He Wrote to Me Pretending to Be His Father

I've been using dating apps for years. Not to find a partner, but for the thrill of the game: the first message, the first meeting, finding out at what point someone decides they want more than I'm willing to give. Over time I learned that most people want to make things official, and that most people will accept any version of things I choose to offer them.

Rodrigo came into my life through one of those apps a couple of years ago. Divorced, with a way of writing that struck me as intelligent and a little melancholy. We met, we liked each other, and a few weeks later he decided to call me his girlfriend. I never corrected him. It was convenient: I had company when I wanted it, a decent cock when I felt like fucking, and on the days I preferred to be alone I simply didn't answer messages and the world kept turning.

What I knew about his son was the basics. His name was Nicolás, he was nineteen, he studied in another city, and he lived with his mother during the school year. Rodrigo mentioned him often, with that unshowy pride divorced fathers have when they don't see their children enough. When summer vacation started, he told me Nico would be coming to stay with him for the break.

I didn't expect to run into him on a visit that didn't even last two hours.

I got to Rodrigo's place on a Thursday at noon. It wasn't planned: I had to stop by the supermarket afterward, and I took the chance to say hello on the way. I'd put on a blouse I'd tied in the middle, turning it into a crop top, with a neckline that I knew exactly what it did when I leaned over. And no bra underneath, because at thirty-four my tits still held themselves up just fine and I saw no reason to hide them.

Rodrigo opened the door with his jacket already on and his tie half-adjusted. Behind him, seated at the dining table with his phone in his hand, was a broad-shouldered boy with dark eyes who looked up when we came in. He looked at me for a second and then smiled, as if he'd taken a moment to decide whether it was worth showing that smile.

He decided it was.

—Nico, this is Valeria —Rodrigo said.

—So nice to meet you, sweetheart —I said, with the ease of someone who uses that kind of address with everyone. I always do it with younger guys: it unsettles them in a way I find very useful.

I went into the kitchen for coffee. When I came back with the coffee maker, I noticed Nico still hadn't touched his phone again. I leaned over the table to pour Rodrigo some and felt Nico's eyes drop on their own, without even bothering to hide it. I let him look. My nipples were pressing through the fabric, and I knew he was noticing.

—Anyone want coffee? —I asked.

—I do —said Nico.

I went to get a cup. From the kitchen I heard Rodrigo ask him when he'd started drinking coffee.

—Since the exams got hard —he answered.

I came back and leaned over to pour him some, exaggerating the gesture. The blouse opened just enough to show him more than a normal cup of coffee should. Nico kept talking to his father, but his eyes had drifted to my cleavage with that concentration of someone who still hasn't learned how to fake indifference properly. I stayed bent over a second longer than necessary. He swallowed and slid his hand under the table, adjusting something that was already starting to bother him down there.

I stood behind Rodrigo and gave him a brief shoulder massage while Nico watched us without pretending to do anything else.

—I'm glad you came —I said—. Now we can get to know each other better.

—Me too —he said—. My dad talks about you a lot.

Rodrigo went back to talking about school. I listened without paying much attention, and at one point, casually, I tugged one side of my blouse. The knot gave way just enough. One of my tits was left completely bare, the hard nipple pointing straight at Nico.

Nico was bringing the cup to his lips.

The coffee landed on Rodrigo's tie.

—What happened to you? —Rodrigo asked, looking at the stain.

—I choked. Sorry, Dad.

Rodrigo got up to change. I pretended to realize the accident only then, put on an innocent look of surprise, and moved to wipe the table. I bent down to gather wet napkins, the neckline again aimed at Nico, who also made no effort to look away. The bulge in his pants was now impossible to hide.

—You sure make a mess —I said quietly, looking at his crotch without shame.

He didn't answer. He was looking straight at me, with that slightly insolent calm I found more interesting than it should have been. I lifted my eyes to his face slowly, making it clear I'd seen what he had going on down there.

***

Rodrigo came back down with a new tie, said goodbye to Nico with a quick hug, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and left almost running because he was already late. We were alone.

I went up to Rodrigo's room to get some clean clothes I'd kept there and take the shower I'd promised myself before getting back to my errands. I put on a silk robe and left it untied while I rummaged through the drawer, my tits bare and my cunt barely covered by the edge of the fabric. I heard footsteps in the hallway and when I turned around, Nico was standing in the doorway.

—Sorry —he said, not taking his eyes off my body—. I thought you'd already left.

—I'm staying a little longer.

He looked me up and down without hurrying. I returned the look just as slowly, standing in a way that made the robe open even more.

