I live and write BDSM. Age 18+. Scarleteen is great for under 18.
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?”
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.
This morning (Sunday), I visited a church I used to be a member at; I had the moment to talk about chest binding and paternalistic male plastic surgeons. That to say that the inspiration picture wasn't intriguing to me. Instead, I wanted to share something that happened recently...
“Quickie before gaming, Master?” I lift my shirt enough to show off my wiggling, naked butt.
“Really? When I'm this close to leaving?” Master laughs.
“You can use me like a fucktoy, Master.” I turn around and he pushes me onto the bed.
He drops his jeans to the floor and steps out of them. He grabs my calves and throws my legs up on his shoulders.
In this moment, I remember my chest binder beneath his shirt- he still wants me.
He thrusts into my cunt.
I am more woman than man right now.
His thrusts are fast.
I squeeze and release my cunt muscles around his cock. I take a fluttering breath as his pubic hair pushes against my masculine vulva. The shuddering breaths become grunts as I feel the spirals of pleasurable climax in my clit and cunt. “Ca-ca-ca-” I stutter.
“Come, slut.” Master slaps my cheeks lightly, pushing my orgasm higher.
My gaze shoots back and forth over Master's face.
His eyes squeeze shut.
“Fill me! Please!” I cry out, my lungs to tight to scream.
He grunts and stills before rolling onto the bed beside me. “I hate to fuck and run-”
“But guys are waiting to play Guild Ball. Love you, Master.”
“Love you, brat.” Master pushes to the edge of the bed to grab his underwear and jeans.
I grin at my cum-filled cunt.
What does a smut writer do when he's missing all inspiration and motivation? I don't wanna list what I tried. The inspiration picture was interesting, but then my thought was to consider Kayla's comment and then I couldn't manage anything but “How many times I can I deal with a cock?” Then a reader commented that she found this article about muffing interesting and I couldn't say when I wrote about muffing before so I sat to write. Audrey told me to write about someone other than her.
Joanna pressed her face against the cool, inner wall of her apartment. “What a day,” she muttered. A knock at her door startled her. “Just a moment,” she called out before scurrying to her door. She took a quick look through the peephole.
“I know you're there,” Michel cooed.
Grinning, she opened the thick wooden door to let him in.
“Love.” Michel gave her two quick air kisses, his lips just barely touching her soft skin. He pushed the door closed. “My love.”
“Such a sweet.” Joanna wandered ainto her bedroom, Michel trailing after her. “A guy at work was offering me a new job.”
“Oh?” He sat on her bed near the pillows.
She slipped out of her red pumps and pulled her nylons off. She reached under her tight lemon yellow dress. “At a sex toy shop.”
“You'd be great! Think of all the teaching you could do!”
“Or I'd just be more frustrated than I already am.” She pouted and crashed onto her bed.
He placed his hands on the hem of her dress. “You don't have to be frustrated right now.”
“Help with your fingers and tongue.”
“My pleasure.” He eased her g-string down to her knees. As she pushed, he eased her testicles out of the inguinal canals.
She groaned as he slipped the tips of his index fingers over her skin. “Oh, yes.”
His fingers pressed into the smallest of indents before he eased them further into her pockets. “I'm so glad you taught me how to finger you.” He looked up at her next groan. Wrapping his mouth around her cock, he lifted his gaze to her fingers pinching her nipples. He pressed his fingers deeper into her, both hands moving with short thrusts. He wiggled his hips, his own cock hard in his leather pants.
“Coming, coming,” she muttered with her head rocking back and fort against her pillow.
He hummed and sucked hard on her cock.
“So good, but no jizz yet.”
He kept up his fingering and sucking. He moved his chin against her shaved scrotum. His fingers still fucking her, he pulled his mouth off her cock. “So what's your pleasure?”
“I wanna finish this orgasm.”
He sucked on her more, his tongue working on circumcised head. He moved in his fingers in circles in her canals, the rest of his hands gripping her hips as she started to buck against him. He breathed in as her body spread out with her release.
“One hand, grab my balls,” she grunted.
He eased his left finger out of her canal and squeezed her balls in one hand.
Her feet pressed into the bed and her cum shot into his mouth.
His cock throbbed against his pants in response to her pleasure and he smiled around her cock as he worked to swallow her cum. He lifted his mouth slowly, swallowing as he went. He kissed the tip of her cock. “Thanks, love. Feeling less frustrated?”
