Delightfully unique- whatever or whomever I'm writing in consent, romance, and lust.
Looking for an image for “fire,” I found a nice, new-to-me site for pictures. While the license on this particular photo says “no attribution required,” I'm so excited to look at Matthew Barra's other photos on the site, so there. :D Yes, as for “nature,” I found a night scene for “fire.” Although I guess I could have looked for an indoor firescape. But Matthew's picture caught my eye. The extreme focus on the fire and its setting, no living beings in the picture.
In the darkness away from the fire, Audrey watches the flames move through the air in their spiral dance. Her nails scratch at her nipples through the light silk tank top; mine tingle under the cover of nylon and latex. She tilts her head in such a way that I know that she knows that I am watching her.
The warmth of the night allows me to be comfortable in just my binder. I pressed my hands against my thighs at her flirty cotton skirt; the wind picks up the lace edging, showing me her beautiful calves. My mouth dries out watching the deep brown skin with its copper tint from her recent play in the sun, move back and forth. With her one hand at the bottom of her skirt, I lift one hand to press against my pecs; a light touch might not pass through the binder to my skin, but delightful pressure certainly can. Her perfect, naked feet reach toward the fire's blaze and it touch my lips. My balls. Yes, comfort with the words. I squeeze my balls.
Her hand continues up under her skirt without fully lifting away the material. She slowly licks her lips; the amusement in her eyes teases me. She continues to tap on and scratch at her nipples even after they tent the silk accentuating her enchanting torso.
My hips push forward and I bite down on the gasp that wants to escape my trembling lips. Squeezing changes to pulling on my balls as my heart pounds against my binder. My fingers move just a bit higher to my bound clitorophallus; what would it be like if I went on T? I don't really want to transition that far. I hum into the pleasure spiraling upward along with the fire.
“That's right,” she hums. She grins. No skirt lifting. Her knuckles push up the skirt near her upper thigh. Just then, she pulls her hand out of her skirt, spits on her palm, and her hand shoots back up her skirt, this time, not stopping at her upper thigh.
My legs go rigid, even as my knee quake as if about to give out. When her hand starts moving up and down fast and faster, I fall to my knees, landing on what would be all fours, but is instead three because I need to make myself come watching her tease.
A bush pricks my stomach. I ejaculate immediately, my pelvis twitching and my ass rearing up in the air. “Just like that,” I whimper.
The fire crackles; a piece of wood breaks in half, sounding like a rocket.
My body freezes; my finger stops in the entrance to my cunt.
“That sound was at a distance from you and it's done,” Audrey soothes. Her lifted skirt reveals her hard cock, the glans shining in the half-light. She pulls her foreskin up and pushes it back down.
My body relaxes and I sink my middle finger into my cunt to its base. So wet, my hand ends up so wet. “Please, please.”
Her hand moves up and down. Her fingers pinch her cumhole.
My wet hand drops to the ground and I begin to crawl. The underbrush hurts my shins and hands so exquisitely. The scent of the burning wood reaches me first, but underneath it is Audrey's seductive odor. Her musk fills my senses.
“You look so good like that.”
I know she's seeing me as she's seen me in otherwise lit situations; I'm still in the dark behind the fire. My crawling body swings wide to the left as I make my way to her as fast as I can. My tongue rubs against the roof of my mouth, just behind my teeth.
“I love your mouth.”
I reach the space just in front of her. “Please.” My gaze moves up to her face and then down to her cock. Her hand is so soft on my cheek as I wrap my mouth around her, my tongue slipping out of my mouth to stroke her frenulum. My thighs quiver as I suck hard.
“Gonna fill your mouth.”
I suck harder.
Her warm cum shoots into my mouth as her hand tangles in the long part of my hair. “Love you, sweet.”
I smile around her cock and swallow.
First an update: while I've had both good and bad days so far this Nanowrimo, I haven't managed to sign up for #MasturbationMonday. So at the end of this sentence, I'm going to give the "suggested word themes" for the last two MM's I managed to flub on- ASL and Nature.
When I got to my friend's next word suggestion- post- I debated the many ways I could take inspiration from it. I put it into image search and started scrolling. Physical posts (often made of wood), some post hole digging machinery, tons of online posts. Then I found the relationship status post that I just had to write to. :D
I won't list all the stupid things I've been asked, told as an asexual person; you can put that in Google, go look it up on asexuality.org.
However, and I'm not joking, I want to say that I've decided I'm in a relationship with mashed potatoes. I wouldn't say that to most allosexuals because it would just make me the butt of their joke.
When Audrey and my sibling submissives leave me to my own devices (and no chore list), I like to enjoy my romance with mashed potatoes. It's been very many years since I cheated on mashed-potatoes-from-scratch with powdered-mashed-potatoes; I may be polyamorous, but my mashed potatoes aren't. The purple potatoes slip under my hands as I scrub them under the warm running water. I would never think to peel my potatoes of their beautiful skin.