—Do you need something? —I asked.

—Money. My dad said there's some in his drawer.

—And he also said to bring down his glasses, he left them on the table.

We went downstairs together. Rodrigo said goodbye at the door and left. Nico took the glasses from the table and brought them upstairs. I kept going toward the hallway bathroom.

I stood in front of the mirror. I took off the robe. I looked at myself all over: the firm tits, the flat stomach, the shaved cunt already a little wet from thinking about the bulge I'd seen on the kid. I was about to turn on the shower when the phone vibrated.

It was a message from Rodrigo.

"Seeing you in that robe this morning put me in a very good mood. Send me something for the rest of the day."

I read it twice. It was odd: Rodrigo didn't usually write like that, his messages were normally more direct, almost telegraphic. But the name was his and I had no reason to suspect anything. I took photos in front of the mirror. One with a tit pinned under my arm, another in profile with my ass arched, another with two fingers spreading the lips of my cunt. I sent him eight.

"God. Send more."

Five more. I crouched down by the big mirror, spread my legs, slid two fingers inside myself and pulled them out shining for the camera. I sent him one with my tongue running over my wet fingers.

A minute later a photo arrived from him, or what was supposed to be him: all you could see was the swollen glans and a short stretch of thick shaft, taken at a weird angle that kept the back of the room out of view. A bigger cock than Rodrigo's, now that I think about it. Something strange, but I didn't give it much importance.

"I wish that cock was inside me," I wrote, without thinking too much about it.

I left the phone by the sink and turned on the shower.

I had been under the water for less than a minute, with the stream running over my hard nipples, when the door creaked open.

I pulled back the curtain.

Nico was standing by the wall, his father's phone in one hand, the other shoved inside his half-lowered pants, his cock out and his fingers closed around it, moving it slowly. He looked at me without moving, without letting go.

—What are you doing? —I asked, never taking my eyes off what he had in his hand.

He stepped back a pace, but he didn't leave. He raised the phone.

—It was me —he said—. I unlocked my old man's phone when you came down with the glasses and texted you from there.

Silence.

—And you answered that you wanted my cock inside you —he added, as if he still needed to explain the logical conclusion.

I had understood perfectly.

I closed the curtain to waist height and looked at him. He was still there. No apology. No leaving. Not letting go of his cock, which now was fully visible: long, thick, with a pronounced vein along the top and the glans red and shiny with pre-cum.

—Come here —I said.

—Seriously?

—Come here, sweetheart. Take your clothes off.

He left the phone by the sink and came closer. He yanked off his T-shirt. His pants fell to the floor and he kicked them aside. He stood there with his cock pointing at me, hard, throbbing.

—Let me see it properly —I said.

He took hold of the edge of the curtain but I held it down.

—Not in yet. I want to look at you properly.

He stayed there in front of me, letting himself be looked at. He grabbed his cock and moved it slowly so I could watch it move. Bigger than his father's. Much bigger.

—This can't be real —I said, more to myself than to him.

—Tell me about it —he replied.

I reached my hand out from behind the curtain and wrapped my fingers around his cock. It was hot, the shaft thick, the veins standing out. I started sliding the skin up and down slowly, looking him in the face.

—Do you like it like that?

—Yeah.

—Tell me how you want it.

—Harder. Please.

I tightened my grip and jerked him faster. His jaw was clenched, his eyes half-lidded, the effort of not making a sound in a house he thought was empty visible on his face. I liked that: the restraint, how seriously he was taking it. Pre-cum leaked from the glans and ran down the shaft onto my fingers. I ran my thumb over the tip, collected the drip, and took it into my mouth while he watched me.

—Fuck —he said.

I let go of the curtain.

—Do you like what you see?

—A lot.

—Do you want to fuck me, Nico?

—Yeah. A lot.

—Say it properly.

—I want to fuck you. I want to put it in you all the way.

I stepped out of the shower with my hand still on him, water dripping over his cock. He looked at my body in a way that was no longer timid at all. He ran his eyes over my tits, down to my cunt, lingering there.

—Can I touch you? —he asked.

—Touch whatever you want.

He took both my tits in his hands, squeezed them, pinched my nipples with his fingers. He lowered his head and sucked one until I arched. Then the other. He nipped me lightly and I dug my nails into his back. One of his hands slid down my stomach and between my legs. He spread my cunt lips with two fingers and pushed them inside. I was already soaking.

—God, you're soaked.

—I've been wet for you for an hour.