“Yeah, for a bit. You come up here.”
The inspiration picture from Little Switch Bitch made me think of ageplay. Don't ask LOL.
Baxter sat on his Mommy's bed far enough from the edge that his legs hung off without touching the floor. He clutched Bunny Bear to his chest as Mommy got ready to go out.
“Now I got a babysitter for you from the ageplay club so you'll be able to stay my adorable baby boy,” Mommy said.
“Yay,” Baxter murmured.
“That's my boy.” Mommy pressed a soft kiss to Baxter's forehead, leaving the sticky feeling of her scarlet lipstick on his skin. She quickly wiped it off with her licked thumb. “Come here, my boy.” She picked him up before he could fall off the bed and tucked him on her hip. “I'll get you set up in your playpen.”
“Love you, Mommy.” He pressed his face against her neck.
“Love you too.” She continued into their living room and set him on his soft sleep mat inside his play area. “Do you have a wet diaper?”
“No, Mommy.” Baxter swallowed.
“Your babysitter will be able to change it if you make a wet one while she's here.”
The doorbell announced, “Mommy is busy. Count to five before pushing the bell again.”
“Yay!” Baxter clapped his hands together. He rolled onto his side on his mat and then closed his eyes. Feminine voices floated through the air to him, some Mommy and then another woman.
From beside his playpen, Mommy said, “Baxter says he doesn't have a wet diapie. If he feels the need to stretch his legs, you can let him out of his playpen awhile, but he knows that he isn't supposed to leave the living room without an adult.”
“Do you have a set punishment if he breaks that rule?” the woman asked, encouraging Baxter to open his eyes.
“Of course.” Mommy smiled at Baxter. “Ten spanks with a hand on his diapered bottom.” She leaned over to pat his head. “Baxter, this is Ms. Pod, your babysitter. Behave and stay in role with her until I get home.”
“Yes, Mommy.” Baxter stuck his thumb in his mouth and waited on the adults.
The front door opened and closed.
Baxter looked around for his blankie and caught the purple edge to pull it to him.
“Do you need anything, you tired-looking little guy?” Ms. Pod asked.
“Milky, please?” Baxter asked.
“I'll be right back,” Ms. Pod sang out.
Baxter scooted until he rested against his sit-up pillow, silk-screened with his favorite cartoon characters. He listened for the sounds of bottle warming from the kitchen. He reached lazily for the sound board beside him. As he jabbed the honking button, he filled his diaper. He giggled as he moved through the row of buttons.
Ms. Pod glided over the carpet some time later. “Are you ready for milky?”
He made a small sob. “Ms. Pod, I wet my diaper.”
“Can you crawl to your changing table, baby?”
“Yes'm,” Baxter murmured.
Ms. Pod pulled open the gate on his playpen.
Baxter shot through the opened gate, but slowed down to a more reasonable crawl after a few feet. When he reached the junction of the kitchen and the rest of the house, he turned toward the kitchen.
“Stop!” Ms. Pod barked.
Baxter fell back on his shins.
“There is no changing table in the kitchen. Why'd you turn that way?”
“See if you realized?” Baxter answered truthfully.
“You were trying to go somewhere without me?”
His face hot, Baxter nodded.
Ms. Pod undid the snaps of his onesie. She held up the top flap while with her other hand, she started with the spanks.
“Oh! Your hand's harder than Mommy's,” he cried out. He locked his elbows so he didn't pull away from his punishments.
“And now your milk is getting cold because you decided to test me.” She increased the force of the last few spanks.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.
“Continue on to your changing table,” Ms. Pod ordered.
As always, it was tricky to crawl with a freshly punished butt. The hallway seemed twice as long, even though he quickly reached the nursery.
“Would you like me to lift you up to the table, little boy?"
“Please, but I stand first to help,” Baxter shouted.
“Oh my, that wasn't an inside voice.”
“Sorry, Ms. Pod.” Baxter unsteadily reached his feet and held out his arms to Ms. Pod.
Ms. Pod grasped Baxter's small hips and lifted him to the dark green changing pad. “Lay back, good boy.” She paused beside the table. “Now I see that you're wearing a disposable diaper, but your Mommy paid me extra so I would bring one of the reusable diapers I make.”
“Yay! Thank you, Ms. Pod.”
She ripped the sides of the diaper and whisked it away from him. With a moist towelette, she wiped his penis, thighs, and bottom. “Roll onto your stomach.”
