The Building Manager Discovered My Most Intimate Toy

Because of the lie she had to make up so she wouldn’t look bad in front of her bosses, Carola now faced five full days without her work routine. For someone like her, who needed to cling to something concrete every morning, that could be a serious problem.

She faced the situation with optimism. Take it as an opportunity, Caro. Use it to do everything you’ve always wanted to do and never could because you didn’t have the time.

The optimism didn’t last even two hours. Right away she remembered those months of mandatory lockdown, when the whole world stayed inside their homes, and how badly she had handled it. Alone in her apartment, unable to see anyone, with her boyfriend stranded in Villa Elisa because the roads had been closed just when he went to visit his family.

It wasn’t money that was upsetting her: her company kept paying her full salary. What weighed on her was the shame that had stuck to those days. Because at first she kept herself busy catching up on backlogged work, answering emails, rescheduling meetings. But eventually there was nothing left to do.

—Carola, there are no more tasks for you —her bosses told her—. Take a few days. For an indefinite period.

And that was where the real problem began. Carola, who had always prided herself on her self-control, discovered that with so many free hours she inevitably ended up in bed, with her pants around her knees, rubbing between her legs without even remembering how she had gotten into that position. It was an unconscious act. It happened when she was alone.

—Calm down, Caro. What’s happening to you? —she scolded herself every time she found her fingers sunk in her pussy.

A friend had once confessed that she masturbated when she was bored. Carola had thought it was horrible. What kind of woman does that? And yet there she was, never less than four times a day on the days she managed to restrain herself. Her body, once able to go weeks without asking for anything, now couldn’t even last four hours. Her fingers no longer sufficed.

Driven by desperation, one day she did something crazy. An ad for an online store had arrived by email, a virtual sex shop that promised discreet, fast deliveries. Carola had always kept far away from that kind of thing. The mere idea of having a dildo lying around the house, of her boyfriend finding it and asking her for explanations, gave her the shivers. But the horniness won out. She entered her card details and waited.

The next day a box wrapped in black plastic arrived. No one would suspect what was inside. She opened it in the privacy of the living room and was met with a surprise twenty-five centimeters long and almost five wide.

—Shit. It’s enormous. This will never fit me —she thought.

She had picked it from the catalog without looking too closely. In the photo it had seemed smaller, and she had liked it because it looked like a real cock, with fake testicles and a suction cup at the base. Later she would discover everything that suction cup made possible. She would also discover that she had been wrong about more than just the size.

The first attempt disappointed her. With a lot of effort she managed to get only the tip in; pushing farther hurt too much. Her pussy was not made for such a thing. She thought of Damián, her boyfriend, much more modestly endowed, and worried. How am I supposed to explain that I bought a toy bigger than he is? She locked it away in the last drawer of the dresser and decided to forget about it.

Soon after, she discovered the second mistake. When she checked the receipt, she saw the sex shop owner’s name: Daniela Bruno. Her heart shot up into her throat.

A few months before the lockdown, Carola had closed an important deal with Cristina Bruno and her daughter Daniela. She remembered them well: two elegant, cold women with an air of superiority, who had made her feel scrutinized at every meeting. They had advised her to show cleavage to deal with them. And now it turned out that Daniela ran the sex shop where Carola, the impeccably proper Carola Vidal, had just bought herself a giant dildo.

—So proper, so professional —she imagined them saying with laughter—. But it looks like she likes stuffing things up her pussy.

***

The damage was already done. And almost like a punishment, she tried the dildo again. This time she knelt on the bed, got her fingers really wet, prepared herself. She managed to get in barely a quarter of it and started bouncing on it, imagining it was Damián. It didn’t work. Her boyfriend didn’t have anything close to that size. It even felt like cheating on him.

The next day she decided to use the lubricant she had bought along with the toy. And she discovered the third mistake. The little jar said, in clear letters: “Anal lubricant.”

How could I be so stupid?

Now, in addition to carrying the humiliation of Daniela knowing about the dildo, she had to add the fact that Daniela would think she had bought it to shove up her ass.

