The Night This Trans Woman Stopped Holding Back

That week my body gave me no respite. It was a constant urgency, a low throb that wouldn’t go away, not with a cold shower or my own hands. I woke in the early hours squeezing my legs together, with the fixed image of being spread open, occupied, full. I dreamed of cocks entering me all the way, mouths sucking my pussy until they left me trembling, strange hands squeezing my tits while they fucked me from behind. Things I was ashamed to remember during the day, and that returned at night without asking permission.

I touched myself two, three times a day, and it wasn’t enough. I put in two fingers, three, thrusting hard as I searched for that spot that made me arch, rubbing my clit in circles until I came biting the pillow, and it was like scratching an itch through gloves. No matter how many times I came, ten minutes later that feeling of emptiness returned, that pulsing pussy that was no longer satisfied with my own fingers. I needed a real cock, hard and throbbing inside me. I needed someone to fuck me with it without asking questions.

So one afternoon, instead of going around in circles, I opened the app and posted the ad. I didn’t beat around the bush: I made it clear that I wanted to get fucked that very night, that I wanted a hard cock and someone eager to use it, and that I didn’t want hours of conversation beforehand. I wanted a man who was horny, no games, no promises.

In less than an hour my inbox was full. Too many pictures of mediocre cocks, too many identical messages, too many people who wrote “hi” and then disappeared. I rejected them one by one until one appeared that made me stop. Not because of the shameless picture he sent afterward—a thick, veiny cock resting against his flat stomach—but because of the way he wrote: calm, confident, without desperation. He said his name was Bruno. It probably wasn’t his real name, and I didn’t care in the slightest.

We arranged to meet at a discreet motel, the kind with a side entrance and a front desk behind polarized glass, at quarter to eleven. He would book the room. I only had to show up.

***

I started getting ready two hours beforehand, and for me that’s part of the pleasure. There’s something about the ritual beforehand that turns me on almost as much as what comes afterward. Every step is a promise I make to myself: tonight an unknown cock is going to split me in two.

I shaved slowly, going over every inch until my skin was smooth, taut, new. My pussy too, without a single hair, my lips red and sensitive after the wax. When I ran my finger over it to check, I felt a jolt that forced me to close my eyes for a second. Then the cream, the oil, the time spent in front of the mirror looking at myself as if I were someone else. Someone who wasn’t going to hold back that night.

I chose my lingerie carefully: a lilac lace thong that barely covered the cleft of my pussy, a demi-cup bra that gave me a silhouette I liked, sheer stockings, and a garter belt I knew would drive anyone crazy. Over that, a translucent mesh dress so short it was almost a suggestion. High sandals. The straight blonde wig, falling to my shoulders, combed to one side.

Perfume behind my ears, between my cleavage, on the insides of my thighs, near where no nose should reach without permission. I looked at myself full-length, turned around once, and stood there watching myself in silence for a while.

Today you’re not going to pretend you don’t want this.

I ordered a car and left without thinking about it any longer, because if I thought too much I might stay home. During the ride I felt my heart in my throat and a tingling sensation running down my entire back until it ended between my legs, where my thong was already wet with anticipation. The driver didn’t say anything. I watched the city pass outside the window, squeezed my thighs together, and counted the blocks remaining before I could have a cock inside me.

***

When I arrived, the room was already open. I knocked once with my knuckles, and the door gave way before I finished knocking.

He was there, standing in the half-dark, taller than I expected. He didn’t even let me say hello. He grabbed my arm, pulled me inside, and pinned me against the wall with a firmness that cut off my breath.

—You’re exactly what you said you were —he told me in my ear, slowly, in a deep voice I felt in my chest—. I didn’t believe you.

I was already trembling. Not from fear: from pure anticipation. I answered by barely biting his lip.

—I haven’t slept for two nights thinking about getting fucked properly —I admitted—. Are you going to keep me waiting long?

He laughed softly, a laugh that wasn’t mocking but something closer to hunger, and kissed me. He kissed me as if he wanted to make something clear, with his whole tongue inside my mouth, biting my lower lip until I moaned. His hand climbed my thigh, over the stocking, to the hem of the dress, and when it reached my thong he paused for just a second, testing, before slipping two fingers beneath the lace and finding me soaked.

—Look at you —he murmured against my neck, moving his fingers in circles over my clit—. You’re dripping already. I haven’t even touched you and you’re ready for me to put it in.

—That’s why I came —I panted, spreading my legs wider—. So you could put it in me.

—Look at you —he continued, sinking one entire finger inside me—. You got all dressed up so a stranger could use you like a bitch.

—So you could use me —I corrected him, my voice coming out more broken than I expected, because now two fingers were moving in and out, making an obscene wet noise against my walls—. Fuck me however you want.

He pulled out his glistening fingers and ran them over my lips before pushing them inside so I could suck my own taste from them. I did it without looking away.

