I’m ready, so please do what must be done to my pussy ass….
I can remember the moment precisely, the exact words that came out of my mouth when my shrink began our regular weekly session by asking how I was feeling:
“I need to be filled.”
The words just spilled out of my mouth. I hadn’t rehearsed, I hadn’t reflected. Never had I acknowledged this feeling, much less articulated it:
Yes, I wanted — indeed, needed! — to be fucked in the ass.
Until that moment, this carnal desire was a well-maintained secret, especially to me. My consciousness always felt a disdain, disgust even, toward anal sex. It seemed to have about as much appeal as a prostate exam or colonoscopy. Plus it was dirty.
But now, having lived full-time as a woman and ingested girlie hormones for nearly a year, I suddenly felt empty, incomplete. Not psychologically, but physically. Deepthroating — which I loved! — would never satisfy my hunger. I needed something more, much more.
The shrink always looked especially wise when he nodded, and he was now nodding vigorously. “What do you mean exactly?” he didn’t have to ask. Not only did he understand, but also I was apparently validating all his long-held theories about male-to-female transsexuals.
So it was that, with the good doctor’s tacit encouragement, I began my anal experiments: tampons, butt plugs, beads, dildos, enemas, lubricants….
My boyfriend at the time, very patient and practiced, helped. The fact that he had a so-enormous-it-was-scary cock helped, too, curiously enough. Sure, it was plenty painful, particularly at first.
But I can’t begin to communicate how incredibly exciting it was to keep the visual image of his huge, thick, hard cock in my mind while he plowed me.