When I thought of this prompt, I knew I had to write fiction for it. My girlfriend had a suggestion and a Camp Nano virtual write-in gave me the Point of View. Stimming- self-stimulation- is often a way to self-regulate anxiety and other emotions (I talked about some of my stimming last week here). And so, I give you, the scene...
Lady Audrey pulled Joelle to the edge of Shaman's and her bed as Onyx watched from the corner of the room, the soles of his feet pressed against the wall; his toes, shins, and knees pushed into the carpet. Although she wouldn't think of her as Lady. “So my thought, I have here a variety of fidget toys. Let's see how long you can still use them while I go down on.” Audrey chuckled. “That hardly seems fair.” Joelle traced Audrey's fingers where they rested on her thighs. But you'll enjoy the challenge. Onyx licked the inside of his lips, sealing the inappropriate comment inside him. Audrey passed a rag doll to Joelle. “Starting with Audrey dolly?” Joelle's eyebrows both flew up. “You know, half the time you use ASL grammar stuff you've mentioned even when you're not signing?” Audrey grinned. “Yeah, we're starting with your doll of me. She was one of your first serious stim objects.” Bringing Audrey dolly up to her nose, Joelle gasped when Audrey pressed her lips to Joelle's mons. “Uh uh uh uh.” “No uh uh,” Audrey challenged before tracing the seam of Joelle's labia with the tip of her tongue. “Unless that's not what your sounds meant.” “Made sound?” “Oh, so it's going to be a Joelle not speaking whole words or sentences?” With gentle thumbs and forefingers, slightly closer to a burnt sienna in color from tanning, Audrey spread Joelle open to nuzzle her vaginal opening and bound clitorophallus. “I hardly... can talk–“ Joelle started only to be interrupted by Onyx. “If she's the one initiating.” Onyx bit his bottom lip. “Sorry, my Lady.” Traces of her dark gray lipstick gleamed in the blue lamplight as Joelle's lips parted without sound. “You have to breathe, sweet.” Audrey leaned in close, obscuring Onyx's view. Joelle loudly released the used air through her mouth. Her feet flexed so her toes stuck up in the air. How will she handle stims that take two hands? This isn't even edging, but I feel it. Audrey pushed her hands under Joelle's ass, preventing her from wriggling back and forth on the bed. “How sweet, you mouthing my doll's hair. No wonder if end up with more love bites from you than from my subs.” “Sorry, sorry.” “Onyx, fidget spinner,” Audrey ordered. Struggling to his feet, Onyx moved to the bedside and gently took Audrey dolly from Joelle. With a sweet smile, he placed the baby pink fidget spinner in her right right. I practiced kneeling in a corner so my legs would not lose circulation as fast. As Audrey leaned in and started to hum, he said, “Just holding the spinner was not what she had in mind.” “Know that,” Joelle cried. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the spinner. She breathed in with her nostrils flaring; her hands shook as she moved her toy from right hand to between her left thumb and index finger. Her head fell back on the bed as the spinner swirled just within Onyx's line of sight. Black thumbs pressing into pale peach hips, Audrey continued between Joelle's legs. Her head lifted slightly, her voice almost muffled. “You have to keep it moving, little love.” She pulled one hand out from under Joelle and tucked it where Onyx couldn't see it. “La la la na na na!” Joelle responded to whatever Audrey had just done. “That's right. Come again for me.” Audrey lowered her head. Joelle pushed her heels into Audrey's shoulders. She whimpered when the fidget spinner slowed before wobbling to a stop. In the midst of groans, she fought to restart the spinner's circling. Once the pink toy was spinning, her right hand came down onto the comforter. The fingers flexed and then curled in at the large knuckles. Her scream of release filled the room before the toy dropped to the bed. “Didn't take long for that to happen,” Audrey teased. “Yes, so good. Love you,” Joelle babbled. “Well have to try this again later.” Audrey gripped the bed as she pulled herself to standing. “Let's cuddle Joelle, my boy.” “Yes, my Lady.” Onyx climbed on the other side of the bed as Audrey led Joelle up by the pillows. He eased the weighted blanket over them. I can sleep with an erection.
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I am fascinated with sexuality, romance, intimacy that doesn't happen in the physical, face-to-face realm. That isn't always the way I have sex and I want to see others enjoy human interaction differently. Phaesia, Tomi, and Dakota challenged me a bunch as I wrote their story; I hope you enjoy it.
