I live and write BDSM. Age 18+. Scarleteen is great for under 18.
This inspiration picture just isn't speaking to me. So I'm trying to write in between morning worship and CLF worship that was recorded and shared on Facebook and the last of the General Business meetings and the closing ceremonies of General Assembly; yes, if you're not a UU that whole first part of the sentence was largely meaningless to you. But I am a UU and today is the last day of our annual General Assembly. I only get to see the stuff that gets Livestreamed; as I snarked at my Master "This is the closest I'll ever get to GA so please let me enjoy it."
I'm working away on "Two Houses" even though we still have a few days before Camp Nano begins; Vala's Story is mostly just thoughts as I wait on beta readers. Between conversation in UU stuff about appropriation and activity in the Multicultural GLBTQ group I'm in on Facebook, thoughts kept trying to become a story.
A comment, in working with different genders, presentations, and bodies other than the cisgender men and women many expect, I may use words that aren't good for everyone, words that may be new and incomprehensible to some.
"What color would you say I am?" Johnnie asked Pilo as they cuddled with their ass pressed back against his boy-pussy.
"Um, brown?" Pilo clasped Johnnie's naked calf; they traced their fingers over the smooth skin beneath his knee, thinking how it reminded them of a cardboard box. And they felt safe.
"The US government says I'm white."
Pilo led Johnnie's hand to their lips and started to kiss their way from fingertips to wrist before pausing to say, "The government also says that my gender is female because that's what surgeons tried to make of my genitals that confused them when I was born."
Johnnie kissed Pilo's neck just beneath the fringe of black curls. "We don't have to be what the government says though?"
Leaning into Johnnie's kissing, Pilo moaned, "Yes. We are what we know we are." They released their arm that had been cupping what would have been breasts if they'd allowed doctor pressure to push them onto the surgery table again, releasing the hand to clasp his other knee. "You sure?"
"As sure as I was when I met your beautiful green eyes across the coffee house." He pressed his lips to their cheek. "Does this mean you've changed your mind on cuddling? We don't have to push into anything we and our bodies aren't ready for."
"No, I want to imagine what it might be when we know each better, have access to the barriers we'd like until STIs can be tested for. I like how you shivered when our fingers first touched. Your curls make me think of how soft and yet strong your lips are, the finest mixture of gendered expectations."
"Please say boy-pussy again. It sounds so good with your accent," he murmured.
"Boy-pussy," they responded, their muddled southern European accent lengthening pussy until the pronunciation was as good as a sex act.
"Yes." He hugged their waist. "You will be worth the wait."
"How about that shower?" They traced their fingers over his shins. When he was quiet several long minutes, they rose to stand between his legs. "Well?"
"Sure." He scooted back a bit before standing in front of them. Taking their hand, he led them into his apartment's small bathroom. He slowly lifted his tank top.
"I'm glad to see you were able to get the top surgery you wanted." They brushed their fingertips over the light scars a few inches below his mahogany dark nipples. Smiling, they let their gaze slide down his stomach as he released the short's button, the fabric slid down his shapely legs. His abundant pubic hair made them lick their lips.
He moved into his shower to turn on the water.
They slipped the straps of their babydoll dress of their shoulders, one at a time, before pushing it and their silk shorts to the tile floor; he looked over his shoulder and bit his bottom lip. "Thanks." Stepping out of their clothes, they moved into the shower stall behind him.
"Can I please hug you again?" He held out his hands toward them.
They took his hands and led them around their waist. "Worth it," they whispered against his neck.
"Yes." He gasped and shuddered.
With a soft kiss to his parted lips, they guided him under the water and held him as the tremors eased into stillness again.
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