The Young Driver Who Offered Me More Than a Ride

This story happened to me a few months ago; it took me a while to write it because I wanted to tell it with all the details, with no shortcuts or embellishments.

Although it was a one-time thing, almost accidental, it’s worth putting down in writing. I met Iván, a twenty-five-year-old guy who drove for a ridesharing app in my city. My car was in the shop and I had to book a ride from the office to my home. In the profile photo there was a light-skinned guy, light brown hair, and a look that promised conversation.

When I got into the car I introduced myself and, as we moved through traffic, we started talking about what each of us did. I told him I worked in an insurance brokerage, that my days consisted of visiting companies and explaining why they needed coverages almost no one wants to think about. He told me he worked for a construction company, that the pay wasn’t bad, but he’d gotten divorced very young and had a four-year-old daughter. Child support forced him to drive in his spare time to make ends meet. He lived with his current partner, a girl he didn’t want to talk much about.

—Do you travel for work often? —he asked.

—Quite a bit. In fact, tomorrow I’m going to Monterrey for training. They’re giving me an award for this quarter’s sales.

—Sounds good. I don’t have any insurance, you know? I’ve never seen the point.

—Then you’re my ideal client —I told him, and we both laughed.

We arrived at my place and, before getting out, he made me a simple offer.

—Mateo, if you want, I can take you to the airport tomorrow. I’ll charge less than the app with its surge pricing, and we’ll take it easy.

I thanked him. I didn’t have anyone to take me anyway, so we agreed on a time. I saved his number with the note “Iván, driver.”

***

I’m thirty-two, single, and live alone. I consider myself good-looking, average height, and fit without obsessing over the gym. Iván, from what I could tell from the front passenger seat, was tall, well built, with that kind of physique of someone who works out without showing off. He wore an Atlético de Madrid cap, a dark blue T-shirt, and athletic pants that didn’t reveal too much. Before leaving, he promised to be on time.

The next morning, however, he was late. He called to apologize for the traffic. When he finally arrived, I saw he had put on shorts and dark sports sandals. After the airport he was going to a game with friends; it was Saturday, his day off.

—Sorry about the outfit —he said, laughing—, I didn’t have time to change.

—Relax, no problem.

During the ride we picked up the conversation again. He asked me how much my job paid, what it took to get into insurance, whether they required a degree or experience. We talked about his daughter, the divorce, how much the child support weighed on him. I couldn’t help looking at the hard thighs showing beneath the shorts, and for a second my eyes drifted to the bulge settling between his legs every time he pressed the clutch. He noticed, held my gaze for a moment, and kept going as if nothing had happened. Before dropping me at the terminal, he offered to pick me up on Wednesday, the day I came back.

—Just tell me the time and flight number. I’ll give you the same price as today.

—Deal.

***

That night, after dinner with colleagues in Monterrey and a couple of drinks too many, I got curious and texted him. I was in the hotel room, wide awake, and thought to ask him the price for Wednesday’s service. I imagine my message was ambiguous, because he replied with something I hadn’t expected.

—Which service are you talking about? I offer several.

I read the sentence twice. I could let it go, I could play dumb, I could change the subject. But I had two whiskies in me and an empty hotel bed, with my cock already half hard against the sheet. I took the chance.

—Send me the list, let’s see.

It took him a couple of minutes to answer. When he did, he got straight to the point.

—For you I’d make an exception and offer you the full package. I’ll also pick you up at the airport.

I still couldn’t quite believe it. Was he really telling me what I suspected? I decided to go along with it.

—I want the full package. How much?

—Price to be agreed. Satisfaction guaranteed. I should warn you I’ve got a thick one, and when I fuck, I fuck until I empty myself inside.

I laughed to myself in the dark room while I slid my hand into my boxer briefs and took myself in hand all the way. Then another photo came: him on a soccer field with his friends, beer in hand, all of them sweaty after the match. I asked him to introduce them to me, half-joking.

—Which one do you like?

I pointed to the tallest one. Iván replied with something I hadn’t expected.

—And not me?

—You have a girlfriend.

—That’s not a problem. I know how to separate work and private life. And with my girlfriend I don’t do half the things I’m going to do to you.

