- Joined
- Jan 26, 2018
Stephanie the Womb Wizard wrote an erotic fanfic about Jeffrey Dahmer hooking up with a trans-identified female.
Here's her AO3 fic. It's SO BAD. (archive)
You’re at the crux of two very controversial and very marginalized identities. When you came out to your family, you gave them a one-two punch. Their “daughter,” as they had known you as, tried to tell them the truth, and it hadn’t gone well. It was one thing to tell a parent that you were gay; this was very different. This was even more difficult. Homosexuality was one issue, but transsexuality was another. Perhaps if you had been a man confessing to feeling for other men, you would have been better understood. But a woman claiming she felt like a gay man? It was indescribably taboo. And so, you had fled, never looking back, and ended up on the street, as many had before you. But you had been taken in, given new life, a new home, within the gay district, and even this job, a clerk at this small bookstore.
That’s where you first laid eyes on him.
You had seen him before, was the truth, but never this close. He came to your counter with two books under one arm. He was tall; standing up to his chest, your head would probably only hit his clavicle. He had the air of wanting to be much smaller, not wanting to be noticed. He passed you his selections, then removed his wallet from his back pocket, and in doing so, barely looked at you. Just as well, you thought, as you weren’t much of a people person. You typically worked in the back stocking shelves, but someone had called out, so you were stuck. But it was almost over now; he would probably your last customer on the clock.
And so… it made you notice him a bit more than usual.
Despite being so reticent in social graces, he didn’t have to be. You first judged him as someone who must have gotten passed around quite a lot. His hair was sandy blonde, and he bore a thin, sissy mustache of the same color. His glasses were large and had thick lenses, but as you dared a glance, his eyes were crystal pools of blue. A very light, striking blue. They almost made your breath stop. His hands were medium large, well-manicured, with slight tobacco stains on their fingertips. He wore jeans, a button-up top tucked into them, and a black leather jacket. He was square, that was sure, but not in a way that turned you off. You decided to open up a little.
“You like fish, huh?”
He at first seemed taken aback that he was being spoken to. The only words he had uttered had been “here” (handing you the books) and “uh-huh” (when you gave him their cost).
Now, nonplussed, he opened his mouth, closed it again, and then, like the aforementioned animal, simply gaped before finally forming a response.
“Uh… yeah, I guess so.”
Completely out of character, you broke into a wide smile and chuckled a little. You couldn’t help it. Within minutes of reaching the counter, and barely having spoken, you could feel some chemistry heating up. Maybe you could find a way to jump his bones.
“Well, duh, but tell me about it!”
With a small, awkward toothless smile, he continued, “I’d like to someday have an aquarium.”
“And you want to make sure you know how to take care of fish before you accidentally kill them. Rock on.”
You noticed then a strange discomfort pass through his eyes, and a slight sucking of his bottom lip into his mouth, before he again muttered softly, “Right, yeah.”
Worrying you may have said something wrong, you softly passed him his change, breaking eye contact, and he quietly accepted it and returned his wallet to his pocket. But then he surprised you with his next words.
“You, umm… you want to come back to my apartment?”
Immediately invigorated, you started cashing out the till and beamed up at him, telling him, “Of course! Just hold on, let me close up!”
As you went through the motions of wrapping up business, he stood back, hands in his pockets, back to being awkward. When you glanced at him out of your peripheral vision, however, you noticed a steady stare from the man. He wasn’t even hiding it. It seemed you’d be getting lucky after all.
Turning to face him, you cocked your thumb to indicate that you two were good to go. Like a gentleman, he held the door for you, and you paused, wondering if you weren’t passing, and he thought you were a woman. But again, he surprised you, as when you walked ahead, you clearly felt his eyes roaming your ass. It made you blush.
“Say, uh,” you muttered, suddenly too shy to make eye contact, “what was your name, man?”
“Jeff,” he answered, grinning with teeth for the first time.
As it turned out, he had told a white lie, and didn’t actually have his own apartment. He explained sheepishly that he didn’t want to hook up with anyone at Gramma’s, so he had grabbed a hotel room with the intent of finding someone. You didn’t care, obviously, as you hadn’t had any idea that you would be picked up by someone. Guys were funny about being with transsexuals. They acted as if your lack of dick turned them off. You hoped that that fact wouldn’t ruin things during this encounter.