He led me toward the bed without letting go, guiding me backward until I felt the edge of the mattress against my legs. He pulled the straps of my dress down in one movement. The fabric fell to my waist, and he stood there looking at my torso, my bra, as if deciding where to begin.

He chose my nipples. He yanked the cups of my bra down, baring my tits, and latched onto them with his mouth, gently at first, then with his teeth, pulling until they stretched, biting right at the point where pain and pleasure stop being distinguishable. With one hand he squeezed my other tit, twisting the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I arched my back, and a sound escaped me that I couldn’t control.

—Like that… —I panted—. Harder… bite me… that’s good…

I lowered my hands to his belt. I opened the button and the zipper, pulled his pants down along with his boxers in one tug, and when his cock sprang free I almost lost my breath. It was thick, long, with a swollen purple head, already bearing a drop of pre-cum gleaming at the tip. I took it in my hand, barely closing my fingers around it, and felt it throb against my palm. I stroked it slowly, sliding the skin up and down, looking into his eyes, enjoying the way his jaw tightened and the way he exhaled every time I brushed the tip with my thumb.

—What a cock you have —I whispered, squeezing it in my fist—. I imagined it all week. I got addicted to thinking about this thing buried in my pussy.

He placed a hand on my shoulder and pushed down with gentle but unmistakable pressure. He didn’t need to say anything. I sank to my knees in front of him, on the motel’s rough carpet, and looked up at him, his cock trembling level with my face.

First I moved closer just to breathe him in. That warm, intense, masculine smell undid me. I stuck out my tongue and started with his balls, sucking them one at a time, taking them whole into my mouth while stroking his cock with my hand. I moved slowly upward, tracing the entire length with my flat tongue, following the thick vein running along the base, until I reached the head and circled it with my tongue. I heard him hold his breath.

—Don’t rush me —I told him, pulling away for a moment, my lips shining with saliva—. I want to suck you properly.

—Do it however you want —he replied, his voice already hoarse—, but don’t stop.

I opened my mouth and swallowed him whole. Slowly, deeply, until I felt the head touch the back of my throat and had to relax it so he could go a little farther in. My eyes filled with tears, my makeup ran, and I had to breathe through my nose. I stayed there, gagging, all that hard flesh filling my mouth, until I couldn’t take it anymore and pulled away panting, a thick strand of saliva hanging from my chin to the tip of his cock.

—Holy fuck… —I heard him growl—. You suck like a goddess.

I took him into my mouth again, this time establishing a rhythm, one hand moving at the base in time with my mouth. I sucked him whole, let go to lick his balls, then swallowed him down to my throat again. He put a hand on the back of my head, not forcing me, just following the rhythm I set, and sometimes pushed slightly so he could go a little deeper. Saliva ran down my chin and between my tits, and I didn’t care. I was making a mess and I wanted to make an even bigger one.

—God… —I heard him growl—. You’re doing this like it’s the only thing you want in the world.

It was, at that moment. Nothing existed except that room, that bed, that cock in my mouth. With my free hand I put two fingers into my pussy and touched myself while I sucked him, moaning around a mouthful of cock, feeling the vibration of my own voice make him tremble.

After a while he took my jaw between two fingers and carefully lifted my face. He pulled his cock from my mouth with a wet pop.

—Stand up —he told me—. Now it’s your turn.

***

I got up on shaky legs. He threw me backward onto the bed, ripped my thong off in one tug—the lace broke with a dry snap—and shoved my legs open. He knelt at the edge of the mattress, and I watched him run his tongue over his lips, his eyes fixed on my shaved, glistening pussy.

—Look at you —he repeated, and this time it wasn’t an order but almost admiration—. All swollen, all wet. You’re a mess.

Without warning he buried his face between my legs. His tongue ran over me from bottom to top, long and broad, and when it reached my clit it closed around it in a deep kiss, sucking hard. I arched off the bed with a cry. He held my hips with both hands, buried his face deeper, and began eating my pussy hungrily, his tongue pushing inside, coming out, climbing to my clit, sucking it, barely biting it, tracing the alphabet with the tip.

—Oh God… —I panted, grabbing his hair with both hands—. Like that, don’t stop, don’t stop…

He slid two fingers inside me while continuing to suck, curling them upward in search of the spot that made me lose my mind. He found it immediately. He began pressing right there inside me with the perfect rhythm, and in less than a minute I felt the first wave rise from my feet, unstoppable.

—I’m going to c— —I managed to say, and dissolved against his mouth, trembling all over, my thighs squeezing his head and my pussy convulsing around his fingers.

He gave me no respite. While I was still trembling, he turned me over and bent me across the bed, one hand in the middle of my back. He pushed my dress above my waist and paused for a second, watching my pussy drip down my thighs.

—Look at you —he repeated—. All ready.

I lowered one hand and spread myself open, offering myself, showing him the bright pink inside.

—I’ve been like this for hours —I confessed, my cheek pressed against the mattress—. Put it in me now. Please.