“Lovely one, we'll think of this as knife play, not being chopped into medium-sized cubes.” I feel the bodily memory of the time my Lady gave into my pleading for knife play- this was before Onyx joined us with his extensive knowledge and enjoyment of knife play. The multiple orgasms, most with ejaculating before that final one at the end, was the closest I've ever come from a more sensual, almost sexual interaction with another human being.
It's pretty decent being ambivalent about sexual activity with a person. But, oh the cubes of water, they plop into the water when I toss them into the gorgeous medium-green Dutch oven, sinking momentarily and then surfacing among the bubbles. A sense of loss pervades as I toss the final potato cube into the water.
Top on the pot, I grab the orange 5-pound kettle weight that I keep in the kitchen and I spend time doing repetitions to work on each muscle group in my arms. The sheen of sweat tickles the skin between my shoulder blades. “Lovely one, are you becoming soft for me while I get hard?” I replace the kettle bell in its spot and wash my hands.
The top shakes deliciously with the steam building in my favorite pot.
I remember my Lady wrapping her arms around my waist from behind as I watched the pot. “I love when you smell of sweat and when we can be close just like this, both getting our needs met without pushing the other to deal with anything boundary pushing,” she said. “I love you, my Lady.”
Hot pads on my hands, I pour out some of the water and return the shining Dutch oven to the heat. I think of this is a minor climax as I add spices, cow's milk, cheese, and butter to the pan. My Lady says I wiggle my ass as I add these things and then dance around with the potato masher; it's like a good paddle on my bum, helping me work through my conflicted thoughts about sexuality, sensuality, companionship, romanticism, my body, other's bodies.
No one's home. I scoop a dish of the completed mashed potatoes, chunky enough that they're obviously not instant, into a bowl. Sinking to the kitchen floor, I begin to enjoy. Just a dish. There's no need to gorge on my Lovely one.
Soon my belly is warm and my cock is as hard as stone. I wash the dishes as my heartbeat speeds pleasantly. As I place the last dish on the drying pad, I see an old chore list Pekka wrote for me. I gasp and clutch the counter; I'll have to do laundry now since I came in my shorts. I'm really not a teen boy, just an asexual man with complicated and non-common place sexual interests.
Now, the above story could seem like a typical “allosexual being aphobic.” (In other words, a person who feels sexual attraction being phobic against someone who doesn't feel sexual attraction.) I try very hard to do better by Didier; he's a part of the “Vala's Story”-verse of mine, not just an asexual I randomly created. I've been working less with these characters of late- besides Audrey, that is, as she started off existence as a character of mine, but is also now my girlfriend. I had a moment on Twitter to explain to Posy Churchgate about my wonderful extended BDSM family; you can see the hierarchy of domination and submission on the Vala's Story page- Didier isn't on it because the diagrams focus on The Queen's stable and Didier belongs to Lady Audrey, The Queen's friend and my girlfriend. Or maybe more :D oh the threads of story arcs and plot twists that reside in my head and various files.
I started with an idea that came to me while working on The Complex PTSD Workbook: Lap time- divide attention between cataloging Him and masturbating while cuddling with Audrey in my mind. I'm going to try new colors (for text and background) and it might end up creepy :D (but I don't see Halloween as creepy)
“Master, may I please have lap time?” I ask Shaman, standing before Him in His large recliner wrapped in just a My Little Pony sheet.
“I guess since you're ready for a proper lap time.”
I giggle and wait for Him to lower His empty plate to the floor. When He holds out His hand, I adjust how I'm holding the sheet so it doesn't totally fall off me as I climb onto His chair before carefully settling onto His thigh. I pull in tight against Him and He arranges the sheet so even my toesies are covered. I lay my head on His shoulder and breathe in. “Audrey? Can we please enjoy some secure attachment right now?”
“Yes, darling. Excellent pairing of Shaman and I caring for you.” Her arms encircle me. “Very good asking if I can enjoy some time with you now.”
Doubly held, I focus on my breathing as the always-present tension leaves my body. I look up to study Shaman's face. His regal and unique nose. The tuft of His goatee with its liberal sprinkling of white among the black hair. His buzz cut, so many inches shorter than the hair He had when I first fell in lust with Him.
The smell of vanilla rolls through me as I press my face against Audrey's neck and her slightly longer hair tickles my forehead. Her hands move over my arms, reminding me that I haven't done any skin brushing in so very long; I should do that before I cover my hands with the crescent marks of nails pushed into my skin.
“Good, sweet girl, stopping that thought. In polyamory, each relationship is unique. I love you.”
“I love you too, Audrey.” I kiss her neck, Shaman's neck.
“Are you enjoying lap time?” Shaman asks.
“Yes, Master.” Reserved for pirates. 8pm. Need to write.
“Attached, sweet,” Audrey murmurs.
“Can I-I'd like to touch your hair please.”
“Will you ever feel we've been in relationship long enough that you don't have to ask to touch my hair when you have my attention?” She laughs. “Of course you may. Do you like this twist out?”
“Yes, love. It's so fun.” The silky weave slips under my fingers. I squinch my face.
