The Fantasy I Finally Worked Up the Courage to Fulfill Alone

I’m thirty-six years old and, until recently, there was a part of me living behind a door I never quite dared to open. I think almost everyone carries something like that: a secret corner made up of little kinks and desires you never say out loud. Mine had to do with curiosity, with those forbidden things that heated my skin from a very young age and yet that I always left halfway undone.

I like sex in all its forms. I consider myself a lover of women, I adore sucking their cunts until they come in my mouth and fucking them until they’re left trembling, but I was never afraid of the idea of a man touching my cock or putting a finger in my ass. In practice, with the partners I had, almost everything had stayed at half-measures: one girlfriend who licked my hole while I was going down on her, another who slid a finger deep inside me just as I was coming inside her, and that little detail multiplied my load until I was left breathless. Once, a friend with whom I shared a girl squeezed my cock with a hand slick with saliva while I was fucking her, and that brush of another man’s hand on my dick marked me more than I was willing to admit.

Alone, in the privacy of my apartment, it was another story. There, nothing had to be justified. One ordinary night, almost without planning it, while I was jerking off thinking about a coworker, I took my other hand behind me and rubbed my hole out of curiosity. I felt a current run through me from ass to the tip of my cock, and I was on the verge of coming without even having finished touching myself. At first it was just a finger wet with spit, carefully, on those afternoons when the building’s silence was my only accomplice. I discovered there was a spot inside me, a few inches in, that responded differently: a swollen little nub that, when pressed, made me leak pre-cum like I was being milked. Every time I brushed it with my fingertip, my cock gave a jolt and let out a thick drop without anyone touching it. It left me trembling in a way my usual masturbation never had.

What if I go a little further?

That question stayed with me for weeks. The idea kept turning over in my head while I worked, while I drove, while I pretended to pay attention in a meeting. I imagined something thicker inside me, something that would fill that hollow for real, not a timid finger. I wanted to try it properly, with something made for that, not improvise. So one dawn, with my cock hard and two fingers in my ass, I ended up searching for toys on one of those sites that ship in anonymous boxes, with no labels to give anything away.

The first one was a mistake. I chose badly, driven more by anxiety than common sense: too thick, too hard. When it arrived and I tried it, the tip barely opened me before I felt as if it were splitting me in two. It hurt and killed my desire immediately. I tucked it away in the back of a drawer, frustrated, almost convinced that this wasn’t for me.

But curiosity doesn’t go out that easily. I went back to the same page, this time without rushing, reading descriptions and reviews like someone studying for an important exam. I found another model: silicone, soft, flexible, much smaller than the first. Twelve centimeters, barely the width of two fingers, with a broad rounded base so there’d be no accidents. I stared at it on the screen for a long while while my cock got harder just imagining it going in.

This one. This is the one I need.

I ordered it along with a special gel, the kind meant to relax and help it slip in. And then came the worst part: the wait. Three days in which I checked the shipping status more times than I care to admit, in which I surprised myself jerking off every night thinking about how it would feel, imagining the slick silicone sliding in centimeter by centimeter through my hole. I wanted that package with almost teenage impatience, as if it were bringing me something much bigger than a silicone toy.

***

It arrived on a Friday afternoon. They left it at the door in a perfectly discreet brown box, and I brought it inside so fast it was as if someone might guess what it held. I opened it in the kitchen, hands a little clumsy, and there it was: small, dark, shaped like a miniature cock, much less intimidating than I had imagined. I held it in my palm, felt the soft silicone yield under the pressure of my fingers, and noticed my heart speeding up for no reasonable cause. My cock was already starting to swell in my pants.

I decided to wait until night. I wanted to do it properly, without haste, without the shadow of a doorbell or a message interrupting. When darkness finally fell, I locked the door, lowered the blinds, turned off my phone, and left only one lamp on. The whole apartment seemed to be holding its breath with me.

I took a long shower, more as ritual than necessity. Under the hot water I prepared myself calmly, soaped my hole well, put in one finger, then two, feeling my skin relax with the heat. I touched my cock half-erect, not wanting to come yet, with that mixture of modesty and excitement known only to someone daring to do something for the first time. I dried off, stretched out on the bed on my back, and left the toy and the gel within reach on the nightstand, like two guests I had long been promising this date.

I was in no hurry. That I had learned: everything feels much better when your body has been lit up for a while, when the blood is already hot and that hidden area becomes more sensitive, more swollen, more demanding. So I started with myself, without touching the toy yet. I spat into my hand and wrapped it around my shaft, running my thumb over the tip, making slow circles around the glans. I stroked myself slowly, from base to tip, with no intention of finishing, only of raising the temperature little by little. I could feel my cock throbbing against my palm, getting harder and harder, fuller and fuller, and a clear drop began to bead at the slit.

With my other hand I licked two fingers and took them back there. I rubbed my hole in circles, not entering yet, letting the skin wake up. Then I pushed just a little, and the first finger slid in easily, as if my ass were asking for it. I moved it inside, curving it until I found that swollen little nub, and when I pressed it I let out a loud moan that surprised even me. My cock jolted and a new thick drop spilled onto my belly.

When I was already rock hard and breathing heavier, with my hole awake and throbbing, I took the toy. I passed it over my skin, slid it between my legs, rubbed it against my balls, rested it on my cock and compared the size while biting my lip. I was so aroused that every touch sent a shiver through me. I put the tip of the toy in my mouth, sucked it a little, playing at imagining it was another man’s cock, and that thought alone nearly made me come right there. I want it inside me once and for all, I thought, and that thought alone made me hotter still.

