Feeling Good
A trans, gay erotica story: second part
Simon’s smiled against my lips as our laughter died down.
“So, what would you like me to do to you?” His voice was gravelly again at this volume. It seemed to rumble from deep in his chest. It brought my attention straight back to the pain between my legs.
I want… Had I ever finished a sentence like that?
His hand wove into my hair and held my head as I searched for an answer. Without thinking, I rolled my head leisurely to touch his warm hand to my cheek. His hands were slightly calloused, and clearly bigger than my own. I guess I could think of one thing I wanted him to do to me.
I took Simon’s hand and started guiding it down, pausing to look at him and ask, “Is this-”
“Yes,” he said immediately. His whole body sank back to watch where I brought his hand. I swallowed, tense at seeing him watch me like that.
— Which must seem stupid. I can let him touch my cunt but not look at himself doing it? —
But the space between us as he moved back, still straddling my lap, made me feel more naked than I already was.
I stopped him.
He looked up at me again, and tilted his head slightly. I thought I could see him swallow too. I was panting and swallowed again painfully. I don’t want to explain and stop this night from happening. But I couldn’t have this beautiful man, the first one to make me feel like a man, dissecting me like I was some foreign specimen.
And then Simon’s cruel smile was back, and I gasped as he grabbed my hips again and flipped me over, still hovering over me with his thighs on both sides of me. His cock pressed against my ass and I felt a surge of ache. And I realized with a pang of annoyance what I really wanted.
Fuck, I want him inside me.
“Get up on your knees.” I scrambled to obey him, relieved I wouldn’t have to ask for anything. I kept my cheek to his bed, my hands folded under my chest. “Hmm, good boy.”
I whined, a deep sound from my nose that ended in a gasp, and pressed back into him. He laughed, but it was deeper and more controlled than before. He ran his hands over the sides of my ribs and up my back. Again, I thought of how my body was so scrawny compared to his: and yet with his hands gliding up the lean plains of my back, I felt almost muscular.
I realized that he was leaning over me, his chest flush against my upper back and his hips pressed even more closely to mine.
One hand slid down over the small of my back, and lifting it so just the tips of his fingers made my skin tingle. Then it came down hard to grab my ass.
For a second, I thought his finger might slip into me, and I stayed still with tensed muscles as I waited to see what he would do to me.
But Simon continued tracing the line with a gentle touch. I wondered how much he’d had to drink: enough to invite an executive assistant back to his apartment, but not enough to forget novelty of his situation.
Novelty. It was true. I was unlike any other man he’d ever been with. His fingertips explored me with the curiosity of a scientist rather than the skill of an artist. I realized my teeth were clenched, and I was even holding my breath between quick gasps.
His middle finger reached my front, and I groaned loudly, wordlessly begging him to touch me. His breathy laugh hit my neck. His chest lowered onto my back and his free hand fell from my shoulder onto the mattress near my face.
“You still haven’t told me what you want,” he said.
Fine.
I reached down to take his hand away, pull it to my front, and pressed it into my clit as hard as I could. I couldn’t even think about how to move his hand — I immediately moved my in short thrusts, desperate for friction. My whole body threatened to spill over his bed as I melted.
I’d been waiting. Been waiting so fucking long and now the wait seemed completely impossible. I could never wait the length of my life again to feel like this.
I felt his tongue on the back of my neck and lifted my upper back against him to feel his warmth. I grabbed his hand again and guided his finger into me and heard him groan just behind my ear.
He grabbed my shoulder again and knelt behind me, his hand dragging along my back as he moved to grab my hips and hold them still. Simon didn’t need my help anymore, it seemed.
His finger quickly found the grooved, soft area of my g-spot. I grunted and desperately reached for my clit. Without the support, he pressed against my upper back again, pushing me into the mattress.
“More…” I said without thinking.
The sounds from his chest got louder as he pressed in another finger. My own hand on my outside felt clumsy compared to his. He knew something about my body, clearly. I wondered if it was that different from any other man’s after all. Even with him massaging my g-spot, nothing about Simon made me feel like anything less than a man.
The words I think I have a crush on you slipped through the front of my mind, and my gasping breath took the shape of laughter again.
He didn’t laugh with me this time. Instead, he drew his hands away and pulled at my side.
“Turn over,” he said, without the commanding depth of before. When I did, I noticed how different he looked from the cool, smiling gentleman I’d met downstairs. His face and hairline were shiny with sweat and burning a pinker shade of gold.
He hooked his hand behind my knee and drew it up near my chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss me again. With our hips pressed together and my legs spread wide underneath him, I realized how still he’d become.
He was at an impasse. He either didn’t know what to do next, or knew what he wanted and didn’t know how to take it.
He pulled away, feeling my lips spread into a smile. The hazy dark color of his eyes met mine fully.
“Now what are you laughing at?” he whispered.
I answered him by running my hand down his torso and wrapping it gently around his cock.
