What Started in an App Ended in My Bed

It was one of those Saturdays that stretch on endlessly. I’d spent the whole afternoon wandering around the apartment, with that mix of boredom and craving for something that still hadn’t arrived. I opened Grindr more out of habit than real hope, left the phone resting on the pillow, and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

The same profiles as always. Familiar faces. The occasional torso with no context. Nothing that especially turned me on.

Then a new message appeared from someone I hadn’t seen before.

His profile said twenty-eight, dark-haired, versatile. The face pic was good: strong jaw, direct gaze, lips that said things before he even opened his mouth. I tapped the profile to see more, and the second photo confirmed that the body lived up to what the face promised: broad shoulders, narrow waist, that build that doesn’t come from the gym but from having moved through life with purpose.

—You’ve been online for a while —he wrote—. Looking for something this afternoon?

—Depends what you’re offering —I replied.

The conversation was direct from the first minute. His name was Diego and he was Colombian, had been in the city for two years for work. He told me my profile had caught his eye for weeks, but he hadn’t made up his mind to write.

—And today you did? —I asked.

—Today I felt like grabbing something worth having.

He sent me another photo, this time explicit. His cock was spilling out of the frame: thick, brown, with veins running from base to tip and a broad head shining like someone had just spit on it. His heavy balls hung below, and one of his hands—big, with long fingers—barely circled it all the way around. It was exactly what he’d promised in the profile: well-proportioned, dark, with a cock that demanded attention and time. I answered honestly.

—That cock looks really good. It’s making my mouth water.

—And yours? —he asked—. Show me your ass.

I sent it without thinking too much. A rear shot, on my knees, with my cheeks spread and the pink hole on display. The reply took ten seconds.

—I need to fuck you this afternoon. You have no idea how badly I want to open up that pussy.

I told him I needed time to get properly ready. I’m pretty careful about that, and I wasn’t going to change my habits for the sake of haste. A good enema, a long shower, everything ready so he could fuck me without restraint. We agreed he’d text me around twelve to set the time, and that’s exactly what he did.

***

I got out of the shower feeling exactly how I wanted to feel: clean, ready, with my ass prepared for whatever came and that pleasant tension of someone who knows what’s waiting. I put on a tight black thong that framed my package and lifted my ass like an offering, and over that some dark pants and a T-shirt. I looked at myself in the mirror. My cock was already pressing against the fabric. Good.

Diego arrived on time. When I opened the door I found someone who exceeded what the photos had promised: light-colored pants that showed off his legs nicely and an impossible-to-hide bulge in the crotch, a fitted T-shirt that hinted at every muscle, a smile that said he knew exactly why he was there and what he was going to do to me. Tall, dark, with that physical presence you feel the moment you see it.

—You’re carrying expectations around —I told him.

—So are you —he replied, and looked straight at my crotch without bothering to hide it.

He was right.

The first thing I did was step in to kiss him. Those lips that had caught my attention in the photo were even better in person: he kissed slowly and hungrily, without rushing but without hesitation, sliding his tongue all the way into my mouth and playing with mine. My hand went straight to his waist and from there to the bulge in those light pants, squeezing it. His cock was hard, really hard, and big. I felt it throbbing under my palm. A moan escaped me against his mouth.

—It’s all yours —he murmured, biting my lip.

He didn’t waste time getting to what he wanted. Before we’d even taken our clothes off, his hands were already inside my pants, squeezing my ass over the thong, sliding his fingers between my cheeks until he brushed my hole, measuring, pressing, with the concentration of someone who’d been thinking about that ass for a while and didn’t want to waste the chance. When he felt the fabric of the thong, he pulled his mouth away from mine and smiled.

—Damn, you came prepared —he said, and gave me a sharp slap on the ass.

—I want to see you on the bed —he ordered next—. Face down. Ass in the air.

We got naked on the way, leaving our clothes thrown in the hallway. When I saw his cock in the flesh I stared for a second: it was even more than the photo had shown, dark, with the purple head already peeking out and a drop of precum shining at the tip. I licked my lips without thinking. I got on all fours on the bed, still wearing the black thong, offering him my raised ass, and turned my head to look at him over my shoulder.

