The morning after getting absolutely railed, staying in bed wasn’t an option; I had to get to campus. The world kept spinning, even if my asshole felt like it was on fire. Arriving at UM, I made a massive effort not to limp, but my legs just wouldn’t cooperate. Out of habit, I walked straight into the frat house lounge without thinking about the consequences. When I got there, I saw the guys gathered around the table, playing a round of poker.
“Look who finally showed up! The stallion of the night! What’s up, Marc? Was that blonde everything you hoped for?”
“Yeah… we went back to her place. It was just pure dick,” I said, before the double meaning of that miserable phrase even hit me.
“Grab a seat, bro. We’re starting a new hand.”
I took a step forward, completely forgetting the state of my left thigh. The pain locked me up instantly, and I’m pretty sure my face gave it away. At least, it didn’t escape Chase’s eyes.
“Is Marc walking a little stiff today? Damn, what a night, huh!”
Everyone looked at me and cracked up. Thank God there was no beer around, or it would’ve been tragic. And speaking of tragic, was I really about to try and sit on that hard-ass plastic chair right now? I had no idea how much it was going to hurt. ‘Maybe if I plant my left cheek first and then slowly lower the right one, nobody will notice.’
I tried, but it was useless. Of course Chase saw the whole thing. He just gave me this shit-eating grin and started laughing.
“Uh, yeah, man… the night was… intense. She had a ton of energy, you know? I could barely… handle it.”
I almost said, “My ass could barely handle it”; it was a dangerously close call. Obviously, I wasn’t about to admit that I was the one who took the pipe, right? But that’s when it hit me: I hadn’t come up with a single cover story.
The group raised their red plastic cups filled with coffee and cans of Monster energy drinks in a loud “AYYYYYY!”. Nate went a step further, slapping me on the back and adding, “Lucky you didn’t end up with a chick packing heat! Word on the street is there’s a trans girl over in Wynwood who’s tricked a bunch of suckers lately.”
Their bursts of laughter hit me in a strange way. But the vibe was familiar and relaxed; the tension slowly started to fade as the poker game went on, even though I must have been sitting there with a total Mona Lisa smile, desperately trying to keep my own tongue from spilling the truth about how I’d just lost my anal virginity.
That day was rough. I saw Henry taking a sip from his water bottle, and my mind instantly flashed to things it shouldn’t have. The sensory memory was just too fresh; absolutely everything reminded me of the night before. I wanted so badly to talk to someone about it, but who?
But the cruelest part is whatever the hell happens with women. It’s like they can sniff it out. Chloe, for instance, never used to give me the time of day. But that afternoon in the hallway, she walked right up to me and started flirting. Then her friends joined in. Suddenly, they were all paying attention to me, laughing at my dumb jokes, practically competing to see which one I’d ask out.
But I don’t know… after experiencing something so intense, something that was still literally burning inside me, it was hard to imagine that any of them could ever top it.
I had serious doubts if that was really what I wanted for myself, but the memory of that rod up my ass made my body behave in the strangest way. All I wanted was to forget what had happened. I kept telling myself I couldn’t possibly like it because I was a guy, and guys aren’t supposed to like that kind of stuff.
I tried to force my thoughts elsewhere, but it was no use; out of nowhere, I’d remember the taste of that dick in my mouth, or what it felt like to hold it in my hands. The professor was lecturing up front, but I didn’t hear a word. I felt this burning anger toward her for “taking advantage of me” that night, but at the same time, I felt a spark of affection taking root deep down. I remembered the conversation we’d had and how well we seemed to click.
But the fact that we clicked didn’t mean the night had to end that way. I could have told her that it wasn’t my thing. I could have… could I really, though?
The professor, noticing I was completely spaced out (though my mind was stuck on a very specific, pointed object), shot a question my way. I hadn’t even heard what he said, and I asked him, stammering, to repeat it.
“Looks like last night was pretty unforgettable, huh, kid?”
“It was the blonde! She almost killed him! Hahaha!” someone yelled from the back of the lecture hall.
The whole class erupted in laughter while I just shook my head, trying to shrink inside my t-shirt. College is like a small town, and gossip travels at the speed of light.
“Careful there,” the professor said with a smirk. “The midterm isn’t going to be on female anatomy.”
That night, things only got worse. The second I put my head on the pillow, I had the sensation that that thick cock was still shoved inside my ass, and I’d get turned on instantly. But that wasn’t all; there were also the unread messages—messages I didn’t want to read, yet desperately did. She had already left about thirty unread texts on WhatsApp. But what the hell was I supposed to reply?
You could tell from her first few texts that she had absolutely no clue what I was going through. They were playful, stuff like: “Hey, how’s it going? Damn, babe, you crushed it last night! Not every guy can handle three rounds with me back-to-back,” “When are you coming back for more?” and “If you want to come over tonight, I made lasagna.”