The hotel room was bland yet clean, and smelled as if it had recently been serviced. As you sat upon the bed, you observed him first to hang up his jacket on a coat-hanger in a nondescript closet. He then reached into the fridge and pulled out a can of Pabst blue ribbon. You hesitated, hoping he wasn’t getting himself sauced just so he could do the deed. You suddenly felt a rush of dysphoria, and looked down at your feet as he sipped his beer out of the corner of your eye.
Picking up your sudden discomfort, he asked with a note of concern, “What’s wrong?”
You hesitated before you spoke. It must have been a long pause, because he suddenly blurted out, seemingly from a well of his own anxiety, “It’s not what it looks like!”
Your head shot up to look at him, and, with your own concern, saw that your new friend was now considerably emotional. Without another thought, you went to him, reached your hands up, and took hold. His face was soft, freshly shaved other than the thin line of hair over his mouth. You felt the urge to kiss it. For some reason, you were quite fond of this stranger, known only as Jeff. You felt you’d known him in another life. He absently put the beer down on the nearest table, not bothering with a coaster. He reached up and took one of your wrists, but gently, without anger.
“Don’t,” you whispered.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t push me away. Let’s talk.”
You gestured to the bed, and with a few moments of thought, he seemed to acquiesce, and you lay there together. In a surprisingly intimate motion, he put an arm around you, his hand on the small of your back, and pulled you closer. His next words were said low and soft, like a confession.
“I’m a virgin.”
You looked at him, not knowing what to think. He looked at you, his eyes exploring your reaction.
“Honestly? I would’ve never known.”
“How come?”
Laughing, you said frankly, “You’re hot.”
His eyes seemed to bug out of his head at this, causing you to laugh harder. You continued, “I thought you were already a hit in the bath houses.”
His face broke into his biggest smile yet, and his cheeks flushed. Attractive, bashful, a tall drink of water, how could no one have tapped Jeff?
He looked down at you again, this time flirtatiously lifting an eyebrow. “I’m kinda new at this, but you make a good point.”
He shifted then, rolling over, his land lazily moving further down. Yes, you thought in excitement, I don’t care if I’m going to pop your cherry. In fact, I’d love the honor.
As if telepathic, he palmed your ass and settled his lips over yours. You unapologetically moaned, and moved closer. He broke the kiss after what seemed like eons, leaving you seeing stars. You turned your head, looked over your shoulder, and saw him reaching into his pocket.
“I, umm,” he explained, blushing again, “I brought a condom.”
You chuckled in spite of yourself. Jeff wasn’t waiting any longer, that was for sure. He was hot to trot.
“You know what you’re doing, then?” you asked, grinning.
Nodding, he said, his voice husky, “I’ve been thinking about this for years. Actually, ever since this guy said he would blow me in the library.”
You pealed out a belly laugh, seeming to shock him, but then he joined in. He explained that he didn’t indulge the man, but it had gotten him thinking that now was the time to get it over with.
“I don’t like being gay,” he said, suddenly solemn. “It’s against my dad’s… and Gramma’s… it’s a sin.”
You suddenly recalled your own family. They weren’t Bible thumpers; on the contrary, they were atheists. Still, they saw you as corrupting their vision of who they had thought their “daughter” had been. Growing facial hair? Going by a name more masculine? These may as well have been sins.
Time for the big reveal, you thought, sighing. Hopefully he won’t change his mind.
It was then that you unbuttoned your own shirt, one of your favorite Hawaiians. Underneath were your bound breasts, wrapped in bandages. It hurt to have them there all day, but what was the alternative? Everyone knowing you had tits, and therefore hating yourself, feeling like shit. To your relief, he didn’t look disgusted. He looked rather amazed instead.
“Wow,” he whispered, almost in reverence. “I’ve never met a transsexual. I wouldn’t have even guessed.”
In profound relief, you laughed, but then found your eyes filled with tears. Without another word, he kissed you again, this time deeper, more desperate. His lips were hungry, and his hands roamed your back and ass. You felt a rumbling in his chest, and, to delight you further, a throbbing on your hip. He wrapped both arms around you, then one leg, and then, effortlessly, flipped you onto your back. He proceeded to hold both your arms firmly at your side, and straddled you. Then, with those ice blue eyes seemingly darked with lust, guided one of your hands to his bulge.
