The Discs I Found Awakened a Hidden Fantasy

I had moved into the apartment barely two weeks earlier and was still battling the boxes and the dust the previous tenant had left in every corner. That Sunday afternoon, I finally decided to tackle the built-in wardrobe in the bedroom, that enormous, dark piece of furniture that smelled of old wood and confinement. I was twenty-six, living alone for the first time, and I had promised myself the place would be immaculate before I invited anyone over.

While emptying the last shelf, my hand struck something hard at the back. A flat plastic case had slipped into the corner, half-hidden beneath a cloth someone had forgotten. I pulled it out curiously. It was a DVD case without a cover, without any printed title, just a black, anonymous surface that said nothing about what it held inside.

I opened it. Three unlabeled discs, handwritten in silver marker that was barely legible: numbers, not words. I stared at them for a while, weighing them in my palm. They’re probably old movies the guy left behind when he moved out, I thought. Sensible reason told me to throw them in the trash with the rest of the junk. Curiosity told me otherwise.

I knew almost nothing about the previous tenant. The landlord had mentioned him in passing on the day I signed the lease: a private, single man who had lived there for nearly a decade before leaving without even a forwarding address. Those three discs forgotten at the back of the wardrobe were the only personal things of his left anywhere in the apartment, and suddenly holding them felt intimate, almost indiscreet, like opening a stranger’s drawer.

I had just connected the player to the television, with the cables still running visibly along the wall. I sat on the floor, my back against the bed frame, and put in the first disc. A shiver ran up my neck for no apparent reason, as if I were opening something that didn’t belong to me. I ignored the feeling.

The menu appeared onscreen. It was identical to that of any ordinary movie: black background, a list of numbered chapters, repetitive little music playing underneath. Nothing gave away the content. Without even looking at the thumbnail playing in one corner, I pressed enter on the first title.

A few seconds were enough to understand that this wasn’t just another movie. It began with kisses, slow caresses, two bodies seeking each other in a dimly lit room. It was porn. I had seen things like that before, of course, but something about the atmosphere of the recording, the grain of the image and the homemade editing, gave it a forbidden quality that pinned me to the carpet.

I skipped ahead a little, curious to see what it was about. And then I started noticing details that had escaped me at first.

The girls onscreen had something different about them. One of them, with her back to the camera, revealed between her legs a shape my mind took a moment to accept. It can’t be, I told myself, leaning forward. The actress turned around, and the doubt dissolved: she was a trans woman, with a slender body, small, firm tits, a round ass, and a hard cock curving against her belly, its shiny glans already releasing a drop of pre-cum. A sex that contradicted everything I thought I knew about what I liked.

I remained motionless. I expected to feel disgust, or shame, or the urge to change the disc. None of that came. What came was a dull heat in my lower belly, a current slowly rising that I made no effort to stop.

All my life I had thought I knew exactly what I liked. I had a clear map of desire, sharp borders, marked boxes. And there I was, sitting on the floor of an apartment that still didn’t feel like mine, watching that map erase itself in a matter of seconds before an image that fit none of my boxes. Far from frightening me, the surprise drew me in even more.

***

The scene moved unhurriedly. One of the girls approached the other and knelt between her spread legs. She grabbed her cock with one hand, weighed it, and began licking her balls with the tip of her tongue before slowly moving up the shaft. The camera moved closer and captured her taking the entire glans into her mouth, sucking it with tightly pursed lips, letting a strand of saliva fall and run down her chin. She pulled it out, lightly slapped it against her own cheek, then took it back in all the way. The other threw her head back and moaned with her mouth open, one hand on the kneeling girl’s nape, pushing her face against her cock without any delicacy.

I swallowed. There was something hypnotic about watching two bodies break every label I had been taught to respect, and discovering that my desire didn’t understand labels at all. The girl sucking took the cock so deep she gagged, pulled away coughing with tears in her eyes, then plunged back onto it as if she needed to drown herself again.

