I was twenty-two and home from college for a long weekend when it happened. Mom was at work, the house quiet except for the hum of the AC. I needed a black skirt for a night out and figured she wouldn’t mind if I borrowed one. Her bedroom smelled like her perfume, something warm and floral. I opened the closet first, then the dresser. The bottom drawer stuck a little. When it finally slid open, there it was.
A thick, flesh-colored dildo lay on top of a folded towel. It had to be ten inches long and as wide as my wrist, with heavy veins running down the shaft and a wide, flared base. My face went hot. I should have closed the drawer and walked away. Instead I picked it up. The silicone was smooth and heavy in my hand. It felt real, warm from the drawer. My stomach tightened.
I carried it to the bed and sat down. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it. I ran my fingers along the length, tracing the ridge under the head. It was bigger than anything I’d ever taken. The thought made my thighs press together. I was already wet, the thin cotton of my panties clinging. I lay back, pulled my shorts and underwear off, and spread my legs. The room felt too bright, too exposed, but that only made it hotter.
I pressed the blunt head against my slit and rubbed slowly, coating it with my slickness. My clit throbbed every time the toy brushed it. I pushed a little harder, watching the head stretch my lips. It took effort. I had to breathe through it, rocking my hips, easing the thick crown inside inch by inch. My pussy gripped and fluttered around it. The stretch burned in the best way. I kept going until half of it was buried, then pulled back and pushed again, deeper each time.
The fullness was obscene. I could feel it pressing against every sensitive spot inside me. I started fucking myself with steady strokes, the wet sound loud in the quiet room. My free hand rubbed my clit in tight circles. I imagined Mom using this toy, spreading her legs the same way, taking every thick inch while she thought about whatever turned her on. The image made me clench hard around the dildo.
I rolled onto my stomach, pushed my ass up, and drove the toy in from behind.
The new angle made my eyes roll back. I fucked myself harder, the base slapping against my ass with every thrust. Sweat slid down my spine. My moans got louder, broken and desperate. I was close, the orgasm building low and tight. I shoved the dildo in as far as it would go and ground the base against my clit. The climax hit like a punch, my whole body locking up, pussy pulsing around the thick silicone. I stayed there shaking, the toy still buried deep, until the aftershocks faded.
When I finally pulled it out, it was shiny with my come. I wiped it clean with the towel it had been lying on, put it back exactly where I found it, and closed the drawer. My legs were unsteady when I stood. I found the skirt I’d come for, left the room, and didn’t say a word when Mom got home. But every time I passed her bedroom door after that, I thought about the heavy weight of it in my hand and the way it had stretched me open. I knew I’d go looking again the next time I was alone in the house.