“I know. You'd like to ask why the change, but you remember that's mostly irrelevant for me.”
I start to feel the tingles of His closeness, her closeness within me. I touch her cheek. I touch His collarbone. My nipples tingle and then my pecs, as if I'm wearing my chest binder when I'm not.
“Perfect. Pecs. I love your pecs,” Audrey murmurs.
Shaman brushes His fingers over my ankles. “Enjoying not shaving again?”
“Yup, Master. Thanks for being so understanding about me finding comfort in body hair sometimes and other times not.” No need for guilt. He said so. Tingles like a good energy drink caress the top and then the back of my brain. Virtually, my toes curl.
“That's right, baby. Shaman and I see you in the moment, not constrained by pre-determined notions of who and what you should be based on the gender assigned you at birth.” Audrey kisses my forehead.
Shaman kisses my forehead. “So why do I get treated with a naked wench on my lap?”
“'Cause it's just us in the house, Master.” I lick my lips as I spiral into the fullness of an orgasm, safeguarded by Shaman's and Audrey's loving embraces.
“Feel that goodness, love. Secure attachment with memories of me tonight? Cuddly snuggle time with Shaman soon?”
I giggle and kiss Shaman's jaw. “Might we move to bed, Master?”
“Lap time's not already done?”
I kiss Audrey's lips as she dips her fingers between my legs. “Well I was hoping for some cuddly snuggle time in bed, Master.”
“Is that just code for sex?” He grins down on me.
“Di di di di di!” I shake my head, grinning in response. “No, it's not, Master. Although sex would be very good too soon. I did my stretchies so I can ride you, Master.”
Audrey kisses my forehead. “Tonight, love.”
I kiss her back. “Love you.” I break out in huge giggles as Shaman struggles to His feet while still holding me. “Yay! Cuddly snuggle time!” I let the sheet fall away from me and kiss Shaman's neck as the release of my orgasm still plays through my body. “Struggle cuddles?”
He shakes His head. “You're 4.”
My current therapist has diagnosed me as having Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD); recently we discussed Complex PTSD- which is sadly still not in the DSM (the so-called “bible of psychiatry”). Yes, that diagnosis describes me well. My therapist and I have a great working relationship- we are both rather academic-minded and so we often share books, articles, topics. One idea I wandered upon was secure attachment; because of the abuse I've lived with, I'm not very securely attached to anyone, even my Master.
I wish I could remember where I'd read the explanation of “Find a person as an adult whom you can ask if they will be your secure attachment person.” Importantly (according to my source), you should ask the person if they will fill this “secure attachment person” role. My Master, He has enough of His own issues. However, Audrey suggested I ask her to file the role and she said yes after I asked her. Given that she's 69 and doesn't keep a “second shift life” as I do, she's often fast asleep by the time I go to bed a bit after midnight. So she recommended a bedtime ritual of “attaching to memories of [her].”
Both my Master and I have issues with anxiety; a friend of His bought us a queen-size weighted blanket. While at first I couldn't use it by myself- He works 3rd shift and I try to keep to 2nd shift- I've grown to find it comfortable and useful. So now my bedtime ritual is getting into the made bed (flat sheet, comforter, weighted blanket) surrounded by stuffed animals and laying on my back with my arms at my side as I focus on memories of Audrey. My mental voice meanders between Audrey's voice and my own, even as my memories work through each of my senses and sensory systems. I sometimes select specific memories, such as Audrey telling me that she couldn't spend time with me because she has other relationships to attend to, other things to do.
Now the thing that caught my attention as I was doing this last night- why Audrey, not Shaman (that's my Master's nickname)? To say “He has His own issues” seemed like a cop-out, even as I thought it and then wrote it. (Wrote it? Does it still count as “wrote” when I do my “writing” on a keyboard?) My mind started to create a table.
Physical. Nesting partner. (I had a 3rd thing, but it's not coming back into my mind.)
Virtual. Non-nesting partner. (I never did figure out a 3rd thing for her.)
Of course, Audrey made the offer; I'm still working on being able to ask Shaman for things I need that He's capable of acquiring and/or giving. As with another thing I worried, I think I have a ponder that's related to polyamory, not to the differences in Shaman's and Audrey's being.
I took to my blog to write this out because talking about Audrey in online support groups most often gets incorrect, offensive, “armchair psychologist”-type responses. Not too long ago, I ran to my therapist, upset that someone had said that they were very concerned about me and asking if I'd been screened for Schizophrenia- based on me stating Audrey's validity.
In the US, monogamy comes along with this expectation that partners should be everything to each other; I reject that notion. So why not Shaman? Because Audrey said yes.