—Fuck me, Carola. You’re an idiot —she reproached herself out loud, punching the mattress.

She stayed there staring at the dildo, kneeling, her body covered in sweat. Could this really fit up there? Whole? The idea seemed insane. If it didn’t even fit in her pussy. But she had seen videos. It wasn’t impossible. And after all, it would be something different to do, something other than staring at the ceiling between one wank and the next.

She coated the toy generously and looked at it, unable to stop thinking that it was going to hurt, that she wouldn’t like it, that afterward she would feel like a slut. She didn’t understand how there could be pleasure in that. But she still wanted to try.

Carola no longer wanted to remember everything she did during the lockdown with that toy. Many of her actions from those months still caused her unbearable shame. She looked at the locked drawer and bit her lips. The key was hidden somewhere in the room, but she didn’t even remember where. Maybe that’s better. So I won’t give in to temptation.

She got dressed quickly, to flee from her own demons, and went out into the street. She rode the elevator down without really knowing what she was going to do. In the lobby she ran into Ramiro, the building manager.

—How’s it going, Carola. Didn’t you go to work today?

—No, I was feeling a little off. I decided to stay home.

Ramiro was a weird guy. He said things most people wouldn’t say, without any bad intentions, looking at her body without the slightest discretion.

—Wouldn’t it be good for you to put on a little more clothing? —he said, his eyes fixed on her cleavage and the tight shorts.

—I’m fine, thanks. Oh, Ramiro: the kitchen faucet is dripping. Do you know a plumber?

—That’s just changing the washer, nothing more. I’ll take care of it, no need to call anyone.

—All right. When you have time, come by.

***

That afternoon, while channel surfing —a sure sign she was on the verge of boredom—, she landed on a soccer match. And right then the camera focused on someone named Amadou Sané. Her neighbor. Carola smiled. She wondered whether the women fans sighing over him knew how well endowed he was, how willing he was to satisfy the curiosity of any pretty woman. She had seen him naked. She even had videos.

And then she checked her phone. She had messages from Roxana, her friend, sending her photos of herself in lingerie and naked. Carola smiled watching her spread her legs in front of the camera with such confidence. But one photo left her speechless: Roxana with a dildo shoved in her ass, and a line beneath it. “I’m practicing so Amadou will fuck me from behind.”

—You’re crazy, girl. That whole thing’s never going to fit —she wrote her.

There was no reply. Roxana must have been busy. Carola kept looking at the photos, and the memory turned her on. She slipped her hand inside her white shorts and started rubbing herself, remembering her first attempts with the dildo, fully slathered in anal lubricant. How she had clenched her teeth, squealed, insisted nonstop.

—Come on, it’s going in now. It’s going in —she whispered, without stopping touching herself.

The doorbell made her jump. She almost fell as she pulled up her thong and walked at the same time. Heart racing and ashamed at having been interrupted, she opened the door.

—Oh, Ramiro. What do you need?

—I came about the repair. Since you said the dripping was driving you crazy, I wanted to come as soon as possible.

She let him in. She had taken off her bra when she came back from outside, and under the thin white T-shirt, clinging to her body from sweat, her nipples were brazenly visible.

—You shouldn’t open the door without a bra, Carola —Ramiro said, with complete calm, while working on the faucet—. It would give the neighbors a reason to complain. Though it’s your house; inside you can dress however you want.

—Does it bother you?

—Not at all. I’m only saying it to save you trouble. With assets as voluptuous as yours, it can’t be easy. Any minute now a tit could slip out, they’re not exactly well protected in there.

Carola let out a little laugh. Is this guy crazy? No, he wasn’t. He was just weird, he didn’t understand the codes of conversation like everyone else. His comments irritated her a little, but also, in part, amused her.

And then a jet of cold water soaked her back, and when she turned around, her chest. The wet T-shirt became completely transparent.

—Fuck, Ramiro, shit.

—Sorry, sorry. I thought I’d already turned off the shutoff valve.