I put a generous amount of gel on the tip, spread it with my fingers until the toy glistened all over, slippery, and squeezed another stream straight into my hole. The cold liquid made me clench my ass for a second. Then, with my legs open and my knees bent up toward my chest, I set the soft tip of those twelve centimeters right at the opening, at the place where my body was begging for attention. I applied a light pressure, just a little push, and felt the tip give a bit and stay there, inside, waiting. I paused. I breathed. Easy. No rush.

I’m tight, so I put on more gel and pushed again, with more patience than force. Centimeter by centimeter, it went in. The first half took effort, with that initial tension that quickly turned into something else, into a warm pressure that made me open my mouth without making a sound. I could feel the muscle opening around the silicone, yielding, swallowing it slowly. And then it happened: the second half slid in almost by itself, soft, as if my body had finally given in, as if my ass had been wanting to yield for years and only needed permission.

I trembled. I mean it: I trembled with pleasure, with a shudder that ran up my back and raised goosebumps all the way to my nape. I sank it all the way in, to the wide base that guaranteed nothing could go wrong, and stayed still for a moment, legs spread and cock pointing at the ceiling, feeling it all inside me, taking in a sensation I had no prior reference for. I was full. I was open. And I loved it.

***

I started moving carefully, rocking my hips against the toy, lifting and lowering my ass a few centimeters, letting the inner tip brush exactly the right spot. With every movement, a different wave ran through me from the center outward. I grabbed the toy by its base and started fucking myself, pulling it out until only the tip remained inside, then shoving it all the way back in with a smooth thrust. At first slowly, setting a rhythm, then a little faster, feeling the gel make a wet sound that echoed in the empty apartment.

I didn’t even need to touch my cock: from my half-erect, throbbing dick a thick whitish liquid began to seep without my doing anything, a steady stream that ran down my skin and soaked my balls, as if pleasure had moved entirely to another part of my body. My prostate pulsed every time the toy’s tip hit it, and with each impact I let out another drop, and another, until my belly and groin were soaked.

I moved more. I changed positions, turned onto my side with one leg up, and kept driving it into me, now at a different angle that hit me right there, deeper. Then I turned over onto my stomach, face pressed into the pillow and ass raised, and fucked myself from behind, imagining for a second that it was someone else pushing it in, someone else opening me up hungrily. I closed my eyes and let myself go, gradually losing any sense of time and modesty. I thought about forbidden things, about scenes I’d never dared tell anyone, about an чужой hand gripping the back of my neck, about a hard cock pumping in and out of me at the same rhythm. Fantasy and physical sensation blended into something that overwhelmed me. I moaned alone, in the dim light, long filthy moans, with no one to hear me, and for once I felt no shame at all yelling, “Like that, deeper, more,” into the void.

The pleasure kept building in a way unlike anything I knew. It wasn’t the abrupt, quick finish of usual orgasms, but a slow tide that rose and rose, concentrating at that inner point and spreading through my whole body. I lay back on my back again, left the toy buried to the base, and finally took my hand to my cock, gripping it firmly. Three or four slow jerks, squeezing hard, feeling the toy still but vibrating with every pulse of my ass, were enough to bring me to the edge.

When the orgasm came, it came differently. It wasn’t a release, it was an overflow. The semen came out in abundance, without effort, almost in spurts, in four, five, six thick ropes that landed on my chest, my neck, one even hitting my chin. As I came, my ass clenched around the toy, squeezing it, milking it as if it were a real cock, and that internal pressure made each spasm last twice as long. A milking sensation shook me from the inside out. I arched on the bed, with the toy still inside, prolonging each spasm, moving it barely at all, letting the pleasure empty itself on its own, at its own pace, without my being able or willing to control it. My legs were still trembling when the last drop slid down my side. It was long, intense, overwhelming.

Afterward I lay there a while, breathing hard, my chest smeared with my own load and my body limp, staring at the ceiling. A stupid laugh escaped me, a mix of disbelief and relief. So many years avoiding this, for this. When I finally removed the toy, slowly, I felt one last shudder, almost like a farewell, my hole closing around nothing again, and a deep calm I hadn’t known in a long time.

***

That night I slept differently. Not because of guilt or shame, but because of a strange kind of peace, the peace of having stopped fighting with a part of myself. I was still the same man who loves women, who dreams of a threesome, of a girl sucking my cock while another sits on my face, who fantasizes about a thousand other things. But I had added something new, a place I now knew how to return to when I was alone and wanted to explore my ass without asking anyone’s permission.

In the days that followed, I surprised myself thinking about it, reliving it, jerking off in the shower with two fingers inside, and also looking at that page again. I’m already thinking about the next step: a slightly bigger model, fourteen centimeters, three fingers wide. And who knows, maybe later I’ll work up the nerve for an even larger one, or for someone else’s hand to put it in me. But there’s no rush. I learned that the best part of all this is precisely that: giving myself time, losing my fear little by little, discovering myself without guilt.

Sometimes I think that what is forbidden is nothing more than what we don’t dare try. And that the day I locked that door to open, at last, the other one, I stopped being a spectator of my own fantasies. If you’re also keeping one of those curiosities at the back of a drawer, maybe it’s time to bring it into the light. I did it one ordinary night, alone with my hole and a silicone toy, and I still can’t believe all I was missing.