“Touch is a solid theme”- the words of a dear friend when I was trying to come up with posts for July- well, possibly into August as I'd like to work on submitting at least two manuscripts to publishers in August once Camp Nano July is done. I saved her suggestion because, at first, I wasn't really sure what to do with it. However, as I was reading “Too Loud, Too Bright, Too Fast, Too Tight” by Sharon Heller, I realized that I indeed have tactile challenges that I didn't realize. Dr. Heller talks in that book about how tactile is one of the earliest scenes; I was six years old when I didn't want my mother to touch me ever. In my opinion, the book does a great job talking about tactile difficulties as not just being “clothing tags make me itch”; if we went by the stereotypes of “sensitive people,” I wouldn't fit them because I'm underreactive to much tactile sensation. I wonder if that's part of why I've made such shiny spots on my keyboard's keys :D. I also wonder if improving tactile sense is part of why I don't need BDSM impact activities to be as harsh as I used to want them.
“Here's the box from the therapy company.” Ziba placed a small brown box on the kitchen table between Happy's and her mats. After joys nod, she continued, “Would you like to open it?”
Happy passed the letter opener to Ziba.
Quick work with the opener and Ziba had the box open. Not too loud. “It's your brushes.”
Happy typed on joys tablet and pushed a button. “Can we try them now please?”
While I'm not working on this WIP currently, when my friend made her suggestion, I immediately thought of “Typing My Love.” Happy (the character who's on the Autism Spectrum in that book) doesn't get diagnosed on the spectrum until adulthood- this also joy (Happy's pronouns are joy/joys/joyself) to avoid things like Applied Behavioral Analysis. Another friend responded to my post about EMDR and skin brushing by mentioning how skin brushing had been awful for them because it was done to them as a child; we talked about the differences between their childhood experience and me choosing skin brushing as an adult. I'm not sure if the little bit of fiction between the paragraphs will be fit into TML, but it's definitely a scene percolating in my brain.
Overreactive to tactile. That one has been a track in my head. Even though I feel comfortable saying that I'm on the Autism Spectrum without a formal diagnosis, I definitely struggle with stereotypes about not liking hugs, kissing, sexual activity, etc. Then I realize that my behaviors with that are rather complex and do include a bunch of avoidance. I want to be hugged more, but not by strangers; I'm good with my Master, my girlfriend, my daughter hugging me, the occasional person at church who doesn't put me off too much. But when others with Sensory Processing Disorder and/or on the Autism Spectrum talk about not wanting anyone to touch them at all? I struggle with that; I'm not sure why, with my former comments. Just because *some* people are okay doesn't mean I'm at all average on this. While it doesn't fit Happy very well either- the idea of overreactive to tactile- I'm pondering when an intimate scene between one or more people with overreactive tactile sense might look like. Of course, that sends my mind to a #MasturbationMonday post in which I showed intimacy between an allosexual and an asexual persons.
What to do when an idea is so far from your knowledge that stereotypes are what come to mind? I don't have any characters already created, breathed into life that hate all touch, even most touch- even Didier, asexual but not sex-repulsed, wants cuddles. I'm glad for my reading that explained how touch is more than just people or things touching one's skin, but also the air, the temperature etc.
I want to ask my readers a specific question now, but words fail me as I write this the evening before seeing my med manager (who I don't entirely trust). What are your thoughts about someone being over- or underreactive to touch?
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.”
“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.”
“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.
My dear Audrey started talking at me as I tried to come up with this scene; she suggested that she and I try it, since I'm using AAC in a slightly different way with my Master currently.
When I finished this piece, I debated if I would break it in parts, but there was no natural break so you get a long scene. It makes more sense if you consider part of Audrey's comment in my memory. If you want to know more about AAC beside seeing it used in this post, I recommend you read my first #TherapeuticThursday post here.
Audrey's voice traveled through my memory: Just because you've never been formally diagnosed with anything warranting AAC, never fitted by a professional doesn't mean it won't make our lovemaking that much better. Yes, using AAC can take longer than speech; that'll just be time to make our lovemaking be a longer time together.
I placed the last word on the board, pressing it down well at the corners to make sure it stuck. Grinning, I studied the words and pictures I'd chosen for this board. Audrey, me, me, Audrey, both of us.
“Such gorgeous pecs,” she murmured as her index finger traced over the picture of my chest in my white sports binder.
I tapped on the nipple of her breast pictured.
“So let's take your board to my bedroom.” She grabbed my empty hand and urged me to my feet. “You need a dry erase marker like with your shopping board?”
“Nah,” I murmured. I continued to hold her lovingly moisturized hand as we journeyed down the hallway.
“You gonna let me enjoy learning this board on you first some? We gonna use the ASL YES/NO eyebrows?”
I giggled and nodded. “Both!”
She snatched my board from me before tugging on my sundress and making her eyebrows go upward. Keeping her expression the same for a long moment, she lifted her shoulders to add to her question.
“Di di di di di. You wanna undress me?” I spun a circle.
With a quick movement, she caught the bottom hem of my dress when it spun out. Before I could find my balance, she had the light fabric off me and I fell to my butt on the floor.
“Love you!” I surged forward to kiss the tops of her pretty feet.
“Oh, you! Love you, darling.” Both her hands grabbing mine, she helped me to my feet and pulled me into a tight hug.
I hummed against her, relaxing in the touch and the smell of her. Light, light vanilla. Some nutmeg, like she was making cookies. Oh, almost too cold. I pulled her onto her bed with me.
