Sensing
A trans, gay erotica story: third part
My eyes were unbearably heavy when I noticed I was awake. The deep comfort in my body kept it still. It was nice to wake up still for once, not due to the constant ache in my bones from going to bed with anxiety, but because I fell asleep completely relaxed.
I was on my back — must have shifted there over the night, and the slope of the beaten up mattress forced my head gently toward the body that now moved subtly at my side.
Simon Wynn.
Beautiful, sweet, charming Simon. Thick thighs on either side of my hips, grinding down into me. Simon’s arms wrapped around my neck in long, willowy curves, a sharp smile stretching beneath his half-lidded eyes and reddening cheeks.
If I had more energy, my toes would have curled at the memory of last night coupled with the golden animal of Simon’s body wrapping around me from my side. His head was heavy on my chest. His hand on my shoulder was beginning to make slow, absent-minded trails along the muscle.
He must be awake, but just barely. I found my hand was at the small of his back, and I slowly began reciprocating the tender motion. He hummed deeply.
Simon’s head lifted enough so he could press a kiss against my ribs. His long hair, surprisingly soft, made the skin of my neck tingle. I felt a spasm creep up on me, and a puff of laughter leave my lips.
“Ticklish?” Even through his deep voice, heavy with exhaustion, I could hear his smile. I sighed and brushed his hair back.
“I can’t believe I can still feel anything,” I said slowly.
Simon smirked, kissed my ribs again and looked up at me just as I allowed my eyes to open. It was barely dawn: it must have been pretty early when we got here.
“It’s pretty incredible,” he said, almost to himself, his eyes darting away briefly as he spoke.
“Hmm?”
“You know. I just never expected to have you up in my flat.”
His eyes rolled back to me with a resigned sort of bashfulness, his lips pursed together slightly. A smile tugged persistently at them, and a unexpected fluttering in my chest made me suddenly desperate to change the subject.
“Are you English, by the way?” I asked, shifting my attention to his hair and away from his eyes.
He brought a hand to the side of my face and leaned across my chest to prop his head up on his elbow. The gesture was casual in theory, but in practice, the intimacy of it was dazzling.
“Barely. My family moved here when I was three, but I get the ‘isms’ from my dad.”
“I like your accent,” I said. He quirked his eyebrow.
“Accent? Me?”
“Yeah, your English accent.”
“I don’t have an accent,” he said petulantly. When he close his mouth, his lower lap jutted out slightly. I circled my arms around his waist, wanting to hold him closer.
“You do! It’s not a bad thing. I can hear it when your pitch gets kind of high.”
“Oh, so now I’m high-pitched?”
Fuck, he’s adorable. I pulled him down into a hug and stroked his hair.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. The earnestness of that reverberated in my chest, and I clutched at his back. He continued, “I want to know more about you.”
“Me?” I breathed. “God, what for?”
“‘Cause I have a crush on you, idiot.” He turned his face to kiss the skin in front of my ear. I drew a sharp breath.
“Well, I have a vagina,” I said, trying to joke away the anxiety rising in my throat.
“Ah, yes. I thought I noticed something like that.”
“And — um — funny thing.” I swallowed and cleared my throat. “Most gay men don’t love that about me.” Why the fuck am I talking about this?
He propped his head up again and looked down at me. His eyebrows knit toward each other, his lips in a hard line. His eyes quietly held up his end of the conversation: go on.
“Well, I — it’s a bit of a problem, is all. For some men, I mean. I think, a lot of them want a woman who looks like this and a man who looks like this. So no one is taught how to want a man like that, you know?”
He nodded in that vague way that means no, but keep talking.
“Like, did you think you’d ever be with a man like me?”
“Handsome and passionate?” he suggested. I mocked a gagging sounds and laughed. “No, but I hoped I would,” he continued. His smile was beaming: if we had had a chance to flirt — if such a thing had been necessary — I probably would have run away before I could embarrass myself. Then take my memories home to my empty bed so I could respond to them appropriately.
“You’re good at this stuff, aren’t you?”
“Good at…?” he said, between two kisses on my chest.
“Flirting.”
“Ah,” he mocked disappointment. “I thought you were referring to my lovemaking skills.”
Immediately, I pushed him away, forcing his chest to bend upward like a mermaid propped up on a rock. “What?” he said, knowing full well what.
“God, that’s so embarrassing!”
“Lovemaking?”
“I hate that term,” I said, pushing at his chest again and squeezing my eyes shut.
Simon responded by pulling my hands off his chest and weaving his fingers though mine, then pushing them above my head.
