out a deep groan that didn’t match his baby face.

He grabbed both my braids like handles and started using my mouth to his rhythm, without mercy. Every thrust to the hilt, never pulling all the way out. Saliva streamed down my chin, my chest, and onto the floor. I did nothing except breathe when he let me and endure when he didn’t.

“What a mouth you’ve got…” he murmured, sounding like someone who still couldn’t quite believe what was happening. “No one’s ever sucked me off like this. Take all of it.”

I’m his toy and I love being it, I thought as tears mixed with saliva. Use me until I can’t take any more.

He kept me like that for a good while, him standing, me on my knees, my back against the hallway wall and the red light cutting out his silhouette from the back. Until suddenly he hauled me up by my belt and dragged me into the bedroom.

***

The bed was unmade. Rumpled sheets, a small speaker playing reggaeton softly, a Messi poster half peeled off the wall, and that red LED lamp tinting everything like a movie set. He threw me flat on my back onto the mattress and slid between my legs, prying them open in a V without asking permission.

He spat at my entrance, once, twice, three times, never taking his eyes off mine. He pushed two fingers straight in, twisted them, found the exact spot, and pressed. My back arched hard, I shoved my hips against his hand, and a moan slipped out of me that could be heard all over the flat.

“Easy,” he said, almost smiling. “I haven’t even started yet.”

He slicked his cock with his own saliva, set the head against my hole, and looked at me hard.

“Breathe, Norse. Because I’m about to open you up.”

And he pushed. Slowly at first, the first few inches, savoring the way I opened for him. He stopped the moment it started to burn, waited for me to adjust, and then, when I pushed toward him looking for more, he gave the final shove and sank all the way in at once.

We went still. Ten eternal seconds, him on top, me underneath, both of us trembling. I could feel every vein in his cock throbbing inside me, his balls pressed against my ass, all his young weight crushing me into the mattress. I had never felt so full, or so completely at someone’s mercy.

He started moving. Slow, deep, almost cruel. He’d pull nearly all the way out and drive back in to the hilt, hitting places I didn’t even know existed. I moaned his name without control, clutching the sheets, my braids stuck to my face with sweat.

“Say it,” he panted, never stopping his thrusts. “Say you like it.”

“I like it,” I gasped, without a trace of shame. “Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

***

And then the apartment’s front door slammed open.

Four voices, laughter, the smell of fast food and cheap beer drifting down the hallway. His roommates had come back two hours earlier than he’d promised. Hugo froze inside me, all the way in, not moving a single millimeter. I opened my eyes wide and held my breath.

“Hugo?” someone shouted from the entryway. “You home, man?”

He covered my mouth with his hand, slowly, looking me in the eyes with a calm that made me even hornier than I already was. He didn’t pull out. On the contrary: very slowly, with not a single sound, he started moving inside me again while on the other side of that door his three roommates were unloading bags and arguing about where to watch the match.

I’ve been caught. I’m getting fucked like some random in a twenty-one-year-old student’s flat and I have never in my life been this hard, I thought, with Hugo’s hand muffling my moans.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he answered aloud, calm, without stopping his thrusts into me. “Busy with something. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Alright, champ. There are beers in the fridge.”

The absurdity of the conversation, how normal everything sounded on the other side while he was splitting me open in silence, brought me to the edge without even being touched. Hugo noticed. He moved his hand from my mouth to my throat, not squeezing, just enough to remind me who was in charge, and sped up as much as he could without making the bed creak.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered in my ear. “If they hear you, I still won’t stop.”

That sentence finished me. I came without him having touched my cock all night, biting down on the back of my hand so I wouldn’t scream, feeling myself clench around him in waves. He held on for a couple more thrusts, dug his nails into my hip, and emptied himself inside me with a rough groan he muffled against my neck just as the living room TV came on with the noise of an ad.

***

We stayed like that for a while, catching our breath in the red dimness, reggaeton still playing softly and his friends’ voices in the background as if nothing had happened. Hugo slid out of me slowly, collapsed beside me on the narrow mattress, and looked at me with a half smile of a kid who knows exactly what he’s just done.

“You’re going to have to wait until they lock themselves in their rooms to come out,” he said, amused. “Or wait until I start again.”

I checked the time on my phone. There was still plenty of time before dawn, my flight didn’t leave until afternoon, and that kid was already resting his hand on my thigh again.

“I’m in no rush,” I replied.

And that, I swear to you, was only the beginning of the night.