The Night This Tranny Stopped Holding Back

That week my body gave me no peace. It was a constant urgency, a low throbbing that wouldn’t shut off, not with a cold shower or with my hands. I’d wake up in the middle of the night clenching my legs shut, with the fixed image of being open, occupied, full. I dreamed of cocks driving all the way into me, of mouths sucking my cunt until I was trembling, of чужие hands squeezing my tits while I was fucked from behind. Things that during the day I was ashamed to remember and that came back at night without asking permission.

I touched myself two, three times a day and it still wasn’t enough. I slid in two fingers, then three, shoved hard looking for that spot that made me arch, rubbed my clit in circles until I came biting the pillow, and it was like scratching an itch with gloves on. No matter how many times I came, ten minutes later that empty feeling came back, that throbbing cunt that no longer settled for my own fingers. I needed a real cock, hard, throbbing inside me. I needed someone to shove it in without asking.

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 I wanted to be fucked that same night, that I wanted a hard cock and someone eager to use it, and that I didn’t want hours of conversation first. I wanted a man with a hard-on, no detours, no promises.

In less than an hour my inbox was overflowing. Too many mediocre dick pics, too many identical messages, too many people who write “hi” and disappear. I kept ruling them out until one appeared that made me stop. Not because of the brazen photo he sent next—a thick, veined cock pressed 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 give a fuck.

We agreed on a discreet motel, one of those with a side entrance and a reception behind tinted glass, for quarter to eleven. He would book the room. I just had to show up.

***

I started getting ready two hours early, 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 after. Every step is a promise I make to myself: tonight a stranger’s cock is going to split me in two.

I shaved carefully, going over every inch until my skin was smooth, taut, new. My cunt too, with not a single hair left, the lips reddened and sensitive after the wax. When I ran my finger to check, I felt a jolt that made me close my eyes for a second. Then the cream, the oil, the time in front of the mirror looking at myself as if I were someone else. Someone who wouldn’t hold back tonight.

I chose the lingerie carefully: a lilac lace thong that barely covered the slit of my cunt, a half-cup bra that gave me a shape 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 heels. The straight blonde wig, shoulder-length, brushed to one side.

Perfume behind my ears, between my cleavage, on the inside of my thighs, near where no nose should be allowed without permission. I looked myself over, turned once, and stood there watching myself in silence for a while.

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

I ordered a car and left without thinking any more, because if I thought too much I might stay home. During the ride I felt my heart in my throat and a tingling running down my entire back until it ended between my legs, where my thong was already damp with anticipation. The driver didn’t say a word. I watched the city pass by the window, pressed my thighs together, and counted the blocks left until I had 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’d finished the tap.

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

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

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

—I haven’t slept in two nights thinking about getting fucked properly —I admitted—. Are you going to make me wait long?

He gave a low laugh, not mocking but more like hunger, and kissed me. He kissed me like he wanted to make something clear, his whole tongue inside my mouth, biting my lower lip until I moaned. His hand slid up my thigh, over the stocking, to the hem of the dress, and when it reached my thong he paused just a second, like he was feeling me out, before slipping two fingers beneath the lace and finding me soaked.

—Look at how wet you are —he murmured against my neck, circling my clit with his fingers—. You’re leaking everywhere already. I barely touched you and you’re already ready to take it.

—That’s what I came for —I panted, spreading my legs wider—. To take it.

—Look at you —he went on, sinking one finger all the way inside—. You got yourself all dressed up so a stranger can use you like a bitch.

—So you can use me —I corrected, my voice coming out far more broken than I expected, because now there were two fingers sliding in and out, making a filthy wet sound against my walls—. Fuck me however you want.

He pulled his fingers out, shining wet, and ran them over my lips before putting them in my mouth so I could taste myself. I did it without looking away.

He led me to the bed without letting go, backing me up until I felt the edge of the mattress against my legs. He pulled the straps of the dress down with one motion. The fabric fell to my waist and he stood there looking at my torso, my bra, as if deciding where to start.

He decided on my nipples. He yanked my bra cups down, baring my tits, and took them in his mouth, first gently, then with his teeth, pulling until they stretched, biting right at that point where pain and pleasure stop being distinguishable. With one hand he squeezed my other breast, twisting my 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… like that’s good…

I brought my hands down to his belt. I opened the button, the zipper, yanked his pants and boxers down together in one pull, and when his cock sprang free I almost lost my breath. It was thick, long, with a purple, swollen head, already shining with a bead of pre-cum on the tip. I took it in my hand, barely closing my fingers around it, and felt it pulsing against my palm. I stroked it slowly, sliding the skin up and down, looking him in the eyes, enjoying the way his jaw tightened and the way his breath caught every time I brushed the tip with my thumb.

—What a cock you’ve got —I told him softly, squeezing him in my fist—. I imagined it all week. I got addicted thinking about this thing inside my cunt.

He put a hand on my shoulder and pushed down with a soft but clear pressure. He didn’t need to say anything. I let myself drop to my knees in front of him, on the motel’s rough carpet, and looked up at him from below, his cock trembling at face level.

First I just leaned in to breathe. That warm, intense, masculine smell undid me. I stuck out my tongue and started with his balls, sucking them one by one, taking them whole into my mouth while I stroked his cock with my hand. I went up slowly, tracing the whole length with my flat tongue, following the thick vein that ran along the base, until I reached the head and circled it. I heard him hold his breath.

—Don’t rush me —I told him, pulling back for a second, my lips shining with saliva—. I want to suck your cock properly.

