Delightfully unique- whatever or whomever I'm writing in consent, romance, and lust.
While the inspiration picture is entirely lovely and I enjoyed seeing Cara's thighs close up, the whole picture itself led my mind to my own body hair and something within my virtual family.
Tommy put the plug in the bathtub beside the armchair. Smiling, he turned his chosen bath oil bottle over the fast collecting water.
Miwa sat in front of the armchair. “My Lord, sitting in the armchair to play the shamisen feels too weird.”
“Okay, sorry for my Western mind. Create your art as feels right,” Tommy said before leaning over to kiss Miwa's forehead. He scratched his nose and moved in front of a vanity. “Scruff.” As the water continued to run, he covered his cheeks and chin in a thin layer of shaving cream before passing the razor over his stubbly facial hair. He grimaced at his hair falling into the foam and placed his razor on the counter before pulling up his shiny black strands into a hair clip.
“You'll need to go under the water, my Lord,” Miwa teased as she carefully plucked individual strings.
“Are you trying to get a trip to the pool before I'm supposed to present us to The Queen?” He grinned at her in the reflection of the mirror.
“Not at all, my Lord.” Miwa laughed her tinkling pleasure. “He may very well want to swim later, my Lord.”
Tommy stepped to his tub and turned off the water before returning to the vanity to clean up the mess he'd left behind. He sighed as Miwa produced the first, long notes of a song she'd played many times for him. Mess cleaned up, he eased himself into the hot water and leaned back onto the bathtub pillow. He closed his eyes.
Miwa's voice joined the shamisen's music.
I need to start up learning Japanese again. Tommy breathed in and tried to separate the fragrance notes in the oil preparation he had used. First he smelled the pine that would help him to smell similar to The Queen. Then the Ylang Ylang to help their energies balance. Then finally, the Bergamot for its sunny radiance. Without opening his eyes, he murmured, “Love, when you finish this song, please bring me the razor I forgot on the vanity.”
Miwa seamlessly moved from a Japanese word to saying, “Yes, my Lord,” before returning to her song.
What will I shave today? I'm glad in this household that I've come to learn body hair not to be assigned by gender identity or presentation. Tommy lifted his hands out of the water to flex and wiggle his fingers. He rested his hands on his chest to explore areas that he might shave, or have Miwa shave. The hair on his forearms had grown back feeling thick. His smile returned when he thought of The Queen's heightened passion the time he had shaved his pubic hair. “Smooth, not soft,” he murmured.
Miwa changed from one note to another as if in agreement with his non-contextual statement. Her song ended, she kissed his forehead before moving to complete his order.
“Miwa, love, I want you to shave my chest and back for me.” Tommy opened his eyes to enjoy her response.
“It shall be my pleasure, my Lord,” Miwa said, his pink razor in her hand. “Would you like me to do that first, my Lord?”
“Please.” Tommy moved to his knees so his torso was above the water. He lowered his chin to his throat and waited. He breathed in at her small, soft hand moving over his back to coat his skin with the Shea butter shaving lotion he'd created for the body.
“I'm so grateful you enjoy me giving you this care, my Lord.” Miwa's touch changed just before the protection strip of his razor touched his skin.
He released a held breath. “I enjoy it, even if I can't enjoy your shamisen playing at the same time.”
“I could sing, if that would please you, my Lord.”
“Maybe sometimes, but today I'd just enjoy talking.” His eyelids fluttered as her other hand touched the small of his back. “What areas of my body do you think I should shave for our Queen?”
“I believe your expression at one point implied you were thinking to shave everything below your neck and I would agree, my Lord,” she said, her voice stronger in speech than it had been while she was singing.
He laughed. “It seemed at first that you were trying to get out of giving a real answer.”
She joined him in laughter. “No, my Lord, just taking my time. After all, you didn't ask a yes, no question, my Lord.” Her fingers move gently between his asscheeks.
“Ahhh,” his moaning sigh formed phonemic sounds that time. I hope I just come into the bathtub so it's easier to shave my pubic hair. “That's perfect, my dear. Thanks for continuing down.” He wrapped his hand around his shaft.
“I'll be done there in just a moment, my Lord.”
