The Movie Theater Man Recognized Me in the Bathroom

Three weeks had passed since Carolina had left me and I was still wandering around the house like a ghost. I had no appetite, no sleep, nothing in my head that wasn’t her. My roommate told me one morning, while he was making coffee, that if I kept going like that, he was going to end up moving out for the sake of his mental health. I guess he was right.

That same afternoon I decided to go out. I didn’t have a specific plan, I just needed a dark place where I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. The cinema on the avenue was premiering a horror movie nobody was exactly dying to see, so it was the perfect bet: a half-empty theater, two hours of enforced silence, and an excuse not to think.

I bought the ticket, a huge bag of popcorn I wasn’t going to eat, and went into the theater. I counted seven people scattered among the seats, as if they were deliberately avoiding one another. I sat in the back, put my feet up on the seat in front of me, and let the screen hypnotize me.

I held out for about forty minutes. Between the bad lighting and the beer I’d had before going in, the urge to piss made me get up. I slipped out into the aisle silently so I wouldn’t bother the others and walked to the bathrooms at the back.

I was washing my hands when I heard him.

“Good evening, young man.”

The voice came from behind me and the hair on my skin stood up for reasons I didn’t quite understand. I looked up at the mirror and then I recognized him. He was the same man who, months earlier, had surprised Carolina and me in the parking lot of a park on a night when we thought we were completely alone. He had appeared out of nowhere, looked at us with a smile that was far too long, and kept walking without saying a word.

Now he was there, drying his hands two meters from me, looking at me as if he’d known me all his life.

“Hi,” I said without thinking.

“You remember me,” he replied, and it wasn’t a question.

“Yes, I remember.”

I forced myself to hold his gaze. He was a man of about forty-seven, taller than me, with very little hair on the crown of his head and a belly that showed beneath his shirt. But there was a presence about him that didn’t quite match his body: he spoke slowly, with that confidence that comes with age when someone has stopped asking the questions people my age ask.

“And the girl?” he asked, leaning on the sink beside him. “The one from that night.”

“We’re not together anymore. We broke up a few weeks ago.”

He smiled. It was a brief smile, almost imperceptible, but it lit up his eyes.

“Damn. I’m sorry.” He paused. “Though the way she looked at you that night, it didn’t seem like it was going to last long.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I dried my hands. I made as if to leave toward the door.

“You’re very young,” he said then, without moving away from the sink. “You’re going to find someone who wants to fill that pretty ass of yours. There are more cocks than stars, trust me.”

He said it with a joking tone, but also with something else, something that made me freeze in the bathroom threshold. I laughed, a nervous laugh, too short.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said.

I was going to turn my back on him when he turned toward me and started unfastening his belt. He did it slowly, as if giving me time to leave if I wanted. As if he wanted me to see every step of the process. The buckle clinked against the sink. He pulled down the zipper with two fingers, opened his pants, and slipped his hand inside his briefs with calculated slowness.

“Don’t you want a taste, boy?”

I stayed rooted where I was. I watched him take it out right there, in front of the mirror, thick and already half hard, with the foreskin pulled back and the purple head glistening under the bathroom’s white light. The tank of one of the toilets cut off abruptly and left the question hanging in the air. He moved his hand over his cock in a slow fist, sliding up to the tip and back down to the root, and with his other hand he fondled his balls over the fabric. He was getting fully hard while looking at me, not hiding even a tenth of a second of the hunger in him.

“Come on, just a little kiss,” he said in a low voice, and took a step toward me.

Just a little kiss.

I took too long to answer. Time stretched in a strange way. My head said I had to leave, that this was ridiculous, that we were in a public bathroom and someone could walk in at any moment. My body said something else. No one had touched me in weeks and that man, with his belly and his age and the direct way he put it, had undone me in thirty seconds.

“Wait,” I said, and I locked the main bathroom door.

I went back to him. I crouched in front of the sink, knees against the cold tiles, and had his cock at eye level. I asked for a condom with my gaze and he pulled one from his wallet with the smile of a man who had already come prepared. His cock was thick, about sixteen centimeters, shorter than mine but twice as wide, with a swollen vein running along the top and heavy balls hanging beneath the base. I tore the wrapper with my teeth, took out the condom, and rolled it carefully down the full length, pinching the base with two fingers so it would fit snugly.

