The Day I Discovered My Most Intimate Fetish

Hi everyone. I’m a woman and, if you want to call me something, call me Romina. I’m writing because I need to tell this to someone, somewhere, and because, to be honest, I’m hoping someone can help me take it further.

I have tastes that a lot of people would consider strange, although to me they’re nothing out of the ordinary. The idea of being looked at too closely turns me on—having a stranger run his eyes over me in the middle of the street, having someone imagine what I’m like underneath my clothes while I wait for the bus. Basic things, almost innocent compared with what I read about online. Or at least that’s what I thought until this afternoon.

I was home alone. The apartment was silent, the curtains drawn, and I had that feeling of having all the time in the world. I stepped into the shower without hurrying, let the hot water fall over my shoulders, and started touching myself almost without thinking, the way you follow an old habit. I ran my soapy hand over my tits, slowly at first, squeezing them, tugging on my nipples until they were hard as stones. My other hand went between my legs on its own. I spread the lips of my pussy with two fingers and searched for my clit, already swollen and throbbing beneath my fingertip. I began rubbing it in slow circles, biting my lower lip. I was soaked inside, far more from my arousal than from the shower water.

I have a small dildo that I keep just for moments like that. It’s nothing spectacular, but it does its job. I closed my eyes and let the water run down my back while I slid it over the lips of my cunt, coating it with my own juices before pushing it inside. When the tip began to enter, I let out a little moan, surprised as always by how tight I am at first. I pushed it in little by little, feeling each inch open me up, until I had taken the whole thing. Then I started fucking myself with my hand, pulling it almost all the way out and shoving it back in with a thrust, splashing inside me. Images ran through my head, fantasies I don’t even fully understand myself: hands that weren’t mine grabbing my hair, an unknown cock entering me from behind without asking permission, a mouth sucking my pussy while someone else put me in his mouth.

My hand found its rhythm. I fucked myself harder and faster, while squeezing and pinching my clit with the other. Steam filled the bathroom, the mirror was completely fogged up, and I pressed myself against the tiles for support, one leg raised over the edge of the tub so I could spread myself wider. I felt everything inside me contracting, felt my pussy clamp down in bites around the plastic. When the orgasm hit, I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming; it shook me from my belly to my knees and made me squirt a hot stream that ran down my thigh mixed with the water. I stayed there trembling under the spray, the dildo still inside me, my legs weak, smiling to myself like an idiot.

And that could have been the end of it. Just another afternoon, a good orgasm, and then on with my life. But something happened when I got out of the shower that I hadn’t planned.

***

On the sink there was a little plastic bottle, one of those small ones with the narrow nozzle that come with liquid hand soap. It was empty, waiting for me to refill it. I don’t know what crossed my mind at that moment. I really don’t. I just looked at it, looked at the nozzle, and a stupid, delicious idea settled between my legs.

I filled it with warm water. I leaned against the edge of the sink, still wet, still sensitive from what had just happened, with my ass sticking out and my heels spread apart. I pulled one cheek aside with my left hand, found my little hole with my fingertip, and rubbed it a little, slick with water and my own juices. Then I pressed the nozzle against it, took a deep breath, and slowly pushed it into my anus, feeling the hard plastic force my tight ring open until it gave way.

I squeezed.

The water entered me, and it was a sensation I had never felt before. Warm, filling me from within, a gentle pressure that traveled upward through me and left me breathless for a second. I let out a long sigh, followed by another moan, lower and almost animal. What is this? Why does it feel so good? I felt my ass clench around the nozzle, trying to hold on to that little bit of warmth, while my pussy, still throbbing from the earlier orgasm, began getting wet again all by itself.

The problem was that the bottle was tiny. Barely a couple of mouthfuls of water, nothing. I pulled it out, filled it again, and repeated it. Once. Twice. Four times, I counted, before giving up. Each time the pressure lasted a few seconds and then disappeared, leaving me wanting it more than before. On the third time, I dared to put two fingers in my pussy as well while squeezing the little stream into my ass, and I almost fell over from trembling. I felt the two inner walls pressing against each other, one filled with warm water, the other filled with my fingers, and I didn’t know where to put my face.

