What Her Boyfriend Never Knew That Morning

It was Saturday, it was past eleven at night, and I was completely alone in the apartment. I’d had two beers and a hard-on that wasn’t going to let me sleep if I didn’t do something about it. I lowered the blinds, poured myself a third, and opened the drawer of the little table where I keep the old phone, the one I use for one thing only. I reinstalled the app. Filter: men, bottoms, within less than a kilometer.

I uploaded two faceless photos and started swiping through profiles.

At that hour there wasn’t much on offer. Some married guy writing from the bathroom, two kids way too far away, a couple looking for a threesome and who I made it clear to from the first message that I was only looking for a bottom. The couple kept insisting. Lots of photos, lots of promises, lots of “come on over, we’ll treat you right.” I told them thanks, that night wasn’t what I had in mind, and I passed.

The clock read 1:10 when I was already about to tell the whole thing to fuck off. I was going to do what I always did: finish the beer, jerk off thinking about anything at all, and sleep. I turned off the screen, left the phone on the dresser, and got into bed in just my boxer briefs.

Right when I was about to close my eyes, the app buzzed.

It was the couple. But this time only one of them was writing.

—Still awake? —the message said—. Got a place?

I answered yes, that I was home. He asked for the location and, when I sent him the address, it took a whole minute to reply. Then another message came in.

—I live two blocks away. Do you mind if I go alone? My boyfriend fell asleep.

That scared me a little. Two blocks. Way too close for things not to get complicated if they turned ugly later. I thought about it for a second and asked him what he was proposing. The answer came fast.

—Just a blowjob. No sex. My boyfriend doesn’t know I’m going and I don’t want to betray him completely. But you really turned me on. Fifteen minutes and I’m there?

I said yes. Something was better than nothing. Better to have a stranger on his knees and empty my balls than end up jerking off alone again.

I brushed my teeth, rubbed on some deodorant, laid out a clean towel in the bathroom, and turned the thermostat down a couple of degrees because I was already sweating before the fact. Twelve minutes later the intercom buzzed. I let him in without asking anything.

When he got out of the elevator I realized he’d looked shorter in the photos. He was about an inch taller than me, thin, with a denim jacket over a white T-shirt. Dark hair, light eyes, a three-day beard that suited him. He said hi in a low voice, almost a whisper, and came in without taking off his sneakers. I locked the door.

—I’m Damián —he said, and held out his hand like this was a job interview.

I shook it. I lied about my name. I always did that.

—Want a drink?

—No. I only came for what I said. I can’t stay long.

I nodded. I led him to the bedroom without further ceremony. The bedside lamp was on its lowest setting and the sheets were still rumpled from my nap. Damián took off his jacket, folded it neatly on the chair in a way I found almost tender, and stood there beside the bed as if waiting for an order.

—Come here —I said, and sat on the edge.

He knelt between my legs without me having to ask.

He started over my boxer briefs. He pressed his face against the fabric, breathed deeply, let his hot breath pass through the cotton and hit my already-hard cock. I’d been hard since before I opened the door, and I felt right away how the tip started wetting the fabric with pre-cum. Damián laughed softly when he noticed and stuck out his tongue to lick the stain over the boxer briefs, sucking me through the damp cotton.

—I wanted you —he said—. You can tell how hard you are.

I grabbed his head with one hand, not hard, just to guide him. He pulled the waistband of my boxer briefs down with his teeth and freed my cock in one yank. It sprang against his face and slapped his cheek wetly. Damián let out a low moan, as if that alone had pleased him more than anything else. He took it in his hand at the base, adjusted it, and stared at it up close, almost cross-eyed, lips parted.

—You’ve got a delicious cock —he murmured—. Thick. I love it.

When he had it in front of him, he didn’t suck it right away. He took his time. He rubbed closed lips over it, first the base, then up to the tip, gave the head a quick kiss, and only then stuck out his tongue and licked me from my balls to the head, slowly, leaving a trail of saliva that gleamed under the bedside lamp. He licked my balls one by one, took them into his mouth, sucked them softly while he worked my cock with his hand. Then he moved up the shaft, licking the vein underneath, and only then opened wide and swallowed the tip.

He was one of the good ones.

He didn’t take the whole thing at once like the ones trying to impress you. He went little by little, deeper, back out, playing with his tongue right where it needed to be played with. He pulled my cock from his mouth with a wet pop, spit a little saliva over the head, and took it back in, and each time he went a little farther. When I finally felt the tip hit the back of his throat, he locked eyes with me from below, watery-eyed, and stayed there, swallowing around me, squeezing me with his throat. After a couple of minutes I let him up and whispered in his ear what I wanted to hear.

—Run your tongue over the tip. Slowly. Like that. Now underneath, on the balls. Take them both into your mouth.

He obeyed without a word. Any instruction I gave him, he carried it out as if he’d spent years training for it. He sucked my balls with his mouth full, pulled them out, went back to my cock, jerked me off with both hands, spat saliva over it and used it to jerk me while he licked the tip.

—That’s it, faggot, suck me like you know how —I told him softly—. Suck my whole cock.