“What I meant by that is, you’re hot as hell, and I don’t care.”
Using his hand to guide your hand, he dipped it into the front of his pants, and within minutes, your fingertips grazed his erection. His head whipped back, and you laughed as he proceeded to almost lose his glasses. He swiped them off his head, retiring them to the bedside table, and then got back into the act, fully unzipping his jeans to give you access.
In a breathy voice laced with arousal, he instructed you to “play with it.”
You weren’t going to disappoint him.
From the base up to the head, you rubbed him, swiping some precum to use as lubricant. He made small gasps while doing that same chewing of his bottom lip.
“Faster.”
Wrapping your small hand around the base, you began to yank him, and when he absent-mindedly let go of your other hand, you rubbed his sack in the palm of your hand. His eyebrows shot up and then angled down and in, almost frowning, but then he grinned, and looked down at you in the eye with an amorous glint. He then moved up until his hips sat at your diaphragm, directly under your bound breasts. He titled them, and, without another word, placed his tip softly against your lips.
“Show me what he would’ve done, in the library.”
You greedily stuffed your mouth full of him, sucking your cheeks in and tightening your lips. You then proceeded to duck and bob your head, as he groaned without a hint of his former shyness. Dropping your chin and opening your throat, you then allowed him deeper in, ignoring your gag reflex, causing him to whimper. You then went right back to your former action; distantly, you realized that he was gently stroking your hair, and mumbling sweet words of affection.
“That’s a good boy,” he said softly, “eat it.”
His words went straight to your cunt, making you pump faster.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
You began to notice his stomach hitch and his thighs crunch you tighter. You knew what this meant. You stole a glance upward, and saw his chiseled, gorgeous face contorted in pleasure. His Adam’s apple dipped and came back up like a buoy, and he was breathing rapidly, shallowly in and out his nose. His shoulders then stiffened, his chin dropped, and his abs contracted. With one last little gasp, his hot load was in your mouth, pooling around your tongue, dripping down your gullet.
“That… that was…” But he didn’t bother to finish his sentence. He flipped you again, this time onto your stomach, and tugged down your pants. You saw him staring down at you, entranced.
He’s never seen a pussy before, you thought, and suppressed a laugh.
Again, seeming to read your mind, he said with a small grin, “I understand the mechanics.” With one hand, he gently trailed a finger down your ass crack, causing you to wriggle, then dipped it into your hole, which was sopping wet. “I think you’re more ready for this than I am.”
You heard the clinking of his belt buckle as he eased down his pants, and then felt his dick again, semi-solid, being dragged back and forth across your crack. When he deemed himself sufficiently hard, he reached a hand to the table, applied his protection, and then, tortuously slow, began to enter. You had had other cocks in you, but his seemed the biggest yet, and you involuntarily bucked your hips back at him.
“Don’t move,” he chastised you, for the first time sounding slightly irritated, “just… stay still.”
You did as he commanded, affording you another pat on the head. “Good boy, good,” he purred, then pushed further in. “You feel fantastic.”
You then felt more of his weight being lowered down onto you. You felt those abs you’d seen twitch at his orgasm, then felt his hard arms envelope you. You then felt his hips crash down, making you squirm in pleasure, causing him to give you another reprimand.
“I don’t like it when you do that,” he scolded, and without warning, gave a swift slap to your ass. “Behave.”
For a virgin, he sure is kinky, you thought, smiling. It was the last coherent thought you had because then he started pumping.
And this bastard, he continued to lay the praise on thick.
“God you’re good,” he moaned, drawing out the first word. “You’re everything I wanted. So, so good.”
He nipped at your ear and rubbed his nose into the back of your neck.
“You sweet bottom. I love this.”
His hot, sticky tongue lapped at your earlobe, and you felt his mustache tickle the side of your head. He began to give small kisses up and down the back of your neck. All the while, he drove his cock in and out of you, and whispered endearments.
“You sweet boy, you. You’re so sexy. I could fuck you over and over again.”
But again, as he drew closer to orgasm, a different side of him emerged, one more mournful, dare you say, romantic.