Then came the classic follow-ups: “Why aren’t you replying?” “Are you okay?” “Did I do something wrong?” I kept scrolling until a photo of her cock popped up with the caption: “Come sit on this.”
My first thought was: ‘Did that massive fucking thing seriously fit all the way inside me?’ And while my mind felt a wave of pure denial, my dick sprang to life instantly. She saw I was online and didn’t waste a single second:
“Look who’s back from the dead! Where’ve you been, stranger? Good night.”
I didn’t know what to type. I ended up sending something like, “Hey… still recovering from the beating, honestly.”
Her reply flashed back like lightning: “Hahaha! Aw, just use some ointment, it’ll pass. I fucking love turning a macho guy into my little slut!”
Being called that was a total insult, but it was the truth… and honestly, it was hot as hell too. “Oh, fuck off, I didn’t even want that.”
“What do you mean? You didn’t complain once! Plus, you made me cum three times. Stop acting so closeted, boy!”
“That shouldn’t have happened. If I’d known you were trans beforehand…”
“Wait, hold on, what? I told you and you said it was fine! What kind of bullshit excuse is this now?”
“I don’t know what happened! I’ve never done this before and I didn’t want to.”
“They all say that, you think I’m stupid? It’s always their ‘first time’! But you did pretty damn well for a beginner.”
“I don’t know… I was scared.”
“If that was your first time, you were born for this. Because you take it hard, babe, it’s delicious!!!”
“….”
“You’re embarrassed, aren’t you? Embarrassed of what? Tell you what: call my dick ‘your embarrassment’… and come face your embarrassment tonight!”
I honestly didn’t know whether to laugh, get offended, or book our second date.
I threw my phone across the room and tried to sleep, but the messages just kept coming. I tried to ignore them, even thought about blocking her, but something deep inside me didn’t want to cut contact. I couldn’t resist for long; when I picked the phone back up, the tone of her texts had shifted a bit:
“You think you’re less of a man just because you took it from me? Sweetheart, taking a dick takes a real man; only the real tough guys take it up the ass. What were you saving it for anyway? If I didn’t enjoy it, the worms would have eventually. It was better this way, don’t you think? LET OUT THE LITTLE SLUT HIDDEN INSIDE YOU!”
“You just don’t give up, do you?” I replied.
“You’re way too hot to keep lying to yourself. There are plenty of guys who don’t like giving it up, and that’s totally fine, but the ones who don’t like it don’t ask for a second time, let alone a third. You gotta set yourself free, sexy. Give it up for me, come on!”
“…”
“You left without even saying goodbye! I gotta confess, there is nothing better than waking up to a good, deep blowout… feeling a warm little mouth swallowing my cock.”
“If I did that, you’d just end up fucking me again, and my ass is already so sore it feels like it’s on fire.”
“Hahaha! That just proves you need to do it more, not less. You gotta take it every week so it stays broken in. The more you give up that little tail, the more you get used to it; it just takes time.”
“Ugh, you know what? Enough. I’m going to sleep, I have to wake up early tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” she sent, followed by another picture of her rock-hard cock.
This time, I turned the phone completely off and hurled it away. I laid on my side, but it wasn’t long before my body vividly remembered her hands pinning my cheeks apart and the sheer size of that mast. There was no way around it: I had to pay my tribute to the “Queen of Clubs” before I could finally drift off to sleep.
I didn’t text her back after that, and she didn’t send anything else either, except for a single sad-face emoji. It had been two weeks since it happened, and every single night was the exact same story: the moment I put my head on the pillow, I’d remember the sensation of having that thick cock shoved inside my ass, the taste of that dick in my mouth, or what it felt like to hold it in my hands. “Is there any cure for this?” I’d wonder.
On top of that, I felt this burning anger toward her for “taking advantage of me” that night. But in the end, I always had to admit that I could have just walked away. I could have told her that it wasn’t my thing. She didn’t force me into anything! She just gave the orders, but I could have disobeyed her, right? Ultimately, I was furious at myself: “How could I let this happen? Where the hell was my head?” These thoughts tortured me all night long.
And I wasn’t even safe during the day. Once, a girl who looked exactly like her stepped onto the Metrorail; my dick sprang to life right then and there, and I had to hop off three stations early just so nobody on the train would notice the massive tent in my pants. Worse still was that time at UM when our professor drew a skyscraper on the whiteboard. Was I the only one who thought that drawing looked exactly like a penis? He started explaining what happens to a building during an earthquake, saying it sways from side to side. Right away, I flashed back to Julia shaking her hips in front of me, making her mast swing from side to side. After that, paying attention to the lecture was physically impossible.