Then I took it into my mouth.

I was surprised by how easy it was. I had never done anything like that with Carolina, and the only time I had tried with a guy my age it had been clumsy, two kids not knowing what to do with their hands. With him it was different. He stayed still, leaning on the sink, letting me set the pace. I started at the tip, sucking only the head, wrapping my lips around it and playing with my tongue around the crown. Then I went lower, little by little, until I felt it hit the back of my palate. I gagged a little, pulled my face away, breathed through my nose, and took it back in, this time slower, pacing myself.

“Fuck, boy,” he murmured. “Fuck, what a mouth you’ve got.”

I grabbed the base with my hand and started sucking him at a steady rhythm, bobbing my head up and down while my fist worked what I couldn’t fit in. With my other hand I went for his balls and squeezed them gently, weighing them, feeling how they tightened against his body. He let out short, contained sighs, his hips barely pushing forward so as not to force me. When I looked up at him from below, with his cock halfway down my throat, his mouth was open and his eyes half-lidded, and in that face there was no trace left of the older man from the cinema: there was only a guy who had gone far too long without getting a blowjob like that.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m gonna come, kid, I’m gonna come now.”

I sped up, pressed my lips against the latex and let him pump my mouth with short thrusts. He came with a short groan, gripping the edge of the sink, and I felt the condom filling hot against my tongue while his cock pulsed between my lips.

He pulled his face away, apologized with an embarrassed laugh, and told me it had been too long since anyone had done it that way for him. I stood up, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and told him not to worry, that sometimes that happened. The truth was I was a little disappointed. I had expected more.

And then, while I was opening the tap to rinse myself off, I saw in the mirror that he was getting hard again.

He noticed it too. He looked down at himself, laughed at his own body, and then looked at me.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said. “If you want.”

***

We went to the back of the bathroom, to the last stall, the one with the tallest door and the full lock. He went in first, then me. The space was narrow, we could barely both fit. I pulled my pants down to my knees, took my briefs down too, and felt the cold bathroom air on my ass. I braced both hands against the back wall and spread my feet a little. He took off the used condom, threw it in the toilet, flushed, and pulled a new one from his pocket. I heard the crackle of the wrapper behind me and then the sound of latex unrolling over the cock that was hard again.

“Open a little wider,” he murmured.

I did as he said. I spread my feet as far as my pants tangled around my ankles would allow. He put one hand on my neck, pushed my torso slightly forward so I would arch my back, and pulled my ass cheeks apart with his thumbs. I felt his saliva drop right in the center, thick and hot, and then two fingers that spread it around the entrance in slow circles. One of those fingers sank in, first to the first knuckle, then to the knuckle, and started moving inside me, opening me little by little. When he put in the second finger, I arched my back on instinct and held back a moan by clenching my teeth.

“Easy, boy,” he said against my ear. “I’ll let it go now.”

I honestly thought it would be quick. That he would give me two or three thrusts and come again like a kid. It wasn’t like that.

The second he pushed into me, I knew I was dealing with someone who knew what he was doing. He pressed in first with just the head, letting the ring yield at its own pace, and waited there, holding himself back, until he felt me pushing my ass back, asking for the rest. Then he went all the way in with a single long, firm motion, and filled me in a way I had never felt before. It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t clumsy. He started slowly, with short thrusts, almost exploratory, looking for the angle. He grabbed my hips with both hands and I felt him adjust my posture by a couple of degrees without saying a single word. When he found what he was looking for, I felt it. I really felt it. A sharp blow somewhere deep inside that made me let out a groan I hadn’t expected.

“There,” he said in my ear, without bragging. “That’s the spot.”

And from there he never stopped.

Every thrust hit the same spot. Every time I thought he was going to pull away, he came back in with the same surgical precision. I pressed my hands against the wall and tried not to make noise, but something slipped out between my teeth with every movement. He started fucking me harder, faster, his hips slapping against my ass with a wet smack that echoed off the tiles. His belly hit the base of my back with every thrust, and I felt all of his cock coming almost all the way out and sinking back in to the hilt, until his balls were slapping against my perineum.