She ran to close it. She noticed Ramiro looking at her with reddened cheeks, her tits perfectly visible under the fabric. She went into her room to change, with that strange sensation of having been exposed again. And she thought of Roxana’s photo. If I found the drawer key, I could too.

She took off her T-shirt and, on autopilot, started looking for the key everywhere. She was on her knees peering under the bed when Ramiro’s voice startled her from the doorway.

—The faucet’s fixed. It doesn’t leak anymore. Oh, and if you go out in those shorts, don’t bend over like that. Everything shows.

—Ramiro, I told you I was changing —she covered her breasts by instinct.

—The door was open. Do you keep your clothes under the bed?

—I was looking for the key to the dresser drawer.

—Those little drawers have a pretend lock. They open in a second. —He pulled a screwdriver from his pocket before she could stop him. A click—. There. Open.

Carola wanted to scream, but her reaction came too late. She saw the beige dildo, twenty-five centimeters of sheer presence, appear as if in slow motion. And next to it, a black object with strange curves, with wide and narrow parts.

—Ah, now I see why you wanted it open. And what’s this? —he asked, holding it as if it were from another planet.

—Leave that there, Ramiro. It’s none of your business.

***

The second toy had been a gift. Carola remembered it with her whole body burning with shame. She had received it when, without anal lubricant at home, she couldn’t resist buying another jar from the same store, fully aware of who was on the other side. The box arrived with two jars and that strange branch-shaped vibrator. And a note.

“Sending you a little gift, Caro. Courtesy of the house. Hope you enjoy it. Kisses.” It was signed Daniela Bruno.

Her worst nightmare had become reality. Daniela knew, beyond any doubt now, that the impeccably proper Carola Vidal was shoving things up her ass.

—You’re asking too many questions, Ramiro. Very inappropriate. Give me that.

—You’re right, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just surprised, that’s all. The dildo not so much, lots of women have one. But that you like shoving things up your ass…

—Oh, enough. Stop saying that. —She glared at him, hands on her hips. He put the toy back in the drawer and bowed his head like a scolded puppy, his eyes once again on her breasts.

—Anyway —he went on, unfazed—, the pot of lubricant is half full. And it said “anal.” So it’s obvious you shoved it up your ass, Carola.

The world froze for her in that instant of extreme humiliation. Ramiro might be weird, but he wasn’t stupid. He paid too much attention to details.

—Yes, Ramiro —she said at last, with a mix of anger, pride, and resignation—. I shove it up my ass. And maybe tonight I’ll do it too. That’s why I was looking for the key.

—I can’t imagine how that could be pleasant —he replied, scratching his bald head—. But well, it’s your ass. You must have your reasons.

—And it’s none of your business.

—That’s why you took so long opening the door. You were masturbating. Now I understand the nipples. —And, without warning, he pinched one between two fingers.

—Ow! Ramiro, what are you doing?

—They’re very hard. Women’s get like that when they masturbate —he said it in such a neutral tone it sounded like something read from an encyclopedia.

The worst part wasn’t the pain. The worst part was that her pussy reacted immediately, getting wet all at once, as if someone had flipped a switch. She had to stifle a moan when the building manager’s fingers returned to the nipple.

—Enough, Ramiro. Please, go. I need to be alone.

He let go of her at once, as if he had been burned.

—I’m very sorry. That wasn’t my intention. Have a nice day.

***

When she was finally alone, Carola put the toys back in the drawer, intending to forget about them. Looking for that key had been a mistake. The humiliation with Ramiro was so great that, that night, she didn’t even feel like touching herself.

She went to bed completely naked. Night was made for sleeping without clothes. She closed her eyes and then what she feared so much happened. The banging started slowly against the wall and quickly sped up, and right away a woman’s moans joined in.

Carola would have preferred to be in a restaurant with her boyfriend. But she had to settle for listening to Amadou burying his cock all the way into one of his admirers, celebrating the team’s victory, while she played with herself alone in her room, glancing sideways at the dresser’s last drawer.