All characters in this story are over 18 years of age.
I've been watching porn for as long as I can remember. Even before I knew what it was called. Even before I said it to myself: “I'm gay.” It was obvious. It was always about men. Their hands, their voices, their looks. Their bodies, hard, tense, full of strength and control.
And now... it was my everyday life. In the evening, when I locked myself in my room, I closed the blinds, turned on my laptop, and allowed myself everything I had suppressed during the day.
Today was no different. I was lying in bed, wearing only boxer shorts, the screen glowing pale blue in the dim light.
There were two men on the screen. One was kneeling between the other's thighs, his tongue buried deep between his buttocks. The other was arching his back, moaning softly, trembling with tension. Everything I wanted was there: submission, tenderness, intensity.
I watched as my hand slowly slid under the elastic of my boxers. I took my time. I dragged it out. I felt my body react, the tension building low in my stomach. But today was different. It wasn't enough. My finger, which had slid lower, between his buttocks, wasn't doing the job anymore either. I felt empty. Literally.
I closed my laptop. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. And then, without thinking much about it, I reached for my phone.
I went to the search engine.
“Realistic dildo for gay men.”
I was immediately flooded with photos. I couldn't look away.
I imagined what it would look like if it were really inside me. How it would slowly push its way into me, how it would stretch me from the inside. How I would moan as I felt it go deeper and deeper.
I felt myself getting hot.
I ordered a dildo. A realistic-looking dick. A big one. Soft to the touch, but hardening when you grab it.
I started wondering what it would be like. Would I do it myself? Would I lube myself up? Or maybe I'd light some candles, put on a movie, and lie on my stomach, imagining it was a real guy?
Or that it was the guy from the movie, the one who kissed the other guy's butt before he went all the way in and held him by the hips as if he would never let go.
I sighed.
I was hot, hard, the tension hurt to the bone.
I didn't know yet that this order would change more than just my evenings. I had no idea that when the package arrived, it would bring with it someone who would make fiction no longer enough for me.
When I got a notification the next day that the package had been handed over to the courier, my heart raced.
I was home alone. Perfect.
I waited impatiently, glancing at the tracking map every few minutes. Finally, the message appeared:
“Your package will be delivered within 15 minutes.”
I closed my laptop. I ran around the apartment, grabbed a few plates from the table, and fixed my hair in the mirror. Because even though it was just a delivery... something inside me told me that this wasn't going to be a simple “hello, goodbye.”
Meanwhile, in the delivery truck a few streets away, something was happening.
The courier, a young guy with strong forearms, tattoos on his hands, and a disturbingly piercing gaze, was tossing packages around in the back seat, trying to find the one with the apartment number 3B.
The cardboard box was surprisingly soft. And light. It had come apart a little at the tape, as if it had been poorly sealed. The courier accidentally tilted it to one side, and then it happened.
A round, flesh-colored shape fell out of the box. Smooth. Long. And clearly not intended for children to play with.
The courier raised his eyebrows.
“Oh,” he muttered, picking up the silicone penis from the seat. He smiled to himself, his lips curving slightly to the side. “So we have someone who's thirsty today.”
He turned it over in his hand. Realistic. Slightly shiny, with veins and heavy balls at the base. The courier knew his stuff. He knew this wasn't the cheapest model. This someone had specific tastes. And desires.
He looked at the label.
Matt.
“Matt, Matt... I wonder what you look like if you order things like this,” he said quietly to himself, putting the dildo back in the box. He taped it shut hastily, but he remembered well the feeling that had appeared in his lower abdomen when he held it in his hand for a moment.
He had a plan.
The intercom rang. I jumped up as if I'd been burned, even though I'd been waiting for twenty minutes.
I wanted to be relaxed, but I was tense as a string.
“Yes?” I said into the receiver, trying to sound indifferent.
“Courier. I have a package for you.”
I opened the door.
I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe an anonymous guy in a baseball cap. But here... a surprise.
There was a guy standing in the doorway who looked like he was in my movies. Around thirty. Handsome, short beard, tight T-shirt, tight jeans, and a smile... damn, that smile. Like he knew more than he was saying.
“Matt?” he asked, holding the package like it was a prickly secret.
“Yes,” I replied, taking the package, almost snatching it out of his hand.
But he didn't leave.
“I'm sorry, this might be a strange question,” he said suddenly, “but could I use the bathroom?”
I was taken aback. But he sounded polite. And... he was hot.
“Sure, go ahead.”
I pointed him to the bathroom. He disappeared behind the door, and I was left alone in the hallway, holding the package as if it weighed a ton. I couldn't help myself. I ran my fingers over the cardboard, feeling the familiar outline hidden beneath the thin cardboard.
And then... I heard the bathroom door open.
I turned around.
And then I froze.
The bathroom door opened slowly, almost silently.
I looked up from the box just as he... walked out naked.
Not half-naked. Not with a T-shirt and a towel. Completely.
He stood in the hallway light, as if he knew exactly how it would look. And, fuck, it worked.
His body was solid but natural no gym exaggeration, just muscles where they should be, highlighted by the warm light. His chest rose and fell calmly, as if he saw nothing strange about the situation. And then I looked down.