Just after the razor moved over the hair around his asshole, he cried out as he ejaculated hard. He grabbed the side of the tub and looked over his shoulder at her. “Hopefully The Queen doesn't want me to come too soon.”
She brushed a hand over his smooth cheek. “Especially since there's so much more of you to shave still, my Lord.”
And yes, as I was writing this, I thought of Posy Churchgate's comment of my writing being like an impressionist picture since I don't think this is a straightforward “sex scene.”
I went to the Masturbation Monday website Friday morning, feeling like I can't possibly manage 50000 words this month [November]. Well actually, I went last night and saw May More's lovely photo with her stocking runs that had me thinking variably of gender and gender presentation. So this morning, Molly Moore and the mistletoe. My mind tried to go to My Little Pony and I said no! I'm not having a good morning, as far as managing my Autism and C-PTSD. But I have 1606 words to write for Nano before midnight in my time zone and I'm going to enjoy my nano characters at holiday time. And shhhh! This is a spoiler for my Nano novel.
And haha! How'd the weeks escape me? I thought this was week 213 of MM, not 222. But I promise you'll love have Molly's picture inspired me.
Chris stood back from the holiday tree and Kwanzaa display area. "Beautiful," he murmured.
Josh kissed Chris' cheek. "The ladies will be joining us shortly."
"Yes, Daddy," Chris murmured.
"First winter holidays in our new house." Josh adjusted a delicate, translucent powder blue glass ball ornament so it hung between tree branches.
"I'm so glad you talked us into a fresh tree, Daddy. I haven't had one since my childhood daddy passed." Chris reached out to grasp one of Josh's hands as he squeezed Doggo to his chest.
"Doggo's new scarf is quite colorful," Josh said.
"Like the white berries, Daddy?" Chris hugged Doggo so he started with the funny noises Mommy said were "womb sounds."
"They are entirely too cute, just like you, Little boy." Josh kissed Chris' forehead. "Hot chocolate with marshmallows on the table."
"Woohoo! Can we please start on our cups, Daddy?" Chris begged.
"If you're five now, I think you can wait on Mommy and Amy to join us." Josh wrapped his arm around Chris' waist and pulled him into a big hug. He tickled Chris under his chin. "We can go wait for them on the couch."
"And you'll cuddle me, Daddy?"
"Of course." Josh took Chris' empty hand and led him across the room.
Chris eased himself down onto their couch with its cover of red and green stripes and then curled up small in one corner.
"You're not getting too sleepy for hot chocolate and the first gift?" Josh teased.
"No, Daddy." Chris rested his head on Josh's shoulder.
"Hey there, boys!" Tonya called out as she and Amy sauntered into the living room. "I think it's time for Big boys to get their gifts first."
Chris' gaze moved from one woman to the other. They each wore a babydoll dress, although that was were the similarities ended. Tonya's dress brushed against her thighs, its bisque eyelet lace hem darling against her ebony thighs. The majority of the dress glistened with the gold-infused red clay colored cotton. Amy's dress, on the other hand, revealed more of her body than it covered. The neckline dipped between her breasts so stop high on her stomach and the hem had been artfully sewn in uneven points. Where Tonya had selected cotton, Amy's forest green dress seemed most constructed of silk threads spaced far apart.
"We'll get to that hot chocolate after it's cooled a bit," Tonya drawled as she straddled Josh's thighs. "I wanna come all over your clit."
Josh chuckled. "That can be arranged."
"And what about you, Sir?" Amy traced her tapered red nail over his naked chest. "I can feel your heat against my pussy."
Chris pushed the hips of his sweatpants to his thighs and pulled Amy onto his hard cock. Holding her by the hips, he thrust into her so she moaned and grabbed the back of their couch. "That's it. Can ya come quick?"
"For you, Sir!" Amy cried out and threw her head back.
"How are you doing, Sir?" Chris asked Josh.
"Wonderful," Josh groaned with Tonya's movements.
"A holiday quickie? Er, tradition?" Chris let his hands slid to cup Amy's ass as he pounded up into her. "Should I come in your mouth or ass?"
"Mouth, please, Sir," Amy whimpered. At his nod, she pulled off his cock and jumped to the floor between his legs. She wrapped her lips around his cock before sinking until her nose pushed into his pubic hair.
Chris leaned his head back against the wall as his orgasm rippled up through him and he came in spurts of semen into Amy's mouth.
