The Fantasy I Fulfilled When the House Was Empty

My name is Damián, and I want to tell you about an experience that, although it might not seem like much from the outside, marked a before and after for me. It changed the way I live my desire, my body, and pleasure. It was like opening a door without knowing what was behind it and finding myself face-to-face with a version of me that had spent years waiting for me to let him out.

Back then I was still living with my parents, so I didn’t have the freedom to turn on the computer whenever I felt like it, dim the lights, and give myself over in peace to what I was feeling. I had to wait for those strange little stretches when the house fell silent, with no one around. And even so, more often than not, the urge was stronger than caution.

There were nights when I couldn’t resist. I’d lock myself in, put on headphones so I wouldn’t make noise, and browse with one hand on the mouse and the other shoved inside my pants, gripping my hard cock, always with one eye on the screen and the other fixed on the door, alert to any footsteps in the hallway. Sometimes I did nothing more than look, my dick throbbing against my palm and the tension climbing through my whole body. Other times I’d yank it out, work it fast with a clenched fist, biting my lips so I wouldn’t make a sound, and cum into a handful of napkins with my heart in my throat, thick semen spurting out of me in jets while I held back every moan.

But there were also those rare, almost miraculous times when I was completely alone. Those moments were different. That was when I could let all the built-up desire go, turn down the volume of the outside world and turn up my own pleasure. I’d get ready, calmly choose what I was going to watch, and surrender without rushing. I’d strip off all my clothes, sink into the chair with my legs spread, and stroke my cock slowly, enjoying every second, edging myself again and again, letting it swell until the tip turned purple and a thick drop of fluid slid down from my glans. When I finally let myself finish, I’d cum in long spasms, jizz flying up to my chest, groaning hard because no one could hear me.

***

It all started the night I found a page dedicated to erotic content. It wasn’t just another one among many. It had something addictive about it, with sections and categories that sparked curiosities I didn’t even know I had inside me. At first I only wanted to look. I made an account without thinking too much about it, just so I could open some posts that required registration. I filled in the details absentmindedly, never imagining I was opening the door to something much deeper.

The next few days I spent hooked, exploring every corner of that site, which had something hard to explain. The posts were varied: photos, videos, texts, some brutal, others more suggestive, but all of them shared the same aim of turning you on. There were women showing their open cunts with their fingers, huge tits dripping oil, asses pressed against the camera, videos of girls sucking cocks with their mouths full, licking balls, swallowing cum down to the last drop. Every post got points from users, and that pushed the people uploading content to make an effort to show their best.

I discovered there was a ranking with the most valued posts, and I’d lose myself in those lists: the favorites of the year, of the month, of the week, until I ended up checking the most viewed of the day. It became a ritual. I’d go in, choose a category depending on what got me hot at that moment, and let myself be carried away. Hours staring, wanting, exploring, with my cock rock hard in my hand almost the whole time. Sometimes that was enough: stroking slowly, not cumming, letting the desire build up inside me. Other times I’d release all the tension in one go, cumming with a held-back moan and the screen still lit, watching a stranger slide two fingers into her cunt while I emptied myself into my hand.

The next day, the same thing. As if something inside me were asking to come back, over and over.

***

Since I’d already gone through all the sections several times, I always found something new that would lead me, almost inevitably, to finishing the way I did every day. But there was one category I’d always skipped over. The few times anything from there showed up, it was photos of men showing themselves off, and honestly, that didn’t do it for me. Just as there was a section where women uploaded images and videos of themselves, from the mildest to the most explicit, there was another one for men. Each of them showed whatever they wanted, as far as they wanted: hard cocks, ejaculations on camera, guys masturbating. I had never paid it any attention.

Until one day, without looking for it, everything changed.

I was bored in front of the computer, with my whole family moving around the house. One of those impossible situations: four people around me and, on top of that, I had to leave in a while to run an errand. Still, I went into the site, more out of habit than anything else. And the first thing that popped up was a post of a guy showing his body.

He was standing in a room with dim light, and he looked confident, relaxed. Naked body, solid, his dick hanging thick between his legs, with that look halfway between provocative and natural that guys who know they’re desirable have. I didn’t stop to look at him too closely. But something about that image kept spinning around in my head. Not because I was turned on by seeing him, but because all of a sudden an idea crossed my mind.

