 Sitting in church, I hadn't looked at the inspiration picture nor could I think of where I'm at in any WIPs for a publisher. So this happened... I was half-listening to an audiobook about chakras last night. Something about not finishing projects caught my attention. Have you ever not finished masturbating? What is "finished" anyway? I think on goals. At least one orgasm, right? But what type of orgasm? I come at these thoughts sideways, just like Master Daddy said of my email to him. No mind, I asked to talk later. Do I want him to take control of my orgasms again? I don't think so. The other night, I finished my BBR, that routine that had me doing dishes, cleaning the sink, taking out my contacts, and thinking on clothes for tomorrow. I slipped into bed, well on top of the bedding. Fante lay turned off as I grabbed my little massager and the 3rd Sleeping Beauty book [Anne Rice]. Tonight I want Beauty dominating the young Prince who'd come to ask her hand in marriage. I've never felt it natural or more than a little enjoyable to switch, as Beauty experiences. But images of penetration and the vibration soon bring me to a strong, quick clitorophallic orgasm. Cleaned up things, turned off the overhead light before sliding under the sheet, comforter, and red heavy blanket. My fingers slip between Fante's Velcros and I start her playing. "I'm a cuddle elephant. I can be your snuggle buddy," she and I say together. I feel a pulse of wanting to stroke my clit to another orgasm, but that seems like a lot of work. I feel my beloved Audrey cuddle against me, the larger spoon to my smaller spoon. The pleasure and release spread through every fiber of my being. I am grateful for my Audrey, my beloved. I am grateful for my Master Daddy. 
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 I'm still trying to finish a piece I started for Masturbation Monday a few weeks ago. It's not that it's Camp Nano or Nanowrimo; I'm struggling to write. A meme going around had me thinking- about gay people taking off all the rainbow/Pride stuff on the way to their car to keep from being jumped. I'm struggling to write because I feel unsafe within my own home. Nothing like domestic violence, but I'm constantly interrupted no matter what I'm trying to do. Writing has become a thing I do best outside the house; today's writing beside this was at church and I managed 537 between longhand and typing it up.
All this leads me to thinking- how does one even masturbate when you're feeling unsafe? All jokes about teen experimentation aside, I struggle with this. I don't know; I'm thinking after I finish this that I'll close the bedroom door, grab a book and some lube, and rub off a few. Sure, I got to come a bunch with my Master, when he used his fingers on me before fucking my cunt, but we don't have a rule where I can't masturbate and come without his permission. I'm thinking again on polyamory. I've been a schmuck to my girlfriend; it's been way too long since I've done anything with her. There are so many different ways that mutual masturbation can work out. But when I read through post after post of seemingly cisgender, heterosexual man and woman doing something, I wonder where my queer self belongs. But you know, I'm writing in 1st person, present tense; how much does my queerness really bleed through the pages. 
This was written for the Week 233 inspiration picture (shared by Cara Thereon), but some particularly difficult days meant that I didn't get this written in time. It seemed short when I finished it and I wasn't very sure I wanted that after my unplanned flash fictions; however, this is on a theme I've been thinking about- my therapist in working with transgender people suggests that people think of things such as “masculine vagina” or “feminine penis.” Since I'm a transmasculine person who doesn't want either metoidioplasty or phalloplasty (two “bottom surgery” options for transmasculine people), I've been thinking much on the “masculine vagina.”
