It was a quiet Saturday night as I lay on the couch in my grandmother's living room, my phone in my hand. Many other recent high school grads would be out partying on a Saturday night at 11pm, but I was more introverted than most. I had gone out with some friends to see a movie earlier, said my good nights to everyone at 10pm and was now exactly where I wanted to be, curled up on an incredibly comfy couch that was twice as old as I was, while reading about True Crime on Reddit.
I began to read:
"The Springfield Three is an unsolved disappearance case that started on June 7, 1992, when Sherrill Levitt, Suzie Streeter and Stacy McCall disappeared from their home on 1717 E Delmar St, Springfield, Missouri. Their whereabouts or their remains have never been discovered."
I yawned as I reached down past my Super Mario Brothers T-shirt and adjusted myself in the cotton briefs I was wearing. I had worked an eight-hour shift at my retail job at Target earlier in the day and, although I wasn't ready for sleep just yet, it felt good to relax and indulge in the True Crime rabbit hole.
I was on night four of two weeks of housesitting for my grandmother. She had offered me $400 to stay in the house and make it look lived in and keep her plants watered while she was on a trip to Mexico to visit her sister. As an eighteen-year-old going to college in the fall, how could I pass up such easy money? Also, it was nice to have a private house all to myself for two full weeks, away from the noise and nagging of my parents and three younger siblings.
"Now, Rodrigo," my grandmother had said, after she had given me detailed instructions about how to water her plants, "I trust you won't have any wild parties in this house while I'm away."
On one level she absolutely meant what she said, but on another level, she was teasing me, since I was known to be the most straightlaced and responsible of Estrella Villagomez's twenty-three grandchildren.
"You know me, Abuela," I replied with a smile, "I'd rather be chilling by myself at night than partying, at your house or anywhere else."
And that was exactly what I was doing that momentous Saturday night.
After reading about the Springfield Three, the disappearance of Joshua Guimond, and theories about the identity of the Zodiac killer, I opened a new tab to my favorite site for gay erotic stories and slipped my underwear off for ease of stroking my cock to whatever new user-submitted tale turned me on. A leisurely jerk-off session would be a very fulfilling way to cap off a productive day.
I quickly found a story that got me nice and hard and set to work tugging my stiff dick to an arousing story of a businessman taking his BMW to a mechanic and ending up being fucked hard by the mechanic on both the hood of the BMW and in the back seat.
I was still a virgin in every sense of the word, had never even had a first kiss. I was still closeted, largely a by-product of being from a Mexican-American Catholic family. I was working up the courage to come out as gay to my family before leaving for college in two months, after which I had every intention of pursuing dating relationships with other men. But, on this night in late June, I was still finding my sexual outlet in erotica.
I closed my eyes while masturbating myself, imagining that I was that businessman getting bent over the hood of his BMW, imagining the anticipation of being dominated and taken by another man. As I focused on this fantasy scenario, I got an additional thrill from my awareness that I was pleasuring myself on the family couch, the very same couch my dad and his five siblings had grown up sitting on as they watched TV in this same living room.
I gave a soft moan as I imagined the mechanic's cock being positioned at my entrance.
I was suddenly jolted out of my fantasy by the sound of the front door swinging open.
I opened my eyes and gasped at seeing a tall, muscular man with a mop of curly black hair standing there in the open doorway. He was probably in his mid-thirties. He was around six feet tall with broad shoulders, his impressive physique tapering down to a narrow waist. He was dressed in a maroon polo shirt and beige khakis. He wore wire rim glasses and had a massive grin on his face, displaying gleaming white teeth.
"Starting without me?" he asked, his voice a deep and melodic baritone, as he gestured toward my exposed cock, which, if anything, had gotten harder at the sight of his enticing physique.
I clapped my hands over my erection, at a complete loss for words. I was confused and scared by his unexpected presence (not to mention mad at myself for forgetting to lock the door!) but was also instantly aroused that this specimen of masculinity had suddenly arrived in my grandmother's living room and was taking in my appearance with unmistakable lust in his eyes.
He closed the door and corrected my earlier mistake by turning the lock. Then he stepped over to where I lay on the couch. With one hand, I reached down toward the floor to grab for my underwear, but the man moved faster and was able to scoop them up before I got to them.
