Two years.

That's how long Luis and you had been wrapped up in each other—emotionally, mentally, sexually. It started online, innocent enough. But it didn't stay that way. Not when he spoke to you in that low, possessive tone. Not when you responded with breathy yeses and late-night moans through a screen. They knew each other's bodies without ever having touched—intimately, obsessively. You had memorized the weight of his voice when he got hungry. He knew the way your breath caught when you got close.

You'd seen every inch of each other. Watched each other fall apart over camera. And it still wasn't enough.

You hadn't met—not because you didn't want to, but because life kept pulling you back: work, oceans, time zones. But none of that had dulled the need. If anything, it made it unbearable. You were starving.

And then—he made his move.

One night, exhausted after a long shift, you came home. Your muscles ached, your hair a mess, but something made you stop cold. A package. Plain brown box. Sitting on your doorstep like a quiet threat.

Your name was written on the top—in Luis's handwriting. Your skin heated before you even touched it.

Inside your apartment, you set the box down and tore into it, your heart pounding. You had received many gifts from Luis before, so you thought it would be another piece of jewelry, but when you pulled back the wrapping paper and gasped.

It was a cock.

A perfect, heavy, throbbing-looking replica of it—thick, curved, veined, brutally real. It looked like it was made to destroy you. Like it could tear you open and leave you shaking. Your hand hovered over it, breath shallow, nipples hard under your shirt. You hadn't even touched it yet, and your panties were already soaked.

You read the note on top of it.

'Kitten, This is me. My exact size. My shape. My weight. I want you to use it. Train that sweet little cunt until it knows what I feel like. Because when I get to you, I'm not going to be gentle.'

'Start slow, kitten. Let it stretch you. Work your way down inch by inch... But know this—when I finally slide inside you for real? I'm going to bury myself deep. I'm not stopping until I've got you pinned, stuffed, and screaming my name.'

'You've got no idea how badly I need to feel you wrapped around me. Get ready. I want you open. I want you ruined.'

You swallowed hard, thighs rubbing together, heart hammering. Your core pulsed at just the thought of him—his hands on you, his body over yours, that cock inside you for real. The toy looked massive.

And the idea that this was what was waiting for you in real life? It made your legs weak.

Then your phone buzzed. One message.

'I'm here, kitten. I'm in your country. Hours away. I've waited long enough. I want you wet. On your knees. When I walk through that door, I'm not saying hello. I'm going to bend you over and make those two years worth it.'

'Be ready for me. Wide. Dripping. Spread. Because once I start, I'm not stopping.'

He was coming, he's going to wreck you.