I head towards the living room window, still slightly breathless from the moments of ecstasy I’ve just experienced. As I open the window, a rush of fresh air fills the room, slightly dissipating the humid warmth that had accumulated during those long minutes of discovery. Twice my body was rocked by waves of pleasure of an intensity I could never have imagined. Reflecting on these moments, I can’t help but feel both astonished and frightened. This body I’ve inhabited for such a short time has given me an experience that feels almost unreal.
I glance at the clock. Time has passed much more quickly than I imagined. Over an hour has gone by since I let myself be carried away by this whirlwind of sensations. The minutes flew by, swept away by the power of what I was feeling, leaving me almost stunned by the intensity of the pleasure.
As I head to the kitchen to get a glass of water, I realize how much this experience has left its mark on me, not only physically but mentally. I wonder if what I felt today could ever be matched by the masculine pleasures I was accustomed to. For the first time, I question whether the satisfaction I derived from my old body was... dull by comparison. This thought makes me shiver. Not because I regret what I’ve just experienced, but because it makes me doubt what I’ve always believed myself to be. If masculine pleasures now seem dull next to this sensory storm, what does that mean for me?
The little voice in my head, the one that said I shouldn’t have given in, starts to make itself heard more and more. I regret, in part, having explored these sensations, but deep down, I know that curiosity would have won out eventually. If not today, then tomorrow, or perhaps in the days to come. And now that I’ve discovered what this new body can offer, I realize that the desire will likely be even stronger next time. The intensity of the desire I felt scares me, but it also fascinates me.
As I drink the cool water flowing down my throat, I start to think about what this means for me. What does it reveal about me? Does it change anything about who I am? Maybe yes, maybe no. But I feel that something has definitely changed in my perception of myself. This experience has opened a door I wasn’t sure I could close. And even though I feel it’s a door to something unknown, unsettling, a part of me can’t help but wonder what lies behind it.
After finishing my drink, I head to the bathroom. It’s time for a shower, not only to physically cleanse myself but also to try to wash away the thoughts swirling in my mind. My underwear is soaked, almost sticking to me from my own fluids. I remove it with some embarrassment, feeling the reality of what happened materialize in this drenched garment. It ends up at the bottom of the laundry basket, as if I’m trying to erase what just occurred.
Under the shower, the warm water cascading over my body brings me temporary relief. But even there, under the flow of water, I can’t escape these thoughts. I wonder if I’m already changing, not just physically, but mentally. The voice that told me not to give in seems weaker and weaker, while another voice, more tempting, more assertive, starts convincing me that yielding to these sensations isn’t a bad thing.
I eventually get dressed, but I know these questions will continue to haunt me. I’ve tasted something I can no longer ignore, and I wonder how long it will take before I let myself be swept away by this whirlwind again.