Without realizing it, my hand had moved down over my pants. I pulled it away for a second, as if asking myself for permission, then put it back. I was hard, my cock outlined against the denim, and a small damp spot was beginning to form at the tip. Harder than I could remember being in a long time, and I still hadn’t done anything.

I undid the button of my jeans and lowered the zipper. I pulled out my cock and held it in my fist for a moment, throbbing against my fingers, while I spat into my palm to lubricate it. The room was dim except for the bluish glow of the screen, which washed over my face and hands with every change of shot. I began slowly, my thumb sliding over the glans on every upward stroke, following the rhythm of what I was watching, just as the images began gently before speeding up.

In the movie, the two women changed positions. One ended up on all fours on the bed, her ass raised, her pussy and asshole shining in the harsh light of the spotlight; the other positioned herself behind her and ran the tip of her cock along the slit, up and down, wetting herself before pushing in. When she drove in hard, the woman underneath let out a howl and dug her fingers into the sheet. The camera focused on the motion: the cock entering all the way, sliding out gleaming to the glans, then sinking back in as the ass bounced against the hips of the one fucking her. “That’s it, give it to me harder, harder, fuck,” the one underneath panted, her face pressed against the mattress. The other grabbed her hair, pulled her head back, and started fucking her pussy with hard thrusts, each one accompanied by the sharp smack of skin against skin. I bit my lip and sped up my hand. This shouldn’t turn me on so much, I thought, and the very idea of the forbidden aroused me even more.

The scene ended with the one on top pulling out, grabbing her cock, and coming in spurts over the other’s back and ass, three or four long bursts that left gleaming white streams across her skin. The one underneath turned around, gathered some of the semen with two fingers, and brought it to her mouth without taking her eyes off the camera.

The first disc ended without my realizing how much time had passed. I moved my hand away from my cock, still hard and slippery, and changed to the second disc with clumsy, almost impatient fingers. I sat back down on the floor with my back against the bed frame, my jeans around my thighs and my stiff cock pointing at the ceiling.

***

The second was more intense. The main actress had her hair tied back and a look that seemed directed straight at the camera, as if she knew someone would be watching her years later from the floor of an empty apartment. She knelt in front of a naked man, grabbed his cock with both hands, and licked up the shaft from base to tip, pausing at the frenulum, playing the tip of her tongue over the glans before opening her mouth and swallowing it whole.

I found it impossible to look away. There was an honest rawness in every movement, none of the forced posing of big-budget productions. The girl took the cock down her throat, genuinely panting, gagging a little, pulling off to breathe amid thick strands of saliva hanging from her lips, then starting again. She sucked his balls one at a time, took them into her mouth, then went back up the throbbing shaft. She spat on it and used it to smear her face and tits, then sank it down her throat again, eyes watering, until the guy grabbed her head with both hands and fucked her mouth at his own pace, pushing until she gagged.

I matched my hand to her mouth, squeezing harder when she squeezed, loosening my grip when she pulled back to breathe. I sucked two fingers and slid them underneath, caressing my tight balls, playing with my perineum while my other hand continued moving up and down my cock.

The man then laid her on her back on the bed and shoved her legs apart. He ran his tongue over his lips and went down to eat her pussy, spreading her folds with his thumbs and beginning to lick her clit in slow circles that made her arch. He put in two fingers, then three, and the girl began fucking herself against his hand, moving her hips against his face, grabbing his hair, panting obscenities. “Eat me, eat me more, don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop,” she moaned in a broken voice.

When he positioned himself over her and penetrated her slowly, the camera caught the actress’s face, her eyes half-closed, her mouth open in an expression that didn’t look acted. The cock entered inch by inch and she moaned higher and higher, until he reached the bottom and stayed there, pinning her against the mattress. He began pumping slowly, emphasizing every thrust, letting the cock slide almost all the way out before driving it back into her. Then he sped up and the bed began banging against the wall. She grabbed her tits, pinched her nipples, licked her fingers, and slid them between her legs to touch her clit while he fucked her.

