More, Please...

The arrivals gate at the airport isn't the same. I remember being able to wait at the gate. I liked the immediacy of contact, only waiting for a single flight to deplane before seeing my people. Now, I wait at the far end of the security checkpoint to avoid the crowds of people waiting for their loved ones.

There is a certain swagger of your body that I see long before I see your face. I zeroed in on that motion trying to catch a glimpse of the face; there is no doubt, it's you. I have found you in a sea of people and I drink in the sight of you and your sexy bowed legs.

It has been so long and yet it is only a blip in my memory. I feel that I should be running to you, and yet I am rooted to that spot; I cannot move.  You approach, our eyes locked, our lips meeting. I melt like chocolate into your strong chest.  Your arms wrap around my shoulders as my arms circle your waist. It reads like a romantic reunion, sweet and kind. No one know can tell what I really want from you.


As we pull apart,  your hands drop to my hips, grasping firmly enough to leave marks. The sigh escapes from my mouth as my nipples tingle and tighten, my cunt throbbing. It has been too long since someone put forceful hands on me. It lights a fire inside me like nothing else. It is a hunger that I've tried to bury for the last 15 years, and with this one action, it returns. My hunger gnaws at me from the inside out.  I whisper my desire into your ear, barely hiding my desperation. "Please, I want you to fuck me. I need you fill my cunt with your fist and my ass with your hard cock."

You push me into the wall, spreading my legs with your knee. I feel the hard length of your cock firm against my thigh. With the skirt that I am wearing, it would be easy for you to slip your cock inside me and fuck me right there, in front of all those people coming through security. Instead, you slip a discrete finger in to my throbbing pussy, getting my juices all over it and then use that lubed finger to play with my clit. My hips rock and buck ever so slightly; I am trying to be inconspicuous in my desire. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks; so do you. I can tell by the way you ramp up the intensity of your touch. I am moaning, trying to keep quiet but I keep seeing furtive glances in our direction. I feel so exposed. I'm just about to ask you to stop when you remove your hand from between my legs and lick your finger clean.


Relief and frustration wash over me in a unified wave. I grab your hand and drag you to my car. I am glad that you only have that carry-on bag...I can't stand around and wait for luggage tonight.

The drive to my house seems to take forever and before we are even on the freeway, I grab your hand and shove it between my legs. I am so wet, I have completely soaked my panties. you rub for just a second on the outside of them before your fingers pull them aside and slide into my cunt. you start with one, but I give you that look that begs for more. You are frustratingly gentle with me as you slide your second finger inside me, probing my depths with delicate skill. You stop when I almost drive us off the Glen Jackson Bridge into the river. I give you a side glance and smile as I right our course.

Normally, I follow the rules. It's kinda my thing. Tonight my lead foot is on the gas and I'm blowing through all the lights just to make sure we get to my place that much faster. We tumble out of the car and the garage door isn't even down when you bend me over the hood of my car and slide your thick cock into my dripping pussy while you press my hips into the car with your hands. Starting off with slow, measured thrusts, you delight in the dance my hips do as they beg you to fuck me harder. I push back against you, shoving my cunt onto your cock and you start to realize what a slut I am. It truly snaps into focus for you when I slide my pussy off your cock, adjust just a bit, and take the entire length of you up my ass with one forceful push of my hips against you.

At this point, I have you pressed up against the wall and I am slamming my ass onto your hard dick and you are rubbing my clit in all the right ways. You can tell I am going to cum because I start to slow down and I am rubbing my clit with you. My ass grinds you into the wall and with one final thrust, I scream out my orgasm.

You don't let it stop with that, you push me back into the car and fuck me harder and harder until you come, collapsing on top of me.


Your cock is very thick and my bits are bruised from the pounding we've been giving each other; I think my ass might be bleeding just a little. I slowly push my self up off the car, disengage from you and turn around. Your face is flushed with the exertion and I am sure mine is as well. My eyes go soft, I am so glad that you are here. I lean forward and enjoy a leisurely kiss, our tongues dancing slowly. When I pull away, we smooth our rumpled clothing and I invite you into my home. You stare at my ass as I step up to the door in front of you. I want your hands on me, but I will wait until you are rested and I am so tortured that I cannot help myself.