***

What he did next made it clear from the start that Diego knew exactly what he was doing. He pulled the thong aside, exposing my hole, and took his time. He blew on it first, a warm puff of air that raised goosebumps on my skin, and then spat on the hole. I felt the saliva run down between my cheeks before he began. His tongue worked with dedication and no hurry: slow, broad, flat at first, licking my hole from bottom to top again and again, then harder at the tip, pressing the center, going in and out a little, alternating rhythm and pressure in a way that soon had me involuntarily pushing my ass against his face. He got his tongue in as deep as he could, pulled it out, bit my cheeks with just enough force to leave marks, spat again, and went back to the center. He repeated the cycle.

—What a delicious ass you have —he murmured against my skin—. It opens on its own.

I pressed my hands into the mattress and tried not to make too much noise, though I didn’t have much control over that. The moans kept slipping out of my throat without permission.

At some point his hands found my crotch. My cock was already pushing out of the thong, hard as a rock and dripping. He pushed the fabric aside and started stroking me slowly, with a tight fist, without breaking the rhythm of what he was doing with his mouth on my ass. A thick finger found my hole and started to press, entering up to the knuckle with the help of all the saliva he’d built up. Then he added a second finger. He alternated between the two without warning, dipped his head to suck my hole with his fingers inside, came back up to lick my cheeks, kept going without hurry. He opened me up, prepared me, left me ready.

—I’m going to wreck you with my cock —he said, almost to himself—. I’m leaving this ass wide open.

He stayed like that for a time I couldn’t measure. I didn’t want him to stop, but I couldn’t take much more either. I felt that if he touched me two more times I’d cum on the sheets before I could stop it.

When he had me on the edge, I pushed myself up and told him to lie on his back. I hadn’t tasted his cock yet and I wasn’t going to keep waiting.

I took my time. I started with his neck because I wanted to know where he reacted, and I found it right away: a muscle along the side that made him close his eyes and let out the air with a very satisfying sound. I moved on downward. I spent longer than usual on his nipples because his reaction called for it —I bit them softly and he arched his back every time—. Then I went lower at my own pace, licking his navel, never breaking contact.

I stayed away from his cock for a good while, working the inner thighs, the groin, smelling that mix of sweat and soap gathered in the crease, taking my time with every part. I licked his balls one by one, taking them fully into my mouth, sucking them slowly. Diego let out a long gasp and grabbed my hair, but he didn’t push. His cock throbbed against my cheek, hard, hot, leaving a trail of precum on my skin. I did it at my own pace, so he couldn’t anticipate when I’d get to the cock. He looked at me with a mix of desire and something like exasperation that I found very satisfying.

When I finally ran my tongue slowly along his length, from base to tip, not reaching the head yet, he made a sound that wasn’t exactly a moan but was very close. I repeated it twice more before taking him seriously. Then I did: I took him all the way into my mouth at once, down to the throat, until I felt his balls against my chin and the gag reflex rising. I held it a second, swallowing around the tip, and came back out slowly, leaving a thread of saliva. I went back down. And again. Slow, deep, with my tongue moving on the tip each time I rose while one hand took care of pumping the base. I sucked him, pulled him all the way out to lick the purple head, spat on it and shoved him back in to the hilt. His breathing changed immediately and his hips pushed upward without him meaning to, fucking my mouth at a pace he no longer controlled.

—Fuck, suck it like that —he panted—. Take that whole cock.

***

While I worked him with my mouth I moved closer to his body, exploring. Seeing that he wasn’t resisting at all and that his position was openly inviting it, I lifted his legs a little more and spent some time enjoying that firm, dark ass that had caught my eye the second he walked through the door. I spread him with both hands and dove in without hesitation: broad tongue first, then a spit, sucking his hole hungrily, pushing in as far as I could. He was tight, virgin or almost, but he gave. I went back to sucking his cock without letting go of his ass, alternating between the two, leaving his crotch soaked with saliva.

