Try the dildo out
From Create Your Own Story
Your fingers twitch as your eyes lock onto the package sitting innocently on the living room coffee table. That familiar heat coils low in your gut—half-curiosity, half-unmistakable hunger. The box practically vibrates with promise, the outline of what's inside making your cock stiffen against your jeans. You rip it open without ceremony, tossing crumpled packing material aside until your hands close around the thick, veined silicone.
"Fuck," you mutter, stroking the life-like shaft. The dual-density material gives under your fingertips, the head swollen and tapered just right. Precum soaks through your boxers as you imagine it splitting you open. No patience left—you take the stairs two at a time, already tearing at your belt.
Naked on the mattress, you spit into your palm and fist your cock, hissing at the friction. It jerks in your grip, flushed dark and dripping. The drawer screeches open—lube bottle cold against your overheated skin. You drown your fingers in it, working the slick between your asscheeks until your hole winks around the first teasing press. A shudder rolls through you; your thighs fall wider without thought.
The dildo glistens when you coat it, your grip sliding easily from base to tip. Positioning it makes your breath stutter—that first push always steals your thoughts. The crown kisses your entrance, then breaches with slow, delicious pressure. Your back arches off the bed as it sinks deeper, the stretch burning just enough to make your toes curl.
"God—fuck—" You pump the toy in shallow thrusts, your other hand flying over your leaking cock. The dual stimulation whites out your vision—every inward shove of the dildo sends jolts through your prostate, your balls drawing up tight. Your hips piston into your fist, the slap of skin mingling with the wet sounds of the toy plunging into your ass.
When orgasm hits, it punches through you like lightning. Cum stripes your abs in thick pulses, some splattering your heaving chest. The dildo stays buried inside as you ride out the aftershocks, your hole clenching around it greedily.
Collapsing onto sweat-damp sheets, you laugh breathlessly at the ceiling. That toy isn't going back in the box—not when it fucked you this good. You lay back and relax and you drift off to sleep the smell of sex thick in the air, lube drying sticky between your thighs.