“Squeeze that ass, kid,” he growled. “Squeeze it tight.”

I squeezed. I clenched everything I could around the cock that was opening me from the inside and drew a long, broken gasp out of him. He answered with an even deeper thrust, grabbing my shoulder with one hand and my hip with the other to pin me against his cock. My own cock was jerking hard between my body and the wall, leaking a stream of precome against the tiles with no one touching it.

I hadn’t felt anything like that in weeks. I had spent weeks feeling dead inside, and that man, with his belly pressed against my back and his short breath on my nape, was shoving me back into my body.

“Good boy,” he murmured. “Good boy. Take cock, take all the cock.”

His voice in my ear was almost worse than the rest. He gripped my shoulder, held my waist, set the rhythm like someone who had been doing it for years. He lifted one hand off my hip, slid it forward, and grabbed my cock. He started jerking me off at the same rhythm he was fucking me: long stroke upward matching the withdrawal, squeeze on the head matching each thrust. I pressed my forehead against my arm, swallowing my moans, feeling the orgasm building up from my legs to my belly. I had slept with younger people, prettier people, people with gym bodies. None of them had fucked me like this. None of them had bothered.

“Come for me,” he whispered. “Come without letting go of my cock, boy, I want to feel it.”

I felt the orgasm coming almost without realizing it was there. I felt it rise from below, slow, dense, unlike any I could remember. I clenched my ass around his cock with all my strength and let out a hoarse moan against the wall while I came in his hand and against the tiles, stream after stream, my whole body contracting at once. He felt it. He felt me clamping down on him, pulsing around him, and he lost it. He squeezed his fingers into my hips, sped up until the thrusts turned short and desperate, and a few seconds later he came too, buried to the hilt, with a rough groan against my nape. I felt his cock throbbing inside me, felt the condom fill hot between his walls and mine.

We stayed like that for a moment, not moving, with him still inside and his chest rising and falling against my back, until both our breathing returned to something close to normal. He pulled out slowly, holding the base of the condom so it wouldn’t slip off inside me, and I felt the hot emptiness he left behind as he withdrew.

“Holy shit,” he said, laughing softly while he tied off the latex. “If it weren’t for the condom, I would’ve left a liter in you.”

I couldn’t help laughing too. I pulled up my briefs, feeling my ass throbbing, pulled up my pants, straightened my shirt as best I could, and unlocked the stall door with the same composed face I was going to wear back in the theater when I returned to my seat, as if I had only gone to take a long piss.

***

We came out to the bathroom mirror. He washed his hands calmly, as if nothing had happened. I looked at my face and saw someone I hadn’t seen in weeks: someone with color in his cheeks. That made me more embarrassed than anything else.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Mateo.”

“I’m Gustavo.” He dried his hands, stepped closer to the mirror, and combed the four strands of hair he had left. “Do you have a phone, Mateo?”

I gave him my number. He saved his in my contacts with his own phone so I wouldn’t confuse the contact.

“I want to see you again,” he said. “Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He looked at me through the mirror, without turning around. “Next time I’m going to fuck you without a condom. I want to feel you for real. I want to come inside that ass of yours and watch it come out.”

I stayed quiet for a moment. He waited.

“Bring me test results,” I said. “Tests done. If they’re clean, we’ll talk.”

He smiled. This time it was a broad smile, satisfied, almost paternal.

“Deal.”

He gave me a short pat on the shoulder and left the bathroom before I did, as if he were just another spectator going back to his movie. I stayed in front of the mirror for another minute, trying to understand what had just happened.

When I went back into the theater, the end credits were about to begin. I sat in my seat, picked up the untouched bag of popcorn, and took it with me on the way out. I had no idea how the movie ended. I didn’t care.

That night, back in bed, I looked at the contact on my phone. Gustavo cinema, I had saved him as. I kept my finger on the name and wondered exactly at what point I had let myself be seduced by a man more than twenty years older than me whom I had only seen twice in my life.

I had no answer. I only knew I was going to reply when he texted me. And that, for the first time in three weeks, I hadn’t thought about Carolina even once since I’d walked into that cinema.