“Don’t ever leave me. Be mine forever. I need you, I need this. I love this. Don’t you leave me, don’t you dare.”
You had to wonder what baggage this man possessed, to only hook up with someone once, as a virgin, and yet already sounding so enamored. You didn’t have much time, or rather, much presence of mind, to think it over, as he began to change his strokes, from rapid to slow. He would draw out almost completely, then thrust back in, all the while making sounds like sobbing. You tried to turn your head, but with his hand, he pressed you down so you couldn’t look at him.
“You don’t know what I’ve done,” he suddenly lamented, “if you did, you would. You’d leave. Everyone leaves.”
And you felt your heart break open, and bleed, for this man you had just met. You barely knew him, and yet this soft revelation made you feel as if you would do just as he had asked, and never leave him, ever.
His strokes regained speed, but did not last, as his hand drifted down to your shoulder and pressed on it. He was close again. You wish you could feel his cum inside you, but you couldn’t risk it. His breathing heaved, indicating that same contraction, and then with one last thrust, he stilled.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” was all he said, removing himself and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Jeff?” you inquired. “What did you mean by that?”
His head popped up, but he said nothing. He sat there for some time. Finally: “Forget it. Please just forget it.”
You lay on your side against the pillow, wondering to yourself what you may have gotten into. And yet some part of you didn’t care. You didn’t want to leave him. You wanted to know him. He seemed so vulnerable, and mysterious.
Again, you called to him, and this time he looked at you. It was clear across his face that he had, indeed, been weeping. You crawled across the bed, and from behind, put your arms around him.
“Hey,” you said softly, “did you like it?”
He took your hands in his, and simply whispered, “Yeah.”
You kissed the back of his head then, and felt him tense, then relax into it.
“I don’t think I’d like to leave it at just that. We can see where this takes us.”
You wondered then, what his silence meant. He seemed to stare off into nothingness, sitting still, lost inside his own head.
“I’d like that,” he stated. “I’d like to see you again.”
Here's her AO3 fic. It's SO BAD. (archive)
A Complicated Man
Summary:
Work Text:
You’re twenty-four, going on twenty-five, and it’s a summer’s day in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It’s the mid-80s. The gay scene is still on the fringes of society, however it’s ripe with opportunities for fun. It’s not yet widely known that a virus of great magnitude and contagiousness is sweeping through the community, so anonymous hookups are still common. Reckless, passionate affairs are kept hidden away in hotel rooms and the bath houses. And, sometimes, also the bookstores. After all, most of America still considers homosexuality to be either shameful, or a sin, so anyplace it can be indulged in is a welcome one.You’re at the crux of two very controversial and very marginalized identities. When you came out to your family, you gave them a one-two punch. Their “daughter,” as they had known you as, tried to tell them the truth, and it hadn’t gone well. It was one thing to tell a parent that you were gay; this was very different. This was even more difficult. Homosexuality was one issue, but transsexuality was another. Perhaps if you had been a man confessing to feeling for other men, you would have been better understood. But a woman claiming she felt like a gay man? It was indescribably taboo. And so, you had fled, never looking back, and ended up on the street, as many had before you. But you had been taken in, given new life, a new home, within the gay district, and even this job, a clerk at this small bookstore.
That’s where you first laid eyes on him.
You had seen him before, was the truth, but never this close. He came to your counter with two books under one arm. He was tall; standing up to his chest, your head would probably only hit his clavicle. He had the air of wanting to be much smaller, not wanting to be noticed. He passed you his selections, then removed his wallet from his back pocket, and in doing so, barely looked at you. Just as well, you thought, as you weren’t much of a people person. You typically worked in the back stocking shelves, but someone had called out, so you were stuck. But it was almost over now; he would probably your last customer on the clock.
And so… it made you notice him a bit more than usual.
Despite being so reticent in social graces, he didn’t have to be. You first judged him as someone who must have gotten passed around quite a lot. His hair was sandy blonde, and he bore a thin, sissy mustache of the same color. His glasses were large and had thick lenses, but as you dared a glance, his eyes were crystal pools of blue. A very light, striking blue. They almost made your breath stop. His hands were medium large, well-manicured, with slight tobacco stains on their fingertips. He wore jeans, a button-up top tucked into them, and a black leather jacket. He was square, that was sure, but not in a way that turned you off. You decided to open up a little.
