The first time outing myself as trans at a party is met with a quiet ‘me too’, it takes us all of ten minutes before we’re pressed up against the wall of the bathroom. Her hands curve around the back of my head, and even though I don’t have quite enough length for her to bury her fingers in my hair, she tries to.
Her name is Jeanette, or at least that’s what she told me when we first started flirting, tucked away into a corner just enough to have breathing space from everyone else, but not enough that we can’t hear the music any longer. Her name is Jeanette and she’s a designer (she’s thinking of switching to freelance), she has a streak of bright blue in her hair, she’s still ride or die for G.L.O.S.S, and no, she doesn’t care they disbanded.
And right now she’s pinned up against the wall of a bathroom that belongs to a friend of a friend, and she kisses me like she can’t believe it either. We kiss like we’re starving, noses brushing as we try to find the right angle, hands clasping at each other clumsily, and as I taste the sickly artificial sweetness of her lip balm, I realise I’ll never have tasted enough of it. One hand is on her hip and the other is cupping her cheek softly, pulling her into me. Even when we part lips, I still hold her close, watch the fluttering of her eyelashes against her cheek as we breathe together, hot and heavy.
“God I want to fuck you.” The words slip from my lips before I realise what I’m saying, her eyes open, and she giggles. But she doesn’t let go of me, doesn't stop looking up at me with an almost promise in her gaze. I lean in and kiss her again, a series of chaste kisses trailing from her lips to her cheek, and then down onto her neck. She stiffens under me, but her grasp on my hair goes higher, and I kiss her neck again, wisps of her hair brushing my nose.
“Not here”, she says, and I’m suddenly very aware of the muffled music from two rooms over, of the chatter of the rest of the party, and most of all, of how my dick is flushed and hard against my packer. She’s right- the room is too cramped and we’re too close to exposure, and I don’t have lube or any of my cocks with me.
“My place is ten minutes away by bus?”
We’re up against the door again the moment we get into my flat, my leg pressed against her, her hands clawing against my back. Jeanette’s tongue is in my mouth and I have one hand buried in her hair while the other curves around her breast. I want to pull that band tee over her head, want to push myself against her and keep kissing her. I want to touch her and never stop touching her. I want to see as much of her as she’ll let me, touch as much of her as she wants me to.
“What word do you want me to use?” I ask as I pull away, pressing my leg in just a little firmer. Her lips part as she breaths just a little harder, and everywhere our skin is touching feels just a little warmer.
“I call mine my dick”, I say, hoping she’ll understand what I mean without me having to spell it out.
“Oh”, she says, and I can feel her breath on my cheek. “My clit. Please call it my clit.”
So when I’m down on my knees in front of her, skinny jeans pushed around her ankles, but neither them or her combat boots pulled off, it’s her clit I’m licking. When I curl my tongue around the tip lightly, stroke the length with just the tips of my index and middle finger, it’s her clit I’m touching. And when I take her into my mouth, feel myself drool around her, and look up at her like she’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, it’s her clit that I’m sucking.
She doesn’t moan, but her hand rests on my head, and the tips of her nails are just long enough that I can feel them dig into my scalp.
“It doesn’t get hard”, she says, and her voice is breathless. “Just because it’s soft doesn’t mean this isn’t good.”
I keep sucking and licking at her clit, ducking my head as far down as I can, until my nose is pressed against her pelvic bone. When I pull back, the tip of her falls from my mouth, wet with saliva and soft and wide, the sounds she makes are glorious. She chokes them back to start, clenching her jaw shut in resistance, nothing escaping aside from little hitches of breath. But when I lick her again, soft and barely touching her clit, she can’t help it. She moans, loud and long and filthy, and I can feel my cock jolt at the sound.
I keep going, coaxing those sounds from her, arms wrapped around her thighs as I mouth at her clit until she pushes my head away from her. I pull back, rest my weight back onto my haunches, and look up her, confused. I’m suddenly very aware of how wet my lips and cheeks are, of how messed up my hair is, and of how much I love both of those things.
