The Secret I Wore All Morning

I'm going to tell you something I've never confessed to anyone, not even Lorena, who sleeps beside me every night and thinks she knows me inside out. I'm writing it almost as a way of getting it out of me, because ever since that March morning I haven't stopped thinking about doing it again. And if I'm honest, as I type these lines I still get hard remembering it, and I can feel the echo of that sensation that changed my idea of pleasure forever.

That morning I woke before her, my cock hard from a dream I can no longer quite remember. All that remained was the urgency, that physical tension that pushes you to seek out the person lying beside you. Lorena was on her back, still asleep, the sheet tangled around her hips, her round ass barely covered by the thin fabric of her nightgown. I moved closer slowly, without thinking too much, letting myself be carried away by the urge to fuck her that had woken me.

I barely brushed against her, pressing my hard cock against the crack of her ass through the fabric, and she, half asleep, answered with a lazy backward roll of her hips that told me everything I needed to know. No words were necessary. We'd been together long enough to understand each other in silence, to know when a gesture meant stick it in. She reached behind her, grabbed me through my underwear, and squeezed, gauging it, checking how hard I was. She smiled with her eyes closed.

“You’ve got one hell of a cock today,” she murmured in her sleep-roughened voice.

“Shut up and spread your legs,” I answered in her ear, biting her earlobe.

I pushed her nightgown up to her waist and yanked her panties down to her knees. I slid my hand between her thighs and she was already wet, that thick, sticky heat of a woman just waking up. I buried two fingers in her pussy and she let out a short moan into the pillow, thrusting her ass against me. I pulled them out glistening and ran them over her clit in slow circles until she began panting for real, with that choppy breathing I know so well.

I pulled down my underwear, spat into my palm, slicked up my cock, and placed it at the entrance to her pussy without hurrying, rubbing the head over her soaked lips. She arched her back, seeking me, impatient.

“Put it in already, fuck,” she whispered.

I drove it into her in one long thrust, all the way in, and felt her pussy squeeze me, hot and wet, closing around my cock as if it had been waiting hours for it. I started fucking her on our sides, spooning her, grabbing one of her tits beneath her nightgown and pinching her nipple as I slid in and out with slow, deep strokes. The room was still dark, with the gray dawn filtering through the blinds, and the only sounds were the wet squelch of my cock entering and leaving her and her muffled moans against the pillow.

“That’s it, that’s it, don’t stop,” she panted. “Fuck me slowly, don’t let go of me.”

I licked her neck, bit her shoulder, and pulled her ass against my pelvis so I could bury myself in her up to the balls. I found her clit with my fingers while I kept thrusting and felt her beginning to tremble, squeezing me inside with those spasms that come before her orgasm. She bit the back of her hand so she wouldn’t wake the neighbors and came silently, her whole body tensing while her pussy milked my cock in waves. I held out for two more thrusts and came inside her, emptying hot spurts deep within her, my forehead pressed to the nape of her neck and my teeth sunk into her shoulder so I wouldn’t roar.

When we finished, we both lay there for a while, breathing hard, saying nothing, with the foolish smile of people who have started the day in the best possible way. I felt my cum trickling out of her pussy and wetting her thigh, and she giggled softly.

“You’ve made a right mess of me, you bastard.”

“I’m meeting Marta for coffee,” she murmured afterward, stretching. “What are you going to do?”

“The usual errands,” I replied. “The pharmacy, the bank, buying something for dinner.”

We showered together, and although she fondled my limp cock under the water and I soaped her tits with both hands, it didn’t lead to anything more because she was already running late. She left dressed and perfumed for her appointment. I stayed home alone, my cock still half-awake, carrying that energy a fuck like that doesn’t completely extinguish, but leaves crackling beneath the skin for hours.

***

And it was then, while I was deciding what to wear, that the idea occurred to me. I’m not quite sure where it came from. For some time I’d been exploring anal pleasure in private, putting things up my ass when I masturbated alone, something I’d discovered almost by accident and that had become one of my most private hobbies. I had a small collection of plugs and dildos hidden at the back of the closet, in a box only I ever opened.

