I had always kept that part of me locked away, the part that wondered what it would feel like to have another man inside me. At twenty-eight, I told myself it was just a phase, something I could ignore while I dated women and built a normal life. Then I met Derek at the gym. He was older, broad-shouldered, with a quiet confidence that made my stomach tighten every time he spotted me on the bench. We talked after workouts, first about lifts, then about nothing in particular. One night he asked me over for a beer. I knew what it meant, and I went anyway.
We didn’t waste time once the door closed. His mouth was on mine before I could second-guess it, rough and sure. My hands shook as I pulled off my shirt. He stripped slower, letting me look.
His cock was already half-hard, thick and veined, nothing like the careful porn I’d watched alone. I dropped to my knees because it felt right, because I needed to taste what I had only imagined. The salt of him, the weight on my tongue, the way he groaned when I took him deeper—it all hit me at once. My own dick strained against my jeans.
Derek pulled me up and led me to the bedroom. “You’ve never done this,” he said, not a question. I shook my head. He kissed me again, slower, and told me to get on the bed. I lay on my stomach first, then rolled onto my back when he asked. He spread my legs and settled between them, his fingers slick with lube. The first touch at my hole made me jerk. It was strange, intimate, nothing like touching myself. He circled slowly, pressing just enough to make my breath catch, then slid one finger inside. The stretch burned, but it also sent a hot pulse straight to my cock. I pushed back without thinking.
“Relax,” he murmured, working that finger in and out until the burn eased into something hotter. A second finger followed. I felt open, exposed, and I wanted more. My hips moved on their own, riding his hand. Pre-cum leaked onto my stomach. When he pulled his fingers free I almost begged, but he was already rolling on a condom and coating himself.
He lifted my legs over his shoulders. The blunt head of his cock pressed against me, bigger than his fingers, insistent. I tensed. He waited, rubbing the head in small circles, letting me feel every inch of what was coming. “Breathe,” he said. I did. He pushed. The first inch hurt, a sharp, tearing stretch that made me gasp. He stopped, letting me adjust, then pushed again. Another inch. My body fought it, then gave. The burn deepened into a full, aching fullness as he sank deeper. I could feel every ridge, every throb of him. My hole clenched around the invasion, trying to push him out and pull him in at the same time.
Derek bottomed out and stayed there, hips flush to my ass. I was panting, eyes wet, cock leaking steadily. The pressure was overwhelming, like nothing I had ever felt. He started to move, slow, shallow strokes that dragged against something inside me that made my vision spark. Each thrust hit that spot harder. The pain faded under waves of raw pleasure. I heard myself moaning, filthy sounds I didn’t know I could make. “Fuck me,” I heard myself say. “Please.”
He gave me what I asked for. His thrusts grew longer, deeper, the slap of skin loud in the quiet room. My ass opened for him, taking every inch. Sweat dripped from his chest onto mine. I reached down and stroked myself in time with his rhythm, the double sensation pushing me close to the edge. My balls drew tight. The orgasm built low and sudden, exploding through me without warning. Cum shot across my stomach in thick ropes while my hole spasmed around his cock. Derek groaned, fucked me through it, then buried himself deep and came with a low, rough sound.
He stayed inside me until he softened, then eased out carefully. I felt empty, stretched, sore in the best way. He cleaned us both with a warm cloth and pulled me against his chest. I lay there listening to his heartbeat, my ass still twitching with aftershocks, and knew I would want this again. The secret was out, and I didn’t want it back.