That’s where we stopped. I didn’t want to go any further that night because, besides, I’d made plans to have one last drink with a guy I’d met at the hotel bar. But the conversation kept turning over in my head the whole trip, and I jerked off thinking about his cock before going to sleep.

***

On Wednesday, when I came out of baggage claim, I found him leaning against his car. He was wearing the same cap and a white T-shirt that clung to his shoulders. I got into the passenger seat and he smiled at me.

—Ready?

—Ready —I played along, still not sure how far this was going to go.

The ride home was strangely calm. We talked about work, about the training, about a restaurant he knew near my neighborhood. When he pulled up in front of my door, he asked to use the bathroom before leaving. I agreed without a second thought.

As we went up to the apartment, I noticed something outlined beneath the black athletic pants he had put on at some point during the trip. He had gone without underwear, I realized then. His cock could be seen hanging against his left thigh, thick even at rest, moving with every step. He came out of the bathroom, walked over to me, and asked with a calm that undid me.

—Here?

—Wherever you want —I answered, stunned that I was saying that.

He put a hand on my chest and, with the other, brought mine to his crotch. I felt the bulge half-grown, warm beneath the fabric, and noticed it thickening under my fingers. I yanked down his pants and his cock sprang out, hanging heavy, with the foreskin half pulled back and a drop of precum already beading at the tip. I dropped to my knees in the hallway without thinking. I wasn’t afraid or embarrassed, just fiercely wanting to have it in my mouth and think of nothing else for an hour.

—Easy, slowly —he murmured—. And sorry if it still tastes like piss, I’ve been driving all day.

That was the last thing on my mind. I took it all the way in, as far as my throat would allow, and tasted that dense, salty flavor of a man trapped for hours in a car. I licked the head, sucked it slowly, my tongue gliding from bottom to top, and then I took it deep until my eyes watered. He took me by the back of the neck and started setting the pace. I felt him get fully hard inside my mouth, the thick vein on the underside throbbing against my tongue, the balls, heavy and shaved, bumping my chin every time he pushed.

—You suck so well, fucker —he gasped—. It shows you like cock.

I licked his balls too, one by one, salivated them, and swallowed his cock again. I kept going for a couple more minutes, my jaw already aching, until he stepped back, his cock shining with my spit.

—Stand up. Do you want the full package, or just for me to finish in your mouth?

—Whatever you prefer.

—The one who pays gets to call the shots.

—Then the full package. I want you to fuck me.

—That’s what I wanted to hear.

***

We went up to my room. I asked for a minute to brush my teeth and wash my face. When I came out, he was already lying on my bed, naked, with the TV on some sports channel, his hard cock resting against his navel and one hand lazily stroking it. It was as if he’d been coming into that room for years. A shiver ran down my back. I was nervous, yes, but also more turned on than I could remember being in a long time.

I got back into bed and picked up where I’d left off. His cock was pale-skinned, with the foreskin barely retracted, easy to uncover completely. He had groomed the hair, perfectly neat, as if he knew he’d be using it that afternoon. He asked me to put on a movie on the TV, something straight, something whatever; I obeyed without arguing and went back to my work. I sucked his cock slowly, pausing at the frenulum, while he put on porn showing a blonde getting fucked by two guys at once. Iván watched the screen and stroked my head, murmuring things.

—Take it all, like that, all the way down. Look at me when you suck it.

I obeyed. I lifted my eyes and swallowed the whole cock while he watched me with his mouth slightly open. Then he made me turn around and put my ass in his face. I felt his hot tongue part my cheeks, licking, spitting, pressing the tip against my hole until it gave. He ate my ass for long minutes, with a dedication I wouldn’t have expected from a guy charging for the service. He slipped in one finger, then two, circling them, opening me slowly.

—You’re so tight. I’m going to have to open you up properly.

When he felt ready, he took a condom out of his backpack and put it on using his teeth. He smeared lube on his cock and on me, working his fingers in up to the knuckles. I, my voice a little broken from embarrassment and heat, asked him to prep me even more, that I was going to need time.

—I’ll go at your pace —he said as he settled in behind me—, but when I start, I’m serious. When I put it in up to the balls, you’ll know why I charge more than the app.