-- “We've been talking awhile,” Phaesia said. “Yup.” Dakota's slow nod showed on the computer screens. “And you put forward your leading comment why?” Tomi asked. Phaesia sighed. “I'm in the mood for something. Don't either of you ever get in the mood?” “You forget you're dating two demisexuals?” Tomi snorted. “Nah. I'm just as demi as you both. Maybe more if we consider that I'm a demiboy.” “You said something,” Dakota challenged. “We're not a bunch of sex repulsed people here.” Tomi sipped their can of cola. Phaesia wrapped his large brown hands around his biceps, his forearms covering his nipples. “I would like to masturbate with you both on webcam.” Tomi arched a red eyebrow. “You mean Dakota and I just watching you?”* “Do you both want to?” Dakota shook hir head. “I'm not ready to take part.” “I'd just like to watch,” Tomi added. “Okay.” Phaesia stroked his new dildo, his thumb moving over the carefully articulated foreskin. “Good thing we're all nudists.” Tomi pressed their fingers on the opposite shoulder. “Are you—” Dakota frowned. “Yes, I'm feeling boyish today,” Phaesia answered Dakota's unfinished question. He grabbed the water-based lube bottle beside his computer. “I like how we all disprove the common notion of nudists being sex-crazed.” Tomi dragged their hand over thee top of their monitor so their reddish-brown palm moved across their screens. Phaesia dripped the lube into his palm. “Over my cock,” he muttered, just barely too quiet for his microphone to pick it up. “It's a gorgeous cock,” Dakota said. “I shouldn't have gotten a white one?” Tomi rolled their eyes. “Do we have to have this talk again? You're black. Dakota and I started talking to you knowing you're black. Ze has talked again and again about fetishism and how it's not about your skin color for hir.” “Yeah.” Phaesia's hand moved up and down his cock. “I like watching your hand move. Does it feel good?” Tomi asked. “Yeah, I love thinking it as part of me.” Phaesia chuckled. “And the harness positions the base so it rubs against my clit. I'd pondered how I'd wanna masturbate in front of you both.” “Because your masturbation style is as fluid as your gender?” Dakota smiled softly. Phaesia nodded. “For cishets, it seems so much of masturbating is about the clit or penis and the nipples, but we don't have exactly that, do we?” “Nope, but do you really wanna keep talking like this?” Tomi leaned close to their webcam for a long moment. “Not sure. Maybe you both could talk.” Phaesia licked his lips. “So I can hear your voices in my head next time I want to masturbate.” “Luscious thought.” Tomi sipped something from rainbow-colored cup with a straw. “I wonder if we could make recordings of our voices for each other to listen to at times.” “You could talk about queer identity and I'd be a pile of goo,” Dakota teased. “You already figured out your pronouns before meeting me,” Tomi replied. Their gaze focused on a part of their screen, making Phaesia's heart jump in his throat. “We each had made it part way on journeys, didn't we, Phaesia?” He grunted. Their voices tickled down his spine, across his skin. How do I orgasm? A tightness formed at the base of his spine. “At least meeting in a text-based chat meant that we got to learn about each others' minds before too much effect of lookism clouded our perceptions, like Mx. Rhizome taught us to consider. Not to say that I don't enjoy looking at you both when we moved to this point of comfort.” Dakota shrugged one shoulder, the sparkle of glitter on her amber brown shoulder catching the gaze. Phaesia rested his neck against his left hand as his right traveled across his body away from the dildo. The pleasure continued to pound at the base of his cock and spine. To drop the sensations from their high level, he switched hands so his non-dominant hand was the one caressing himself. “Lookism,” he muttered as his fingers dipped into the valley between two rolls. “All sorts of bodies are attractive and good, regardless of what this colonizing culture with all its interconnected oppressions teaches.” Tomi gazed directly into their webcam, as if looking directly at Phaesia. “It was good to embrace physically at Pride last year.” The muscles of Phaesia's bonus hole quaked in his release before he closed his eyes to see on the screen of his mind where semen spurted from his unbound clitorophallus. “That was amazing.” “It was,” Dakota agreed. Tomi pressed their fingers on their bottom lip for a moment before asking, “Do you mind if I write something for you, Phaesia?” “Please.” He cleaned himself off with a moist toilette scented with sandalwood essential oil. “What are we all doing for dinner?” Laughing, Tomi pinched the bridge of their nose. “At least we're good for moments like that.”