I offer you a chair and a beer, grab your bag and bring it into the house.  I kneel and untie your shoes. I take your socks off, roll up your pant legs and place your tired feet into the foot tub filled with steaming water and  Epsom salts. While your feet soak, I finish preparing a light supper and place it in front of you and kneel at your side. I love the fact that you play with my hair while you eat. When you are finished, I clear your plate and come back to dry your feet and massage them, applying a light peppermint lotion to help sooth them. When I look up, I see the mischievous look in your eyes and I know that our rest is over now.


You stand up and grab my hands, placing them on your belt buckle. I know what comes next. With excruciatingly slow movements, I unfasten you belt, pulling it free from your pants. I hand it to you, in case you might want to use it for something later. I unfasten your button and zipper with my teeth and reach for your sides,  pulling your pants off your hips and dropping them to the floor. Grasping my hair, you guide your cock into my mouth. It is bigger than I am accustomed to, but I do my best to make you proud of me. In short order, you yank me to my feet and turn me around, looping the belt around my neck. You push me forward and I stumble, my upper body crashing onto the top of the table, the cold surface keenly felt through the sheer material of my top. I feel your hands roughly tear at my panties, pulling them down just enough so they don't get in the way of your dick as you slide it into my ass. When you are buried to the hilt, you lean over and with a menacing whisper, you tell me to keep still.

I stand as still as I can. My brain is elsewhere and all I notice is the searing feeling of you sliding in and out of my ass. I don't even notice that my breath is ragged and restricted by the belt. With one hand on my hip and the other firmly gripping the belt around my neck you begin to ride me, your need spurring you to fuck me harder and deeper. My ass is on fire now and I know that I am a twisted slut when I feel my juices drip down my leg. I was made for this kind of rough treatment. I could call it abuse, but I like it too much for it to ever be truly abusive. The burning in my ass intensifies as you ride me and all of the sudden i realize I cannot draw a breath. I begin to panic, which excites you in a way I have not experienced before. I can feel myself drifting away to unconsciousness when you rip my ass open with one final thrust.


It is the barest whisper, but you still catch it as it passes my lips...
                               "apple"


Instantly, you loosen the belt around my neck and gently slide out of my ass. I know that my instincts weren't wrong to choose you for this because I feel your hands on me, stroking me, grounding me, calming me. This has been an intense ride. It is the first time I have been with you; it is the first time I've allowed anyone to be intimate with me in 6 months; it's the first time that I have let anyone use me like this, ever. I feel broken and whole.

We move to the bedroom. Undressing slowly, I feel your hands on my back to steady me. A gentle fire is stoked in that moment; you have found my secret spot. I reach out to you, gently pulling our bodies together as my head rests against your chest. We breathe together for a few moments and I raise my head, a quiet pleading in my tearful eyes. "More, please."

Genderfluid Medical Transition Begins...Finally

I decided to transition in February. I found a doctor, set up an appointment, and finished all the labs. And then life happened. I got a new job in Olympia. I put medical transition off.

 

Once I moved, I found a provider, set up an appointment, and did all the labs AGAIN. I was hoping to get my scrip on the 13^th. And at the appointment, I found out that I DID need a letter from my therapist.  FUCK.

 

I told my therapist and we spent my whole session on the 16^th going over my dysphoria, permanent effects of T, temporary effects of T, the possible impact on my mental health and my strategies for coping. Then it took a WHOLE WEEK to get the letter.  I got that letter yesterday and took it to the provider’s office and traded it in for my scrip.

 

I took the scrip to the pharmacy. Because the dosing directions were off, the pharmacist didn’t want to give me the scrip before he got it sorted out with my provider. I walked away…and just before I left the store, I walked back. I looked him straight in the eye and told him I didn’t want to leave without my scrip. I told him that I had been waiting a long time for this and I just wanted to get started. I had tears in my eyes. We decided on a compromise. He didn’t give me the whole scrip and I took a 1 mL bottle home with me. I asked for syringes and the pharmacy assistant that rang me asked what length and gauge. I told her just the syringes, because I already have the needles.  Her eyes got big as she tried to figure out why I might have them and she went to get the syringes for me.

 

Kyle calls it man juice. I told him that doesn’t work for me so he came up with magic juice. I like that just fine. :D

 

Kyle talked me through my first shot. On the first poke, I struck a nerve and my quad wiggled around all funny, like a quad sized fish on a hook. I did a second poke and it went much better. I got it all in and now I wait to see what happens.