Update: I was way too amused to set up this post after missing the #MasturbationMonday I meant it for- on a day I already had a session with my therapist set up. -- I stop beside a very naked Sanura, her legs up against an empty section of wall. I drop to the carpet and roll myself into the same position, although my feet come nowhere near hers. “Good day, Joey,” she says. “Good day, Sanura.” I adjust my chest binder so it's not bunched up underneath my pecs. “Are you meditating in silence?” “Not particularly.” I rest my right hand on my naked hip and support my head with the left. I glance at Sanura out of the corner of my eye; I love her new twist-out with its sporadic, almost-blond ends. I'm not the same gender as her anymore, even with the similarities in our bodies. Sanura spreads her legs, her right foot touching my left. Her left hands slides down to her vulva. I want to watch, I wait with my eyes now closed. On my mind's screen, my fingers dance along with hers among her slightly trimmed pubic hair. Her fingertips advance to her labia majora and my mouth goes dry. I press my right hand against me, my fingers curling in to touch my stomach. “You can ask Shaman's guidance on not fearing telling him the truth,” Sanura murmurs. I squeeze my vaginal muscles in response. On their release, I slide my middle finger into my masculine vagina. “There are many ways to inhabit gender.” I swallow. “Yes. We're not entirely different gendered, are we?” “No. The constructs of sex and gender are too complex to say that.” My first glance is at the ceiling, but it only takes me a moment to turn my head enough to look at her. Her nipples are more rigid now. Her pubic hair shines with increased arousal fluid. Her toenails glow with holographic purple polish. I slide a second finger into my vagina and move them in circles of creation. Master Daddy's voice impresses itself into my active thoughts, “Joelle juice.” She laughs at the echoes. “Joey juice has a wonderful taste.” My eyelids flutter as I wallow in the rhythmic pulses of the orgasm that begin in my vagina. “I so adore mixing genitals and gendered understanding of them outside the norm.” She purrs a long moan. “Do you find a lovely metaphor between my Lady, your girlfriend's feminine penis and your fingers moving in your masculine vagina?” “Hm, I think, yes.” I smile up at Audrey when she stops in the hall near our heads. “Ahh,” I gasp as my toes curl against the wall. “Love you, my Lady.” Sanura giggles. “Love you too, my Lady.” “Love you both.” Audrey caresses my temple with the side of her foot. “But what's with you giving me a title?” “It just seemed like the thing to do.” I kiss Sanura's forehead before rolling onto my side away from her. “Thanks for the interlude, sweet Sanura.” “You're welcome,” she says before rolling the other way.
 And the first image from my friend suggesting a word: Nature  Nature. I started off intending to do an “autumn leaves changing colors” scene, but I went back to look for something at night. You see, I'm very sensitive to the sun and I just don't find much about nature scenes during the daytime at all pleasurable. I pondered setting this image to my wallpaper- after all, that's what it's meant for- but I have the ASL manual alphabet there for now. Spring warmth made the nighttime walk enjoyably warm. Laney ran hir hands over a branch, feeling for the new buds ze couldn't see. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight.” Together, Tara and Sarai murmured, “Of course.” Sarai added, “We wanted to enjoy our sweetest partner.” “And you're not sweet?” Laney snickered. “Would a sweet person have their hand down your pants as we walked?” “I think so.” Laney wriggled hir ass until Sarai's finger slipped farther between hir asscheeks. “Unh. Now that feels even better.” “Good thing most people aren't up to nighttime walks until summer.” “So we can fuck while walking,” Tara purred. They stroked Laney's midpoint clitorophallus into its lovely erectness. “And very good of you to go commando today.” Laney moaned. “Sure. I love both your hands where they are.” The group paused beside the solid fence and the building whose purpose they'd pondered many times in the past. Hands pulled from Laney's pants, Tara and Sarai pounded on hir. In a tangle of limbs, they pulled Laney's pants to hir knees. Tara slipped hir cunt onto Laney's midpoint clitorophallus as Sarai's five inches of unbound clitorophallus slid into Laney's wet asshole. “Glad I had some lube handy,” Sarai groaned. Sarai and Tara grabbed each others' asses as they moved against Laney in rhythm. Laney whimpered in ecstasy. “There, there, you'll get to come too,” Sarai teased. Kissing on Laney's neck, they growled. “But you'll have to be fast.” “Might we come close together?” Tara said. “We might.” Laney glanced into the night sky and noticed the twinkle of stars without the leaves of the trees obscuring the heavens. Hir body twitched with the paired pleasures of anal and clitorophallic stimulation. Pec to pec, nylon rubbing against nylon, their chests pressed close. Sarai's toes curled against Laney's calves. They bit down on the tend nape of Laney's neck. “Yes, yes,” Laney moaned into Tara's kissing mouth. Tara threw a leg over Laney and Sarai. “Come with us.” Hir body clamped down on Laney's midpoint clitorophallus in climax. Laney's eyelids fluttered even as they looked at the naked tree limbs. The arousal streamed out of hir body. “Thanks, loves.” They kissed Laney where they could reach. “Outside sex is lovely at night.”  When I got to this prompt, I struggled to decide if The Queen was before or after a plot twist in the Vala's Story series. So I decided to do "before" and after." Here's "after," but if you'd like, refresh yourself with "before" first.