Hello all! Long time, no see. I'm still getting better and trying to be more active. Since by the time this goes live, I'll be working hard on "Laura Learns" (book 2 in the Laura and Jack trilogy), I wanted to share this snippet from the beginning of "Laura Challenges" (book 1).
- "Mind if I join you?" A man with the smoky good looks of a model stood beside Laura's table. "Not at all. My name is Laura and you are?" She gestured toward the empty chair across the small black table holding her drink and purse. She took in the neatly trimmed beard that lent him a rugged look, his buzzed head that made her think dirty thoughts of her fingers moving over his head, the way his chest filled out his shirt. "I'm Jack."
Blurb:
When Laura goes out one night, she doesn't expect to meet a handsome eligible man. She definitely doesn't expect him to be interested in her or to ask her out on a date. Laura hits it off with Jack right from the beginning and there's an easy connection between them. But an experience on their remarkable first date pushes her to wonder if she can have something more with Jack. Would he be a compatible partner in meeting her sexual desires? Laura decides she wants to push her own boundaries and explore the world of BDSM. Can Jack still be the man for her? She'll find out if he's up to take her challenge. Available on: Amazon Amazon UK B&N Powered by Linky Tools Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list... When I sat down to write this, I realized that probably one of the first steps I made in the journey to drop my extremely well built “masks” to make me seem neurotypical was starting the story “Typing My Love.” Really fleshing out Happy, my first self-consciously Autism Spectrum character, I had to question ways in which I was like and not like stereotypes and actual parts of the diagnosis of the Autism Spectrum; after all, I'm not a “perfect stereotype” and I didn't want to make Happy one either.
This is harder to write than I expected when I put this as a possible topic to prepare for July; maybe that's a hint about how I'm struggling to go about actually dropping the NT “mask.” Here I am, 40 years old, and I don't have a formal Autism Spectrum diagnosis; I have many other diagnoses that AFAB (assigned female at birth) people often get instead of Autism Spectrum; I've just started to read about Sensory Processing Disorder and finding myself in these books. Between my therapist and I, we're looking for what will help me (she's no more an Autism Spectrum expert than I am, which is most likely why this is working :D ). I think right now, I'm largely going through a lot of “Who am I underneath the masks?” I also think that the nervous breakdown that I started recovering from back in February forced down quite a few masks. One thing I've learned is not to hide my tools. I love the word “tool” when used it this way; it's what my therapist repeatedly has used talking about the wonderful techniques and objects she's taught me or I've found and she's helped me to use even better. It's been a process though, a slow journey of finding what helps and affording to buy it. I already had a bunch of toys, but starting to look for specific things like fidget spinners. I have a multitude of things and now an indoor swing has slowed the progress way down. It's going to take saving up, deep cleaning a room, and probably other things that will mean I continue to sit in the patio swing at Meijer until summer's over. One piece that has particularly caused me consternation is my brain patterns. Let me explain- reading descriptions of people stimming (self-stimulating) brought me the realization that the repetitive movements that are stimming, that are one of the hallmarks of “that person looks Autistic,” I put those in my brain patterns. If my stimming was in my brain patterns, my mother couldn't see to disapprove of how different I am/was. I'm still debating if my way of thinking so many things so continuously is actually a problem; I never have a “calm” mind, like so many yoga things teach, and I go to sleep, even with my “racing thoughts”- I used to think I just always had bipolar racing thoughts, but when I examined my childhood, I had to admit that my thoughts picked up speed before adult bipolar would have been diagnosed. Happy that I mentioned in the first paragraph? Happy is bigender and has noun-self pronouns, joy/joys/joyself. I have worked on bring some random sounds and “words used out of regular context” into joys speech, especially when joy is “making mouth sounds,” rather than using written communication; being able to communicate more efficiently and comfortably in writing is one of the things Happy and I share. I recent story I wrote for the #MasturbationMonday blog hop had me making various vocalizations I do when I'm making mouth noises- like “di di di di di.” Yes, I counted how many “di”s I tend to make when I say that LOL. I just don't know. In a few days from this writing, I will see my med manager. She couldn't see through my masks at all; she thought I appeared calm and collected. I wonder if she didn't realize that I knew a locked psych ward was nearby; my therapist certainly made that connection to my behavior with the med manager. As a final thought, returning to my age, I wonder- what of the neurodivergent person is left under so many years of masks to try to make me seem normal? Here we have the first of the pre-written #MasturbationMonday posts that I stockpiled during June so I didn't have to stretch myself so far during July's Camp Nano. I wanted to experiment :D . "Mutual masturbation" is what caught my fancy here- after you enjoy my smutty scene, I recommend Kinkly's "Ultimate Guide to Mutual Masturbation."