A few moments later, Josh and Tonya grunted one after the other and then embraced tight.
After Amy kissed each other Chris' balls, he jumped up from the couch and pushed her onto her back. He licked their combined arousal fluids until only his saliva remained. He pulled his pants back up and led Amy to sit back on his lap in front of the couch. "That was very good, little love." He kissed her cheek.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Sir." Amy hugged Chris.
"So, Little boy, think you'll be able to stay my Little while Amy's all dressed up like that?" Tonya asked, her voice hitting just the right level of stern yet still loving. She backed off of Josh and then straightened his pants before turning completely to face Chris. "You have new Christmas Eve pajamas as well as a new 'no switching' item." She accepted items from Josh. "Put on these night clothes."
Chris pushed his pants off only to slip into green sleep pants that matched Amy's dress, yellow star patches sewn in various places. He struggled into the matching shirt, his giggles escaping with the warm fuzziness covering his skin. "I love it, Mommy!" He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tight as he danced around her in a circle.
"And since you're big enough not to need a bib anymore, I made you this necklace of rubber cars," Tonya said as she screwed the pieces of necklace closure together.
"I love it, Mommy!" Chris grinned at Tonya. "Thanks, thanks, Mommy!"
"You're welcome, sweetie." Tonya kissed Chris' forehead. "Let's go enjoy the hot chocolate now before we open one present each before bedtime."
Chris turned to see Josh holding Doggo. "Mommy, look! Daddy's holding my stuffie who has his berry scarf on! You gotta kiss Daddy!"
Tonya laughed. "Sure. I love kissing your Daddy." She leaned over Josh and pushed her mouth down on his in a loving kiss. "Happy holidays, my Sir, my love."
"Happy, happy holidays." Chris dropped back onto the couch and looked to his family. "Hot chocolate!"
And because I realized I managed to miss signing up for Masturbation the last two weeks, I'm going to give you those links here:
"Fruity Frisky Femmes"
"Loving Audrey Around the Fire"
I think sometimes, when I'm writing ahead like this, to pretend I'm not writing ahead. But when my friend gave me the word “wine,” I was irritated by the mono-sexism of two wine flutes together in so many celebratory images. That led me to think on wine in other ways; that's when I found wine making on YouTube. I can't say why I chose the one I did. When I considered how to be inspired by the how-to ideas, I thought of a sexy trip to an apple cider farm I wrote in my Vala's Story-verse.
“So we're going to try this?” Magda asked.
“We have the stuff.” Allysa shrugged. “Or we can play with the fruit.”
Magda snorted. “Fuck instead of make the wine?” She leaned forward to kiss Allysa.
Giggling, Allysa brought a bottle from behind her back. “I got some from the store.” She grabbed the wine bottle opener and pulled Magda to their bedroom.
“Ha! I got the berries.” Magda tore off her binder and her pecs swelled; her jaw clenched for a moment.
“There ya go. More,” Lasha urged from the corner. She took the bottle opener from Allysa and popped the cork as her girlfriends rolled into the bed. She then plucked a large, ripe blackberry from the container and dropped it into Magda's navel.
“Lasha wants a show,” Allysa murmured against Magda's cheek. With the tip of her tongue, she traced a wet path from the small of Magda's neck to the top of her slit before going back up to capture the berry. Dark juice dripped across Magda's porcelain white skin.
Lasha approached the bed and collected some of the escaping juice with her finger. Tilting the wine bottle over Magda's upper belly, she let the brilliant red fluid pour as Allysa tried to catch it in her mouth. She moved the bottle over Magda's chest and Allysa caught wine and nipple in her mouth.
“Oh,” Magda groaned with her lovers' attention. She writhed against Allysa's knee pressed against her pussy. “Yes, yes!” She swallowed hard before Lasha dropped a blueberry between her lips.
Berries on the head board, Lasha moved behind Allysa. “Move that ass, girl.”
Allysa stretched her hands behind her back. One middle finger popped up before she pulled her asscheeks apart with her other hand.
“Tease.” Lasha licked her finger before stroking Allysa's crack. She ragged her mouth, then her teeth over Allysa's neck and shoulders. Noticing the wine, she grabbed the bottle and poured starting the base of her spine. She frantically worked to drink the spirit from the gorgeous deep brown skin before her. Her tongue snaked between the globes of flesh to catch some wine she'd missed.