He moved his fingers inside me, two at first, then three, with a young clumsiness made up for by eagerness. I took his wrist and showed him the rhythm. He learned fast. He pushed me against the bathroom wall and kept fingering me while he sucked a nipple. The wall was cold against my back, his body hot against mine, and his cock was hard as stone pressed against my thigh.

I felt myself close and pushed his hand away.

I shoved him against the opposite wall, knelt down in front of him, and before I started I told him:

—This is all you're getting.

It was a lie. We both knew it.

***

I took his cock in both hands and stuck out my tongue. I licked him from base to tip, slowly, holding his balls in my other hand. I circled the glans with my tongue, collecting what leaked out, and then swallowed him whole in one go.

—Holy shit —he said softly.

I took him in my mouth slowly at first, my tongue tracing the glans and the wet shaft, letting him out just enough to suck the tip again. I ran my tongue underneath, along the thick vein that ran down him, and took him until he hit the back of my throat. He breathed hard when I started moving, and a moment later let out a low "holy fuck" he couldn't quite hold back. He kicked the rest of his clothes off his ankles and took my head with both hands, pushing his cock all the way in with clumsy, delicious urgency.

I let him guide me. That's what I like: for someone else to decide the rhythm, for me to just be there and open my throat wide. He set the pace carefully at first, learning what worked, and then with more confidence, taking me deeper, adjusting based on what he heard. For the first time meeting in that territory, he had good instincts.

At one point he pushed my head all the way down and held it there. His cock went to the back of my throat and his balls brushed my chin. I held on until my eyes filled with tears and when he let me go I pulled back for a second to catch my breath, my mouth full of saliva and bright strings hanging from my lip. I let it drip over his cock, spit on top, and went right back.

He gathered my hair and held it in one hand, making a ponytail so he could get a better grip. With the other he guided my speed, pushing down when he wanted more, letting go when he needed to see my face with his cock run through my mouth. There was something in the way he did it that felt unexpectedly assured for someone his age: he didn't ask permission for anything, he just did it.

—Look at me —he said.

I lifted my eyes without letting his cock leave my mouth. Something flashed in his face. He started moving faster, fucking my face with a determination I hadn't expected, and I dropped my jaw to let it all in. Saliva, tears, guttural sounds: the whole show. I grabbed his balls with my hand and massaged them while he emptied his cock into my mouth.

He pulled out with a wet sound. A strand of spit clung to my lip.

I tugged free of him, stood up, and gently pushed him toward the floor.

He lay down on his back without saying anything, his cock bouncing against his stomach, shiny with my saliva.

I swung one leg over his body and crouched with my back to him. I took his cock in my hand, straightened it, and rubbed it against the lips of my cunt a couple of times, wetting it well with what I already had down there. I set the tip at my entrance and lowered myself slowly. I felt the glans opening me, the thick shaft stretching me little by little. I braced on his knees and went all the way down. When I felt him entirely inside me I paused for a moment. He was bigger than I'd expected and filled me in a way that almost hurt. Nico waited without moving, his hands on my hips. Then I started moving.

I rode him first slowly, rising almost all the way off him and lowering myself to the hilt, feeling how he opened me wider each time. My tits bounced and he watched them from below between my legs. I started moving faster, slapping myself against him, listening to the wet sound of my cunt each time I came down.

—That's it, sweetheart —I said—. Look how my cunt's sucking your cock.

—Fuck.

I didn't take long to hand over control to him. He was nineteen and had an energy I found almost offensive. As soon as he found the angle he started driving his hips from below with a speed that caught me off guard. He rammed his cock into me from underneath with hard thrusts that made me bounce again and again, without pause. I grabbed onto his legs and let him have me.

—Yeah, like that, go on —I said, almost voiceless—. Fuck me, don't stop.

A brief, sharp orgasm made me lift up a few inches, my cunt contracting around his cock. I stayed suspended until it passed, then dropped back down, impaling myself to the hilt.

—More —I said—. Don't stop.

***

We changed positions several times. The cold tile floor, the sink counter, the edge of the bathtub. He wanted control and I gave it to him until he got tired, and then I took it until I got tired. There was something about that exchange that entertained me more than a lot of the other things I'd done in the last few months.

He made me turn over and get on all fours on the tiles. He got behind me, grabbed my hips with both hands, and shoved his cock in with one hard thrust. I screamed. The bathroom wall threw the echo back at us. He started fucking me from behind with long, hard thrusts, and within a few minutes I already had my forehead on the floor and my ass arched for him.

—Fuck me, fuck me, don't stop —I kept repeating, my mouth against the tile.