“Hmhm. Still gonna lay back for me?”
I nodded and scurried backward to place my head on her fluffy white pillow.
“I like that you didn't shave before our time together.” She tapped her short purple nail on “Hair” on the board.
I touched “Go.” I held my breath until she touched the shaved part of my head; I hadn't thought to specify hair-where. Relaxing into her touch, I let my hands slip off my hips and onto the bed.
“That's good. I agree with Shaman. This style is quite fetching on you. I enjoy the dichotomy of shaved and long curls.”
A smile spread across my lips. Passive voice, passive voice! My fingertips tingled as if she said I could stroke her short layer of recently shaved cotton swirls. Twist out! So beautiful.
“Yes, lovely pecs.” She pressed her fingertip against the pecs side; after I nodded, she took both hands and pressed them against my pecs, the skin of her palms just touching above the edge of the sports bra binder. “Binder stays on today?”
I lifted my right hand to sign YES.
“I do love how YES looks like a nodding hand.” She touched “Lower” and raised her eyebrows, their delicate, rich black curves drawing me into her gaze.
Shuddering against the bed, I forced my lips apart even as I pointed to “Go.”
“Good girl,” she purred as she started to draw random shapes across my belly. “I like the idea of you holding up the board 'cause where I hope to be going, I'll need your help to see.”
With a high pitched whimper, my mind caught her teasing hint. I tapped away at “Lower” before grabbing the board and holding it up awkwardly on the bed.
She aimed one finger at “Vulva” with her lips pressing against my lower belly just above where my pubic hair started.
Both my hands tried to move in YES, even the one holding my AAC board up.
“I can't tell if you're signing YES or CAN.”
I gasped; she'd learned some more ASL. I stilled my left arm and signed YES again before tapping away on “Lower, Vulva, Lower.”
“Would it be cruel of me to ask you to speak some of these words?” She smirked.
I let my lips tremble as I strained to make my eyes wide open while blinking my eyelashes at her. I nodded slowly.
“Don't pull that innocent act on me.” She chuckled. “I know you are far from innocent, dearie.”
Snorting, I wrinkled my nose.
“Are you gonna use your words to tell me you don't like dearie? Or maybe point to stop?”
“Don't like use my words,” I snarled and jabbed my finger against “Stop.”
She brushed her finger over “Lips” and “Go” before lifting her eyebrows.
“Yes,” I shrieked.
Tracing the tip of her tongue over my labia majora, she repeated the gesture four times, up and down, before prying them apart to do the same to my labia minora. “Ba ba ba!”
She lifted her mouth from my body and stretched to touch “Bound Clitorophallus” on my board.
I pounded my finger against “Go.” I melted into a long groan as she sucked my clit between her lips. As my breathing slowed again, I poked at “Fingers” and then “Cunt.”
Her eyes pulled up at the corners to show her smile. She shifted until her right hand rested underneath her. Her thumb circled around the opening to my cunt.
Whining, I tapped against “Go” repeatedly. I released a gasp when one of her fingers slid into my wetness, pressing against the inner wall of my vagina. My fingers tightened on my AAC board as I struggled to keep it upright in the midst of my pleasure. “La la la la.”
She hummed against me, the buzz working its magic on my unbound clitorophallus. She moved her hips and her bound clitorophallus pressed against my leg.
“Ta ta ta ta.”
Lifting her mouth from my body, she asked, “Touch? You want my bound clitorophallus to keep touching you?”
I shook my hand “YES!” My toes curled down into the rich brown comforter.
“I wonder if I can find your g-spot now that you're so very turned on. Should I try to encourage a g-spot orgasm for my sweet girl?”
My finger randomly moved over “Go,” “Harder,” “Lower.”
Laughing, her mouth reclaimed my clit as her fingers moved within my cunt's top wall, searching for that elusive g-spot. Her gaze remained on my face. Her pupils dilated when she found it.
“Yes, yes, yes!” I held my hips tight so I wouldn't buck and move her finger off that glorious pleasure spot. Love that I indeed have a g-spot that my loves can find. Verb tense change! My ability to hold my hips still broke and I pushed down on her fingers until an orgasm roared through my body and out of my mouth. So much, too much. I tapped on “Slow.”
“That's my girl.” She kissed my bound clitorophallus. “I just wanna cuddle and hopefully soon we'll explore more words on your board.”
Words need added. “Love you.” My eyelids wavered closed.
Her lips brushed across my cheek. She drew on the bony part of my chest with her fingertip, “I love you.”
I'm feeling really off-kilter today; don't ask me why. Interesting inspiration picture, but after writing special scenes for my Master focused on anal plugs, I'm feeling tapped out on the subject. I could easily blame my feeling off-kilter on a bunch of things. Sighs. At least the heatwave of last week broke; at its worst, it got to 92 degrees Fahrenheit in my house. Hey, maybe that means there should be ice in my piece for today :D
Lady Audrey reclined on the blanket, her forearms holding her up.