He turned her onto her side and lifted one leg, fucking her sideways, then rolled her facedown and mounted her on all fours again. He drove his cock into her with a sharp thrust and she came screaming, squeezing her pussy in visible spasms around the cock that kept sliding in and out. He gripped her hips with both hands and began pounding her with faster and faster thrusts, skin slapping skin, the wet sound of her dripping pussy filling the speaker.

My breathing had grown short and noisy. I could feel my heart in my temples. My cock throbbed in my fist, soaked with saliva and my own fluid, slipping between my fingers with every stroke.

That was when the tingling began. The unmistakable signal rising from the base, warning that there was no turning back. Onscreen, the guy pulled his cock from her pussy, grabbed it, and unloaded all over her ass and back, grunting with every spurt, and I sped up without meaning to, losing the borrowed rhythm of the screen to find my own, more urgent, more selfish. The tension gathered in one point and stayed there, vibrating for a few endless seconds, my balls pulled tight against my body and my cock swelling one last time.

When I came, I did so with such force it nearly doubled me over. The first jet reached my chest, hot, and the next ones fell over my stomach and fist as I kept squeezing, milking myself of every last drop. I remained hunched over myself, panting, my mind blank and my body trembling from the release, my cock still hard and sensitive in my hand, sliding through my own cum. The screen continued moving, indifferent, spreading its blue light across the room and over the semen gleaming on my skin.

***

It took me quite a while to pull myself together. I wiped myself with my T-shirt, pulled up my pants, and stayed sitting there, my back still against the bed, staring at the ceiling while my breathing returned to normal. I didn’t feel guilty. I felt something stranger: the certainty that I had discovered a door that had been closed for years without my even knowing it existed.

And then I saw it. The bedroom curtains were wide open.

The apartment was on the first floor, directly opposite the neighboring building, its windows barely a few yards away. I had been sitting there in the dark all afternoon, with nothing but the revealing glow of the television, without bothering to draw even a single curtain. Anyone who had looked at just the right moment would have seen exactly what I was doing: my cock out, my hand moving up and down, my face contorted with pleasure, and my cum spurting over my stomach.

My blood ran cold for a second. I jumped up and discreetly peered outside. Nearly all the windows opposite were dark, some lit by the faint glow of a television. There was no way to know whether anyone was behind the glass. No way to know whether eyes had followed every one of my movements from the shadows.

Let whoever wants to watch, watch, I thought suddenly, and instead of shaming me, the idea sent another surge of heat through my stomach and a delayed throb through my already-empty cock. The possibility that I had been seen, that someone had spied on my most private discovery without my knowing it, gave the memory an extra layer of kink I hadn’t expected.

I finally drew the curtains. But it was already too late to undo whatever had happened.

***

That night I barely slept. I tossed and turned in bed, replaying the images, the curves of those bodies, the trans girl’s hard cock, the second actress’s drooling mouth, her direct gaze at the camera, and the prickling sensation of the open curtains behind me. I got hard again beneath the comforter and slowly beat off once more, this time without a screen, using only the memory, coming in my hand in the darkness before finally passing out. Something inside me had changed, a switch I would no longer know how to turn off.

The next day I put the discs in the bedside-table drawer, not in the trash as I had originally planned. The third was still unopened. I liked knowing it was there, waiting, like a promise I could keep any Sunday afternoon when curiosity once again outweighed prudence.

Over the following weeks I caught myself looking with different eyes. At women in the street, yes, but also at possibilities I had never considered before, at a broader, more honest desire than the one I had carried unquestioningly for years. Those forgotten discs belonging to a stranger had taught me something about myself that no mirror had ever managed to tell me.

Sometimes, at night, I leave the curtains slightly open. Not all the way. Just enough that, if I pull it out again while watching the third disc, someone in one of the apartments opposite might look into the darkness and discover, just as I did that afternoon, a fantasy they never knew they had.

And that, for now, is all I’m willing to tell.