It was hanging there.
Long, heavy, semi-erect. He wasn't embarrassed. Not in the slightest. There was only confidence in his gaze.
“Maybe...” he said calmly, approaching slowly, “instead of that rubber friend, would you like to try something real?”
I couldn't say anything.
I stood frozen, with the cardboard box in my hands and something slowly beginning to burst inside me.
He came closer, still naked, still relaxed. He stopped about half a meter away from me. I could smell his skin—clean, warm, masculine. It mixed with my breath, which was getting faster with every second.
“Matt, right?” he asked in a lower voice, looking me straight in the eyes.
“Mhm,” I managed to say.
“I saw what you ordered,” he added with a slight smile.
I wanted to say something, make a funny comment, anything, but my tongue seemed to stick to the roof of my mouth. I felt my face flush, my neck getting sticky with tension. And from the excitement that was now impossible to hide. Even through the fabric of my pants.
The courier took another step. Now only inches separated us.
“I can give it to you. If you want.”
His hand moved to my waist. Lightly. Not intrusively. It stopped at the button of my pants.
“Just say the word,” he whispered, “and I'll show you that what you ordered won't compare to me.”
I trembled. This was the moment. All possible warnings were ringing in my head, common sense was banging on the door. But something in the way he stood in front of me naked, confident, offering himself as a gift took away my ability to think.
I looked at his penis. It was already hard. It rose slowly, as if it knew what was going to happen better than I did. It was thick, promising a lot... and long, confirming it all too well.
“I want it,” I whispered.
His lips rose higher.
His hand slid under my shirt, warm and hard. He kissed me gently, but with the kind of force that says, “Now you belong to me.”
And that's when he started leading me to the living room.
He pushed me gently, kissing me every now and then, his fingers sliding over my skin, leaving marks. He smelled too good, touched too confidently, and his cock was now rubbing lightly against my hip, hard, ready.
“Lie down on the couch,” he said.
I did. Quickly.
I was lying on the couch, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my neck. The courier, who just an hour ago was a stranger in a baseball cap with a package in his hand, was now naked in front of me, hungry, ready.
He looked me in the eyes and said quietly:
I want to eat you. All of you.
I didn't protest. I couldn't. I pulled my pants and boxers down to my thighs. I lay down on my stomach. I felt vulnerable. Exposed. Treacherously aroused.
I heard him suck in air through his teeth.
“Fuck, Matt... you have such a cute ass.”
And then I felt his hands, large and confident, on my buttocks. He spread them slowly, and then... his tongue.
I trembled.
Warm. Wet. Thunderous.
He touched me right there. He licked, slowly, widely. I felt my whole body tense, my hands clenching the fabric of the couch.
“You taste damn good,” he murmured before diving in again.
His tongue worked, circled, pressed harder, salivated, slipped gently inside. Meanwhile, his hands massaged my hips, stroked my thighs. I felt like I was on fire.
“Oh, fuck...” I muttered, struggling to catch my breath. “Don't stop...”
He didn't stop. On the contrary.
He pulled me closer to him until I felt his chin between my buttocks, felt his saliva flowing lower, his tongue dancing inside me.
I was rock hard. My penis was rubbing against the upholstery, and I wanted to touch it, I wanted to free myself, but something told me to wait. That he was already in control.
Finally, he pulled away. He breathed heavily.
“Are you ready?”
He didn't have to ask. But I nodded.
I heard him spit into his hand. Smearing the saliva on his cock. Quietly, slowly. I felt his fingers spread me open again.
“Breathe,” said low.
And then he entered me.
Slowly, decisively. At first, my head was burning and ecstatic at the same time. Then inch by inch. He was thick, bigger than anything I'd ever tried. But my body accepted him with every movement.
“Oh, fuck...” I moaned, choking on my own voice. “Yes... yes...”
He slid all the way in. All the way. And he stopped there for a moment, as if he wanted me to feel every millimeter.
“Fuck, you're tight as hell...” he hissed, his hands clenching my hips.
He started to move. Slowly, rhythmically. He pulled out almost all the way, then thrust deep inside me again.
Every thrust sent shivers through me. I felt his strength, his weight, his breath on my neck. I felt like I wasn't in my body anymore — I was just warmth, tension, openness.
“Yes... yes, there... don't stop...” I murmured, tilting my head back.
“You like that, Matt?” he croaked.
“Yes... I love it... more...”
He leaned against my back, pulled me closer, changed the angle. He hit exactly where he needed to. He hit a spot that made me moan so intensely that I had to bite the pillow.
“I'm going to...” I hissed.
“Hold on a little longer,” he said through clenched teeth.
His pace increased. The thrusts became deeper, harder. My whole body was shaking. His balls slapped against me with every thrust, and my moans mixed with his breathing and the sound of skin rubbing against skin.
And then I let go.
My whole body stiffened, then exploded. I shot onto the couch, without touching him, only thanks to his penis inside me. I moaned loudly, my head fell back, and the world spun around me.
Seconds later, he finished with one last hard, brutal thrust and froze.
“Oh, fuck...” he whispered, filling me completely.
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