“No fair.” Allysa lowered her belly onto Magda's as she continued to feast on raspberry red nipples that had hardened to exquisite points of nerve. She placed one knee against Magda's outer thigh; Lasha slipped her finger between her lovers' bodies. “Just like that.”
“I thought it was no fair,” Lasha taunted.
The berry container toppled onto the bed. Fruit wandered between bodies and mashed into juice along with spilled wine.
Her teeth pinching the tender skin of Magda's neck, Allysa grabbed a raspberry that had fallen near the ear.
“Yes, oh, yes!” Magda shuddered against the bed as Allysa rode her thigh hard.
“Yes, come for me!” Allysa threw her head back and found her own trembling release when Lasha's finger moved into her pussy.
“That's my girls.” Lasha breathed in deep and smiled, at peace with her girlfriends' orgasms.
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.
So I pondered Masturbation Monday and the inspiration picture. I wanted to be inspired but my brain seemed broken- roommate interruptus. Ugh! And so after playing more Cooking Tale, I finally decided to pick a random ASL sign- here's a picture of me doing that sign; I hope I managed the patient expression I meant to inflect the sign correctly for my needs.
Starting from just the sign, I wrote...
Luna signed, “Oh I see. Can I help you?”
Alice signed, “Yes.” She tore off her dress and dropped it to the floor.
“Oh I see!” Luna raised her eyebrows high to inflect her sign differently. Do I ask directly? What is the proper etiquette? This relationship is way too new!
“Stop! I want to touch you,” Alice signed, her signing a bit slow as if she considered what vocabulary Luna had.
Luna used the dimmer switch on the overhead light, leaving it lit enough she could see if Alice signed. With equal passion, although lacking in Alice's frustration, Luna slipped her sundress' straps off her shoulders so the cotton dropped to the floor.
Humming softly, tunelessly, Alice moved onto the bed and gestured for Luna to join her.
Glancing at her new girlfriend's pouty lips, her freshly butchered fringe of black bangs, Luna slid across the forest green silk sheets. She held out her hand and left it hanging in front of Alice's perfectly small, perfectly round breast.
Alice grabbed Luna's hand and pressed against her breast. She spread her legs and urged her to kneel between them before trapping Luna in her folded ankles.
I can still sign. If I even need to. Still grasping Alice's breast, Luna inclined her head to kiss Alice. She breathed in the vertiver shampoo that perfumed Alice's hair, as if she'd recently been at a bonfire. She moaned as their bodies touched more.
As the kiss continued, Alice reached up to stroke Luna's long red curls of frizzy hair. After some moments, her hands continued downward. She tilted her head slightly and Luna moved to kissing along her jaw then onto her neck.
With Alice's humming changing into sultry moans, Luna felt her lips growing wet with her arousal. She licked Alice's neck and then nipped it gently. She released a sound between a sigh and a moan when her lover pulled their pelvises together hard. The nipple underneath her palm teased her with its erectness. Just when the pressure started to work within her genitals, she gasped.
Alice pulled them down onto their sides, heads falling on pillows, legs twining and untwining in their movements. She reached between Luna's legs and cupped her mound. She took Luna's chin and directed her attention up. Her eyebrows moved upward.
Luna nodded, unable to untangle her hands to sign yes.
Grinning, Alice reached between Luna's lips and pumped two fingers into her pussy.
Crying out, Luna came immediately, her mouth frozen open from her screaming orgasm.
With her other hand, Alice traced Luna's lips. She brought her hand to her own face and paused a long moment before signing, “Beautiful.”
So a heads up- National Novel Writing Month begins on November 1st. I can't promise how many posts I'll get to writing, but I have written my own 4 MM posts using images I pre-selected after a friend gave me 4 inspiration words.
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.”
I was pleasantly surprised when so many liked last week's story and wanted a part two; I admit, I hadn't actually written a part two, but I started to think of what would happen next. You see, I wanted to do “dates” among the Quad- the four main characters from the spin-off I'm writing in November for Nanowrimo this year. Well, polyamorous dates could look rather different.
Chris stopped beside Tonya's couch and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Hi, Mommy. I took a nappy like you said.”