“You like fish, huh?”
He at first seemed taken aback that he was being spoken to. The only words he had uttered had been “here” (handing you the books) and “uh-huh” (when you gave him their cost).
Now, nonplussed, he opened his mouth, closed it again, and then, like the aforementioned animal, simply gaped before finally forming a response.
“Uh… yeah, I guess so.”
Completely out of character, you broke into a wide smile and chuckled a little. You couldn’t help it. Within minutes of reaching the counter, and barely having spoken, you could feel some chemistry heating up. Maybe you could find a way to jump his bones.
“Well, duh, but tell me about it!”
With a small, awkward toothless smile, he continued, “I’d like to someday have an aquarium.”
“And you want to make sure you know how to take care of fish before you accidentally kill them. Rock on.”
You noticed then a strange discomfort pass through his eyes, and a slight sucking of his bottom lip into his mouth, before he again muttered softly, “Right, yeah.”
Worrying you may have said something wrong, you softly passed him his change, breaking eye contact, and he quietly accepted it and returned his wallet to his pocket. But then he surprised you with his next words.
“You, umm… you want to come back to my apartment?”
Immediately invigorated, you started cashing out the till and beamed up at him, telling him, “Of course! Just hold on, let me close up!”
As you went through the motions of wrapping up business, he stood back, hands in his pockets, back to being awkward. When you glanced at him out of your peripheral vision, however, you noticed a steady stare from the man. He wasn’t even hiding it. It seemed you’d be getting lucky after all.
Turning to face him, you cocked your thumb to indicate that you two were good to go. Like a gentleman, he held the door for you, and you paused, wondering if you weren’t passing, and he thought you were a woman. But again, he surprised you, as when you walked ahead, you clearly felt his eyes roaming your ass. It made you blush.
“Say, uh,” you muttered, suddenly too shy to make eye contact, “what was your name, man?”
“Jeff,” he answered, grinning with teeth for the first time.
As it turned out, he had told a white lie, and didn’t actually have his own apartment. He explained sheepishly that he didn’t want to hook up with anyone at Gramma’s, so he had grabbed a hotel room with the intent of finding someone. You didn’t care, obviously, as you hadn’t had any idea that you would be picked up by someone. Guys were funny about being with transsexuals. They acted as if your lack of dick turned them off. You hoped that that fact wouldn’t ruin things during this encounter.
The hotel room was bland yet clean, and smelled as if it had recently been serviced. As you sat upon the bed, you observed him first to hang up his jacket on a coat-hanger in a nondescript closet. He then reached into the fridge and pulled out a can of Pabst blue ribbon. You hesitated, hoping he wasn’t getting himself sauced just so he could do the deed. You suddenly felt a rush of dysphoria, and looked down at your feet as he sipped his beer out of the corner of your eye.
Picking up your sudden discomfort, he asked with a note of concern, “What’s wrong?”
You hesitated before you spoke. It must have been a long pause, because he suddenly blurted out, seemingly from a well of his own anxiety, “It’s not what it looks like!”
Your head shot up to look at him, and, with your own concern, saw that your new friend was now considerably emotional. Without another thought, you went to him, reached your hands up, and took hold. His face was soft, freshly shaved other than the thin line of hair over his mouth. You felt the urge to kiss it. For some reason, you were quite fond of this stranger, known only as Jeff. You felt you’d known him in another life. He absently put the beer down on the nearest table, not bothering with a coaster. He reached up and took one of your wrists, but gently, without anger.
“Don’t,” you whispered.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t push me away. Let’s talk.”
You gestured to the bed, and with a few moments of thought, he seemed to acquiesce, and you lay there together. In a surprisingly intimate motion, he put an arm around you, his hand on the small of your back, and pulled you closer. His next words were said low and soft, like a confession.
“I’m a virgin.”
You looked at him, not knowing what to think. He looked at you, his eyes exploring your reaction.
“Honestly? I would’ve never known.”
“How come?”
Laughing, you said frankly, “You’re hot.”
His eyes seemed to bug out of his head at this, causing you to laugh harder. You continued, “I thought you were already a hit in the bath houses.”
His face broke into his biggest smile yet, and his cheeks flushed. Attractive, bashful, a tall drink of water, how could no one have tapped Jeff?