The worst part was that I started lying to myself. I began commuting all the way to Wynwood just to hang out at this coffee shop right across from Julia’s apartment building. I kept making up excuses, telling myself the indie vibe and the cold brew there were way better for studying on my laptop, even though it meant wasting thirty minutes on the Metrorail and bypassing at least five perfectly good coffee shops right next to the UM campus. Because of that massive detour, I was always running late for my afternoon lectures. I lied to myself, saying I didn’t want to see her, but every single time the building’s lobby door opened across the street, I’d look up from my screen, praying it was her.
Then, one fine day, she walked into the coffee shop and recognized me instantly.
“Hey! I hope you’re not still mad at me after what happened. Look, I’m sorry, I really should have asked if you were into… you know…”
“It’s fine, I get it!” I cut her off, my heart doing a hard flip in my chest.
“So, can we be friends?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Oh, awesome! Hahahaha… Well, listen… you can come over tonight if you want. I’ll be home after six. We can just watch a show or something.”
Right then, my brain short-circuited. On one hand, I knew exactly what would happen if I stepped foot in that apartment again, and I couldn’t do it—doing that would mean stripping away whatever hetero honor I had left. On the other hand, my dick, which didn’t give a damn about straight etiquette, was practically tearing through my jeans at the invite. I thought, ‘Hey, nothing has to happen. I can control myself.’
“Sure, sounds good. I have a lecture until seven, though.”
“Perfect, see you then! I gotta run to work now. Catch you later, baby!”
I couldn’t afford to skip that class because I was already on the verge of failing the course, but focusing was a lost cause. Before the professor even finished introducing the topic, I packed my bag and walked out. I pulled up to her condo around six-fifteen and buzzed her apartment.
“Already? Hehe! Come on up!” her voice crackled through the intercom.
When I walked into the apartment, I found her wrapped in a bath towel. It was way too short, barely managing to cover her breasts and her little toy at the same time. Not to mention, you could clearly see the outline of both.
“Damn, babe, I barely had time to shower. I thought you weren’t coming until after seven. Make yourself at home, okay? I’m gonna go change and I’ll be right back.”
A minute later, she walked back in wearing a tiny pink dress and holding two cans of Bud Light. I immediately put it out there that I wasn’t trying to hook up tonight; she just nodded and said that was totally fine with her. We turned on the TV and sat side-by-side on the couch, put on a Netflix show, and started watching. Between episodes, she pulled out a fat blunt—it was practically the size of a cigar.
“Well, if you’re gonna suck on something, it might as well be massive, right? Hahaha!” she joked.
Before long, I was completely stoned out of my mind, but she didn’t seem buzzed at all. We started talking about everything under the sun. Everything was chill, and for a moment, I had actually forgotten all those torturous memories from the past two weeks. Then she stood up and said:
“Babe, excuse me, but you have no idea how annoying it is to stay tucked into these tight clothes all day.”
And right there in front of me, she slid her panties down from under her dress, tossed them into the corner, and sat right back down next to me. Now, there was absolutely no missing that distinct outline under her dress right beside me. I had promised myself I wouldn’t do this again. But the more time ticked by, the harder it was to keep that promise.
“Damn, the munchies are kicking in. I’m gonna make some popcorn. Want some?”
“Yeah.”
She got up and went to the kitchen. When she walked back, I caught a glimpse of the tip peeking out from under the hem of her skirt. She sat down and placed the bowl of popcorn right on her lap, directly over her cock, forcing my hand to practically brush against it every single time I reached for a handful. The worst part was that the more popcorn I grabbed, the bigger that dick got.
What a sneaky little bitch! The worst part was that she was doing the exact same thing I used to do to girls whenever they played the “I’m not in the mood tonight” card. And it was totally working. It’s a sad moment when your brain knows you’re being completely manipulated and played for a fool, but your ass doesn’t have those ego issues; it’s just starving and taking full control of the ship.
“I can’t take this anymore,” I muttered, the words barely making sense even to me.
She stared at me for a second, still chewing. She knew she had me right where she wanted me.
“Then why don’t you just put your mouth right here?”
She lifted the popcorn bowl, and there it was, standing completely rock-hard. I tried to fight it for a split second to preserve a shred of my dignity, but my mouth was already watering. I shifted my position, leaned in, and started sucking it while she just kept munching on her popcorn like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Then I felt her hand slide down my pants, gripping my ass. She didn’t waste any time finding the spot, shoving her fingers right in without an ounce of mercy. I kept sucking, and I could hear her starting to gasp.
“Stop, before I pre-game too hard in your mouth! Take those pants off, let’s go!”