-- The canopy of trees brushed against windows of The Queen's brilliant red sports car as he pulled into a secluded spot in the forest. “So nice to still have nooks like these, in a developed forest.” The Queen leaned his head back against the seat rest. He turned off the engine, although he left the battery going so his mix CD would play. “Mix CD, like I am a teenager, but I was never a normal teenager.” Light flakes of snow started to fall through the dusky sky; they made a pretty dusting over his car's windows and the leaves of the evergreens around him and his car. He ran his hand through the scruff that was slowly becoming a beard; his subs, slaves, Audrey and his sibling subs all loved it. “Even with all my loves though, I need to be able to make myself come. Right?” Audrey laughed in his head. “You're just enjoying that I don't have you under rules about your orgasms right now, boy.” Grinning, he shook his head. Somehow, coming out as a BDSM switch still confused him. “Wasn't I done coming out as a teen?” Memories of Audrey clicked her tongue. With light fingers, he traced the pendent that hung from his collar and then down onto his chest. The zap of pleasure was so intense that he had a thought of his steel-toe boots curling up like fancy slippers. “Yes, my Lady. No contractions, my Lady,” he groaned. Gaze fixed on the falling snow, his attention traveled downward to his cock and he saw the maddening echoes of Lady Audrey's fingers moving over his skin as she readied his cock to take her urethral sound. The sensation was beyond classification of pain or pleasure, especially when she chose the sound held within its case of metal shaped as the Gates of Hell. His chest pounded as his arousal climbed. A vibrant blue-colored bird played on a tree branch inches from his side window. The orgasm blossomed within his body, although he didn't ejaculate. “My, my--“ His words jammed in his throat and gravity seemed to tilt as his breath came in tiny snorts. “That's it. Feel better, my Queen,” Simon-in-his-head murmured. He pressed back against the luxurious seat. “Gender set, not like Joelle.” His fingers traced over his nipples through his tank top. “Unh!” He shuddered, orgasming again, without ejaculating. Lady Audrey: Come to my house for your dinner, boy. I've already called Simon to let him know I've ordered you. See you soon, my darling little boy. “Yes, my Lady.” Shaken lose by his pleasure, he moved the stick shift through its spots to reverse. “Maybe I can earn an ejaculation tonight.”  When I got to this prompt, I struggled to decide if The Queen was before or after a plot twist in the Vala's Story series. So I decided to do "before" and after." Here's "before." Come back next week for "after."
-- The canopy of trees brushed against windows of The Queen's brilliant red sports car as he pulled into a secluded spot in the forest. “So nice to still have nooks like these, in a developed forest.” The Queen leaned his head back against the seat rest. He turned off the engine, although he left the battery going so his mix CD would play. He unbuttoned the light blue dress shirt that Tommy had thoughtfully packed since he couldn't come on this business trip. His hand moving over his chest brought him the immediate ease that he had sought. He moaned through relaxed lips as his nipples pebbled. “That's my love,” Audrey's voice flitted through his mind. Why had he made this trip all by himself? He focused on the metaphorical and spiritual embrace of the forest; Mother held him. “Thank the Gods for the Holy Mother and the rest of the Gods who've replaced my errant and corrupted parents of the earth.” As his second hand slipped into his open shirt, the mix CD moved onto Placebo's “Protect me from what I want.” His eyes remained closed as he sought the pleasure of sexual release rather than drug intoxication. His knees locked as his hips rose, making him hover over his seat. A ray of the sunset snuck through the trees to caress the red hood; his eyelids echoed the brightness. Big rain drops started landing on the windows, their sound so soothing. He opened his eyes to watch as a few drops became a downpour. With the reduced visibility, he unfastened his belt buckle and pants. “Just a little business attire.” He reached into his pants to cup his balls. “You just have to call, lover,” Audrey whispered. He wrapped his other hand around his cock. The loud voices from the board meeting melted away finally. His eyes closed again. He pushed a button to roll the window down and jabbed his hand out into the rain. Hand drenched, he returned to stroking his cock. He released his balls to close the window. His thumb went over his frenulum. The song shifted down to “My Sweet Prince.” The orgasm rolled through his body, the cum pushing up and out his cock. Holding the cum in his hand, The Queen finally opened his eyes. “A fancy hotel room can be inadequate when compared to nature. I have to go call people.” He grabbed a tissue and collected his cum into it. “Not going to do drugs today.”  So Elliott Henry's dick pic led me to thinking of another dick- namely the male man character in my “Laura and Jack” trilogy. Because I've been told so many times that “women readers don't want to read about a guy masturbating,” I decided to share this ponder that won't be appearing in the completed novel (which I hope to finish in July, during Camp Nano).