“I have to maintain the distinction between lovemaking and fucking. I value precision in language.”
I smirked, mostly at the haughty smile on his gorgeous face. He pushed down into his and my hands, and I noticed his hips starting to move slightly in almost imperceptible twitches.
“So then, last night was… the former?” I asked, looking down at the broad chest holding me in place as his cock stiffened under me. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as I bent my knees. My hands on his back slid down to his ass: I tried to mimic the ghostly, light trailing of finger tips that caused me to buck up into him last night.
He rewarded me by grinding down into me. Watching him uselessly fight my body for more friction, his shallow breaths already becoming audible, I thought about how my imagination of his pleasured face and movements paled in comparison to the beauty of the real thing.
“So naturally,” I continued, surprised at the depth of my own voice. “You’d like to show me your skills with the latter, correct?”
“Shut up.”
His mouth came down over mine in the same crushing kiss from last night. His tongue was surprisingly timid: I moaned when he tasted my bottom lip.
His waist really was quite small, and the weight of him sprawled on top of me was manageable. I wondered if I could…
I grabbed his thigh and pushed at his shoulders while bucking into him with one side of my hip. He lost a breath in the air and grabbed my back as I flipped him over onto his.
“So dainty,” I teased as he caught his breath. He wasted no time wrapping his legs around my waist.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what to do from up here. But kneeling between his legs, successfully causing him to swoon over me… I couldn’t cede any ground to this man.
I kissed his sternum, before bringing my mouth to his nipple. I tried to imitate the rolling sensation he created between his lips, earning a deep groan and a sudden arching of his back. My hands followed their own paths, slinking under his back and snaking behind his thighs.
I kissed down to his navel, and his long legs slipped up to my shoulders and rested there. There was no time for nerves to set in: the easiness of the morning made my movements too simple, and his half-closed eyes and heavy breaths were more than enough to assure me that I was doing something right.
I caressed the soft flesh between his thighs. He groaned blissfully. I realized his scent was stronger than I could noticed last night. It was intoxicating.
Out in the dawn, I heard a sudden crack and a nearly instantaneous downpour of rain.
I caught my breath and looked out the window to see the sky still dark, only for Simon to curl his fingers into my hair as though to keep me from leaving.
“I guess you’ll have to stay for a while,” he said. He was trying to smirk, but the shiny flush on his face made his features relaxed.
I managed to hold his gaze as I moved my head down again. His scent over took me once more and a moan stretched out of his mouth when I licked the base of his cock.
I couldn’t possibly drive him off now, I was sure. No matter what I tried or abstained from, I felt no shred of fear that I could possibly do something ‘wrong:’ The language of his moans and twitching body were too fluent for me to misconstrue.
My hands closed around him as I licked up to his tip. I closed my mouth over him and savored the sound of him whining. The wet sounds of my mouth were dampened by the hard rain, and I was thankful I wouldn’t have to hear them too clearly.
He spread his knees further apart, and my hands came to his inner thighs so I could hold them down. I didn’t know why I did it, but he gasped as if sensing some fantastic intention I might have.
I pulled up, dragging my tongue slowly on the underside of his cock and keeping my lips tightly closed on him, and tipped my head back to see him. His back arched up and his face was pressed into the pillow propped up by his arm, from which he drew gasping breaths. The lines that made up his body twisted beautifully, the heat of his skin was visible.
I took my mouth away and his hips jerked uselessly. I tried to imitate his cruel laugh, enjoying the feeling of torturing him with sensation.
I decided to explore the area beneath his thighs, since I was holding him in perfect position anyway. I flattened my tongue to lap at the yielding line of his perineum. His hand came down over the back of mine, still pinning down his thigh, and scratched me. His other hand went to his cock, but I grabbed his wrist and held it down. He whimpered but didn’t fight me. I wanted to please him: me.
Instead, I hooked that hand around the back of my head and grabbed his cock with the hand that wasn’t being clawed at on his thigh. I slowly worked to marry the rhythm of my fist on his cock and my tongue under him.
His skin here was incredibly silky, and his scent seemed to burn on my tongue. I tasted his balls and heard myself moan at the wetness and flavor seeping into my mouth.
How were all my senses this overwhelmed? Fluid was spilling down my thighs, and as I noticed the aching under my clit, I realized I could come first, if I wasn’t fast.
“Can you-” Simon’s ragged voice demanded my attention, even as I hated to pull my mouth away from him. “…please?”