He looked down at you again, this time flirtatiously lifting an eyebrow. “I’m kinda new at this, but you make a good point.”
He shifted then, rolling over, his land lazily moving further down. Yes, you thought in excitement, I don’t care if I’m going to pop your cherry. In fact, I’d love the honor.
As if telepathic, he palmed your ass and settled his lips over yours. You unapologetically moaned, and moved closer. He broke the kiss after what seemed like eons, leaving you seeing stars. You turned your head, looked over your shoulder, and saw him reaching into his pocket.
“I, umm,” he explained, blushing again, “I brought a condom.”
You chuckled in spite of yourself. Jeff wasn’t waiting any longer, that was for sure. He was hot to trot.
“You know what you’re doing, then?” you asked, grinning.
Nodding, he said, his voice husky, “I’ve been thinking about this for years. Actually, ever since this guy said he would blow me in the library.”
You pealed out a belly laugh, seeming to shock him, but then he joined in. He explained that he didn’t indulge the man, but it had gotten him thinking that now was the time to get it over with.
“I don’t like being gay,” he said, suddenly solemn. “It’s against my dad’s… and Gramma’s… it’s a sin.”
You suddenly recalled your own family. They weren’t Bible thumpers; on the contrary, they were atheists. Still, they saw you as corrupting their vision of who they had thought their “daughter” had been. Growing facial hair? Going by a name more masculine? These may as well have been sins.
Time for the big reveal, you thought, sighing. Hopefully he won’t change his mind.
It was then that you unbuttoned your own shirt, one of your favorite Hawaiians. Underneath were your bound breasts, wrapped in bandages. It hurt to have them there all day, but what was the alternative? Everyone knowing you had tits, and therefore hating yourself, feeling like shit. To your relief, he didn’t look disgusted. He looked rather amazed instead.
“Wow,” he whispered, almost in reverence. “I’ve never met a transsexual. I wouldn’t have even guessed.”
In profound relief, you laughed, but then found your eyes filled with tears. Without another word, he kissed you again, this time deeper, more desperate. His lips were hungry, and his hands roamed your back and ass. You felt a rumbling in his chest, and, to delight you further, a throbbing on your hip. He wrapped both arms around you, then one leg, and then, effortlessly, flipped you onto your back. He proceeded to hold both your arms firmly at your side, and straddled you. Then, with those ice blue eyes seemingly darked with lust, guided one of your hands to his bulge.
“What I meant by that is, you’re hot as hell, and I don’t care.”
Using his hand to guide your hand, he dipped it into the front of his pants, and within minutes, your fingertips grazed his erection. His head whipped back, and you laughed as he proceeded to almost lose his glasses. He swiped them off his head, retiring them to the bedside table, and then got back into the act, fully unzipping his jeans to give you access.
In a breathy voice laced with arousal, he instructed you to “play with it.”
You weren’t going to disappoint him.
From the base up to the head, you rubbed him, swiping some precum to use as lubricant. He made small gasps while doing that same chewing of his bottom lip.
“Faster.”
Wrapping your small hand around the base, you began to yank him, and when he absent-mindedly let go of your other hand, you rubbed his sack in the palm of your hand. His eyebrows shot up and then angled down and in, almost frowning, but then he grinned, and looked down at you in the eye with an amorous glint. He then moved up until his hips sat at your diaphragm, directly under your bound breasts. He titled them, and, without another word, placed his tip softly against your lips.
“Show me what he would’ve done, in the library.”
You greedily stuffed your mouth full of him, sucking your cheeks in and tightening your lips. You then proceeded to duck and bob your head, as he groaned without a hint of his former shyness. Dropping your chin and opening your throat, you then allowed him deeper in, ignoring your gag reflex, causing him to whimper. You then went right back to your former action; distantly, you realized that he was gently stroking your hair, and mumbling sweet words of affection.
“That’s a good boy,” he said softly, “eat it.”
His words went straight to your cunt, making you pump faster.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
You began to notice his stomach hitch and his thighs crunch you tighter. You knew what this meant. You stole a glance upward, and saw his chiseled, gorgeous face contorted in pleasure. His Adam’s apple dipped and came back up like a buoy, and he was breathing rapidly, shallowly in and out his nose. His shoulders then stiffened, his chin dropped, and his abs contracted. With one last little gasp, his hot load was in your mouth, pooling around your tongue, dripping down your gullet.