I sat on the edge of the tub, wet and breathless, staring at my feet. I could still feel the tingling between my ass cheeks and an absurd urge for someone to put something bigger, something longer, inside me—something that would truly fill me. I didn’t understand anything. An hour earlier, the thought wouldn’t even have occurred to me, and now all I could think about was feeling that for real, seriously, right to the limit.

***

I know it sounds strange. I spent the entire afternoon questioning it myself. I searched for the pros and cons of what I’d done, reading and trying to understand whether this was normal or whether I’d gone too far into perversion. But I reached a very simple conclusion: I liked it. I liked it very much. And if I like something that much, I’m going to keep doing it.

I went onto forums, read other people’s confessions, and found people describing the same thing I’d felt, only multiplied a thousand times over. Some people use a hose and fill themselves completely, until they can’t take any more, describing that sensation of fullness as the best thing they’ve ever tried. They say an orgasm with a full ass is out of this world, that they come screaming, that they end up lying there for half an hour unable to move. I read it, and my whole body clenched at the thought.

I want to do it. I really want to feel that. The problem is practical, which is why I’m writing: I have no idea how to connect a hose to my bathroom, what I need, or what precautions I should take so I don’t hurt myself. I know there are safe ways to do this, and I don’t want to go at it recklessly. If anyone knows about this, please help this pervert satisfy herself and enjoy it without ending up in a clinic.

I’m not ashamed to ask. I spent years holding myself back, pretending to be more proper than I am, and I’m tired of it. Today I discovered something new about myself in the least expected place, in front of the sink in my own bathroom, and I have no intention of ignoring it.

***

I’m twenty-seven, I live in Medellín, and just so you have an idea, I’m not the shy girl I seem to be at work. At my desk I’m serious and formal, the one who’s never late. Inside, I stopped being that person a long time ago.

There’s a part of me that lights up on its own when I imagine someone discovering me, coming into the bathroom just when I’m like that, on all fours over the tub, with the bottle up my ass and my fingers buried in my pussy, panting, water running down my legs. Seeing the whore’s face I make when I come, hearing the obscene noises I make without realizing it. I don’t know how to explain why the thought of being caught turns me on so much. Maybe that’s it: the thrill of what no one is supposed to see, of what you do in secret and that burns precisely because it’s a secret.

This week I was invited to a new bar downtown, one that opened recently and that everyone is talking about. They say things happen there, that people let loose, that nobody judges anybody. I’m going. I plan to drink until I lose my head a little, until my shyness disappears completely, and let myself be carried away by whatever comes.

And since I’m confessing, there’s something else I want to try for the first time. I’ve never had anal sex with a man. I’ve thought about it a thousand times, fantasized about it in the shower more often than I’d admit, but I never dared. After today, after discovering how good it feels to open my body that way, I’m not afraid of it anymore. I want it. I want someone to grab me by the hips, bend me over a bed, and push a hard cock all the way into my ass.

I imagine the scene in almost obsessive detail. Strong hands on my hips, a low voice in my ear saying, “Relax, slut, I’m going to put the whole thing in you.” The tip of his cock resting against my little hole, pushing, forcing open that ring no man has ever opened for me, until it slowly gives and I feel him entering inch by inch. The same warm pressure I discovered today, but this time for real, filling me with flesh instead of warm water from a ridiculous little bottle. I imagine him fucking me slowly at first, giving me time, and then letting go, pounding me hard, grabbing my hair, his balls slapping against my wet pussy while I rub my clit with two fingers and beg him for more. Filling my ass with cum, leaving it hot inside me, then watching it drip between my cheeks. I lose my breath just writing it, and I have to cross my legs tightly against the chair to keep from squirming.

***

So here I am, telling strangers about the most intimate thing that’s happened to me in a long time, not really sure why I’m doing it except that I needed to get it out. Maybe because writing it down makes it real. Maybe because one of you has already been through this and can tell me how to go on.

If you know about hoses, vaginal douches, or how to do all this properly and safely, write to me. And if you’re in Medellín and feel like coming with me to that bar to see how far the night goes, so much the better. I promise nothing, but I’m not promising to behave either.

A few hours ago I was a normal woman with a couple of harmless kinks. Now I’m someone who can’t stop thinking about how much more her own body might be able to feel. And believe me, I’m only just beginning to find out.

I’ll tell you later how it went.