I feel my left hand still resting on my chest, absently playing with my sensitive nipples, but something even stronger irresistibly draws me. The warmth intensifying in my lower abdomen becomes impossible to ignore. My fingers hesitate for a moment, but ultimately, as if guided by a force I can't truly control, I let my right hand slide gently down my belly. Every inch my fingers traverse seems to accentuate this diffuse, almost oppressive heat, focusing in a precise spot between my legs.
The moisture is the first thing I notice. It soaks through my underwear, and I can feel, through the fabric, this unusual dampness that, just yesterday, would have been inconceivable. It’s as if my entire body has become a kind of receptacle for sensations I had no idea existed.
I no longer need to tell myself what to do; my hand seems to act on its own, driven by an almost instinctive need. My fingers venture gently under the waistband of my underwear, and at that moment, a wave of shivers runs down my spine. The direct contact of my hand with this new part of myself is both strange and exhilarating. I first graze this area I had only discovered the day before, with the same anxiety mixed with curiosity. But this time, it’s different. I take my time.
My fingers first encounter a smooth and soft, damp surface. My initial reaction is to flinch, but I continue. Slowly, I go a little lower. Under my fingers, I recognize the shape of the lips that are emerging. It’s so strange, yet at the same time so familiar now, as if this part of me had always been there, dormant, just waiting to be awakened. I caress them gently, surprised by the fineness of this skin and the warmth emanating from this place.
I venture a bit further, my fingers sliding between these lips. At that moment, the sensation of moisture intensifies. It’s a warm, intoxicating, almost visceral dampness. The sensation is addictive. My fingers discover a new texture, a kind of even more pronounced softness inside. I feel the contours and realize the complexity of this part of myself. Under my fingers, I easily recognize the clitoris, this small protrusion that seems almost too sensitive to touch. The first direct contact with it is like an electric shock. I didn’t expect it. The pleasure is instant, a wave of warmth that travels through my body, almost taking my breath away. It’s incomparable to anything I’ve experienced before. I gently caress this small area, barely more than a touch, and already, I feel the tension rising within me.
I continue, slowly, with slow, circular motions. Each movement amplifies the sensation, each caress increases the warmth in my belly, my lower back, throughout my body. It’s as if a gentle but relentless fire is igniting within me. My breath becomes faster, more irregular. I feel my heart racing. My left hand, still resting on my chest, continues to play mechanically with my nipples, and I feel the slight tension in my breasts, but it’s my lower abdomen that demands all my attention.
I can’t help but speed up the movement of my right hand. My fingers become more insistent, more urgent. The pleasure rises in intensity, more and more. I feel something building up, a wave, enormous, swelling within me. Each caress, each touch on my clitoris brings me closer to the abyss of pleasure that I sense looming on the horizon. My hips move almost involuntarily, seeking to amplify the sensations even more.
And then, suddenly, without warning, the orgasm.
It’s an explosion of sensations, far stronger than anything I’ve experienced before. My body tenses, arches slightly. An intense warmth spreads throughout my being, radiating from my lower abdomen. The pleasure is so strong, so brutal, that I have to bite my lip to keep from letting out a cry. I’m overwhelmed. My mind empties, leaving only this wave of pleasure that continues to wash over me, like successive waves crashing on the shore, each one more powerful than the last.
I remain still, my entire body caught in this storm of sensations. My breath is short, my hands clench slightly. I feel my muscles slowly relax, as if my body were floating on a cloud. The moisture, the warmth, the pleasure... all gradually dissipate, leaving behind only a deep calm, a kind of inner peace I had never felt before.
I stay lying on the couch, still surprised by the intensity of what I’ve just experienced. These sensations, so powerful and different from anything I’ve known as a man, are almost too beautiful to be real. My entire body seems to vibrate with a new energy, a soft and persistent warmth that remains in my groin, as if it were asking me to continue. It’s a strange sensation. I remember when I still had my penis, after an orgasm, a kind of weariness would come over me. I needed a moment to recover, but now, none of that.
Instead of feeling the usual fatigue, my body still seems ready, as if it craved more. I feel no decrease in desire, no urge to stop and take a break. It’s disorienting. A part of me is fascinated by this ability to continue, to want to start again immediately, without the frustrating delay I used to know. But at the same time, this thought scares me.
“No, I can’t think like that.” I repeat these words to myself, trying to regain control. I’m a man, I’ve always been, and I don’t want to let myself enjoy these new sensations to the point of forgetting who I really am. But it’s hard to deny the pleasure I’ve just felt.
I lie on the couch, thoughts swirling in my mind like an uncontrollable storm. This persistent warmth in my lower abdomen irresistibly pulls me toward a slope I know is dangerous. The thought crosses my mind: “What if I let myself go again?” It’s a muted, almost irresistible temptation. After all, I’m alone in the apartment. There’s no one to judge me, no one to see me, to know what I’m doing. Just me and this strange, but terribly receptive body I now inhabit.
The mere thought of starting again sends a shiver down my spine. My fingers lightly brush my new lips, as if testing my own limits, as if trying to see how far I can go before losing myself completely in these sensations. I know I shouldn’t, that giving in to this temptation might draw me into a spiral of acceptance of this new form, this new identity that I’m still unwilling to recognize as mine. Yet, the warmth is there, increasingly insistent, increasingly attractive.
And then, a new idea crosses my mind, bolder, even more dangerous. What if I gave in, just a little? If I allowed myself to explore this sensation of emptiness I feel down there, to go further than the mere surface I’ve just grazed. I wonder what I would feel. Would it be even more intense?
These thoughts disturb me. They loop in my mind, tearing me between my male self and this desire. “Would giving in really be so bad?”
My fingers tremble slightly as they continue their movements on my groin. Each caress feels more intense, more precise than ever. A sigh escapes me as my fingers approach my opening. I hesitate, my breath ragged. My whole being seems torn between desire and fear. Fear of losing even more of myself, of what I believe to be my identity. But desire is there, palpable, irresistible.
I know that if I give in now, it won’t be the last time. I feel it deep within me. My body craves this attention, this exploration, and every fiber of my being seems to urge me to answer this call. Yet, a small voice inside me screams to resist, not to give in completely to this new pleasure, not to lose myself in these sensations.
With hesitant fingers, I wonder if, by exploring a bit more, I could fill this emptiness without losing my identity. But even that thought seems dangerous, as it brings me closer to acceptance. And it’s that which terrifies me the most: the idea of eventually accepting this transformation, getting used to it, maybe even enjoying it.