“Thanks for spending this time relaxing with me, my Lady,” Didier murmured.
“Since you asked for cuddles outside, I had to see what you were thinking, my boy.” She pressed the soles of her feet against his.
“I was watching this episode on Ash Hardell's YouTube channel and it made me think, my Lady. Outside, a nice blanket, ice cubes, and closeness. It's just on the side of wanting cuddles, my Lady.”
Audrey laughed. “Well, outside of AC. I could stand cuddles from you any time you're willing.”
He lowered his eyelashes and blushed, the heat coming in small circles in his cheeks. “Thanks, my Lady.” He spread his toes so she could press hers between his.
“I love your aesthetic choices when given permission for moments such as these.” Her gold nail polish catching a glint of sunlight, she traced bowl's rim as the ice cubes clinked against each other. “Might I use one of these ice cubes on you?”
“Yes, please, my Lady.” His shoulders twitched in delight.
Clasping one cube between her thumb and index finger, she stroked his lips. “Let me know if anything gets too sexual for your comfort.”
“Yes, my Lady.” His pulse increased with her caring respect.
Drops of moisture leaving a trail on his bronzed skin, she pulled the ice down his shoulder and onto his bicep. She repeated the gesture oh so slowly on his other arm. “Your toes aren't feeling ticklish today, are they?” She backed up onto her knees just beyond his feet.
“You know the question always makes me feel ticklish even if I wasn't already, my Lady.” Didier grinned. “Not that I'm begging you to stop.”
“Though maybe not your toes need ice.” She pressed the ice against the sole of his foot.
“Ah!” He threw back his head, his shaggy black bangs moving away from his eyes.
She drew the ice cube away and moved it over her body, clad as it was in a tempting yellow string bikini. Her skin sparkling with beads of moisture, she asked, “How about that cuddle now?”
“Yes, thanks, my Lady. Thanks for understanding me without needing to hear specific words.” He moved onto his side and entered her embrace as she entered his. He rested his fingers against the nape of her neck as the coolness and heat of her moved over him. “Love you, my Lady.”
“Love you.” Lady Audrey pressed a kiss to Didier's forehead.
So this is a little long, but I was inspired, even if not by the inspiration picture. :D I recently saw the meme about FRIES from Planned Parenthood; here's the article about it on Bustle.com. I was happy; I only had to look up the I (for informed) on my Master's phone because I wasn't online just then. I find it quite ironic since “informed” is often one of my arguments for the poorly written “BDSM romance” that get published too much. I'm gonna fangirl now hehe- if you want some good BDSM erotic romance, I suggest Tymber Dalton and our Kayla Lords for well written and informed BDSM fiction.
“I spotted something from Planned Parenthood that might make a fun sexual game.” The Queen grinned at Audrey. “I do so love fries, don't you?”
Audrey snorted. “What are you up to, boy?”
“Well someone had left stuff with the OWL materials. Fry?” He held out a crispy light brown, thick cut french fry to her, its end shimmering with curry sauce.
“Sex with food?” She arched an eyebrow.
“No. It is a lovely, new acronym about consent.”
“Ah, a consent game. I like those as much as D/s games. However I'm not familiar with this acronym yet. Please, teach me, lover.”
He swallowed the fry he'd been chewing. “But there is consent even in D/s. You made sure I understood that early in our play.” He took another bite of a fry as he wiggled his hips suggestively at her.
One finger in a raspberry red curl from her twist-out do, she watched his antics.
“Okay. So you did not directly answer my question. Do you love fries or not?”
“I'm gonna spank your little pasty ass if you don't stop teasing. You know I love fries, but I'm on a diet right now.”
“Well in this case, we are not talking about fries to eat, but the new teaching about consent. F for freely given, R for revocable, I for informed, E for enthusiastic, and S for specific. FRIES. They did have nice paragraphs elucidating on these terms on the pamphlet I read.”
“So, you wanna leave those french fries here and we can work on the rest of this consent in my bed?” She cackled. “Or is this like a BDSM negotiation that shouldn't happen in the bed or play space, as the case may be?”
“I think we are more than good to relocate to your bed as we are both sober and I know I wanna touch your lovely body in any way you will let me.” He showered her with a lopsided grin as he leaned closer over the table to caress the table beside her hands.
“I love when a little informality slips into your word choice and it isn't about being upset.” She clasped his hands a moment. “Come on.” She pulled off her tank top as she walked, tossing the cream-colored silk to the floor.
“Good to have subs,” he joked. His red shirt joined hers on the floor as he hurried to catch up to her.
“Yeah.” She turned on her bedroom light. “So far, you're only consenting to getting in my bed, right?”
“For now. Good being specific.”
“Are you sure we aren't too old for this?”
“Never to old for consent.” He shucked his pants and tossed them by her wall. “May I please kiss your lips?”
“Most definitely.” Her eyelids slid down and she leaned in to meet his searching lips in the softest press of passion. “I'll always be glad I met you.”
“Me too,” he murmured against her lips.