He answered by closing his eyes and moaning around my dick. The vibration of that moan shot up my whole spine. He took it back to the hilt and this time didn’t pull off. He stayed there swallowing, with teary eyes and his nose pressed against my pubic bone. When he finally pulled off, a long string of saliva and drool hung from his chin to the tip of my cock.

That was what finished turning me on.

I gently stood him up and asked him to take off his jeans. He did it without complaining. Underneath he had on a tight gray brief that showed off his ass nicely. It wasn’t huge, but it was appetizing. Round where it should be, firm. I leaned from the bed and pulled the briefs down to his knees while he stayed kneeling with his face against my thigh. I fondled his ass cheeks with both hands, spread them apart, and saw his asshole tight, pink, neatly shaved.

—Up. Here, with me —I said, patting the bed.

He settled on top of me in sixty-nine without me having to explain anything. His ass was right at my face, the little hole tight, shaved, clean. I spread his cheeks apart with both hands and gave him one long lick from his balls to the top of the cleft. His whole body tensed. He let go of my cock for a second, moaned against my leg, and went back to swallowing me.

I ate his ass hungrily. I drove my tongue into the little hole, pushed it in deep, moved it in circles, spat saliva there and used it to lubricate his asshole while I played with my tongue. Damián started trembling on top of me. He moved only a little against my face, looking for more tongue, more contact, and meanwhile he was choking on my cock harder, faster, never stopping the moans.

—Mmm, like that, eat my ass —he murmured, letting go of my cock for a second—. Put it all in me.

I worked his ass slowly. With my tongue first, then with a saliva-slick finger that only barely pressed. The little hole gave way at the first push, swallowed everything, and Damián let out a long moan with my cock in his mouth. I pushed my finger in to the hilt and started circling it, searching for his prostate. When I found it, his whole ass tightened around my finger and he arched his back.

—Right there, right there —he said, voice breaking—. Don’t stop.

I put in a second finger, then a third. I moved them inside him while I kept licking his hole around them, alternating between tongue and fingers, opening him up little by little. Damián moaned around my cock and that, in the darkness of the room, was one of the hottest things I’d heard in a long time.

When the third finger went in without resistance, I knew the pact was going to break.

I kept at it a little longer, tortured him with my tongue, shoved all three fingers in to the knuckles and moved them slowly while he kept sucking me. I touched his prostate with my fingertip and he shook all over, gave little backward thrusts against my hand, asking for more. Then I grabbed his waist, pulled him off my body, and positioned him face-down in the middle of the bed.

—I only came for this —he said, but not very convincingly.

—I know —I answered, and started kissing his back from the waist upward.

I ran my tongue over his shoulder blades, bit one side of his neck lightly, dragged my teeth over the nape of his neck. I lay on top of him with all my weight, my hard cock pressed against the cleft of his ass, moving slowly up and down, rubbing the tip against his open hole. My arms were on either side of his head. I spoke into his ear.

—If I tell you to let me in, do you tell me no?

He took his time.

He took long enough for me to know the answer before he said it.

—It has to be quick —he murmured—. And with a condom. Put it in me.

—Obviously.

I reached to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and took out a condom and the tube of lube I’d kept from the last time. I sat back on my heels, tore open the packet with my teeth, rolled the condom on, and let a good amount of gel fall onto the tip. I ran my hand over my cock several times to spread it, and then I drizzled a stream directly onto Damián’s ass crack. He moaned when he felt the cold gel. He was still face-down, his face buried in the pillow and his ass up, offering himself. I passed my lubricated fingers over his hole, opening it slowly, putting them in and pulling them out to coat him well inside.

—That’s enough. I got that over with already —he said, almost impatiently—. Just put it in all at once.

I set the tip against his hole. I’ve got a thick cock, and I knew it even if I didn’t tell him. I pushed slowly, millimeter by millimeter, paying attention to every change in his breathing. The head went in with a small wet pop and Damián opened his mouth against the pillow, let out a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure, and stayed still. I didn’t rush. When I was halfway in, I stopped for a long moment, kissed his back, whispered for him to breathe deeply, to relax, to open himself for me. I pushed again. I stopped again. Like that until the base was pressed against his skin and my balls touched his.

—All the way in —I told him in his ear—. Feel me.

—Fuck, Jesus —he moaned—. You’re huge.

I let him get used to it.

At first I was the one moving, barely, with the smallest rocking. I pulled out two centimeters and drove back in, letting him open up to my rhythm. Then he started moving on his own, pushing back against me looking for more depth, lifting his ass each time I came down. When I saw he was ready for more, I grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and set the pace from above. I started fucking him hard, nonstop, listening to him come apart beneath me. The sound of my balls slapping his ass filled the room. Every thrust pulled a short, sharp moan from him into the pillow.

—More —he said between moans—. Don’t stop. Harder.

So much pact, so much “just a blowjob.”