Tonya put her finger against her lips. She talked quietly, “Josh is still asleep.”
“I'm waking up,” Josh muttered.
“Really, Sir?” Tonya asked with gentle teasing in her voice.
“Chris, sweetie, could you go get milk and cookies enough for Mommy, Chris, and you?”
“Yes, Mommy.” Chris wandered out of the living room and around a corner.
“And now a reward for a wonderfully told story.” Josh moved to sit at Tonya's hip.
“Thanks, Sir.” She licked her dry lips and waited.
He turned onto his side and led her to turn toward him. He swirled his tongue around her navel before tracing the line of darker hair guiding his attention lower.
Worthy. Beautiful. She sighed when he loosened the red ribbon that tied her skirt closed before pushing the fabric behind her.
“Remember that I love your body hair as you enjoy it. The fact that you do not shave doesn't disgust me.” He brushed his thumbs over her pubic hair. His fingers pushed into her thick bush before clasping her labia and holding them apart.
As if awakening suddenly to the position in which they lay, she took advantage of his lack of bottoms to nuzzle her face against his pelvic area. She opened her mouth to allow her tongue to trace his clitorophallus from base to tip. His groans against her brought her extra pleasure. She sucked his length into her mouth.
The furnace came to life then, ending a ripple of heat across their partly clothed bodies.
He grasped her thighs. He matched her sucking with his own, her clit trapped between his lips. One hand moved slightly to clutch at the back of her thigh, her ass. He pressed his chin against the opening to her vagina. He moved his jaw so the fuzz of his facial hair scratched her skin.
Her eyelids fluttered closed. The musk of his arousal, the moisture on his hair, the feel of him touching her all filled her senses. Reward must mean no begging today. She relaxed into the whirlpool of orgasm sitting in her clit. Wetness flowed over her chin as Josh enjoyed her orgasm with his own. She continued to suck his clit and flicked her tongue against its side within her mouth.
His fingers pressed harder into her skin. He released her clit to shove his tongue into her vagina, the thick muscle moving in circles within her. He held on through her bucking orgasm, stronger than the first one. He left off fucking her with his tongue to suck on her clit again, increasing the strength of her bucking.
She screamed on his midpoint clitorophallus for a long moment before she pulled up, only to arch her back until she could press her tongue against his bonus hole.
They fell down into a tangled pile.
“Thanks, Sir,” she murmured. “I love you.”
“Love you too, my sweet woman.”
So it may not be obvious how Missy's photos inspired this piece, but they did. I decided to pair a background experiment with Nanowrimo novel planning. I'm writing a spin-off to my “Laura and Jack” trilogy, but it's set a year after the trilogy, so I'm working out some questions about the polyamorous relationship that makes most the secondary characters. The background color, font size (probably), and font color (possibly) are about something I've realized about myself- I'm on the Autism Spectrum and many of my sensory issues and other developmental concerns that I learned to live with were exacerbated by my nervous breakdown earlier this year. I practically “live in the dark,” use a screen tinter extension to darken Chrome, and my word processor is set to a purple background. So, my own posts hurt my eyes to read. And please excuse weirdness of punctuation. Using speech-to-text to write Tonya's story and everything tonight as me just off grammar.
Within polyamorous relationship that includes 4 people, the characters shown here are Josh and Tonya; Josh is Tonya's dominant.
Josh lay down between Tonya's legs and rested his head on her lap. “Tell me a story.”
“Yes, Sir.” Tonya pondered his order as she rubbed his temples. He didn't specify the type of story. Do I ask for clarification or just start? With her gaze, she traced the lightening scars from his top surgery. I need to tell him the story, not just have thoughts in my head. Story. “Sir, does that mean I don't need to use your title during the story?”
Chuckling, Josh looked into Tonya's eyes. “Unless you get us into the story, yes you are excused from my title. Do love the changes in you, sweet.”
Tonya leaned over to press an upside-down kiss on Josh's lips. She gently brushed her fingers over the gorgeous sprinkling of beard along his jaw. “Blah blah blah.” She laughed. “Okay, Sir, starting for real now.”
He arranged himself so his arms rested comfortably on her legs.