The biggest one of all, a thick black silicone plug with a wide base that I barely used because I found it hard to get used to having my ass opened so wide, stared at me from the box like a challenge. What if I went out wearing it? I thought. The idea seemed absurd at first. Then ridiculous. And afterward, irresistible.

If it felt good to have it inside my ass during sex, I reasoned, why shouldn’t it feel good to walk around, move, and live through an ordinary morning with that secret pressed inside me? The mere thought of passing neighbors, cashiers, strangers in the bank line, my ass covered by a thick silicone plug while no one suspected a thing, made my cock start getting hard again.

I didn’t give myself time to change my mind. I stripped from the waist down, grabbed the bottle of lube, and poured a generous amount onto my fingers. I reached behind myself, between my cheeks, and began massaging my asshole slowly in circles until I felt it relax and accept one finger, then two. I slid them in and out several times, lubricating the inner walls well, opening myself up, feeling my ass gradually dilate. Then I coated the silicone plug with more lube until it was dripping, bent over with one hand braced on the bed, and placed it at my entrance.

I pushed slowly. At first my sphincter resisted, tightened, unwilling to give way to the thickness. I took a deep breath, relaxed, and kept pressing. The widest part opened my ass with a stab of pain mixed with pleasure that drew a long moan from me, and suddenly the plug gave way and slid all the way in, its base lodged between my cheeks. I stayed bent over for a second, mouth open, panting, feeling that dense fullness, that constant pressure filling me from within and touching exactly where it needed to. My cock pressed against my stomach, half hard and throbbing.

I finished dressing in loose jeans and an untucked shirt, broad enough to conceal anything. I looked at myself in the hall mirror. On the outside I was the same man as always, the neighbor from the third floor who greeted everyone, the husband going out to run errands on a Thursday morning. Inside, I had a black silicone plug wedged deep in my ass.

***

I went down the stairs with exaggerated care, gripping the banister and gauging every step. At first I was tense, clenching my cheeks, monitoring every movement, with two fears battling in my head: that it might shift and come out in the middle of the street, or the opposite, that some abrupt movement might push the plug even farther inside. I walked as if I were treading on ice, with short, measured steps, feeling the silicone brush the walls of my ass every time I set my foot down.

But after a few yards, as soon as I crossed the entrance and the cool morning air touched my face, those fears began to dissolve. In their place came something I hadn’t expected with such intensity: with every step, that inner pressure brushed right against my prostate, that area I know so well, and a wave of muffled, contained pleasure ran through me, forcing me to grit my teeth and disguise my breathing. I could feel drops of precum escaping and soaking my underwear without touching my cock even once.

It was a strange pleasure, unlike anything else. Not the urgent pleasure of that morning’s fuck, but something slow and constant that wasn’t seeking an explosion, just remaining there, latent, accompanying me with every movement. Curiously, I never got fully hard; I stayed halfway there, my cock swollen and throbbing inside my jeans, in a state of permanent arousal that never quite overflowed. It was like walking along the edge of something without ever falling all the way over.

My first stop was the bakery on the corner. I greeted Rosa, the usual shop assistant, an older woman who had known me since I moved to the neighborhood, and asked for my daily loaf in the most normal voice I could fake. She smiled, asked about Lorena, and we exchanged a couple of remarks about the weather. And I nodded and answered, perfectly normal on the outside, while inside I felt the plug squeezing my ass with every gesture, with every tiny movement as I bent down to take my change.

If you only knew, I thought as I looked at her. If you only knew I’ve got a plug buried deep in my ass while I’m buying bread from you.

And that was where the real pleasure lay, I discovered. It wasn’t only physical. It was the secret. It was being among people, surrounded by people who knew me, who treated me with that familiar neighborhood warmth, while none of them suspected that my ass was plugged and my cock was wet with precum beneath my clothes. The more ordinary the scene, the harder I got.

***

From the bakery I went to the bank. The line was long, and I had to stand there for quite a while, which in my situation became a sweet torment. Every time I took a step forward, I involuntarily clenched my ass around the plug and the inner pressure flared up again; the silicone caressed my prostate from inside, and a stab of pleasure climbed my spine to the nape of my neck. I had to control my face, keep the bored, neutral expression of anyone running errands on a Thursday morning, while my cock hardened inside my jeans and I had to shift my stance to disguise the bulge.