What if I were the one posting a photo like that?

What if I showed my body, my hard cock, my ass? What if someone on the other side got turned on by an image of me? What if a real woman, a stranger, curious, opened my post, paused for a few seconds, and slipped her hand into her panties thinking about me?

I liked the idea. The fantasy of being desired turned me on more than any video. Of someone getting hot looking at my skin, my dick, my shape. Of fantasizing about me, jerking off to my photos, cumming with their fingers buried in their cunt while wanting me. Of their legs trembling while they wrote an anonymous comment telling me they were dying to suck my cock, to taste my cum in their mouth, to have me shove it all the way in. The mere idea made me hard as a rock. The bulge was pressing against my pants, throbbing, and I still hadn’t done anything.

***

The next few days were a strange mix. When I was home and found a moment alone, I kept doing what I always did: sitting in front of the screen, going through the sections, letting myself go until I finished. But something had changed. When I wasn’t in front of the computer, the idea of that post of mine kept coming back nonstop. It would show up while I was walking down the street, while I was riding the bus, while I was having dinner with my family. Even in bed, before falling asleep, when my body started to relax, that fantasy became clearer and stronger, until I ended up with my hand under the sheets, jerking myself slowly until I came on my own stomach, imagining anonymous eyes fixed on me.

I imagined everything: what photos I’d take, which part of my body I’d show first, whether it would be the bulge outlined in my briefs or my cock out in the open, hard, pointing at the camera. I thought about angles, light, pose. I wondered how many people would see it, how many women would spread their legs looking at me, how many would slip their fingers into their cunt until they came with my image glowing on the screen. How many guys too, why not, would grab themselves looking at my dick and cum thinking about taking it in their mouth.

It had become an obsession.

It wasn’t just about finishing. It was something deeper, something to do with being seen, being desired, provoking orgasms on the other side of the screen. The idea alone filled me with a strange mix: a tingling in my chest, electricity in my whole cock, and a tension I couldn’t ignore every time I fantasized about it.

Three or four days passed like that, with the idea spinning around in my head all the time, getting me hotter than any image. Until, suddenly, fate winked at me. We were having lunch as a family, the most ordinary scene, when my sister, between bites, asked permission to go to the movies that night with some friends and sleep over at one of their houses.

I was in my own world, fantasizing about the photos I was going to take, when I heard her voice. I sat up a little in the chair, turned my head slowly toward my dad, and waited for the answer. But it wasn’t the answer my sister was expecting. It was the one I was expecting, with almost childish anxiety. Only what I wanted wasn’t a night out. It was something far more intimate. Dirtier.

Because if my sister left, and my parents—as we’d already known for weeks—were also going to that party they’d had planned for a while, then that night the house would be empty. Empty and all mine.

That “yes,” when it finally came, wasn’t just a family permission. It was a sign. The confirmation that that night, at last, the long-awaited moment had arrived.

That night was going to be the night. The night of my first photo session. My first post. My first time exposing myself to the world.

***

That afternoon, after eating, I had class. I don’t remember what subject, but I do remember I didn’t hear a single word from the teacher or my classmates. My head was somewhere else. All I could think about was what was going to happen that night, about me, about my body, about how I was going to show my cock, about the load I was going to shoot in front of the camera. I kept getting hard all the time; I had to cross my legs under the desk to hide it.

When I got home there were still several hours to go before everyone left. The minutes dragged on, desperately slowly, as if time were stretching itself out on purpose just to mess with me. Every sound, every movement, every passing minute brought me a little closer and got me a little hotter. I could already feel the bulge throbbing inside my pants, the tip of my cock wet with pure desire.

At last, my sister’s friends came to pick her up. While my parents finished getting ready, I moved around the house with a mix of anxiety and excitement. When I saw them get into the car and drive away down the street, I knew there was no turning back. I was alone. Completely alone.