He hissed, and his soft hair fell into my face as his body lost all strength for a moment.
“Move,” I said, guiding him to sit in the middle of the bed. He obeyed.
I crawled onto his lap to straddle him, taking him in my hand again to position myself over him. This time he whimpered and dropped his head to my shoulder.
I was so curious: I wanted to play with him for hours. I wanted to touch every inch of him everywhere and in every way. I wanted to pull every sound he was capable of making out of his throat. But I needed to come. I couldn’t wait anymore. I hoped I could earn another chance to explore him.
“S’ okay?” I asked, hoping I wouldn’t have to explain what I meant.
“Yes!” He grunted against my shoulder.
I sank back onto him as far as I could. I sighed deeply and heard him do the same. It was the fullest I’d ever felt. It only made the aching inside me worse, but every moment was deliciously satisfying.
I stayed still for a moment, floating slightly above his lap, gathering up the strength to push down harder. I willed myself to relax: the minute movements against the walls of my cunt, one or both of us throbbing involuntarily, felt perfect, but the size was overwhelming. The toys I was used didn’t prepare me for the unfurling I tried to induce my muscles into.
Simon’s mouth was at my collar bone, while his fingers relearned my anatomy from this angle. His thumb finally rubbed against my clit, and I twisted on him, getting lower and tighter than I thought I could. He reacted by biting the swollen skin and bucking up into me.
“Holy fuck,” I hissed, my head rolling back, as I realized I was sitting flush against his lap. The size felt irrelevant now. I wasn’t in pain, and feeling of control helped me relax as far as I needed to.
My hips moved easily, and I set a rhythm Simon met by rocking up into me.
I tried to focus on him, to fuck him perfectly, but every time I fell back onto him, I leaned back to scrape his tip against my a-spot. Simon’s tongue flicked out over my nipple before pulling it between his lips.
I whined as his other hand grabbed my ass harder than ever, his thumb, mouth and hips still working me diligently.
“Fuck!” I cried and fucked him as fast as I could. My muscles were shaking, tension grinding them to stop, but my nerve endings begging me to keep going. “Ah, I think I’m close…” But fuck, I don’t know! Don’t panic. Fuck. “Fuck!”
Both of Simon’s hand grabbed my hips and pulled me down onto him, speeding our rhythm. Simon’s feet planted somewhere behind me so he could thrust up into me, making me curl uselessly around his frame and grab his hair. Simon’s eyes are green, I could see them clearly as I shook furiously and started coming. Simon: brilliant, beautiful fucking Simon. His eyes closed and he whined loudly at me yanking his hair. My voice raised to a gasping scream as he clawed at me.
“Fuck,” I whispered as I lost all strength.
Simon suddenly grabbed my thighs and hoisted me up to my knees. His hand went behind me so he could touch himself. His whole arm and shoulder working around me on a part of his body I could even see: he was like a beautiful, natural mechanism I was just lucky enough to get to see.
His other arm held me close to his chest, like he just needed me here even if I wasn’t doing anything to him.
But I couldn’t have that.
I reached behind me to touch him. I felt his hand working his shaft faster than I had, before closing my fist lightly around his head. He cried out and buried his face in my neck when I rubbed at the wet slit underneath. His gasping and groaning into my hair and neck was pealing. Without knowing why, I said: “Good boy.”
He screamed my name, clawed at my back, and grunted “Oh, fucking god!”
He went still and pulled me crushingly close.
We sat there, just breathing and clutching for a while. Simon pulled back to look at my face, an easy smile pulling at his lips. I opened my mouth, sure I was supposed to say something but not knowing what, only to yelp as he flopped back, still clutching me to his chest. He laughed at me, making his chest heave into me again.
“You have a nice laugh,” I said, energy leaving me quickly.
“Thanks.” His voice was languid, but I could still hear his smile.
As we lay in the stillness, my mind couldn’t help but analyze my evening from a statistical stand point.
Firsts: sex with a man — check. Being penetrated by a man — check. Being intimate with a gorgeous, kind, sensual person I was undoubtedly attracted to — check. Sex with a co-worker — well… well, fuck, that might require further analysis.
Turned on and got off a gorgeous, kind, sensual man — it seemed like it. As much as a cruel, self-loathing voice in me looked for angles by which I may have cheated the system, the evidence of my senses was overwhelming. His body was relaxed and comfortable beneath me. Whatever he looked for in a one-night-stand, it seemed like I’d provided it.
One night?
He moaned quietly to himself, and suddenly shifted under me, turning to his side, out from under me.
A moment of discomfort crept up on me as I wondered whether I was supposed to leave — and was gone a moment later when he resettled comfortably on his side, his long left arm and leg draped over me, pinning me down. He was asleep already.
If he’d wanted me to leave, I had an air-tight argument at my defense: his unconscious self clearly disagreed with him. I hummed in quiet laughter again. I was so tired. So I pulled his large, warmth body closer and closed my eyes.
Next, part three