Diego moaned. Not in a theatrical way, but with that involuntary sound that comes out when something surprises you in a good way and you don’t have time to hold it back.

—Fuck me —he said at last, almost voiceless—. A little, at least.

I pushed a little. Just the tip. His body responded by opening without resistance, swallowing my head and clamping around it with a force that made me grit my teeth to keep from cumming right there. Really versatile, I thought. I stayed there for a moment, feeling the ring tighten around me, not forcing it, breathing deeply. But that wasn’t the plan that day, and I wasn’t wearing a condom, so I backed off before things went down a path with no turning back.

I climbed on top of him and pressed our two bodies together, both cocks trapped between our abdomens, sliding with sweat and saliva. His hands traced my back downward until he grabbed my ass and spread it open again, one finger searching for my hole once more. We kissed for a long time, our mouths still tasting of each other, with that calm of people who’ve already had enough of a taste to take all the time they want.

—Do you want me to fuck you? —he asked against my mouth—. Do you want this cock inside?

—Since I saw you at the door —I answered—. Put it in already.

***

He sat up to look for the condom in his clothes. I watched him while he did it: that back, the way he moved with a quiet confidence that didn’t need to prove anything, his hard cock swinging between his legs. When he was ready, condom on and well lubricated, shining from top to bottom, he lay back on the bed and told me to get on top.

I straddled him, his cock against my ass, and ran his head across my hole a couple of times, wetting it. I found the position and began to lower myself slowly. Between the prep I’d done earlier and all the work he’d done with his mouth and fingers, he slid in without complications. I felt him opening me up from the inside centimeter by centimeter, that thick, hot pressure taking ground until my ass touched his thighs and he was all the way inside. A long moan escaped me. The look on his face when he felt me close around his cock was reward enough on its own: eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted, that moment when someone stops pretending they’re in control of the situation.

—Fuck, you’re so tight —he panted—. Move. Ride that cock.

I started moving. Up and down, slowly at first, learning the angle, clenching my ass around him each time I rose. His hands were on my hips but not directing me, just following. He let me set the pace for a good while, staring at me fixedly, with that focus of someone who doesn’t want to miss a single detail. I picked up speed, dropped all my weight, felt his cock hitting me deeper and deeper inside. My own cock bounced between us, dripping precum over his stomach.

Then he wanted to kiss me. I leaned toward him and at that moment, with the distance reduced, he took the chance to drive his heels into the mattress and start fucking me from below. The change was immediate: I no longer controlled the rhythm, I received it. I grabbed his shoulders and let myself be carried away. His thrusts found the exact angle almost from the start, hitting my prostate with every blow, and they never let up. I felt his whole cock sliding up and down inside me, every hit in my chest, his balls slapping against my ass with a wet sound that filled the room.

—Like that, like that, like that —I moaned in his ear—. Don’t stop, fuck me harder.

After a while like that, he asked me to change positions.

***

I got to the edge of the bed, on my knees, ass raised high, and he got behind me. This time there were no detours: he grabbed my hip with one hand, guided his cock with the other, and drove straight in to the hilt in one thrust. I cried out into the pillow. I put my hands on the mattress to hold on and let myself be carried by a rhythm that offered no mercy. Blow after blow, hard, deep, the skin of his thighs striking my ass with a sharp clap that repeated without rest. Every time I thought I’d found the limit of the intensity, he pushed a little more.

—This ass is mine this afternoon —he growled, landing a slap on me hard enough to make my skin burn—. Say it.

—It’s yours —I panted—. All yours, fuck me.

At some point he lifted one leg onto the bed, changing the angle, and what was already a lot became something else. Now he was hitting me from above, his cock going even deeper, and every thrust tore a moan from my throat. I clenched my teeth. My knuckles were white on the sheet. I could feel my ass open, widen, deform around that cock that gave me no mercy.

—Good? —he asked, without stopping for a second, his voice already rough.

