Anal first time

The air inside the King hotel room felt heavy, saturated by the constant hum of the AC and that unmistakable smell of courtesy soap and industrial disinfectant.

I already knew the ritual; with Fede there were no secrets. We’d fucked at his place, at mine, in the backseat of his car under the shade of trees, in every corner where desire won the fight. I knew his average guy body, his warm little belly brushing against my pale skin, and he knew every one of my moles and that shyness that evaporated when his big hands squeezed my tits.

But that night the tension was different, more electric, with a biological weight that made my pussy throb before we even got undressed.

He knew what I was carrying. I’d told him, between whispers and post-sex confessions, how Gabriel used me like conquered territory, with that roughness that sometimes turned me on but always left me wanting something more human. I told him about the failed attempts at anal, the dry pain and the frustration of feeling invaded without technique.

Fede, with that photographer’s patience of analyzing light before shooting, had promised me it would be different with him. And I believed him. I wanted him so bad the wetness between my legs was already soaking my panties while I watched him pull off his shirt, showing his skinny, real chest, so far from those textbook studs.

We undressed with a slowness choreographed by trust. Standing naked under the cold hotel light, my translucent skin flushed that bright pink that always gives me away. My tits, heavy and firm, searched for contact with his skin.

Fede sat on the edge of the bed and had me turn around, on my knees with my back to him. I felt his hands roaming my ass cheeks, spreading them with a gentleness that made me let out the first moan.

The prep work began, the kind he enjoys as much as I do. He lowered his head and I felt his tongue, hot and skilled, exploring my pussy from behind, licking my inner lips with long strokes that made my back arch.

When his mouth moved to my asshole, I couldn’t breathe. He used so much saliva, a flood of warm drool preparing the ground. The sound of his kisses down there, that rhythmic, wet smacking, filled the silence of the room.

He licked the rim of my sphincter with surgical insistence, sticking the tip of his tongue in, pulling it out, wetting every fold again. I felt how the muscle, which had always been a border of pain, started relaxing from pure pleasure.

He pushed a spit-soaked finger in, very slowly, just the first knuckle. The initial sting was a spark that died fast under the constant massage of his fingertips. “Relax, baby, give it all to me,” he said with that smooth-talker tone that gave me goosebumps.

He put me on all fours, face buried in the pillow and ass way up, offered. His hands squeezed my waist, fingers digging into the firm flesh of my hips.

I felt his dick pressed against the entrance, vibrating, dripping pre-cum. It was six inches of determined meat. He spit in his hand, bathed his cock generously, and placed the head right in the center of my need. He pushed.

I felt an extreme stretch, an invasion that made me squeeze my eyes shut and dig my nails into the sheets. It wasn’t Gabriel’s violence; it was a logical, physical pressure, a friction opening me up inch by inch. Fede stayed still for a moment, letting my body adjust to the size, giving me wet kisses on my back while I panted.

When he started moving, the world shrank to that point of contact. He went in and out with perfect rhythm, gaining depth with every thrust. The sound of his belly slapping against my ass and the noise of saliva lubricating the friction created an atmosphere of dirty realism that drove me crazy.

I felt his dick rubbing my inner walls, a rough massage that stirred my guts and made me see stars. There was no trace of fear anymore; only an animal need remained for him to fill me more and more. I felt open, exposed, surrendered to the rhythm of this man who knew my turn-ons and my shadows.

The intensity climbed. Fede wasn’t the sweet friend anymore; he was a guy on fire, sweating over me, giving me short, quick thrusts that made my nipples vibrate against the bed. I asked him for more through gritted teeth, cursing him under my breath, begging him to finish breaking me in.

I felt the heat of his body wrapping around me, the smell of sex and physical effort flooding the air. The anal pressure had turned into a heavy pleasure, a fullness that ran up my spine and made me let out hoarse moans, improper for my usual shyness.

He reached the limit. I felt it in the way his hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wider. His movements became erratic, powerful, searching the back of my ass with an urgency that made me collapse.

He sank in to the hilt, pressing his chest to my back, and let out a dull roar. I felt the first shot of his semen, a boiling stream that hit me inside, followed by more that flooded my ass completely.

It was a massive sensation of being filled, a thick heat that left me trembling, empty of air but full of him. We stayed like that, locked together, while the sweat dried on our skin and our pulses returned to earth, knowing that this part of me would never be the same again.