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Time for Toys

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Donatello sighs. The bed creaks under his weight as he reclines onto it, his shell sinking into the mattress. The lair was silent. He was alone.

And he was going to enjoy himself.

Shifting his body, he runs a slick finger down the length of his tail, the chill against his skin making him shudder as he slowly snakes his way up to his hole. Pressing into it forces another shiver from him, and teasing the flesh another.

God... It had been so long.

He wasn't going to waste any time. Toes curling in anticipation, Donatello breaches himself, pushing a single digit inside to spread the flesh gently. It's tight. His body fights it at first, his nerves crackling like a fire, but within seconds he's slowly working his finger in and out. Not too fast, not too slow. Just right. Just perfect.

Inhaling through his nose, Donnie quickens his pace, reaching down with his other hand to grope at his crotch. His slit is flared: the lips a burning red, a stark contrast to the gentle brown of his shell, and it doesn't take much to coax himself out of hiding and pump himself to full mast. He rides it out with a groan, fingers curled around his shaft, and his eyes flutter to a close. Fuck… This was good, but he needed more.

Withdrawing his finger, Donatello reaches over his side and retrieves his prized toy: a large, purple dildo of his own design, six inches in length and two in width. It's firm in his hand, but the shiny, rubbery material allows the flex for his needs.

He slathers it with lube, making sure to be liberal with the sticky fluid before lowering it down and grinding it against his tail. His cock tingles in response and the feeling extends through to his prostate. Donatello groans, tilting his head back as he brushes it up against his hole, nerves burning. His heart hammers as he spreads himself again, this time with the added girth of his toy. It's a tight squeeze, but his body quickly adjusts as he continues to push the object in. Further and further and further, until the flared base presses against his ass.

"Hah…" This was it. This is what he'd been waiting for. No distractions. No projects. No brothers.

Just himself. Just this.

He works the dildo in and out of his body a few times, testing his limits after the extended break. Each push gets just that little bit faster, just that little bit harder, and each one is another attempt to hit the bundle of nerves tucked away inside of him. It's like a puzzle to him, one that he's eager to solve and reap the rewards from.

All the while he idly strokes his cock, his grip on it tightening the longer he fucks himself and only loosening once he finds his prostate. There’s a pressure, subtle at first as he presses into it, but it quickly ramps up in intensity as he grinds and grazes against it. His cock jolts, stomach fluttering, and a hiss of delight escapes his lips.

He gets faster.

Deeper, quicker thrusts. Jerkier movements, sloppier control. What started as gentle teasing was quickly devolving into frenzied assaults. Donatello wrinkles his beak with a snort, tightening his muscles as he slams the toy into his body. His arms ache, his spine tingles, but he won't stop. He's ramming the dildo in and out of himself now, groaning each time the toy slips out of his hole and smacks against his skin. He shoves it back in greedily and continues, fucking himself without remorse. His brain fuzzes over, his body twitches, and he digs his head into the pillow.

"F-Fuck... Fuuuck..." He comes without warning, limbs seizing and back arching as his cock spasms, splattering his shell as he rides it out. The world slows to a crawl around him as he recovers from the high, hands rising to rest on his sticky chest. God that was good. He needed that so bad.

It takes him a few more moments to recover fully, but he's not done yet. Gingerly, Donatello works his toy inside until he's plugged up again, then flicks a tiny switch on the base. The toy buzzes to life, and he hums as he sits, reaching to the wooden box on his bedside cabinet.

A mountain of various toys greets his eyes as the lid creaks open: gags, blindfolds, restraints, and even his homemade automated fucking machine, among others. Donnie licks his lips, smirking as he stuffs his hands into the pile.

He had a lot of time to burn.