“If I asked you to fuck my cunts”, she says, as she looks down to meet my eyes. “Would you understand what it means.”
“Oh”, I say, and I can feel myself flush red. “Yeah. Yeah, I understand.”
My pinkie finger is slick and easy as I push it into her. It’s not the first time I’ve muffed somebody, but it’s the first time I’ve done it with her, and I don’t know her body well yet. I push into her inguinal canal slow to start with, not wanting to push too hard or too fast, or assume she can take more than she can.
But I’m not going to. Not yet.
I stroke slowly to start with, curling my pinkie back and forth, tip tracing circles in her. But they’re rough circles, my motions unrefined, twitching and curling. She’s lying on the bed, and her shirt is still on, and her jeans are thrown somewhere across the room. I’m kneeling on the hardwood floor in front of it, leaning forward with my elbows digging into the mattress as I fuck her with my finger.
I’m unsure if the word is a plea or a command, and I’m not sure which would be better. I groan, my hips swaying forward slightly to press my packer against the hard floor and my dick against my packer. I squeeze at the bottle in my hand, and the way the lube runs down my index and middle fingers seems obscene in itself, each movement wet and cold even before I press myself back into her.
My fingers are shallower now, only an inch or so inside of her, resting below her inguinal ring, but there’s two of them now. I wonder how it must feel, being filled up like this, and I can’t reach and stroke that spot deep in her anymore, but from the sounds she makes, I don’t think she minds. She doesn’t moan so much as she gasps, the sounds pulled from between her lips involuntarily. And her head is thrown back and her chest is heaving and she gasps every time I flick the head of her clit with my tongue.
I have a thought.
“Wait”, I say, and for the few moments, before I return with the treasure that I dig out of my bedside table, she looks confused and dejected. A look that vanishes the moment I return.
I don’t push the vibe into her cunt the way I would mine. It’s not straight in, it’s at a diagonal, my middle and ring and index finger curling around the hard plastic, while my thumb rubs in circles against her skin. The noises she makes are breathy and desperate, and briefly, I wonder if I could strap on one of my cocks are shallowly fuck one of her cunts.
I probably could, but I’m not going to try, I decide. Instead, I’m going keep fucking her like this, going take her clit into my mouth again. Going to time every movement of the vibe into her cunt with a flick of my tongue against her, going to make circles against with the vibe and my tongue,
When she comes, she comes dry and shaking, her thighs clenching around my head, nails digging into my scalp, and moaning almost-words that could almost be my name. And she’s still shaking when I pull myself away from her when I stand up and look at her. She’s spread out, hair messy, chest heaving, and the sight of her is glorious.
“I’m going to need a moment”, she says finally, and her voice shakes even after her body doesn’t anymore. I laugh and sit beside her on the bed. “But then I can maybe go again.”
“Can I fuck you again?”, I say. “Topping you I mean.”
Jeanette turns towards me, looks me in the eyes with the first touch of a smile curling at the corners of her lips. “Can I pick which cock you fuck me with?”
The cock she chooses is small and comes in a tone that matches my skin, with a slight curve and a surprising weight to it. I can’t fasten the belt of my harness on both sides without the weight of my cock pulling the harness forward, and it’s after a minute or so of overenthusiastic teenager-like fumbling that she comes over to help me. I kiss her again, gentle this time, pulling her closer to me, my hand on hers as I guide it to my cock. I can’t feel the movements of her hands, obviously, but I can feel the weight of the cock push against my dick, and then pull away with each stroke. It’s exhilarating and infuriating, feeling the pressure against me, then having it torn away before I can start to get used to. I wonder if it’ll feel like this if I fuck her, if turning on the bullet vibrator tucked into my harness will drown out the feeling, or if I’ll be able to feel this frustrating rhythm of pressure against my dick.
