What That Well-Endowed Mature Man on the App Did to Me

I’ve been closeted bi for years. My wife doesn’t know, neither do my friends, and the only way I’ve found to let it out is to go into a gay dating app every so often, look at profiles, and almost never reply to anyone. I panic that someone might recognize me, so I filter by faraway cities and delete my history every time I close the app.

That afternoon I was bored. My wife had gone off with her mother for a weekend retreat, and I was left stretched out on the sofa, the app open. A new profile popped up in the area: Damián, forty-eight years old, black-and-white photo, defined abs, broad shoulders. The description said, “horny mature guy, patient with newbies.” Three words and I was already sweating.

I wrote to him without thinking too much: “Hi.” He replied in less than a minute.

—Are you coming over? I’ve got the afternoon free —he said, and sent the location.

I jumped in the shower, shaved carefully, put perfume on places my wife would never smell, and got into the car with my stomach in knots. I’m 1.62. Damián said he was 1.88. I spent the drive imagining the difference as I made my way through a part of the city I’d never been to before.

He lived in a three-story building with an intercom and no camera. I rang his apartment, he let me in without asking anything, and I went up the stairs with my heart in my mouth. When I reached the top, his front door was already ajar.

—Come in, it’s open —he said from inside.

I went in and almost dropped my keys. Damián was leaning against the hallway frame, wearing shorts and nothing else. The voice on the phone had been deep, but seeing him in person was something else. His hair was starting to go gray, he had a short, well-groomed beard, and his arms were the size of my thighs. What nailed me to the spot was the bulge outlined under his shorts. He wasn’t even hard yet and it already looked monstrous.

—Relax —he said, coming closer—. We’re only going to do whatever you want.

He held out his hand. A huge, rough hand that wrapped around mine completely. He led me down the hall to his room without letting go, like I was a little girl being guided along, and that gesture made my legs melt.

The room smelled of wood and cologne. The bed was unmade but clean, the blinds half lowered, a lamp lit on the bedside table. Damián turned, put a hand on the back of my neck, and looked down at me.

—Take off your pants and your shirt. Slowly.

I obeyed. I couldn’t come up with a single argument, a single joke, a single excuse. I took off my jeans, my T-shirt, and stood there in my boxer briefs in front of him, skin prickling. I’d been training legs and glutes for months, and he noticed at once. He turned me around without saying a word and squeezed my ass cheeks with both hands, first gently, then harder, as if measuring what he had between his fingers.

—You’re really solid to work on, aren’t you? —he murmured.

—I go to the gym —I said, my voice breaking.

—Then today you get a different workout.

He turned me again, pulled me against his chest, and I felt his cock, thick and still soft, pressed against my thigh. It was so big it scared me and turned me on in equal measure. I lifted my hand and started to pull his shorts down, but he pushed my hand away.

—You first.

He gently pushed me to sit on the edge of the bed, knelt between my legs, and pulled my boxer briefs down with his teeth. When he took me in his mouth, I clutched the sheets so I wouldn’t cry out. While he sucked me, he brought his hands up to my nipples and started pinching them, first with his fingertips, then with his nails. I had never felt anything like that. Every time he pinched harder, I arched more, and he used the movement to take me deeper.

—Lie back —he ordered.

I lay down on the bed. He took off his shorts and finally I saw it. It was the length of my forearm, thick, with veins standing out, and that was before it was even fully hard. For a second I thought about getting up and running. But then he climbed onto the bed, put a pillow under my ass, spread my legs, and started rubbing me between the cheeks with fingers slick with lube.

—You’re going to breathe with me, okay? I’m not going in until you ask me to.

He slipped one finger in. Then two. Then three. I moved my hips to fit around them, panting, biting my lip so I wouldn’t make a sound. When I gathered enough strength to speak, only one word came out.

—Put it in me.

Damián smiled. He slipped the condom on with a calm that made me even more nervous, added more lube to his cock, and started rubbing it against my entrance. Just the tip. Little pushes. I could feel the head trying to get in and I tensed up without meaning to.

—Let the air out, let the air out —he told me—. Don’t be afraid.

I did as he said. When the head went in, I swore I wouldn’t be able to take any more. But he stayed still, waiting, looking at me with a patience I’d never seen in anyone. When he started pushing again, I could already feel him going in more, slowly, centimeter by centimeter. I felt full and he still had half of him left to go.