Once he was in position, he smelled the Vitamin D ointment and then bit his lip. He let out a hiss as her fingers spread the ointment over his skin. He carefully turned back over when she touched his hip.
“Ahhh!” he cried as his bottom pushed down on the plastic.
“Now, now, that was a spanking over your diaper. Your skin was hardly pink,” Ms. Pod shushed him. She rubbed ointment over his inner thighs and then sprinkled a gentle layer of powder over his penis. She moved to his feet and leaned over to pick something up. “These go up over your feetzy.” She started to pull the cloth diapers up his legs.
“Oh! Thanks, Ms. Pod! I likey my new diaper.” Baxter clapped his hands together as the dinosaurs came better into his view. He lifted his hips to help her pull the cloth comfy-ness into place.
“And we'll try the return trip without you being a bad boy. I'll reheat your milky once you're safely in your playpen.”
“Thanks, Ms. Pod.”
While I loved Kilted Wookie's photo, I wanted to use the 2-week inspiration picture to write a different sort of 2-parter. I often think of the limits in terms of words to express love; we don't have the same specificity as Greek, for instance. So I want to interact with a new character in a way that crosses between 2 WIPs.
Audrey sits in a couch she conjured into my mind. “Since you're impatient...”
“I'm not doing what you're hinting at.” I kiss Audrey's cheek.
Audrey plants a quick kiss on my lips. “Blaze, you have some time to join us?”
“Sure. I just put Wally to bed.” Blaze lifted their hand to make a loose braid in their hair. “So the only physical thing you know about me is my long, blue curls, Joey?”
I lick my lips. “Well, I'm not far into your book yet, and one thing you need to know about me is that I prefer to encounter my characters rather than making too many designs for their being beforehand. As well, you don't seem to be reflecting on your body much; I hope that doesn't reflect my limited understanding of asexuality.”
Audrey pats my hand. “Blaze, do you mind if I cuddle Joey?”
Blaze shakes their head and Audrey spreads her legs so I can sit there, relaxing back into her warmth.
“How much does a body mean? I'm serious. When relationship, when interaction isn't of a sexual, body-joining nature, what does a body's configuration mean?” I study Blaze. My mind and hope repeatedly jump to Audrey's create a Caregiver and wait for them to come to you as I did. “In describing your body, do I risk designing you to my whims?”
Audrey wraps her arms around my middle and gives me a gentle squeeze. “Am I always exactly who you want me to be?”
“Okay. I get your point, love.” I wrap my hands over hers. “But it does seem now like I'm jumping to the impatience you accused me of.”
“How about we reframe this as me being a matchmaker?”
Blaze laughs. “A matchmaker extraordinaire you are.” They lean forward to touch the couch beside my knee.
I cough. “I don't want re-parented, but parented differently.”
Blaze's hazel eyes glow for a moment when I manage to meet them. “I think I have an idea of your meaning.”
“You might touch my knee... Per.” I feel my throat move with my nervous swallowing. Long, thin fingers touch the skin on my naked knee. “Uh, shouldn't I put clothes on if I'm supposed to be, like, 12?”
“There's teens at nudist recreation thing. How about I get you a blanket?” After my nod, Blaze grasps my Batman blanket and eases it down over me. “There you are.” They sat back down in their chair. “Consider please, was your anxiety as you think a pre-teen would act or think back to your own difficult time then?”
“Both. Like, you aren't my Per, really. We've just started to get to know each other.”
“But did you feel this level of distrust when you were chronologically this age?” Audrey brushes my hair back from my face.
“No, it was to start building though.”
“Might I sit on the couch beside you both?” Blaze eases themself back against their chair.
“Yes, please.” I giggle. “I always wrinkle my nose when I see people say that online about guys and kinky stuff they like.”
“But I think in this case that it was a cute response.” Blaze sits on the far end and turns to face us; I turn on Audrey's lap, my legs dangling over hers. “So I can see all the My Little Pony and Jelly Belly stuff, WW2. And all your books. Did I get most of your special interests?”
“Yes. Uh.” I look around for a stuffie. I don't care if I'm supposed to be too old for stuffies! “Audrey, where's Audrey dolly?”
“You mean this doll?” Blaze points at where Audrey dolly has appeared on the couch beside their hip. “She's very pretty, maybe just like her namesake?”
“Such a flatterer.” Audrey tugs on the neck of her shirt as I hold out my hand for Audrey dolly. “Joey doesn't like his dolly to be cleaned.”