“Two people locked eyes across a crowded dance floor. He, at least he looked like a he, started to cut through the crowd with one long-fingered hand urging people to move side so he could make his way to her, at least she looked like a her. Their first touch created a visible static electricity spark.”
Story. He wants a story, but he looks so good naked.
“My name is Judas and my pronoun are they, them. Want to go outside where we can talk?”
“Sure. All my friends call me Donut. My pronouns are she, her.”
“They made their way outside and continued just a bit further past the smokers.”
“Pronouns are alright?” they asked.
“Of course, anything more doesn't need to be said unless we're heading to bed or somewhere else to have sex. Are you interested in BDSM?” she asked.
“A little bit, although that's not the only way I enjoy interacting with other people.”
Tonya took in a deep breath and studied Josh's body language for a moment; she brushed her teeth over her bottom lip.
“I could do with some cuddling. Well maybe near the beach, watching the waves come up onto the sand,” she said.
“The smallest moan passed their lips. 'Some cuddling sounds so nice'.”
“Just cuddling?” she asked.
“Unless you change your mind and I find you haven't had any mind or mood-altering substances, just the cuddling.”
“She laughed with joy. 'Wonderful to meet someone who actually cares about consent'.”
“They offered their hand and she wrapped her larger fingers around them. 'Good thing the beach isn't too far away. The cuddling will have to be clothed for now'.”
“With both of us in soft dresses, we should be fairly comfortable.”
Josh's toes curled and his hips thrust upward. After a low groan, he turned onto his side, kissed Tonya's inner thigh, and settled to nap.
Wonderful picture, but I left for church pondering inspiration. That's when this started- I won't be sure of any labels until I'm done :D
“Revelation isn't sealed.”
Birth: “It's a girl!”
“Joseph Christopher won't work.”
1st grade: “Joelle is too pretty a name to shorten.”
Pregnancy: “I know I'm having a boy.”
July 4, age 15: “Mom, I'm questioning my gender.”
My age 40: “I'm non-binary, agender.”
What does it mean for me in partnered sexuality when most sexual orientations are focused on gender I don't feel?
I'm queer, that word that my tongue stumbled over when called on to identify myself.
Can I reclaim this wandering into hotness? Would it be as easy as jumping into talk about genitals? My mind cries for newness, something other than penis-in-vagina intercourse.
How was I, the Autistic introvert, talked into speed dating? At least, polyamorous people are welcome at this one.
“Hello, I'm Joey.”
The person stared at me open-mouthed, not introducing themselves.
“I'm not usually good at mixers, but I figured two minutes would help me control talking about my special interests. I'm Autistic.”
The bell rang; the person on the other side of the table changed.
“Hi. I'm Joey.”
“Joey?” the person echoed.
“Are you a lesbian?” Their nose wrinkled.
“Are you a bigot?” I replied.
“Of course not,” they protested.
“Your body language seems to disagree.”
Thankfully, the bell rang and people changed seats again.
“Hi, I'm Joey. My pronouns are he, she, or they.”
“Hi, Joey. I'm Pair. My pronouns are they, them. Might I ask, you appear flustered. Are you neurodivergent somehow?”
My shoulders relaxed. “Yes, I'm Autistic.”
Pair nodded. “Dyspraxia and Sensory Integration. Don't like that last word.”
“Would you like to skip out to a setting more comfortable for you?”
“Yes, please. I'd like that very much.”
Pair got up from the table and came around to me; the organizer rushed over, her cheeks flushed redder than her poorly-applied blush. “Joey and I are done here. No need to issue refunds.”
“But-but!” the organizer lady puffed.
“We're removing an equal number of folx from the gathering.” Pair walked to the place we piled our belongings; I followed just a step behind. They grabbed a denim bag covered in patches like They/Them and No TERFS/SWERFS and Queer. “Where would be somewhere you'd feel comfortable?”
“The library, but would you mind switching to writing so I can wear my headphones? They have those noisy lights that send me into sensory overload.”
“Me too.” They waited as I grabbed my bag. “You have your headphones with you?”
“Definitely. One partner said not to wear them and the other did.” I shrugged. “Not that I need to wear them with either of my partners.”
With borrowed netbooks in front of us, we sat side by side in one of the new booths at the library.
Pair typed, “This is much better. Mind I ask what's in your headphones? I'm listening to Holly Near.”