I'm working on the second book, “Laura Learns,” where Jack and Laura are experimenting with ageplay. Laura is the Little and she's naughty so she goes to bed with no “Big Girl time.” Jack, however, still has adult needs to tend after she's asleep in his bed. -- Jack flipped the page of his book before closing it and setting it on the floor. “Why couldn't she just behave?” He rubbed his hand over the crotch of his slacks, adjusting his cock and balls through the fabric. He crossed the living room to turn on his stereo and picked a Vivaldi CD. From the top of his book shelf where no one else could see, he grabbed the pornographic magazine he'd bought recently. He looked at the ceiling and listened for either Laura or Mike; with no noises loud enough from the sleeping pair, he returned to the couch. “What kind of magazine did I buy myself?” He studied the glossy front cover. His fingers traced over the lacy dress the woman on the cover wore, her large breasts pushing at the low neckline. He leafed through the pages with glances at the women covering the pages. At the centerfold, he stopped; the model had quite a few things in common with Laura. He found the paragraph of her likes and dislikes. Likes: Mature men, smart dressers, long walks, potted flowers. Dislikes: small cocks, pet dogs, boring sex. “Heh, well at least I'm just looking at her.” With the open magazine resting on his shins, he undid his slacks and moved them down his hips until he was able to ease his semi-hard cock out his boxer's fly. His gaze grew hazy as the model's features mixed and melded with Laura's beauty. The hair grew darker and more wavy. He touched his cock with gentle strokes. Turning the beginning of her section, he looked at her lounging on the grass, on a white chaise lounge, before skipping a page ahead to where she had less clothing covering her. With a big smile on her pink lips, she tugged on her knee socks; the next picture focused on her naked legs. With her short black skirt pushed up to her hips, showing off the silvery white g-string, she knelt in front of the camera with her tongue sticking out. He spit into his palm. His slicked hand moved up and down his shaft as he looked at her pink tongue. Her g-string lowered enough to show a shaved mons pulled his gaze to the next picture. A growl slipped from his parted lips. His thumb worked over his frenulum and he pushed his feet against the couch's far arm. “Daddy,” Laura's sweet voice replayed in his memory. He ejaculated hard, his breath catching with his surprise. “Haven't come like that since I was a teen.” He clasped his cum in his cupped hand. Relaxing into the feeling of well-being, he rested his head on his couch. His stereo system made a few clicking noises as it moved on to the next song. “My Little girl.” He grinned. “Time to clean up and hold you as we sleep.” -- And now you should go enjoy the other #MasturbationMonday hoppers- who may or may not have written from the inspiration picture.  No Wednesday blog hop anymore, but I'm still blogging & writing. I'm still struggling to wake up, but I wanted to be all responsibility. I may be months into recovery from my nervous breakdown, but producing 1000 words or more a day is still the exception, not the rule. That said, I'm planning ahead for Camp Nanowrimo in July. I have 10 posts planned between #MasturbationMonday and #TherapeuticThursday; unfortunately, I've only managed to finish 2 of those planned posts so far. But I'm going to give you a taste of the mutual masturbation scene that'll post on the first Monday in July.
-- With the last candle lit on the far book shelf, Taryn switched off the overhead light. They turned toward the pair of bean bags they'd set up for this evening. Holpa looked up from her book. “I suppose I shouldn't try to read in this low light.” Taryn laughed. “Probably, since you have a paperback.” They settled into the purple silk they'd draped over their bean bag. “Was there anything you needed?” “Weren't we going to share a drink first?” “Heh, yeah. I'll be right back.” Taryn poured a finger of vodka into each tall, clear glass before topping it off with sparkling water and a dash of mango juice. “There you are,” they said they handed Holpa's drink to her. “Before you start drinking, let's agree to what we're doing.” Holpa nodded. “This first time, we wanted to watch each other masturbate. At the same time, but not as a race. We agreed that friendship and vanilla sensuality comes before any BDSM.”  