—Don’t stop —was all I could manage—. Break me.

Then he made me lie face down, flattened against the mattress, and kept going over me. The pressure of his weight on my back, his breath near my ear, his cock buried to the hilt with that steady unbroken rhythm, pounding me against the bed. With every thrust my cock brushed the sheets, leaving a wet trail. He bit my shoulder, licked my neck, murmured filthy things in my ear I wouldn’t repeat outside that bed. I lost track of time. There was only that sensation —his cock filling me, pulling out, going back in— and his sweaty body over mine.

Then he asked me to turn over. He wanted to see my face while he fucked me.

I positioned myself at the edge of the bed with my legs over his shoulders, my ass fully exposed, my cock hard against my belly. That position changes everything: no escape, looking straight at each other. There’s no way to fake anything from there, and no reason to try. Diego knew it and wanted it on purpose. He guided his cock and drove back in with one hard thrust. He grabbed my ankles to open me fully and started pumping without mercy, looking me in the eyes, watching my face with every thrust, how my mouth opened soundlessly, how my eyes rolled back when he hit the spot just right.

We kept going like that for quite a while longer. I held on without touching my cock because I knew that at the first brush I wouldn’t be able to control it, and I didn’t want it to end yet. It twitched against my belly on its own with every thrust, dripping precum in a pool over my navel. Diego noticed.

—Don’t you want to cum? —he asked, without slowing down, with a crooked smile—. You’re close, I can tell.

—I want you to cum first —I replied, barely breathing—. I want to see it.

He pulled out of me all at once and the emptiness felt almost worse than the penetration. He took off the condom and tossed it on the floor. We both stood up. We pressed our bodies together and started jerking ourselves off at the same time, looking at each other, our cocks brushing now and then in our fists, mixing our precum. That double friction, his eyes on mine, the pressure of our bodies so close together —chest to chest, sweat blending— felt different from the rest of the afternoon: more intimate than I’d expected.

—Where do you want me to cum? —he asked me, breathing hard, his cock already throbbing in his fist.

—In my mouth —I said, and knelt in front of him.

***

I crouched down and while he kept edging himself to the limit with his hand, I ran my tongue over the tip, sucking his head, licking his balls, leaving him all slobbery. I grabbed his ass with both hands and pulled him toward me. When he came, it was forceful: one long grunt, tense legs, and one, two, three long shudders through his cock. The first rope landed on my tongue, thick and hot, and tasted like him. I took him all the way into my mouth to receive the rest and felt him throbbing against my tongue as he discharged the second and third, filling me. I stayed there with his cock inside until he was completely done, not missing a drop, his hand tangled in my hair gripping hard and his breathing slowly settling. I swallowed. Every drop. Then I ran my tongue over the tip again to clean it and pulled his cock out slowly, ending with a final kiss on the head.

—Fuck —he muttered, looking down—. You’re a fucking beast.

When I stood up we kissed again, with his cum still in my mouth, and he didn’t pull away. Slowly. Without the urgency of before. His hand went down to my cock, still hard, and grabbed it. It only took four firm strokes for me to cum over his stomach with a long moan against his lips, thick ropes staining his brown skin. He kept kissing me while I emptied myself into his hand.

He went to the bathroom to clean up. I sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing the thong —it had lasted the whole session with me, bunched to one side, soaked— and realized that at no point had he actually taken it all the way off. I pulled it off and tossed it onto the mattress. Diego came back dressed and stood looking at the black fabric on the rumpled sheets.

—Fucking you with that on has something special about it —he said—. It drives me crazy.

—I’ve got more —I told him—. And in every color.

—I hope to see that. And try it on.

Before leaving, he asked for my number. I gave it to him without hesitation. I texted him on the app to say it had been a very good afternoon. His reply took a minute and was direct:

—It was for me too. Let me know when you feel like doing it again. And put on another thong.

I answered that it wouldn’t be long. It was true. And this time, I meant to pay him back with interest for everything he’d done to me —every last thrust, every last drop.