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

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

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

I took him back in, this time with rhythm, one hand at the base moving to the beat of my mouth. I sucked him down fully, let him go to lick his balls, swallowed him again until he hit my throat. He put a hand on the back of my neck, not forcing, just keeping pace with the rhythm I set, and sometimes he pushed just a little to make him go in deeper. Saliva dripped down my chin, between my tits, and I didn’t care. I was making a mess and I wanted to make more.

—Jesus… —I heard him groan—. You do this like it’s the only thing you want in the world.

It was, at that moment. Nothing else existed but that room, that bed, that cock in my mouth. With my free hand I slipped two fingers into my cunt and touched myself while I sucked him off, moaning with my mouth full, feeling how the vibration of my own voice made him tremble.

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

—Stand up —he said—. Now it’s your turn.

***

I got up on shaky legs. He threw me backward onto the bed, yanked my thong off in one pull—the lace tore with a sharp sound—and spread my legs with a shove. 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 cunt.

—Look at you —he repeated, and this time it wasn’t a command, it was 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 on it in a deep kiss, sucking hard. I arched off the bed with a cry. He held my hips with both hands, pushed his face in deeper, and started eating my cunt hungrily, his tongue going in, coming out, riding up to my clit, sucking it, biting it lightly, 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 he kept sucking, curling them upward, searching for that spot that made me lose my mind. He found it right away. He started pressing there with exactly the right rhythm, and in less than a minute I felt the first wave rising from my feet, unstoppable.

—I’m gonna cum… —I managed to say, and I fell apart against his mouth, trembling all over, my thighs clamping around his head and my cunt convulsing around his fingers.

He gave me no mercy. When I was still shaking he turned me over and bent me across the bed, one hand in the middle of my back. He hiked my dress up over my waist and stayed still for a second, watching my cunt 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 into the mattress—. Put it in already. Please.

I heard him spit into his hand, run it over his cock, and then I felt the thick head resting against my opening. 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 in slowly. I felt my body yield, felt that thick head opening me little by little, that first resistance surrendering millimeter by millimeter, and a muffled cry slipped out against the sheet. It hurt and at the same time it was exactly what I’d needed for weeks. He filled me, stretched me, forced me to adjust around him.

—Easy… —he murmured, stopping when he was halfway in—. Little by little.

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

He kept going, millimeter by millimeter, giving me time, until I felt his balls hit my clit and his whole body pressed against mine. I was full, couldn’t take any more, I felt him in my stomach. He stayed like that for a moment, letting me breathe, and only when I relaxed and pushed back asking for more did he start moving.

At first slowly, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in to the hilt, marking each thrust with a pause that drove me crazy. I felt every inch coming in and out, the exact friction against my walls, the head scraping a spot inside me that made my fingers clamp onto the sheets. Then faster, deeper, finding a rhythm that made me cling to the mattress. Each slam wrung a different sound from me.

—Like that… yes… —I moaned, unable to shut up—. Fuck me… harder… wreck my pussy…

He put me on all fours, my knees sinking into the mattress, and held my waist with both hands. He drove into me in one go, all the way to the base, and really started fucking. The bed creaked and banged against the wall. The sound of our bodies slamming together filled the room, the wet slapping of my soaked cunt swallowing his cock over and over. I was dripping onto the sheets without him even touching my clit again.

—Is this what you wanted, bitch? —he asked, grabbing my wig by the hair and yanking my head back—. Is this what you needed?

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

He gave my ass a sharp slap that made me jump and clench my cunt around him. I felt a groan escape him. He slapped me again, harder, and kept fucking me without pause, burying himself to the balls with every thrust.

He changed the angle, leaned more over me, almost lying across my back, and suddenly every thrust hit a place that made me see stars. He brought one hand down and started rubbing my clit at the same time as he buried himself in me, and I began pushing back, chasing him, asking for more with my body.

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

But I couldn’t stay still. I was on the edge of something huge, a wave building from inside, and he noticed because he sped up, shorter, deeper, harder, his balls slapping my clit with every stroke.

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

I came with his cock inside me, shaking all over, my face buried in the pillow to smother the cry, feeling my cunt clench in spasms around him, sucking him, milking him. He kept going, holding me while I trembled, fucking me through the orgasm without stopping, until his own rhythm started to break.

—There it goes… —he panted—. I’m filling you up… tell me where…

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

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

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

***

It took us a while to fully separate. I let myself fall onto my side on the mattress, my dress still bunched around my waist, my stockings twisted, my cunt open and leaking semen, and a sense of calm I hadn’t had all week.

He flopped down beside me, staring at the ceiling. He took a while to speak.

—I thought you’d be a disaster —he said at last, with a half smile—. The kind who writes a lot and then never shows up.

—And I thought you’d be in a rush —I replied—. The kind who comes in, cums in two minutes, and leaves without looking at you.

He laughed, this time for real. He stretched out a hand and brushed away a strand of the wig that had stuck to my cheek, a surprisingly gentle gesture for someone who had been grabbing my hair and fucking me like a bitch minutes earlier.

—Do we do it again? —he asked, his hand sliding slowly down my hip until it rested between my thighs, two fingers pushing the cum back inside—. I still want more.

I moaned softly at the gesture and felt everything waking back up again.

I didn’t answer right away. I lay there looking at the stained motel ceiling, the neon sign filtering through the curtain, feeling his fingers play with the mixture inside me, and I thought about all the nights I’d spent holding back, convincing myself the fantasy was enough.

—Yeah —I said finally, spreading my legs a little more—. We do it again. As many times as you can take.

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

That was the night I stopped pretending. And I wasn’t going back.