She gets down onto her knees in front of me teasingly, achingly slowly. And the way she strokes my cock before she takes it into her mouth is just as slow and unbearable and glorious. When I finally watch as she lets my cock into her mouth, I let out an involuntary gasp. Jeanette gives an amused huff, lips stretched around the tip of my cock before she takes the length of it again. I can see her mouth and throat swallowing around my cock, can infer from the rest of her movements that she’s running her tongue against the shaft.
“On the bed”, I manage to say, and it’s a miracle my voice is as steady as it is. “Please.”
The sight of her on her hands and knees on my bed, ass in the air, is glorious. She takes my gloved fingers easy, and I’ve probably been too generous with the lube. The sound is loud and I can feel her hips straining to keep still as I fuck her ass with my fingers. It’s two to start with, two curled with the tips facing downwards as I try to find her prostate. When I find it, her breathing turns ragged and uneven, and I’m pretty certain she wouldn't be above begging. But I don’t want to push her. I stroke it gently with my fingertips, twitching them back in forth in an oval shape. I place my other hand over her hip, not digging into her, but holding her firmly, and she quivers under my grasp.
She laughs, and it’s a slightly nervous laugh, but she answers all the same. “I’m ready.”
I start off just as slow with my cock as I did with my fingers. The cock is turned upside down in my harness, so the curve points towards the bed and towards her prostate. It’s a good decision, because as I thrust into her, the noises she makes are loud and shameless. So I decide to fuck her fast, grasp her hips with both hands and pull her onto me in time with each thrust.
But it’s not quite right.
I pull out, and she turns to look at me over a shoulder, eyebrow raised in confusing.
“I want to see your face.”
She still looks confused.
“I want to see your face when I’m fucking you.”
She looks almost nervous when she starts to straddle me, and I wonder if I should suggest going back to her being on her hands and knees. But then starts to slip my cock inside her, and as I watch her stretch herself out on it, I forget everything I was thinking. She rides me slowly to start with, rolling her hips back and forth in a steady rhythm. I wonder what it feels like for her if she feels filled up? The weight of her pushes the bullet vibe up against my dick, and I can feel it rumbling against me, but I barely notice the sound. I’m too enraptured by watching her.
Hard and hardness seem to be words people gravitate to when they write about sex. But she isn’t hard, not in the way she looks at me, not in how she touches me. My hands curl around the curves of her hips, her clit soft between her legs as she rides me. I can’t feel anything, but for once I’m glad of it, glad that I can watch her fuck herself on my cock without having to worry if I’ll come too early. It’s beautiful, the way she catches the streetlamp light that shines through my blinds. She’s beautiful.
The rumble of the vibrator against my dick feels stronger now, even though I know nothing has changed other than the weight of her pushing it against me. I curl my toes, desperate for my legs not to shake because I want to lie here and watch this a little longer. But it’s futile because I can feel myself start to clench, can feel myself start to soak through the harness, and as she
She leans forward and kisses me when I come, and I moan up into her. Her mouth on mine muffles the sound. My thighs are quivering, and my hands are shaking, and all I can think about is just how fucking good it feels to come with her weight pressing down on me.
When we pull apart for air, I’m sweaty and exhausted, and where the warmth of my skin hits the cold night air, I shiver.
The next words between us are a few minutes later. She’s half dressed again, sitting on the edge of the bed, and my harness is dumped unceremoniously on the bedside table.
“I can escort you to the bus if you want?”
“Sure”, she says.
I pause for a moment, unsure if I’m going to be overstepping boundaries. “Or you could stay the night if you want.”
She’s silent for a moment, and then she smiles, shuffles a little closer to me on the bed, and speaks.
“I’d like that.”
Kelvin Sparks reviews sex toys and write about sex, gender, and sexuality at Kelvin Sparks Reviews. He enjoys writing erotica, loves strap-on play, and lusts after every dildo that comes in the rainbow or trans pride colours. You can find Kelvin on Twitter at @ksparksreviews