“That… that was…” But he didn’t bother to finish his sentence. He flipped you again, this time onto your stomach, and tugged down your pants. You saw him staring down at you, entranced.
He’s never seen a pussy before, you thought, and suppressed a laugh.
Again, seeming to read your mind, he said with a small grin, “I understand the mechanics.” With one hand, he gently trailed a finger down your ass crack, causing you to wriggle, then dipped it into your hole, which was sopping wet. “I think you’re more ready for this than I am.”
You heard the clinking of his belt buckle as he eased down his pants, and then felt his dick again, semi-solid, being dragged back and forth across your crack. When he deemed himself sufficiently hard, he reached a hand to the table, applied his protection, and then, tortuously slow, began to enter. You had had other cocks in you, but his seemed the biggest yet, and you involuntarily bucked your hips back at him.
“Don’t move,” he chastised you, for the first time sounding slightly irritated, “just… stay still.”
You did as he commanded, affording you another pat on the head. “Good boy, good,” he purred, then pushed further in. “You feel fantastic.”
You then felt more of his weight being lowered down onto you. You felt those abs you’d seen twitch at his orgasm, then felt his hard arms envelope you. You then felt his hips crash down, making you squirm in pleasure, causing him to give you another reprimand.
“I don’t like it when you do that,” he scolded, and without warning, gave a swift slap to your ass. “Behave.”
For a virgin, he sure is kinky, you thought, smiling. It was the last coherent thought you had because then he started pumping.
And this bastard, he continued to lay the praise on thick.
“God you’re good,” he moaned, drawing out the first word. “You’re everything I wanted. So, so good.”
He nipped at your ear and rubbed his nose into the back of your neck.
“You sweet bottom. I love this.”
His hot, sticky tongue lapped at your earlobe, and you felt his mustache tickle the side of your head. He began to give small kisses up and down the back of your neck. All the while, he drove his cock in and out of you, and whispered endearments.
“You sweet boy, you. You’re so sexy. I could fuck you over and over again.”
But again, as he drew closer to orgasm, a different side of him emerged, one more mournful, dare you say, romantic.
“Don’t ever leave me. Be mine forever. I need you, I need this. I love this. Don’t you leave me, don’t you dare.”
You had to wonder what baggage this man possessed, to only hook up with someone once, as a virgin, and yet already sounding so enamored. You didn’t have much time, or rather, much presence of mind, to think it over, as he began to change his strokes, from rapid to slow. He would draw out almost completely, then thrust back in, all the while making sounds like sobbing. You tried to turn your head, but with his hand, he pressed you down so you couldn’t look at him.
“You don’t know what I’ve done,” he suddenly lamented, “if you did, you would. You’d leave. Everyone leaves.”
And you felt your heart break open, and bleed, for this man you had just met. You barely knew him, and yet this soft revelation made you feel as if you would do just as he had asked, and never leave him, ever.
His strokes regained speed, but did not last, as his hand drifted down to your shoulder and pressed on it. He was close again. You wish you could feel his cum inside you, but you couldn’t risk it. His breathing heaved, indicating that same contraction, and then with one last thrust, he stilled.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” was all he said, removing himself and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Jeff?” you inquired. “What did you mean by that?”
His head popped up, but he said nothing. He sat there for some time. Finally: “Forget it. Please just forget it.”
You lay on your side against the pillow, wondering to yourself what you may have gotten into. And yet some part of you didn’t care. You didn’t want to leave him. You wanted to know him. He seemed so vulnerable, and mysterious.
Again, you called to him, and this time he looked at you. It was clear across his face that he had, indeed, been weeping. You crawled across the bed, and from behind, put your arms around him.
“Hey,” you said softly, “did you like it?”
He took your hands in his, and simply whispered, “Yeah.”
You kissed the back of his head then, and felt him tense, then relax into it.
“I don’t think I’d like to leave it at just that. We can see where this takes us.”
You wondered then, what his silence meant. He seemed to stare off into nothingness, sitting still, lost inside his own head.
“I’d like that,” he stated. “I’d like to see you again.”