-- With the last candle lit on the far book shelf, Taryn switched off the overhead light. They turned toward the pair of bean bags they'd set up for this evening. Holpa looked up from her book. “I suppose I shouldn't try to read in this low light.” Taryn laughed. “Probably, since you have a paperback.” They settled into the purple silk they'd draped over their bean bag. “Was there anything you needed?” “Weren't we going to share a drink first?” “Heh, yeah. I'll be right back.” Taryn poured a finger of vodka into each tall, clear glass before topping it off with sparkling water and a dash of mango juice. “There you are,” they said they handed Holpa's drink to her. “Before you start drinking, let's agree to what we're doing.” Holpa nodded. “This first time, we wanted to watch each other masturbate. At the same time, but not as a race. We agreed that friendship and vanilla sensuality comes before any BDSM.” “That sounds good to me. I already bought our tickets to the opening of the new queer gallery.” “Oo, thanks.” She took a careful sip of her drink. “I do so enjoy the pace at which we're taking things.” “Just because we're nudists doesn't mean we have to jump into sexuality if that's not right for us.” They shook their head. “If only non-nudists understood that we're as varied in that as they are.” She rested her glass on her thigh, her hand coming to lay on her inner thigh. “Not complaining about the strength of the drink, but explaining that I do drink alcohol less often.” “Same here. I had such problems with the gay bar scene and learning to drink socially.” They took a longer drink and paused as if looking through their drink at her. “I probably won't drink again until the opening, since they usually have wine at those sorts of things.” They pressed the fingers of their empty hand against their labia. “We're not going to wait until we're done drinking?” She grinned. “Do you want to?” Their pressing morphed into tracing their labia, wandering through their light blond pubic hair. “Not particularly. We going to use the traffic light system for safewords, even if we're staying vanilla?” “Good idea.” They snorted. “If only more vanillas used safewords, but that would require dealing with rape culture.” She moved her drink from her right to her left hand. “Yes, my dominant hand is the right, just like the majority of people.” “Nothing wrong with the ways we are in the majority, as long as we remember those points of privilege.” Their eyes closed for a long moment as they eased their fingers between their labia, spreading them to reveal clitoris, inner labia, vaginal opening. In response, Holpa stroked her midpoint clitorophallus with her thumb, index and middle fingers. “I... I'm so glad we can be so comfortable with our diverse bodies.” “Yes. There's no need to pretend in the rigid gender binary, as if that adequately describes the variation in human bodies.” They opened their eyes while their two fingers moved in slow thrusts in their vagina. “Even though my body looks pretty binary, I still struggled with awkward, at night masturbating when I thought everyone was asleep. Sex ed in the city I grew up in certainly didn't include pleasure or masturbation.” “But I see you have some toys near your feet?” She took another sip of her drink before setting the glass on a low table near her. “Thank goodness, moving to this city has meant access to better sex ed.” They slipped wet fingers out and grabbed three small purple Kegel balls; the balls slipped into their vagina one at a time. “I really don't enjoy fingering my own vagina so much. Masturbation is much more mental, clitoral, and nipple based for me.” She reached for her small sleeve. “I was grateful to find out that my body with its midpoint clitorophallus isn't weird.” She poured some lube into the sleeve before easing it onto her body. “And to find toys constructed for my different body?” Her feet pressed into the thick carpet. They brushed their fingers over the breast forms' nipples. “Yes. I'm glad this does so much for me mentally. I'm still undecided on HRT or any other medical transition. You look so beautiful sprawled like that across your chair.” “Thanks.” She gasped. “Love this toy. Faster orgasms when by myself are lovely.” Her eyes shut and her hand clutched the sleeve. Taryn took a drink. Their hand returned between their legs and their middle finger rested on their clitoris for a moment. Her chest heaving, making her small breasts shake, Holpa grunted with her pleasure. Her other hand moved up and down her body, from nipples to navel. Wetness shimmered on the glans of her midpoint clitorophallus. Her head rocked back on the silk holding her body. Their finger tapped repeatedly on their clitoris. As their orgasm started, the balls rushed out of their vagina and fell to the floor. “That looks wonderful,” she commented as her eyes reopened to see the last ball fall to the floor. “Thanks.” They took a sip. “Would you like something to eat or should we continue?” “I'm green.” She giggled. “Me too.” |
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