I put him on all fours and from there I fucked him however I wanted. One hand on his waist, the other dropping an occasional hard slap on one cheek that left his skin red. Damián gave himself over completely. Each slap drew a sharper moan and tightened his ass around my cock, milking it. I stuck a finger in his mouth and he sucked it like it was another cock, swallowing it to the knuckles, drooling all over himself. I pulled my cock out in one yank, put it in his mouth so he’d clean it off —he swallowed it hungrily, tasting his own ass on the condom— and then I shoved it back in from behind with one long thrust that tore a muffled cry out of him.

—You’re a faggot, not a blowjob and not a damn thing else —I told him in his ear while I fucked him—. You came here to get your ass wrecked.

—Yeah, yeah —he panted—. Wreck it. Fuck me, come on.

Then I turned him onto his side, lifted one leg to rest on my shoulder, and went in again from that angle, deeper. From there I could look him in the face while I drove into him. Damián had his eyes half-closed, mouth open, a thread of spit at the corner of his lips. He was jerking off while I fucked him, his hand moving fast over his own dripping cock. At some point I lost track of time. It must have been fifteen minutes, twenty, I don’t know. I could feel sweat running down my forehead, falling onto his chest, and the bed creaking beneath us with every thrust.

I changed positions one more time. I put him on his back, legs open and bent against his chest, and sank into him face-to-face. Now I could see his face while I destroyed him. I grabbed his cock and started jerking him in time with my thrusts. Damián arched his back, brought his hands to his nipples and pinched them himself, twisting them while I went in and out.

—I’m about to come —I warned him, feeling the orgasm rise from my balls.

—Fuck me like this a little more. Just a little more.

It turned me on again that he said that. I kept sawing away in that same position for a couple more minutes until I felt I couldn’t hold out anymore. I asked him in his ear where he wanted the load.

—Wherever you want —he answered.

—Tell me. Say it clear.

He took a second to do it. Then he opened his eyes and looked at me from the pillow, cheeks red and hair stuck to his forehead.

—In my mouth. I want to swallow your load. All of it.

I pulled out in one jerk, ripped off the condom, and let it drop beside the bed. Damián turned over, sat up on the edge, and sucked me again, this time with pure hunger, working me with both hands, mouth open, tongue working the head. I grabbed his head with both hands. I didn’t push hard; I just guided him, setting the rhythm, fucking his mouth a little at a time. I felt my balls tighten, the orgasm climbing up the shaft. When I felt I couldn’t hold it any longer, I warned him.

—Now. Open your mouth, faggot. Take it.

I came with my whole body tensed, never letting go of his head. The first spurt hit the roof of his mouth and he left it there, tongue out, waiting for the next. The second, the third, the fourth, one after another, filling his mouth with semen. Damián took it all, without a word, without spilling a drop. When I was done and started to relax, he opened his mouth just enough to show me the white pool that had gathered on his tongue, and then he closed his lips and swallowed it all in one shot, with a long moan, as if that load were the best thing he’d ever tasted in his life.

—Clean me off —I asked him.

He took me back in his mouth and left me like new. Every last drop. He ran his tongue over the base, over the balls one by one, over everything that had leaked out during the fucking, sucking up every trace of semen and lube left on my skin. When he was done, he lifted his face and smiled at me for the first time all night, his lips still shining.

—I loved it. I want a repeat.

I didn’t answer.

I pointed him toward the bathroom and told him he could shower if he wanted. He said no, he’d rather leave like that, better not to get home smelling freshly showered at three in the morning. It made sense. While he got dressed, I pulled on my boxer briefs and handed him a bottle of water. He drank it in one go, gave me a quick kiss at the corner of the mouth, and left.

I closed the door. Locked it. Leaned my back against the wood and took a deep breath.

Only then did I realize how close his apartment was. Two blocks. Any corner store, any greengrocer, any pharmacy. If I ran into him the next day with his boyfriend beside him, I wouldn’t know where to look.

I took out the phone and blocked him in the app. Then I uninstalled it outright. Let him keep the curiosity if he wanted to do it again.

That night I slept like I hadn’t slept in months.

***

I ran into him only once, weeks later.

It was at the neighborhood supermarket, in line at the deli counter. He was with his boyfriend, holding his arm, laughing at something I didn’t manage to hear. The boyfriend was shorter, balder, and had his hand at Damián’s waist with the calm familiarity of people who’ve been together for years.

Damián didn’t see me.

Or he pretended not to.

I moved two aisles over so I wouldn’t end up in the same checkout line. I took the products out of the cart that I no longer wanted, put them back on the shelves, and left without buying anything. I walked home with my hands in my pockets, my heart still going a little faster than normal.

That night, when I got into bed, I thought about him for a while. About the first time he knelt between my legs, about how he’d swallowed me to the throat, about how he’d broken the pact and opened his ass to me without resistance, about the smile with which he’d said he wanted a repeat with my load still smeared on his lips.

And I thought about his boyfriend, who that morning had been sleeping two blocks away, knowing nothing.

I told myself it was better this way.

But still, when I turned off the light, I grabbed myself thinking about his mouth, his tight ass, and I surprised myself thinking I hoped that some Saturday at one in the morning I’d get another message from him.