The way she spoke to me was borderline degrading—like I was her slave or her little slut. My mind felt offended and wanted to snap back, but my asshole was literally throbbing, begging for that cock! Oh, the sheer horniness of it. I couldn’t help it; I obeyed. In that moment, I wasn’t Marc anymore. I was just a little slut.
“Now sit on it,” she said, pointing at the mast.
“What about lube?”
“It’s in the drawer under the TV. Hurry up or I’ll just grab you myself! And I really don’t mind going in dry,” she said with a sarcastic smirk.
I got ready and slowly lowered myself down, facing away from her. Bad move. In that position, I had zero defense. She grabbed me tight by the waist and pulled me down fast. I tried to pull back, but it was too late—it was already all the way in. I felt that sharp, tight ache deep inside. It felt like there just wasn’t enough room for all that mass.
“Ahhh! Ffff!”
“Take it! Aren’t you supposed to be a real man?”
What the hell do you even say to that? Then she ordered me to ride it. And once again, I obeyed. She gave my ass a hard slap and said, “You don’t even know how to move that ass right, do you? Let me show you.”
She started guiding my hips with her hands. As I moved up and down, I could feel that heavy rod grinding against the walls of my rectum.
“Yes, just like that. Faster!”
I was giving it everything I had, but it wasn’t enough for her. She told me to get up and lie flat on my back on the couch, pulling my legs all the way up against my chest like a Thanksgiving turkey. The crazier part was that her bossy, dominant attitude only made me hotter. I felt completely submissive, entirely passive.
Once I was positioned, she came down on me. I felt that cock slamming in and out at full throttle. She didn’t seem the least bit worried about whether she was hurting me or not, and it was obvious she wouldn’t stop even if I begged—not until she got her fix. Her hands gripped me with brute force. Her pelvis slammed against my ass with a violent, clapping sound. Every time her body collided with mine, the impact rattled my head against the back of the couch.
Despite her pretty, feminine face, the way she was fucking me was raw, masculine, aggressive, and dominant. She didn’t even look at me; her eyes stayed shut the whole time, entirely focused on her own pleasure, her own sensations. My dick had been hard at the start, but now it hung completely limp, totally useless in that scenario. Meanwhile, my ass was being overtaken by a sensation of pleasure mixed with pure devastation. It literally felt like that dick was tearing everything up inside me. The pleasure kept building and building until I suddenly felt my limp dick shoot a massive load of cum all over my own stomach. I had never had a soft orgasm until that day. She came almost at the exact same time, and I could feel her cock pulsing and shooting her warm load deep inside me.
“See, baby? There’s nothing wrong with giving it up for me or anyone else you like.”
She got up, grabbed a pack of wet wipes from the counter, and walked back over to where I was still pinned to the couch. Standing over me, with her wet, post-nut cock practically in my face, she handed me the pack and said, “Clean me up.”
“You are way too bossy,” I said. Now that the horniness had passed, my logic was taking back over.
“You know what your problem is, Marc? You’re in total denial. I can see it in your eyes; the whole time we’re fucking, your brain is panicking: ‘Oh, I shouldn’t be doing this! Oh, what would my boys say if they saw me right now? Oh, god, god, god…’. We could enjoy this so much more if you just let yourself go. It doesn’t take a genius to see you have a starved little female locked up inside you. I’m trying to set her free for your own good, but you gotta help me out here! As long as you keep fighting it, I am never letting you top me. Now drop the ego and wipe my dick. Then we’re going to sleep because I have to wake up early for work tomorrow!”
“It’s not like that…”
“It is exactly like that. Trust me, I know more about this than you do. Now wipe it. Or walk out that door and don’t ever come back.”
The thought of being kicked out and never seeing her again was suddenly terrifying. So, in the end, I obeyed. Again.
“Now clean yourself up and get in bed. I’ll be in the bedroom.”
We slept spooning that night. Since the Miami heat was brutal, we slept completely naked. But she wouldn’t let me be the one holding her from behind; I fell asleep with her heavy mast nestled right between my thighs.
And that was pretty much my life for the next month and a half. My ass basically turned into a pussy. But life with Julia was a bit too rough for me—and I’m not just talking about her cock.
Julia is incredibly jealous. She didn’t want to just be some casual hookup; she wanted a real romance. A lot of guys have a fetish for trans women, but finding a man who actually wants to claim them and build something beyond a hidden experiment is deeply difficult for them. That struggle had shaped her personality in a complicated way. No matter how much she wanted to keep our relationship going, the constant fear that I would just pack up and walk away, like so many others had done before me, kept us under an unbearable amount of tension.
In the end, she kicked me out of her apartment after a nasty fight. It was like she wanted to beat me to the punch, cutting things off before what she thought was inevitable could happen.