—Hold still —I whispered.

He waited. I grabbed his hips with both hands and, with a little movement of my own, shoved as much of him in as I could. He groaned for the first time all afternoon, and that reaction lit me up like nothing else.

***

What happened after that I can only describe as total surrender. Damián started moving, first slowly, pulling almost all the way out and then driving back in until my body could take him. I dug my nails into his forearms. Every time he came in, he let out a groan I didn’t even recognize as mine.

—You’re a gorgeous little slut —he whispered in my ear.

—Keep going, keep going, keep going.

He picked me up. He lifted me like I weighed ten kilos, put my legs over his shoulders, and, still inside me, started using his strength to raise and lower me on his cock. My dick slapped against his defined abdomen with every thrust. I bit his neck, his chin, his lips. One of those thrusts went so deep, so fast, that I came without touching myself, splattering both our chests.

Damián didn’t stop. He set me down, lay back, and invited me to ride him. I climbed on top, grabbed the base of his cock with my hand to guide it, and lowered myself slowly, feeling that thickness open me up all over again. When I reached the bottom, I stayed still for a moment, panting, looking at him. He smiled and squeezed my hips.

—Now move.

I started bouncing. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. Damián pinched my nipples, grabbed my waist, and gave me little smacks on the side. And then suddenly, without warning, he gave me a soft slap on the cheek.

Something broke inside me. Not in a bad way. Something let go, like I’d spent years holding myself in a certain posture and finally they let me fall. I asked for more.

—More what?

—Harder. Treat me however you want.

Damián grabbed my face with his whole hand, squeezed my cheeks until my mouth opened, and spat inside it. I swallowed it without blinking. He sat up sharply, still with me on top, and carried me like that, wrapped around him, over to the wall. He pinned me against the cold bricks and kept fucking me, now standing, one hand on my neck and the other on my hip.

—Want more? —he asked.

—Yes.

—Get on all fours.

He took me off the wall, brought me to the bed, and positioned me himself. Head down, ass up. He grabbed my own belt, which I had left tossed aside with my clothes, and looped it around one hand. With the other, he guided himself back inside me. When he started thrusting from behind, I felt the real size of him for the first time, full, all the way to the back. The first belt strike landed on my right cheek and made me scream.

—Should I stop? —he asked.

—No.

He kept going. Belt strike, thrust, belt strike, thrust. At some point he grabbed my hair and pulled me back until my back was pressed against his chest. He kissed my neck, bit my ear, squeezed my throat with a hand that didn’t quite close. I came again. This time I didn’t even touch myself.

—I’m going to cum —he warned me.

He pulled out. He took the condom off himself, turned me around, and came all over my face, my chest, my lips. Only then, seeing it whole, hard, with the last of it running down over me, did I understand the size of that thing. Well over thirty centimeters. It was unthinkable that it had all fit inside me. And yet there I was, marked from the belt, covered in semen, smiling like an idiot.

I cleaned him off with my mouth, gripping him with both hands. I couldn’t get him fully into my mouth, not even close, but I kept trying until he gently pushed my head away, laughing.

—You’re a beast, don’t wear yourself out.

***

We lay down on the bed. He held me against his chest, still sweaty, and I spent a while staring at the ceiling, feeling the beat of his heart in my ear. We fell asleep like that, without speaking, for about half an hour. When I woke up, he was already awake, looking at me.

—Can I let you shower here?

—Please.

I got into his shower, used his body wash, looked at myself in his bathroom mirror. I had marks on my thighs, my neck, my cheek. I smiled. When I came out, he’d made me a coffee and handed it to me without saying a word. I drank it sitting in a kitchen chair, wearing one of his T-shirts that reached my knees.

—Will you come back? —he asked.

—Whenever you want.

I left his place with his number in my phone, a mark on my skin, and the feeling that I’d become someone else that afternoon. On the drive back, going slowly, I thought about my wife, my orderly life, everything I’d have to hide from now on. And even so, before I parked, I was already looking at the app again to make sure his profile was still there.

There are more stories. About the first time he loaned me to a friend of his. About when he found a dildo in the drawer and understood where my wife came from. About that neighbor of mine who caught me getting out of the car with my face marked by his beard. But this was the first. And the first is never forgotten.