“I guess me being out as a trans woman who hasn't had surgery counts under informed?”
“Sure does. As much as it leads my mind to what I would like in your bed.” He lifted his hands to about her shoulders and she met his hands with her own.
“And what would that be?” She looked from her dark brown fingers interlocked with pale pink fingers to his ice blue eyes.
“Our bodies twisted into a delightful 69, our cocks in each others' mouths, our hands moving over skin, genitals, assholes, until I pull off your cock to beg you to fuck my ass. I might like a little spanking before the fucking.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure, lover. You gonna mess up the sheets first?”
“Nah. I am going to beg to pull you into bed with me.”
She nodded and then laughed as they tumbled onto her vanilla-scented, scarlet-colored comforter. “You are such a gorgeous, gorgeous man. I love that you love eye contact.”
His lips parted. “Kiss?”
“Yes.” She caught his lips with hers. After a long moment, she tapped her tongue against his lips. She groaned when he allowed her tongue to slip into his mouth. Her legs slipped between his before he twisted his calves around hers.
“Oops,” he murmured.
“Nah, it's good. But I wanna move onto that 69-ing we agreed to.” The moment he released her legs, she scrambled on the bed so she lay on her side with her face just about his thighs. His skin smelled of jeans, pine, and finally him. She parted her lips and pulled his semi-hard cock into her mouth. Her ass clenched with pleasure when his mouth wrapped around her cock.
He grasped her hips as they settled into the connection. His breath tickled the short hairs on her balls and inner thighs as he enjoyed her as she enjoyed him. Then he started to move, his mouth going up and down on her cock.
Her hands tightened around his thighs. She pushed her lips to the base of his cock, her tongue moving against him. As he groaned around her cock, she reached up to stroke his balls. That feels so good, she thought as he repeated her gesture. Her fingers slipped onto his taint as she searched for his prostate.
His high pitched whimper of ecstasy echoed through the room. He pulled his mouth off her cock. “No spanking. Gonna need you to fuck me soon if you keep massaging and sucking me like that.”
She felt her smile in her cheeks.
“Not that I'm complaining.”
His mouth reclaiming her cock made her feet flex against the bed. She pressed her tongue against his shaft. Her fingers moved through his thick, black body hair again as she worked on his prostate externally and squeezed his balls in time with her sucking.
Didier appeared just then to place a small bowl of coconut oil where she could see it.
Audrey pulled off The Queen's cock. “Thanks, love.”
“Of course, my Lady.” Didier hurried off.
The Queen paused in sucking her cock. “Finger cot?”
“Not unless you've been with anyone outside our families and should be tested.”
“Not me. Coconut oil lube then?”
“Sounds like paradise. Just one finger, little boy. You have big hands.” She licked his glans before working her way down his hard shaft. Her hands tightened on his hips as one slippery finger worked its way into her asshole. She went rigid when his fingertip wandered across her prostate. I hope whoever I go to bed with tonight is good with just cuddling. His prostate seemed to pulse against her fingers. Her muscles relaxed into spasms of release. She keened with pleasure as he flicked his tongue against her frenulum.
He continued to torture her with the intense stimulation.
She reached for some of the coconut oil near her. Nails recently trimmed. She gathered up a dollop with her index finger before reaching around to stroke him between the cheeks, first the trembling ring of muscle, then gently into his asshole as he relaxed with deep groans. With the change from external to internal massage, she tasted the first bit of his pre-cum. She added a finger and tapped them against his prostate.
He pulled off her cock. “Please, please, fuck my asshole! Whatever position you want me. Rough, just move me!”
At his pleading, she pulled off his cock and pushed him flat on her bed. She kneed his legs apart and reached under him to unbend his cock. She smiled when he arched his lower back, presenting his hole to her. She grabbed more oil and stroked her cock with it. She eased her foreskin down a little more before thrusting into his asshole. “You feel so good,” she moaned.
The comforter muffled his response into unintelligible sounds.
She grabbed his shoulders and fucked him hard. The tight sheath of his asshole caressed her shaft as her balls pulled up tight against her body. “Don't know how long I'll last before shooting my wad into your pretty little ass.”
He turned his head so his cheek pressed into the bed. “Come whenever you're ready. I already feel so wonderful from your loving.” He straightened his head so his lips again pressed into the comforter. His fingers curled into the fabric.
Closing her eyes, she bathed in the sensation of making love to him. She pushed her hands under his hips and lifted him so she thrust deeper into his asshole. She pressed her open mouth against his shoulder, but didn't bite. “Gonna. Gonna fill.” She pounded into him. “Love. My. Love.”
Grunting, he pushed back his hips even as he gripped his asscheeks.
The cum pushed out of her into him as the orgasm and ejaculation seemed to make her heart skip a beat. With the rush of her own pleasure, he grunted again and then went rigid. She kissed the back of his neck where his hair had fallen aside.
His hands slipped to the bed. He lifted his head slight to ask, “Good game?”
“Yeah.” She rolled to his side. “Good game. Cuddle for awhile before a shower?”