I typed, “I have the mixture of songs my daughter and I have placed on this MP3 player. Right now, it's Korn, Thoughtless.” I pursed my lips. “I just wrote about 'conversation as sex' for Masturbation Monday.”
“And that causes your current expression?”
Using my thumb and forefinger like a 'modified C hand' in ASL, I pulled the corners of my mouth up and down as my thoughts tried to catch up to their question. “I wanted something new, something different.”
“From what you've done? Or from what others are used to experiencing?”
I released my lips to just trace them with my index fingers, as if planning to sign “Talk-with.”
Without another comment from me, they typed, “This is our first time together; does that make it different from that other time?”
A small smile found its way onto my lips, changing their feel under my fingertips. I sipped from the new bottle that securely held my metal straw in place for me. Yum! Guava, mango, passion fruit juice! I placed my fingers back on the home row and typed. “I think my mind is clasping at minutiae. What I find sexy isn't necessarily what others do.”
“May I please touch your hand?”
I nodded before typing, “Yes.”
Their fingers moved under my palm as their thumb slid up and down the top of my hand.
As they continued to touch my right hand, I slowly typed with my left hand, “Good.” My toes curled in my shoes. When they released my hand, I typed, “Very good.” I sipped my juice and pondered our next date.
Because I'm a dork, I forgot I wrote this and wrote something for #Masturbationonday on 8/13/2018, meaning you'll get this experimental piece the week after it was meant for. But it's stlll good to fap to, right? :D
I go to Pornhub. I select “Categories- Gay Men- Fetish.”
I struggled into my chest binder; I should have said that already.
Clicking on mute. I just need to see.
A large ass as black as coal dances as if waiting for something; I click on that video.
Once the video loads enough, it becomes visible that a large black man is bound on a light blue hospital-style bed. His naked skin shimmers in the muted light.
I reach behind me to grab some of the coconut oil lube.
“That's a good boy. Going plug your asshole before rubbing your bound clitorophallus?”
The Queen's icy blue eyes appear on the screen of my mind.
From a simple doorway comes another large black man, his nipples appearing dark purple against his chest skin, a rosy mahogany. His lips move; the bound man's hips move in response. The lighter-skinned man brings his hand down on the bound man's ass; he stills his writhing.
I rub lube on the smaller butt plug and The Queen gently inserts it into me. My breath catches in my throat at the slight stretch in my asshole. Physically, in the moment, I relax my left arm down once the flange sits against my cheeks.
The man walks away from the table and pulls a rolling racks holding up a hot water bottle and tubing. He rubs where he'd just smacked that ass. He releases the rack and grabs a bottle of lubricant from a nearby table.
The Queen holds the lube container and I grab some more. My fingers speed between my legs.
He rubs the cheek he hadn't smacked for a moment before pulling the gorgeous cheeks apart. The camera pulls in close to show the detail of the lube dripping from the bottle onto the needy, waiting asshole. Then a finger wearing a pale green glove pressed on the asshole, pushing just in. More lube. The finger goes in deeper.
“Boy, boy, boy. My boy. My dirty little boy.”
“Or are you my girl tonight? Or maybe just a little gender-less being for me to fuck?”
I pant; I'm so close to coming. Enema. The Queen's teasing. “Boy,” I gasp.
In and out. More lube. The finger goes into the asshole all the way to base of the finger.
The hand disappears from the shot.
“Tomorrow night, how about I give you an enema? Bound or unbound?”
My toes curl at his suggestion.
“Or maybe Audrey could take care of her little love?”
The bound man writhes against the table as much as the straps allow. When part of the table starts to move, forcing his legs farther apart, his massive balls come into view.
My hips shoot up, lifting part of me off the bed.
Carrying a long, semi-stiff tube, the gloved hand returns to the shot. One hand presses on the bound man's back as the other works first the tip of the tube and then more.
“Yes, yes, yes!” I hiss, dropping the pretense that my masturbating is a secret in my household.
A moment later, slightly off-white liquid starts through the tube.
Watching the bound man move as the enema solution infiltrates his colon and rectum, the orgasm explodes in my clit and my feet curl against the comforter.
Some stand up comedian said that women watch porn movies to the end to see if they get married. Not this agender, AFAB person; I watch them until I come.