The Former Priest Who Came Back to Look for Me

It had been exactly a week since three men had taken turns using me in the bathrooms at Aqua shopping center, and I was still hanging around the area, though this time for a different purpose: I needed clothes. It was late on Friday, and the stores were closing one by one. I had lingered longer than I should have, and now I was waiting in the checkout line with a couple of folded shirts under my arm.

—Hi.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and found myself facing a man who seemed familiar without my being quite sure why. He was smiling calmly, unhurried.

—Hi —I replied, trying to place him.

—We ran into each other here last week. We both had a pretty good time, didn’t we?

It took me a second. Then it all clicked: he was the last of the three, the one who had shown up when I was already exhausted and had still left me speechless. The one with the huge cock. The one who made me piss myself with pleasure before it was all over.

—Sure, sure —I said, noticing my eyes instinctively settling on his crotch—. I was distracted by other things that day.

—I don’t think we ever introduced ourselves. I’m Rodrigo.

He held out his hand. I shook it.

—Marcos.

At our previous encounter I hadn’t paid much attention to any of the three. I was somewhere else entirely, ass burning and head blank after all three of them had come inside me. Rodrigo and one of the others had invited me for a drink, but I barely remembered the conversation. One drink, four words, and each of us home.

Now, with good light and time to look at him, Rodrigo was an attractive man. Sixty-something, maybe older —I would later learn he was seventy-three—, completely white hair, neatly cut, eyes a peculiarly light green, clean-shaven. He wore that understated elegance of men who have never needed to make an effort to look elegant. He was a little shorter than I was, but notably fit for his age.

—Feel like having a drink before they close? —he suggested.

—Sure. This time it’s on me.

***

We went up to the mall terrace and ordered beers. Rodrigo spoke naturally about his life: he lived barely a hundred meters from there, in an apartment building facing the park. Just from the area I figured he had money to spare; that neighborhood was one of the most expensive in the city.

—And what do you do for a living? —I asked.

He smiled with a hint of irony.

—These days I live off my investments. But until I was fifty, I was a priest.

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not.

—Seriously —he said, amused by my expression.

—The vocation lasted as long as it lasted. When I took off the cassock, I went to work as a manager for an elderly widow with no children. I kept her company for twenty years. When she died, she left me everything.

—That’s... quite a story.

—My brother hasn’t properly spoken to me in years. He talks to me because his daughter and I get along, but the relationship is cold. He was expecting a different part of the will. —He made a vague gesture with his hand, brushing the topic away—. Shall we go to my place? I can make something if you’re hungry.

He held my gaze without hurry. We both knew what was going to happen at his place, and neither of us pretended otherwise.

—Let’s go —I said.

***

The apartment was large and furnished with taste. Dark furniture, real books on the shelves, paintings on the walls that weren’t cheap chain-store prints. He showed me into the living room.

—Vodka? Wine? —he offered, opening a cabinet. He stopped and smiled—. Actually, I don’t even know what I have in here.

—It doesn’t matter —I said—. We’ve had enough to drink already. Sit next to me here.

He sat down. I took the initiative: I moved in and kissed him on the mouth, slowly, running the tip of my tongue over his lips until he opened them. I slipped my tongue inside, found his, and while we kissed I began undoing the buttons of his shirt.

Underneath, I found a torso covered in thick white hair, broad pink nipples. I pulled my mouth away from his to bite his neck, then down over his collarbone, until I reached a nipple. I caught it between my teeth and pressed gently.

—Jesus —he murmured.

I kept going lower. I unbuckled his belt and opened his fly. I pulled down his pants and underwear in one motion, and there it was: that cock I hadn’t been able to get out of my head all week. Big, thick, already half-erect. His heavy balls hung between his thighs.

—My God —I said under my breath.

I took it in my hand and felt the heat, the slow throbbing that quickened as it grew. I lifted it and took his balls into my mouth, tasted them, played with them with my tongue. Rodrigo held his breath.

With my hand I pulled the skin back, exposing the glans. I ran my tongue along the shaft from the base to the frenulum, circled the rim of the head, slipped the tip of my tongue into the slit while my fingers kept massaging his testicles.

—Marcos —he said, his voice rough.

I opened my mouth and engulfed the glans. I worked my tongue underneath it and started sucking while he rested his hands on my head, without forcing, just guiding. When he pushed a little, I managed to swallow nearly half that monster before I had to open my jaw as wide as it would go.

—What a mouth you have —he murmured.

I started moving back and forth, in rhythm, using my hand as a stop too. Saliva gathered thickly, and the wet sound of the blowjob filled the silent living room.

—Come —he said suddenly—. Let’s both take a shower.

***

The bathroom was enormous. Separate shower stall, heated floor, thick towels stacked on a shelf. Rodrigo turned on the water and, while we waited for it to warm up, began taking my clothes off. He did it calmly, kissing me while he stripped me naked.

—You’re very handsome, Marcos.

We stepped under the stream together. He gently pushed me against the glass wall. Steam gathered and hot water ran down my back while his hands roamed over my body. He kissed me hard, grabbing my ass, pressing me against him. Our cocks brushed and his was already rock-hard.