 

One thing I have noticed is that my brain is remarkably quiet. I’m not sure if it’s a physical response or emotional response to starting T.  It might not be related at all. I’m not sure.

More on Genderfluid Transition.

I didn’t  recognize that I am trans* for most of my life. I always viewed the idea of trans* in a binary format. Then I met Kyle. He was open with me about his gender identity, answering questions with kindness. He directed me to websites and blogs and all sorts of resources. As I became more proficient with search terms, I learned more. As I learned more, I realized that I am genderfluid. I also realized that I wanted to pursue medical transition to the middle of the road.  At least I call it the middle of the road.

 

I told a few people. I was met with confusion and disbelief. I stopped telling people. This path, while true for me, isn’t easy. I mostly don’t miss who I thought I was. I find that I am more comfortable with my handsome person in dresses look. I’m more comfortable in my person in dude clothing with make-up on look.  You might think that doing that should have been easy. The actions are easy enough to accomplish. The confidence, power, and comfort in doing those actions is not always easy to accomplish.

 

When you find your path, and you follow it, everything becomes easier. At least it has in my experience. I made the decision to pursue testosterone therapy to obtain a deeper voice and facial/body hair, which brings me more to the middle of the road on the gender spectrum. I made the decision to pursue testosterone therapy to obtain growth of my click (clit-dick), which brings me more to the adult development stages of my human body.

 

Obtaining testosterone has been more difficult that I originally thought it would be.  I needed all the tests again. I do need a letter from my therapist, which I didn’t think I would need.  The purpose of the letter is different than I thought when it was first brought to my attention. It more addresses my mental ability to grant informed consent. I spent a whole therapy session on answering the questions posed by my therapist so he could write the letter.

 

One topic that came up, which I wasn’t expecting, was the description of my dysphoria. Knowing your path is not the same thing as dismantling your ideas about why that path is where it is. When he asked, I didn’t start to answer for a full minute.  I needed time to check in, think about it, find the things that I associate with dysphoric feelings.  Three main areas came up: Body/facial hair, voice, and my click.

 

One other thing came up today. Menstruation. I remember the betrayal I felt. How could my body betray me like that? I thought that those feeling were normal, that all girls felt that way. The women in my life had so many names for it. They called it the curse, Aunt Flo, the crimson tide… As time wore on, I came to accept it as the price I had to pay to have children. Looking back, I think I might have misinterpreted the feelings of others regarding their periods. Let’s face it, I didn’t really know what was normal for girls. I knew what was normal for me. My two closest friends were excited to get their periods. I felt like a freak because I never wanted it.

 

Out of four things that I experience dysphoria around, menstruation is the worst and I am grateful that it doesn't happen every day.  It might be for the best that I never carried a child to term. Maybe I would have lost it, watching my body grow a human. I’ll never know for sure, and the more I think on it, the less it bothers me.

 

I should get my letter this week. Once I do get it, I’ll get my scrip for T.  Once I get my scrip for T, I’ll shoot myself up in the thigh and see what happens.

 

Thank you, Kyle, for being my biggest cheerleader.

 

Thank YOU random reader,  for reading the story of my life. Thank YOU for being a witness to my life.

How I Feel After I Hurt You.

My lover, today we shared our lunch hour like we so often do. Last night was very intense and being able to snuggle with you and chat about in the light of day means so much to me after a night like last night.

 

Once I felt sure of my footing, I decided to hurt you. You acquiesced to my biting teeth.  You submitted to my slap happy hands. You withstood the onslaught of my fists. My diligent fingers finding all those tender spots for poking and pinching. And at the end, you made yourself cum by rubbing your cock on my thigh, looking me in the eye because that is what I demanded of you.

 

I cannot tell you the all the emotions that swirl through my head when you subject yourself to my will. I cannot tell you how proud I am of your strength, the strength that shines even if you are not prepared for my level of intensity. I cannot tell you how I fall more deeply in love with you, the softness I feel in my chest opening me up wide to your soul. I cannot tell you how the tears form in my eyes, aching with the simple beauty of you.

 

Kyle, thank you. Thank you so much for everything you share with me and all that you give to me. I am truly blessed.