He needed lube to get inside me and I think he broke something in my brain

This happened a few weeks ago and I've been thinking about nothing else since and I have nobody I can tell in real life.

I matched with him online a couple weeks back. Handsome, tall, the kind of face that tells you he's heard it before and is mildly bored by it. We texted, we met for drinks, I brought him home because the drinks confirmed what the pictures had implied.

What the pictures had not implied was anything about what was in his jeans.

I saw the outline through his underwear when we were kissing in my room and I stopped. Just stopped. He looked at me, looked down, and had this slight smile like he knew exactly why I'd paused and had enjoyed every version of this reaction before.

I got my hand around him and my fingers did not meet. I want to be clear: I have normal sized hands. They did not meet. He was thick in a way I'd never encountered before, the specific thickness that makes your hand feel small and makes your brain run a quick nervous calculation about what comes next.

I tried to go down on him and my mouth was completely full. I couldn't do half of what I normally do, couldn't get my tongue where I wanted it, jaw aching within two minutes, cheeks hollow with the effort, and he had his hand loosely in my hair watching me figure out a new geometry with complete calm.

"Take your time," he said. Like he was doing me a favor.

I did my best. I think my best was impressive given the constraints.

Then we tried to have sex and it didn't fit.

I want to stress that this has never been an issue before in my life. It hurt. Not the good kind, just genuinely too much all at once, and we both stopped and he got up and found the lube in my drawer with the confidence of someone who has needed to do this before.

The second attempt was different. Slower, the lube doing what it was there for, and I felt every centimeter going in and every single centimeter had strong opinions and I was gripping his shoulders and making sounds I've never made in my own bedroom before. When he was finally fully inside I lay there for a moment just breathing and feeling completely and entirely full in a way that had turned my brain off.

He didn't stay slow.

The rough started gradually and then wasn't gradual. His hand around my throat at one point, my legs over his shoulders at another, and he talked through all of it in this completely steady voice that somehow made everything worse in the best possible way.

"Tell me how full you feel."

I told him. In detail. Without being asked twice.

"This pussy was made for me, wasn't it."

I agreed immediately and without a single shred of dignity.

"Look at how well you're taking it."

I was taking it. I was barely taking it. My eyes were rolling back, I was soaking, he was hitting something deep that I wasn't aware existed before this evening, and he knew exactly what he was doing with that knowledge and used it without any mercy whatsoever.

I came so hard my vision went white at the edges. He finished inside me shortly after, buried completely and perfectly still, and I felt every pulse of it which at that fullness is its own separate overwhelming experience.

We lay there after and I stared at the ceiling and took stock of my situation.

I understand size queens now. I genuinely did not before. I thought it was an exaggeration people made for content.

It is not an exaggeration. I am a little scared of what this means for me going forward and also already thinking about when I'm going to text him again.