“He, him are your pronouns?”
“Yes.” I swallow. “Per.”
Blaze smiles with gentle upward curves at each edge of their mouth. “This isn't some D/s play where you have to force a title before you feel comfortable with it, with me.” Our hands touch as Audrey dolly moves from their hand to mine. “My pronouns are they, them. Do you understand the concept of gender identity?”
“Yup. Like I'm a transgender demiboy. I was assigned female at birth, but I don't feel female most of the time. Like someone recently talked about a feminine penis, I see myself as having a masculine vulva and vagina. Although I don't feel the need to give either of those parts a different name, like some trans men and non-binary people.”
“Although we are working on pecs for your chest.” Audrey traces her finger over my collarbone.
“Pecs is such a wonderful term. It was one of the first terms that helped me with my own gender pondering. Would you like to hear what identity term feels right to me?”
I nod eagerly.
“Non-binary and genderfluid.”
I feel my face stretch as I can't control my smile. “Those were words I used for myself as I was trying to things out.”
“Yes, figuring out oneself is good.”
I tilt my head back to look at Audrey's face. I scrunch up my forehead, hoping she understands my expression.
“Wanna move closer or invite them to?” Audrey kisses my forehead.
“Move. Us, move.”
UPDATE to add link to the second part of this.
So I was going to write from the inspiration picture, but then I found myself being warned for being too negative when I started talking about my special interests. You see, if you haven't already figured out as a reader of my blog, I'm Autistic and I commonly write neurodivergent characters; if you don't know what that means, it's basically "people who have a different neurotype and often think differently" that includes people who are Autistic, have other cognitive issues, schizophrenics, ADHD for example. Being warned felt like the equivalent of being told that I'm not welcome.
To say the least, I wasn't able to get back into my piece from the picture... I had this revenege fantasy brewing in my head where my Master'd fuck my face and then come on my parents' "Just for show" Christmas tree. Because yes, my parents have long had 2 Christmas trees, although I wouldn't know because I kicked their toxic asses out of my life. At least as much as my Master and therapist have helped me.
but please enjoy this. Not over the top smutty, but I hope still sweet and sexy. And not really edited either. I wrote it in Weebly's creator so you all would get to read it.
Audrey takes me by the hand. "Yes, that's a lovely picture. Let's go on and take a shower. You're still too wound. We'll watch Milk together."
I close the toilet lid and sit down while Audrey fusses with our shower. I smile when she droppes two shower fizzies. Socks and Shaman's sweatshirt find themselves on the floor.
After a few moments, Audrey pulls back the curtain a bit. "Come on, love."
I step into the tub and step forward. My head tilts forward when Audrey brushes her soft lips against my neck.
"There you are, baby boy." She continues to kiss my neck before she begins to rub my shoulders. "Jelly Bellies have four calories a bean."
"Adolph Eichmann wasn't captured until the '60s, in Argentina," I respond.
"Sobibor was an extermination concentration camp."
She traces her finger over my spine. "While stories don't agree, Marsha P. Johnson was likely among the first rioters at Stonewall in 1968."
I gasp in pleasure as my mind swirls. "The rioting went on for three nights."
"From the newly merged Unitarian Universalist church came some of the white activists who supported Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the other black activists in Selma, Alabama. Including three men who were injured, one fatally so." She continues rubbing my shoulders as she presses her teeth against the nape of my neck.
I shudder and press my hands against the shower wall. I sigh as her hands move from my shoulders to my hips. "Less than a wooden duck."
Her hard cock slips between my asscheeks. "You have an excess of Pinkie Pies in your collection, over 10."
"We need to watch Flags of Our Fathers together after Milk. We also need to read your book Shaman got your for the section about Imperial Japan as you know less about that war theatre than you do the European or African theatre."
The pulses of pleasure dance through my body with Audrey's responses and her stroking. "Bodies containing ovaries, uteruses-or is it uteri- and vaginas also usually have two wonderful glands that are involved in arousal fluid production. The Skene's and Bartholen's glands." The orgasm tightens in my nipples and my vagina.
"Goregeous pecs." She brushes her lips against my neck as the tip of her cock slides just above my crack and her cum sprays onto my lower back. "Well regulated militia."
I press my ass back agaist my beloved Audrey. "Can you sleep with me tonight?"
"Love you too, sweet Audrey." I turn into her embrace as the water washes over us.
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.