"What are you doing?" he asked with a chuckle. "For what we have planned tonight, you're not going to need these." And then, he absolutely shocked me by holding up my cotton briefs above his head with two hands and swiftly tearing the underwear into pieces before tossing the tattered remnants to the floor.
I let out what I think was originally intended to be a cry of disapproval but ultimately came out as an aroused moan as my brain registered how fucking hot that was, this sexy stranger barging in from out of nowhere and destroying my underwear in my grandmother's living room.
He looked me over for a long moment with a lascivious look in his eyes before I finally found my voice. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound intimidating, but realizing that I sounded every bit the mixture of confused, fearful, and increasingly turned on that I was.
He stared me down with a smug and knowing smirk as if he was onto my games. "Is this some kind of roleplay?" he asked. "You pretending to be taken against your will by some stranger who just barged into your house. Because I could definitely be into that kind of roleplay."
Something about the phrase "taken against your will" made my exposed cock stiffen even harder, which he certainly noticed. But I fought through my desire to try to clear up the matter.
"I have no idea who you are," I told him firmly. "I'm being serious. Whoever you think I am and whatever you have planned, I'm not that person."
"Oh, stop playing hard to get," he said, in a tone somewhere between amused and annoyed. He pulled his phone from his pocket. "You're the anonymous twink I was talking to on the app tonight who sent me dick pics and begged me to come to his house and punch his v-card while his parents are out of town."
"No, I'm not," I insisted, finally having enough presence of mind to place my hands back over my exposed genitals. "I'm not even on any hookup apps. Whoever you were talking to, it wasn't me. I'm not the person you're looking for." But despite the absurdity of this situation, I found myself feeling oddly jealous of whatever young guy would be getting this older man to fuck away his virginity that night.
"You gave me this address," he argued back, swiping through his phone. Suddenly his eyes got wide and his expression changed instantly from one of dominant authority to sheepish embarrassment. "This is 4827 S. Westchester Lane," he told me, looking up at me slowly.
"I know, " I replied testily, still cupping my hands over my private parts. "My grandmother has lived in this house for almost fifty years."
"Well, " he said, his cheeks turning red, "my anonymous young twink gave me the address 4827 N. Westchester Lane, but I made the mistake of coming to this address instead." He chuckled, trying to make light of his mistake.
Despite my continued overexposure to this stranger, I couldn't help but soften and laugh a little, too. "Yeah, that's way up on the other end of the city," I said. "You're a solid hour's drive away from that address. I told you that I'm not the person you're looking for."
"I'm so sorry to have walked in on you like this, " he said, pushing his phone back in his pocket and giving an embarrassed shrug. He immediately turned and began walking toward the front door to leave.
"Wait!" I suddenly found myself calling out, stopping him.
He turned and looked at me, an expression of hopeful curiosity on his face.
"I don't care that you barged into the wrong house," I told him, a sudden burst of boldness rushing over me. "I'm glad that you're here. And, if you're open to it, I'd love for you to take my virginity."
A huge grin spread across his handsome face.
"This is the best possible outcome of me getting the address wrong" he said, striding confidently back to the couch.
He placed his hands on my knees and pried them apart, exposing my stiff cock and tight virginal hole. "But first," he said, a devilish look in his eyes, "I think a spanking is in order, since you're being a very naughty boy, asking a complete stranger to fuck you."
He sat down on the couch and grabbed me by the ankles, pulling me across his lap with ease. He held me firmly in place with one hand while raising his right palm high in the air.
I gasped, a combination of fear and arousal coursing through my body as I realized that this man I had never seen before three minutes earlier was about to spank me, hard on my grandmother's living room couch.
"Oh God, yes!" I moaned.
His hand crashed down hard on my left cheek, making a loud smack.
"Fuck!" I yelled out, both at the sudden pain and the thrilling excitement of it.
"Count," he barked, before unleashing a series of punishing spanks.
"One... Two.... Three," I managed to stammer, my eyes squeezed shut, the sting of each spank followed by a rush of endorphins and a jolt of arousal.
I was moaning loudly and thrusting my hips upward with every spank, my bare ass and cock rubbing against the fabric of his khakis. I was completely lost in the moment, in the surreal pleasure of having a stranger punish my ass for my "naughtiness."
"Sixteen.... Seventeen...." I managed to count, as I lost myself in the sensation of his warm palm crashing repeatedly against my ass.