I already had the clothes I was going to wear ready. I’d chosen the corner of the house, thought through the angles, the light, everything. I’d been building the scene in my head over and over for the last few days, and now I was going to make it real. I locked the door, and it was like flipping a switch inside me. I felt my cock harden all at once, swelling against my jeans, tense, throbbing, as if my body had been waiting for exactly that signal. A wave of desire rushed through me from head to toe, intense, electric, with my dick so hard it hurt. I was about to strip and show myself.

I went into my room and found the briefs I had in mind. I took off my pants and underwear. My cock sprang out hard, pointing toward the ceiling, with a thick drop of precum sliding down my glans. I grabbed it for a second, squeezed the base, felt the pulse in my palm. I held back. It wasn’t time to finish yet. I put on the briefs: black, made of a very thin fabric, as soft as it was delicate, almost sheer, showing quite a bit of what was underneath. The hard cock made an obscene bulge against the cloth, outlining itself completely, the tip pushing upward as if trying to break through the fabric.

On top of that I put on a worn pair of jeans and nothing else. That’s how I started taking the first photos. My hands trembled a little, but my body wanted me to keep going.

***

I began in front of the mirror, full body, barefoot, jeans on and my torso bare. I’m five foot ten, and back then I trained a lot, so I was defined: my abs showed and my arms looked firm. I didn’t let my brown eyes or my short dark hair be seen. I showed only up to my nose, my mouth, and a couple of days’ worth of beard.

There was something about that partial image, about showing without fully showing, that turned me on even more. I took some shots from the front and others in profile. Then I unbuttoned the fly slowly, like I was stripteasing myself. My cock, still hard, immediately pushed against the fabric as soon as the pressure of the pants eased. I captured the tight briefs, the thick bulge outlined in full, the shape of the cock drawing itself against the thin cloth, the tip already damp with a dark stain of precum that had soaked through the fabric.

Then I pulled my pants all the way down and kept going. Just in the briefs, almost transparent, clinging to my body and tracing every contour. Everything showed: the swollen cock, the balls pressed tight against the fabric, even the dark hair that showed through. I stroked myself over the briefs, pressed the cock with my open palm, felt it pulse against my hand. Desire mixed with adrenaline and it was hard to keep still between one photo and the next. Every time the fabric brushed against my glans, a spasm shot through me, a hot stab at the base of my belly, and I had to breathe deeply so I wouldn’t finish right there.

I was still as hard as at the beginning, throbbing, impossible to ignore. It was time to show what I wanted to show. I pulled the briefs down a little and let the tip peek out. The cock came pushing out on its own, swollen, red, shining with the precum that was already dripping from me. I took some photos like that, with the fabric still squeezing the base, as if it were trying to hold back what it could no longer contain. It looked obscene, displayed, offered, with tight skin and swollen veins.

Then I pulled the briefs down a little more, until I was free. My cock sprang out hard and throbbing, with my balls hanging heavy underneath. The room’s light gave it a warm glow, and every angle seemed to highlight something different: the curve of the glans, the thickness of the shaft, the swollen veins running down the side. I was so turned on I barely needed to touch myself to keep the tension, but I did anyway; I stroked from base to tip, spread the precum all over the glans, and took photos with my hand clenched around my cock, squeezing it.

I took shots from a distance, full-frame in front of the mirror, and then moved in closer: close-ups, details, shadows. The cock dripping, wet, shining under the light. Photos of the swollen glans, of the tip opening, of the tight balls. Desire turned into image.

And then came the final step. I took the briefs off completely and stood totally naked in front of the mirror. I looked at myself. I desired myself a little too: the defined body, taut skin, the hard cock pointed at myself from the reflection, shining, throbbing, obscene. I ran my hand over my chest, down my abs, grabbed my cock and worked it slowly, enjoying every stroke. I fired off several more photos, some with my hand on my dick, others with my hand away and my cock alone in the air, hard, offering itself to the camera all by itself. I even turned around and took a couple from behind, showing my ass, bending down just a little so everything could be seen. I had never exposed myself so much, not even to myself.

There I was, naked, aroused, body throbbing and the camera full of images that, until a few days earlier, had existed only in my head.

My first post was about to be born.

But that, and what came after, which was even more intense, I’ll tell in another chapter.