I didn’t answer. I felt the head of his cock press against my entrance, push a little, pull back, push again. He entered slowly, with a patience I hadn’t expected, gaining a centimeter and waiting for me to adjust before taking the next. His cock had a thick shaft and a thin head, a proportion that at first drew a long moan from me when the shaft finally forced its way through the ring. I didn’t want to complain too much; I didn’t want him to stop. He put me on my knees, my face against the pillow, and started fucking me steadily, asking dumb questions as if he’d known me for years. Whether I was comfortable, whether I wanted it slower, whether I liked it.

—Call me daddy —he asked, almost in my ear—. Tell me you want me to fill you.

—Yes, daddy —I gasped into the pillow—. Fuck me, fill me, don’t stop.

—That’s how I like it, bitch.

He started speeding up. He grabbed my hips with both hands and drove his cock all the way in, pulling almost all the way out and then ramming back in with one thrust. The bed started creaking, my own breathing came out in broken gasps, and the sound of his balls slapping my ass filled the room. He slapped one cheek, then the other, and made me arch my back more so he could go deeper.

—Take cock, take cock —he repeated—. That’s what you wanted, right?, that’s what you asked for.

He turned me over on the bed and put me on my back, with my legs over his shoulders. From there he fucked me again, this time looking me in the face, with the cap still on and his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He took my cock in one hand and stroked it to the rhythm of his thrusts. I could feel my prostate getting hit again and again, a tingle climbing up my spine, and I couldn’t hold out much longer: I came over my own stomach in a long rope, without even warning him, clenching my ass around his cock with each spasm.

—There you go, like that, squeeze me —he growled—. I’m about to come too.

The intensity kept building and, with it, my moans. He leaned forward and pressed my chest against my folded legs, bending me in half. I felt his heavy breathing against my neck, his hands holding my wrists down against the pillow. When he came, he did it with a series of deep thrusts and a restrained grunt, his cock buried to the base. I could feel each spasm through the latex, the cock swelling and unloading, a strange sensation, almost soft, as if the condom were the only thing preventing him from filling me from the inside.

He collapsed on top of me for a few seconds, still inside, and then pulled out slowly. His cock came out with a wet sound, dragging lube with it. He kissed my shoulder, almost without thinking, and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he came back, he lay down beside me and stared at the ceiling.

—Want to order some food?

—What do you feel like?

—Tacos.

We ordered tacos from a nearby taquería. While we waited, he stretched out an arm and pulled my head onto his chest. He told me he’d be happy to keep giving me whatever services I wanted, whenever I wanted. That afternoon had been different. I didn’t know whether to believe him completely, but I nodded, my face pressed against his chest and my hand drifting, uninvited, down to his soft, sticky cock.

A little later he asked me to go back down to his crotch. I did. I took his sleeping cock in my mouth and woke it up with my tongue, sucking it from the balls to the tip until it hardened again against my palate. That second time was shorter, softer, without a condom: he left it deep in my throat and told me not to let go. When he felt himself about to come, he took me by the neck and drove in deep, coming in two hot spurts that ran straight down my throat. He told me to swallow everything, to show him my empty mouth afterward. I didn’t argue. I opened my mouth, stuck out a clean tongue, and he smiled in approval. If I’d gotten that far, there was no point pretending to be modest anymore.

***

When he got dressed, I took fifteen hundred pesos from my wallet and left them on the dresser. We had never agreed on a price, but I wanted a reason to see him again. He took them without counting, put them in the pocket of his shorts, and shook my hand as if we were closing some ordinary business deal.

—Pleasure meeting you, Mateo.

—Likewise.

When he went down to the parking garage, I sent him a message thanking him. I never got the double check marks. He had blocked me.

For weeks I kept ordering cars through the app hoping his profile would come up again. Every time one was assigned, I looked at the driver’s photo and, if it wasn’t him, I canceled the ride. Five times, ten, fifteen. He never appeared.

I have a video he recorded that afternoon from my own phone. In it, his cock is visible, hard, thick, shining with spit, and he’s leaning toward the camera to tell me, with a half-smile, “so you remember me.” I don’t need the video to remember. Today, after months with no news, I got a message from him. He said hello as if nothing had happened, asked how I was, and at the end asked to borrow some money for something for his daughter.

I answered with the only thing that came to mind.

—You fuck me and you take the money.

It took him a minute to reply. Then, two words.

—I’m on my way.

That’s where I stop. Thanks for the comments, and I hope you enjoyed it.