He pulled out for a moment, spat in my cunt, and shoved it back in. He loved watching himself go in and out of me: I could feel him watching, feel his cock pausing for a second with only the glans inside before driving back in.

Then he sat me on the sink counter with my back against the mirror. He spread my legs wide, set them on his shoulders, and started fucking me standing up. His cock went in all the way at that angle and I could see our reflections over his shoulder: his back flexing, my face with smeared mascara, my tits bouncing with every thrust.

—Look at how much you like it —he whispered in my ear.

—I love it. I love your cock, Nico.

—Say it more.

—I love your cock. It's huge. Fuck me. Fuck me with that cock.

He took me off the sink and I braced myself on the bathtub with my hands, my body leaning forward, my ass arched high for him. Nico took me by the hip and started from behind. Slow at first, increasing without warning, with a confidence that contradicted how shy he'd seemed at the dining table. He yanked my hair with one hand until my back arched. With the other he gave me a couple of spanks that left my skin burning and my cheeks red.

—Harder —I said.

He obeyed. The spanks turned dry, strong, and the sound of his pelvis hitting my ass filled the bathroom.

—Spank me, spank me harder.

He gave me two more, one on each cheek, so hard I let out a loud moan. He grabbed my hair and arched my head back.

—Do you like it when my old man isn't here?

—Yes.

—Do you like having a cock bigger than the old man's?

—Yes. Yes. Fuck me.

He ran a finger wet with spit over my asshole, slowly, pressing a little without going all the way in. He left it there playing, massaging me, while he kept working his cock into my cunt. I came like that, with his cock in one hole and his thumb in the other, biting my lip so I wouldn't scream loud enough to be heard out in the street. My cunt clenched around him in long spasms.

When he started slowing down, I turned him before he could stop on his own. I sat him on the counter and knelt in front of him. His cock was shining with my juices. I cleaned it with my tongue, licking off everything I'd left on it, and then took him whole into my mouth, deep, without pauses, until he held my head with both hands and drove me to the back of his throat. I stayed still for a moment with him completely inside me, his balls resting on my chin, looking him in the eye as my throat gave way.

—Fuck —he said, voice rough—. Just like that.

He let go of me. I caught my breath. Went back.

I sucked his cock for a while longer, setting the pace myself this time, taking him deep and pulling him out almost all the way before going back in. I ran my tongue over his balls, sucked them one at a time, and then drove his cock back to the hilt. His hands were in my hair but he wasn't forcing anything, just holding on. His cock throbbed in my mouth, swelling, and I knew he was close.

—I'm going to come —he said.

—I want you to finish on my face.

—Fuck.

—I want to watch you come. Come on my face, sweetheart.

When I felt him about to blow I pulled back, took him in my hand, and looked at him with my mouth open and my tongue out.

Three long spasms. He covered my face from lips to forehead with thick, hot spurts. It hit my eyelids, my cheek, my tongue. I kept moving my hand slowly as the last drops fell onto my tongue, squeezing him dry. Nico was panting, looking at me covered in his semen, with an expression I knew well: the one a man has just understood means he'll want this again.

I gathered what was on my cheek with one finger and put it in my mouth, watching him. I swallowed.

—Jesus Christ —he said.

Then I cleaned myself with him. I ran his cock over my face, collecting what was dripping off me, using it like a brush. I used it unhurriedly. Nico let me, still half-lidded and breathing slowly, watching me smear myself with his own semen over his cock.

I was licking my lips when his father's phone started ringing by the sink.

Nico looked at it.

—Answer it —I said.

He hesitated.

—It's my old man.

—I know who it is. Answer and tell him you're on your way.

He got down from the counter. He picked up the phone. I got into the shower for the second time that day, this time for real, with my face and tits sticky and my cunt still throbbing.

I heard his voice on the other side of the door, calm, answering in monosyllables. I didn't hear what Rodrigo said. I didn't want to hear.

When I turned off the water and came out, the bathroom was empty.

I grabbed the towel. I looked at myself in the mirror for a moment. I had the mark of his hand on one cheek of my ass and my lips were still swollen.

I smiled.

***

That afternoon I went to the supermarket, like I'd planned from the beginning. I bought what I needed, said hello to someone I knew at the register, and went home with time to make dinner. A completely normal afternoon.

Rodrigo texted me that night to tell me how work had gone. At the end of the message he added that Nico had seemed very nice to him and that he hoped the three of us would get along well over the summer.

I thought for a second before answering.

—I think we will get along well —I wrote.

I put the phone face down on the table and opened the wine.