I pushed him to switch places. I went down his neck, over his chest, until I had that cock in front of my face again. I took it in my mouth in the shower, water running down the back of my neck, and started sucking it hungrily. Rodrigo braced one hand against the wall and bent his knees slightly.

—That’s it, that’s it —he said softly.

I felt his thighs trembling. I sped up, using my tongue on every pass, and then he warned me:

—I’m about to come. Right now.

I pulled almost all of his cock out of my mouth, leaving just the tip between my lips, and took the first spurt. I swallowed it. I let the rest splash across my face while the shower water washed it away almost before it could touch my skin.

—Fuck, boy —he said, breathless.

He lifted me up and kissed me again on the mouth. He took a sponge, squeezed on some gel, and began washing me slowly: chest, belly, cock, balls, legs. He did it attentively, without haste, as if he had all the time in the world.

—Turn around.

He positioned me with my hands on the wall and my feet apart. He began soaping my back, moved down over my kidneys, reached my ass cheeks. He spread them with his hands and washed between them thoroughly. Then, without warning, I felt his tongue.

—Ah, Rodrigo.

He pushed it into my hole, pulled it out, pushed it in again. He bit, sucked, pried me open with the tip. I clenched my fists against the glass and writhed helplessly. The water kept falling, hot, and I didn’t want it to end.

—God, that feels so good —I managed to say.

He stood up and began tracing circles over my asshole with a finger, pressing without going all the way in, until he slipped it in slowly. Then a second finger. Then a third, using the gel that was still left.

—Your ass —he murmured—. What a beautiful thing.

—Give me your cock already —I begged—. Please.

—Not yet, boy. Not yet.

***

We dried off in the bedroom. Rodrigo took the towel and dried me himself, unhurried, kissing me on the neck, the shoulders, the lips. Then he pointed to the bed: huge, with a dark wood headboard and crisp white sheets pulled tight.

I wondered what the young seminarian from forty years ago would have thought of himself if he could have seen this.

—Face down. Spread your legs.

I lay down as he asked, resting my knees on the mattress to lift my ass a little, and Rodrigo positioned himself between my legs. He opened my cheeks again with his hands and his tongue found my asshole once more, going deeper than in the shower, making me moan with my face buried in the pillow.

—Give me the cock —I pleaded—. Rodrigo, now. Give it to me.

He opened the drawer of the nightstand and took out a bottle of lube. I felt the cold gel at my hole. Then a finger going in and circling. Then two. Then three. Every time he added one, I let out my breath in a sharp hiss and clenched the sheets in my fists.

—Yes, Rodrigo, yes. Give me more.

He withdrew his fingers. I felt the tip of his cock against my entrance, pressing slowly, carefully. When the head forced its way past the sphincter, the pain hit fast, like an electric shock from my ass all the way to the nape of my neck. I bit into the pillow.

—Ow. Wait a second.

He stayed completely still.

—Breathe —he said.

I breathed. The burning slowly eased. My body began to accept that invasion, and when I felt the muscle relax, he pushed again.

—Oh God. How it goes in. How it opens me.

I felt him advancing centimeter by centimeter, filling me completely, until his hips touched my ass. He was buried all the way in. I was sweating already. Pleasure and pain mixed together in a way I couldn’t have explained to anyone who hadn’t experienced it.

—That’s how I like it —Rodrigo said, his voice dark—. No hurry.

He grabbed my hips and pulled until I was properly on all fours. He withdrew almost all the way, slowly, and drove himself back in in one stroke, all the way to the hilt.

—Oh, Father —I blurted, remembering what he had told me—. This can’t be a sin.

Rodrigo gave a low laugh.

—If only you knew how much I love sin.

He started moving. First slowly, letting me get used to the size. Then faster, with a rhythm that made me let out an involuntary moan with each thrust. I buried my head between my arms and let him fuck me, feeling everything: the thickness of that cock opening me, the heat of his body over mine, the creak of the bed.

—Yes, Rodrigo, yes. Like that. Don’t stop.

—You’re very good, Marcos.

—Faster. Please, faster.

He obeyed. The thrusts grew harder, faster. I could barely keep my balance on my knees. The orgasm hit from deep inside, from somewhere that wasn’t exactly physical, and when it exploded it left me shaking from head to toe: my cock unloading onto the sheets without anyone touching it, my ass clenched around Rodrigo’s dick, which at that moment drove itself to the hilt and stayed there while I felt it throbbing inside me.

—Fuck —was all I could say.

—Don’t blaspheme, sinner —he murmured, his breath torn to pieces.

He pulled his cock out slowly. I rolled onto my back as best I could, exhausted. My sphincter was burning and I touched it with my fingers to make sure it was still there: swollen and open, with his semen slowly leaking out.

—You wrecked me —I said.

He didn’t answer. When I looked at him, his eyes were closed.

I lay there staring at the ceiling. The burning gradually subsided. The warmth of Rodrigo’s body beside me felt nice, almost protective. I thought about getting up, finding the clothes we’d left scattered around the living room, calling a taxi to go back home.

I didn’t move.

I fell asleep listening to his breathing, with the taste of the night still in my mouth and his semen cooling between my legs.