“Sounds good. Then we can have some more of those fries Didier made us.”
She laughed. “Sure, lover.”
I had a moment on Facebook, trying to figure out some words for this scene based on Iven being a trans man who's had some gender confirming surgeries and not others. Remember that he's wearing a sports chest binder in this scene because he hasn't had what's commonly thought of as “top surgery” or bilateral mastectomy and male chest construction.
Click here to read part 1 first.
“Plans, my Lady?” Iven's throat moved with his swallowing.
“Yes.” Audrey crawled onto the bed and came to kneel between his spread legs. “I want to enjoy my boy. You still want to be my boy, right?”
“Yes, my Lady. Your boy.”
With the tip of her tongue, she traced a line from his belly button to the bottom hem of his binder.
“My Lady,” he groaned as his cock grew hard against her thigh.
“That's my boy,” she rasped. “Does the pressure of my leg across your cock feel that good?”
“Yes, my Lady.” He lifted his hips to press harder against her. “Do I... beg?”
“Beg to come? Of course you do, but you can't be that close just yet?” She crawled backward until she could rest her chin--balls, he wants them called balls, even if he didn't get scrotoplasty—on his balls. She brushed one fingernail up his cock.
“So sensitive, my Lady,” he whimpered.
“I like to hear that.” She sucked his cock into her mouth. Breathing in through her nose, she listened for his sounds. The feel of his cock made her own get harder. He's holding back, but his hips want to move. My handsome boy.
“My Lady, my Lady!”
She pressed her hands underneath his ass and lifted him closer. She pulled back slightly, until just the glans rested on her tongue. Her heart pounded in her ears as his legs pushed against hers. She pressed her thumbs into his hips.
“Yes, my Lady.” He moaned hoarsely and thrust upward so she took his cock back into her mouth to the root. “Oh, my Lady.” His head rocked against the pillows. “I didn't mean to. Um. Feels, feels...” He coughed and then groaned.
Grabbing and then squeezing his hand, she sucked harder on his cock. Need that in me. She pulled all the way off him with her lips just touching the head. “I want to spank you now. Then I want to feel you in my ass, let you fuck me until we both come.”
“Please, my Lady.” Iven's toes curled into the comforter again.
She tumbled away from him on her bed and placed her feet on the carpet.
Without a further order from her, he dashed across the space to lay himself across her thighs, his cock coming to settle between them.
“That's my good boy.” She brushed her fingers over his asscheeks. “Which of my wants are you more eager for?”
He mewled behind closed lips.
“A, B, or C, boy. Unless you want a punishment more than B,” she teased.
“B, but it makes me feel greedy to say, my Lady.”
“Good boy, answering and explaining your answer. What have we talked about with wants?” She dropped three spanks on his cheeks, her tongue moving against the back of her teeth at the delightful sting on her hand.
Releasing a held breath after the last spank, he replied, “Wants are fine to have. It's only in violating someone's consent to get those wants is there any reason for negativity. My Lady.”
“Yes, good boy.” She spanked him several more times, one cheek, the other cheek, across the middle over his crack, without counting. Her balls pulsed hot with pleasure as he writhed against her. “Good boy, staying hard during your spanking.”
“Thanks, my Lady.” His hips thrust his ass up to meet her hand.
She pushed him to the bed and scrambled up to grab the anal lube. Squirting out a bunch, she spread some over her asshole before returning to him. The lube resting on her palm, she stroked his cock until it glistened.
“My Lady, please, my Lady!” He rocked against the bed with abandon.
“Come on, boy! Up on the bed so we can spoon.” She pulled him by his hair until they were up at the head of the bed. Spreading her asscheeks with one hand, she ordered, “Do me!” Sighing, she enjoyed the pressure of his cock at her entrance before he started pushing into her. “That's my boy.” She grunted with pleasure when he touched her hip. “Reach around and stroke my cock, boy.”
“Yes, my Lady,” he replied between gritted teeth.
Her muscles clamped down on his cock. “Just like that.”
“Thank you, my Lady. I never imagined it could feel this good!” He pounded into her as his hand slipped up and down her cock, his thumb pushing down her foreskin when he went up over the glans.
This was the right choice for him, and fuck, does his cock feel good! She grabbed his hand off her cock and licked his palm before wrapping him around her cock again. “I want you to feel good and come, boy. No begging now. I just wanna know when you come.”
“Yes, yes, yes! Thanks, my Lady!” His thumb slipped over her glans in the way that drove her crazy. “Thank you. Unh!” His hand slid down to the base of her cock, his little finger sliding over her balls.
“Thant's right! Come for me. Come inside me!” Her cum shot out of her onto the bed as he groaned behind her. Her face fell forward onto the pillow. So good. My good boy. Used the right language, even coming. That's my handsome boy. She pulled an extra blanket over them. “We'll go take a soak shortly, good boy. Thank you for sharing your first post-op sexual experience with me.”
“You're welcome and thanks for allowing it, my Lady.” He kissed the nap of her neck and pressed closer to her.