In front of me stood a woman around forty, elegant, wearing a light-colored coat with her hair tied back, a round ass outlined beneath her skirt. For a second I imagined her bent over, eating my ass, while I clenched the plug. Behind me, a couple of retirees were discussing Sunday’s game. And there I was in the middle, holding my breath, pretending to look at my phone, my anus throbbing around the silicone and a wet patch spreading across my underwear.

When my turn finally came, I took care of my business with the teller, signed a paper, and said good morning. My voice didn’t tremble once, although when I leaned over the counter to sign, I felt the plug sink another millimeter and had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. I was beginning to manage the situation, to enjoy it with a calm I hadn’t felt when I left home. The initial nervousness had transformed completely into a kind of quiet, secret, obscene euphoria that belonged only to me.

The pharmacy was much the same. I bought what I needed, exchanged a couple of words with the pharmacist, and went back out into the street with my ass throbbing and the feeling that I was starring in a dirty story no one else could read. I passed neighbors, a mother pushing a stroller, a group of girls leaving a café laughing. At every encounter, the same tingle, the same silent discharge from the depths of my ass to the tip of my cock.

***

I decided to extend my walk longer than necessary. I took a detour and went into a neighborhood shop where I had nothing to buy, just for the pleasure of strolling between the shelves with the plug lodged inside me and my cock dripping with every step. I picked up a couple of things I didn’t need, paid for them, and chatted with the cashier while rhythmically contracting my anus around the silicone, fucking myself with my inner muscles without anyone noticing. Every minute that passed increased my boldness and, at the same time, a trace of caution that never quite went away.

Because there was something I couldn’t ignore: an ass doesn’t lubricate itself, and I knew it wasn’t wise to push the time too far with a plug that thick. The sensation was still pleasurable, but I was beginning to feel my sphincter asking for a break, and I was taking the experiment to the limits of prudence. My arousal urged me to keep going, to make it as far as the park and come in my underwear while clenching the plug with my ass; common sense told me I’d already done enough for a first time.

In total I was out of the house for an hour and twenty minutes, walking through the neighborhood where I’d always lived as if I were seeing it for the first time, my asshole plugged and my cock wet. Every familiar corner, every familiar face, every routine gesture had acquired a new layer, a filthy double life known only to me. I took the long way home, savoring the final yards, and climbed the stairs with the same care I’d used going down, feeling the plug knock against my prostate with every step.

Once inside, with the door closed behind me, I leaned against the wall for a moment and let out the breath I seemed to have been holding all morning. I pulled down my pants and precum-soaked underwear right there in the hallway and put my hand around my cock. Four quick strokes were enough to make me come in spurts against the wall, squeezing the plug with my ass, with a guttural moan I’d been holding in for two hours. I splashed the baseboard, the floor, and my own thighs, trembling from head to toe. Then I went to the bathroom, removed it slowly and carefully, feeling the emptiness almost like a loss, and sat on the edge of the bed for a while, my asshole still open and throbbing, going over every moment, every line, every greeting, every innocent look directed at me by people who knew nothing.

***

Lorena came home at noon with grocery bags and a whole lot to tell me about her coffee with Marta. I listened to her, nodded, kept up the conversation normally, and kept my secret to myself. Not out of shame, but because I understood that part of what made it so special was precisely that: it was mine, mine alone, a small island of filthy pleasure hidden inside the most ordinary kind of morning.

Since then I haven’t stopped thinking about doing it again. I’d like to find a way to prolong the experience safely, to make it more comfortable, to be able to walk for longer with that silicone cock buried in my ass without worrying about discomfort. Maybe I’ll look for something different, a vibrating plug I can activate with my phone from my pocket while I’m waiting in line, something that will let me forget about caution and come in my pants in the middle of the street without anyone finding out.

Meanwhile, I’m still the neighbor who says hello at the bakery, the husband who runs the errands, the ordinary man in an ordinary neighborhood. But now, every time I go out, part of me remembers that March morning and my ass clenches inwardly, knowing that the most intense pleasure can hide in the most everyday places, in plain sight, where no one thinks to look.

And I confess it won’t be the last time.