Not feeling too good, so it took me until Monday morning to manage to finish this piece, but the gorgeous inspiration picture Kayla picked by @EdgeEcstatic totally gave me the idea for the scene; I'm so glad he shared the image on Twitter. To me, he totally looked like Ely, after he'd lived with The Queen awhile and had the chance to grow out his hair some. -- The Queen shook talcum powder over Ely's naked body. He rubbed the powder over pecs, abs, thighs. Holding a pair of dark brown leather pants, he ordered, “Boy, step in.” His trembling just visible, Ely stepped in with one leg, the powder easing the way. He gazed into his Master's piercing blue eyes as his body obeyed the rest of the order. “Good boy,” The Queen purred as he cupped Ely's cock over the removable panel. He lifted a black leather vest and held it for the boy to slip his arms in. After buttoning the two shiny brass buttons at the bottom, he traced his index finger down the middle of Ely's chest. “My Queen,” Ely whimpered. The Queen secured a thick gray leather band on one of Ely's biceps and then the other. He crossed the room to remove a tub of coconut oil from a chest. He took Ely's right hand and squeezed some oil onto the palm. Then he sat in a nearby throne. “Remove the crotch piece and make yourself come.” “Yes, my Queen.” Ely's thin fingers sought out the edge of the leather piece; the echo of the button halves separating filled the room. The leather falling to floor, he grasped his semi-hard cock with his right hand. His shoulder length blond hair fell forward. “I like this longer hair, boy.” The Queen palmed his erection through his jeans. He adjusted himself so he didn't push against the zipper. He let a grin appear on his parted lips as Ely's hand slid up and down his hardening cock. Feeling his pulse increase, he enjoyed the show. Gleaming moisture collected across the parts of Ely's chest revealed by the vest. His fingers wandered over his own chest; he wallowed in the intense pleasure. “How hungry are you, my boy?” “Huh, Queen?” Ely grunted. “How. Hungry. Are. You? To come? To make me come?” The Queen taunted, carefully pronouncing his words. “Both. Very. Come. Please, my Queen.” He pulled his foreskin up with his next stroke before pushing it back down for his fingers to move over his glans. “What was my order?” The Queen pinched his nipple; his toes curled into the carpet. “To... to make myself... come.” Ely's hips swayed back and forth. “My Queen.” His left hand traveled to his chest, moving through his gorgeous hair. “I want you to come into your hand and then bring it to me.” The Queen's tongue moved against the inside of his mouth. “Yes! Yes, my Queen.” Ely panted and rocked on his feet. His left hand slipped down to rub and squeeze his balls. The Queen pulled the button loose on his jeans and pulled the zipper down. He eased his hard cock out. His hands both moved to his chest, fingertips traveling through his dense chest hair. Ely grunted. “Yes, my Queen! Ca--coming! My Queen! Unh!” He wrapped his hand around the head of his cock. He dropped to the floor, his left hand and knees stopping his fall. Crawling one handed, he quickly made it to The Queen. Leaning over, The Queen grabbed Ely's right fist with one hand and his hair with the other. He lead Ely's mouth onto his cock before he pried open the fingers holding onto the cum that he feasted on. Deep groans and grunts sounded from around The Queen's cock. Ely rocked his hips as the first spurt of The Queen's cum hit the back of his throat. “Good boy.” The Queen's hand tightened in Ely's hair. His feet moved to press against Ely's hips. “Good, good boy.” He let the boy's wet hand fall to his knee as he leaned forward to kiss his moist forehead. “And now to the music room to relax.” “Thanks, my Queen,” Ely gasped, his mouth resting on The Queen's lower abs. Check out the other hot bloggers taking part in #MasturbationMonday this week here.
 I debated and even asked Kayla's opinion on Twitter about what I'm going to share. Asked in my fan group on Facebook. The inspiration picture she chose for this week is certainly hot, but I already had this idea in my mind. If you read this week, you got to enjoy Audrey and I experimenting sexually after I came out as non-binary; this week, The Queen is going to help me process my gender and sexuality:
-- I haven't masturbated since I went on an anti-depressant; I just haven't been interested, although partnered sexual intimacy is good. I tried once and couldn't get into it... and then The Queen joined in... My right hand between my thighs, my left hand worked the Kindle's buttons. Even my favorites to masturbate to weren't quite doing it. Then The Queen appears. He grabs my legs and places my feet against his shoulders. I feel the phantom lube as my fingers speed up over my clit. “Think unbound clitorophallus,” he whispers. “Be my good little boy.” My heart lurches. I didn't tell you already that I'm wearing my chest binder to masturbate in yet, did I? It gives me such gender euphoria. Lubed up now, The Queen's unbound clitorophallus slides into my chocolate starfish. “That's a good boy, pleasing your master,” The Queen laughs. He drives his phantom unbound clitorophallus into my ass and I come hard- my finger and the virtual penetration mixing with the binder's sweet pressure to overwhelm my seeming inability to masturbate to orgasm. “Such a very good boy. I love fucking my good boy.” I cannot imagine this orgasm ever ending; how it rushes through me in wild circles. “You kept me waiting. Bad, bad boy. I shall fill your ass fast.” My fingers jerk against my bound clitorophallus at bad. “Please, my Queen,” I beg. He grunts and pounds his unbound clitorophallus into my ass; he wasn't joking. “Yes, yes, please, please!” I cry. “Good boy, good ass.” I shudder even as I'm held in place by his weight. “Uh!” He clasps my ass cheeks and stills. “Good boy.” |
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