I didn’t know what he was talking about, and the way his eyelids squeezed tightly over his eyes told me he knew that.
“What should I do to you, sweetheart?” My own voice seemed more foreign than his. I’d imagined his heavy and lustful before, but never my own.
“I-uh-” he cleared his throat. “I douched last night,” he said quickly. “So: please?”
My hand on his thigh squirmed into his and I clawed at him; my toes curled and my throat went dry.
He wants me. In the same exact way I wanted him last night.
He wants to be fucked by a man. And I’m here do fulfill his desire.
I pushed up his knee, forcing his abdomen to contract slightly.
I hadn’t checked out his ass much last night. Him bending me over had made that impossible for the most part.
Now, I pushed him apart and massaged the firm muscles and delicate skin so I could apply my warmed up tongue to his hole. Simon cried out and pushed against the bed with his twisting toes. The taste of him shocked me too. He pulled his knees up further and tried to push me closer to him. I couldn’t help laughing quietly as I tried to avoid accidentally pressing my teeth against the sensitive skin.
I ran the tip of my tongue around the smooth ring of muscle. It took a while to adjust to this movement while keeping my other hand on his dick. So, instead I kept my hand still and rubbed my index finger against his slit.
Simon voice broke, and I could feel a trickle of blood coming from the back of my hand, the palm of which was still plastered to his. I flattened my tongue and breached him: his body seemed to suck on it as it throbbed.
“Fuck! Please, please!” Simon cried.
Please, please. Darling, I don‘t have much to give you. But if I have to work 10x harder than any other man to fuck you twice as thoroughly, I will.
I took my hand off his cock, noting that he didn’t seem to mind anymore, and slowly replaced my tongue with my middle finger up to the first knuckle. I felt a swollen, pillowy area inside. I massage it in small circles, and Simon’s body seemed to melt. I got up on my knees to watch him writhe under me as I fucked him.
Finally, I released his hand and recaptured his cock in my fist so I could jerk him off. His hand wrapped around my shoulder, pinching my skin. Simon. I leaned down to whisper his name into his ear and suck at the sensitive skin there.
Simon screamed my name and came hot between our chests.
His hold on my back got tighter as his muscles collapsed underneath. My hands on and in him were sending hot electrical pulses through me. I realized I was still on my knees while being held to his chest.
He grabbed my face and pulled it toward him: I tried to protest, but my strength left me as his mouth latched onto mine again. His tongue lapped at every surface of my mouth, like he knew how good his body had tasted. His own hand ran sloppily over my chest and stomach and arrived at where my cunt was rutting against his thigh.
As soon as he touched my clit, a cry escaped me and I started shaking. I moved my hands to his chest so I wouldn’t accidentally scratch him in any of the delicate areas my hands had been. My eyes swam with the color of his chest, shaded by my hair as my head ground down into him, hardly bearing the intensity of the pleasure that was seizing my body faster than I had ever experienced.
“Simon, ah!” I screamed as my orgasm reached its greatest intensity. My body went pleasantly numb and my mouth closed to unconsciously peck at his lips and chin.
When I heard his rasping voice again, it was almost perplexed.
“You-?” I met his eyes and tried to read the contorted eyebrows and lips that told me he didn’t understand.
“Came?” I supplied, hoping the goofy smile I could feel on my face implied my answer well enough.
“Oh,” he said with vague surprise, or maybe some flustered self-confidence. I guess not many cis men come from a single touch. Yet another first for the man.
“I have a crush on you too,” I said. It must be something more than a crush by now, surely. But I couldn’t say that. He smiled and kissed me, again rolling onto his side and clutching me to him.
“Then, be my boyfriend.” I closed my eyes and listened to the rumbling and splashing outside a while longer. The rain and wind were starting to waft in a bright, flowery smell from outside. Boyfriend. I had never had the title before. Maybe it was just the way the words left Simon’s lips, but I liked the way they sounded. ‘Be my boyfriend.’
“That’ll be an HR nightmare,” I quipped. Even after coming, I wasn’t relaxed enough to tell him what this meant to me.
“I’ll quit.”
My eyes sprang open and I looked up at him. “You shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“You need a job.”
He laughed again and pulled me close. “I run basic errands all day. I can do that anywhere.”
“You shouldn’t quit for me.” A hum left his throat: he wanted to protest but didn’t have the energy.
We were quiet for a while listening to the downpour and thunder.
“Simon.”
“Mhm?”
“You’re good at fucking, too.”
He chuckled and nuzzled at the side of my face.
“No, I think you win this one.”
Next, part four
