These types of sex toys are supposed to be rocked in and out of a hole. That’s how I use it on Keegan, but it’s not how I use it on myself. I marvel as the toy slides into me, stretching me open, and I push it as far as I dare, then let go. There’s a sex toy inside me, and my heart pounds at the penetration, the full feeling unlike anything else I’ve experienced.
I clench around it, and that’s what I love, so that’s what I do while jerking my cock. I squeeze the dildo, and that action tightens everything down there. It makes my balls draw up, and my insides flutter. I wonder if that’s my prostate—the male G spot—or whether I’m just hoping the unique tickle inside me is that, assuming I’ve found the place that will give me the most intense pleasure. But the orgasm never comes from there, it comes from my hand, and the vulnerable sensation of my stretched-open hole.
It comes from me clenching and unclenching around something solid, and noting how different it is from anything else I’ve done sexually. This thing inside me feels almost as if it’s in control, as if it’s overpowered me, and maybe in some ways it has. I keep doing it. I keep jerking off with it inside me.
I bite my lip as I come, and it’s the only time my eyes slide shut. It’s a risk. Keegan could walk into the room in those few vital moments, catching me in the act. But it’s one I take.
It’s one I’m forced into because I love this feeling.
It’s helplessness as a fierce orgasm slams into me, stealing my breath.
My cock jolts, and my come hits the duvet I’m jerking off under. It’s a mess of lube and my release, and rather than bask in the afterglow, I hurry to clean up the evidence while I’m still too tender and sensitive.
She won’t know.
I won’t ever tell her.
Everything I’ve read online suggests its common for straight men to experiment with their bodies, but I don’t think Keegan would see it that way. I don’t think Ryker or Liam would either, which is why I’ve never told them, although I have thought about asking them about the prostate in case that’s the weird tickly feeling inside.
I have two gay best friends, well experienced with anal sex, but I don’t dare ask them.
It’s a tool, that’s all, something exciting and new. Something Keegan herself uses and champions. It doesn’t mean anything about my sexuality. I’m a straight guy with a girlfriend who I’m going to marry, and maybe one day I might tell her, I might see if she wants to pleasure me in the same way I pleasure her, and we’ll enjoy it, and it’ll be incredible.
I scrunch my face as I drop the sodden tissue into the bin by the bed.
Who am I kidding?
That will never happen.
The shower shuts off, and the first prickles of guilt warm my cheeks.
After staring so intently at the shower door, I now can’t even look at it.
Keegan comes out a few minutes later releasing a cloud of steam into the room. She has a towel wrapped around her body, and another one tangled around her long blonde hair. I feel her smile on me before I look at her, and it’s awed. Her green eyes crinkle as she looks at me, and the guilt the internet says I shouldn’t feel multiplies into something ugly inside me.
What kind of man—fiancé, future husband—uses his girlfriend’s dildo in secret to get off? Me. I’m that guy. But I don’t know what kind of man that makes me. With the way my guttwists and tightens, and the difficulty I have keeping eye contact, I’d say not a good one.
“How about I go to Benny’s, pick us up a coffee and a panini for lunch?” I suggest.
Keegan chuckles. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” I say. Anything to relieve an ounce of this guilt. “Bacon, brie, and cranberry?”
It’s Keegan’s favourite, and she hums her approval. “That does sound really good. A blueberry muffin too?”
I nod. “To go with your latte.”
“You’re the best,” she says heading across the room to kiss me. I manage to look at her as I accept the sweet peck she plants on my lips.
“I’ll grab a quick shower,” I say.
“Okay.”
I step into the bathroom only to freeze at Keegan saying my name. It’s the way she says it, like she’s discovered something unpleasant. I steel myself and turn to her.
“You better wash this.” Keegan’s holding up the dildo. Her nostrils twitch. “Jesus, how much lube did you put on this last night?”
“Only a little,” I say breathlessly, and I take the toy from her. It feels like it throbs in my hand. It feels like it wants to spill my secret. “Thanks.”