I heard him spit into his hand and run it over his cock, and then I felt the thick head pressing against my entrance. He leaned over my back and spoke softly, almost against my ear.

—Tell me if it’s too much.

—It won’t be too much —I said—. Break me.

He pushed slowly. I felt my body give way, felt that thick head opening me little by little, that first resistance surrendering millimeter by millimeter, and a muffled cry escaped me against the sheet. It hurt, and at the same time it was exactly what I had needed for weeks. He filled me, stretched me, forced me to adjust myself around him.

—Easy… —he murmured, stopping when he was halfway in—. Slowly.

—Don’t stop —I panted, pushing my ass backward—. Get in. All the way.

He continued, millimeter by millimeter, giving me time, until I felt his balls slap against my clit and his whole body pressed against mine. I was full; there was no room for more. I could feel him in my stomach. He stayed like that for a moment, letting me breathe, and only when I relaxed and pushed backward, asking for more, did he begin to move.

At first slowly, pulling almost all the way out and then sinking back in to the hilt, marking every thrust with a pause that drove me crazy. I felt every inch entering and leaving, the exact friction against my walls, the head scraping a spot inside me that made me clench my fingers against the sheets. Then he went faster, deeper, finding a rhythm that made me cling to the mattress. Every thrust tore a different sound from me.

—Like that… yes… —I moaned, unable to keep quiet—. Fuck me… harder… split my pussy…

He put me on all fours, my knees sinking into the mattress, and held me by the waist with both hands. He rammed it into me, all the way to the bottom, and began moving in earnest. The bed creaked and banged against the wall. The sound of our bodies colliding filled the room, along with the wet slapping of my soaked pussy swallowing his cock again and again. I was dripping onto the sheets without him even touching my clit again.

—Is this what you wanted, slut? —he asked, grabbing the hair of my wig and pulling my head back—. Is this what you needed?

—Yes —I answered, almost voiceless, arching my back—. Exactly this. Harder. Don’t stop.

He gave me a sharp slap on the ass that made me jump and clench my pussy around him. I felt a moan escape him. He slapped me again, harder, and kept fucking me without pause, sinking all the way to his balls with every thrust.

He changed the angle, leaning farther over me, almost lying on my back, and suddenly every thrust reached a place that made me see stars. He lowered one hand and began rubbing my clit while he drove into me, and I started pushing backward, seeking him, asking for more with my body.

—Stay like that —he growled—. Don’t move. I want to fill you completely.

But I couldn’t stay still. I was on the verge of something huge, a wave building deep inside me, and he noticed because he sped up—shorter, deeper, harder, his balls striking my clit with every thrust.

—I’m coming… —I managed to say, and didn’t finish the sentence.

I came with his cock inside me, my whole body shaking, my face buried in the pillow to muffle my scream, feeling my pussy close in spasms around him, sucking him, milking him. He kept going, holding me while I trembled, fucking me without stopping through the orgasm, until his own rhythm began to break apart.

—Here it comes… —he panted—. I’m going to fill you up inside… tell me where…

—Inside —I moaned—. Finish inside me. I want to feel it.

I felt him tense, sink all the way in with one last brutal thrust, and stay buried there, and then felt the warmth of his cum pulsing into me, filling me, so much that I felt a stream escape around the edges. He stayed still, breathing against my back, all his weight on top of me, both of us drenched and breathless, his cock still throbbing inside me as he finished emptying himself.

When he finally moved, he pulled out slowly, and I felt the thick cum slide down the inside of my thigh onto the sheet.

***

It took us a while to separate completely. I let myself fall onto my side on the mattress, my dress still rolled up around my waist, my stockings askew, my pussy open and dripping semen, and a feeling of calm I hadn’t had all week.

He lay down beside me, looking at the ceiling. It took him a while to speak.

—I thought you were going to be a flake —he said at last, with half a smile—. One of those people who write a lot and then don’t show up.

—And I thought you were going to be in a hurry —I replied—. One of those guys who comes in, comes in two minutes, and leaves without looking at you.

He laughed, genuinely this time. He reached out and moved a strand of the wig that had stuck to my cheek, a surprisingly gentle gesture for someone who, minutes earlier, had been gripping my hair and fucking me like a bitch.

—Do we do it again? —he asked, his hand slowly sliding down my hip until it came to rest between my thighs, two fingers pushing the cum back inside me—. I’m still horny.

I moaned softly at the gesture and felt everything inside me awaken again.

I didn’t answer immediately. I stared at the motel’s stained ceiling, the neon sign filtering through the curtain, feeling his fingers playing with the mixture inside me, and thought about all the nights I had spent holding myself back, convincing myself that fantasy was enough.

—Yes —I finally said, spreading my legs a little wider—. We do it again. As many times as you can handle.

And as I said it, I knew that night hadn’t been an ending but a permission. Permission to stop holding myself back, to dare to seek what I truly wanted, without guilt and without apologies.

That was the night I stopped pretending. And I had no intention of going back.