A Legal Trap - Chapter 8

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WARNING, THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT.

The author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

Last Updated: 2/15/2024 to smooth out portions of the story.
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March 11th, 10:43 p.m.

The click and thud of the door shutting reverberated through the room like a cymbal had been struck by a drummer. Why was I so nervous all of a sudden? I searched Paul's face for a sign that he was nervous, and without a word, he pulled me towards him.

"I... Well, I'm not very practiced at this. I'm a bit nervous," he said, just inches from my face.

"Well, neither am I... You are the first man I've kissed in over a year, so if I suck at it, just know I'm out of practice."

He chuckled, and I could smell the sweet scent of alcohol on his breath.

"If it's any consolation, I think you haven't lost anything in the kissing department," he said.

If the lighting was better, he probably would have seen I was blushing. It was partially due to the alcohol coursing through my system, but more so because I wanted to kiss him again and again. Our faces were so close, and it was easy to get lost in those hazel eyes of his.

I decided to go for it and leaned in to kiss him. Tender lips met in unison, tongues in kind—anxious but not desperate. I literally felt woozy and weak in the knees, and if not for him wrapping his arms around me, I might have done something embarrassing like fall over or lose my balance awkwardly.

His arms released their hug, and I felt his hands move to my hips while our kissing intensified. I was happy and excited that he was more at ease with the connection we were sharing. There were flashes of raw want, primal and urgent, then slow, mind-numbing romantic and playful exploration being done by our tongues during our kiss. I could hear my strained breaths rising and falling in volume as we sought pleasure, and I was basking in knowing we were certainly having the desired effect on one another. I'm sure I moaned softly a few times during the minute or so that the kiss lasted.

When we broke the kiss, I was searching his eyes for the fear I had seen the night before, but there wasn't any. It made me smile, to which he asked, "What?"

"Nothing... You have very nice eyes."

"So do you," he said, kissing me quickly and hugging me again while doing so.

It felt right, like we had been together longer than a couple days. How had we been dancing around our wants and physically denying them until now? Another quick and playful kiss, and he stepped into me, forcing me back a step and against the wall next to the kitchen area. There was a quick look into my eyes for reassurance, and then we were kissing again. His hands on my hips, his hips against mine, slowly grind into me once, then a second time.

HRT effects are different for everyone, and I have been asked every question imaginable and then some in regards to my male bits that remain. That last bastion of 'biological male' only adds to my deep sexual dysphoria-induced anxieties. Yes, dysphoria, because what I believe in my heart and soul is constantly called into question because of what hangs between my legs. It is there; I can still feel it, see it, and certainly have to deal with its function daily.

Some people are curious purely on a cerebral level and want to understand, 'How does it feel?'. While others want to know details to feed their fetish-leaning fantasies. The questions always range from:

Do you tuck? Yes, I am usually tucked. Yes, it sucks, but that part of my body is fairly dormant anyway, so whatever and get over yourself.

Did you shrink? What, like laundry? Probably—not that I was massive to begin with, and it would have been way easier if it had shrunk more, shriveled up, and fallen off.

Do you still have erections? Yes, I still have erections, but they take much more work, and my mental state has to be overly stimulated. Most times I'm lucky to have mild swelling down there, and honestly, I couldn't care less about my penis these days. I have a hate-hate relationship with it right now.

Do you come? Yes, I can still have an orgasm, but it's not like before beginning HRT. Now there's a muted ejaculation feeling that's not overly satisfying physically, and there are barely a few pitiful drops of mostly watery discharge. It's not easy to get to that point without a lot of stimulation of the mind.

People always seemed way more interested in my 'junk' than I ever was—I just wanted it gone forever. Imagining erotic pleasures lately always gave me a bigger thrill—until this moment. I was in the midst of what had to be the perfect storm: attraction, longing for intimacy, and an alcohol catalyst. Perfect storm, and that could mean my body might actually be viewed. Augh! Why hadn’t I considered that?!

Being tucked right now was becoming uncomfortable, and Paul grinding into my hips was not helping matters. I could feel his excitement protruding like a hard lump between us, and every tiny move we made seemed to raise the level of our mutual arousal and my muted discomfort with being tucked at the moment. I had no idea the extent of what this portion of our evening was going to involve, but I needed to get some control over what was going on with my own arousal and get some relief from the waist down.

I moved my hands to his shoulders and pulled away from a kiss we had both been trying to get lost in. I must have had a concerned look on my face because he asked, "Are you OK?"

This was going to be an awkward conversation. No sooner had I thought that, I could feel a slight pain in the swelling I had between my legs. Not exactly comfort-inducing, but better if I shifted a little like this and I moved ever so slightly in his holding me. Now what? Do I say something? I didn't want to explain this shit. Fuck!
"Elizabeth..."

Crap! I was taking too long to reply, AUGH! Answer him!

"Yes, I'm... I have any... I mean, would you mind if I got more comfortable?" I finally spit it out.

He looked relieved, and a smile on his face said he was relieved.

"Sure, you want me to just hang out here?" he asked, looking over to the sofa.

Oh my God, why is this so complicated?

"Sure, if you want or if you could... I mean, I'm going to the bedroom. If you want, you could come with?" Had I asked him that?! What the actual hell?!

He was smiling still, but maybe not believing that everything was okay with me. He still had hold of my hips, and I could feel his breath warm in my face as he spoke, "I have no expectations about anything tonight... I just wanted to be with you a little longer; that’s the truth."

I could feel my expression change, but I tried to keep my feelings from bleeding out.

"Do you need to leave soon?"

Now it was his turn to show a bit of disappointment, and a questioning look blanketed his face.

"No... I just... There's like no pressure here. If we just talked and held hands, maybe kissed... I mean, that would be perfect. I'm not pressing for anything but time with you. That’s all I’m saying."

"Oh, okay... I thought you needed to leave."

"I'll stay until you kick me out; how about that?" He asked with a tiny chuckle, meant to set me at ease I’m sure.

'Aaah, I hope you're prepared not to be going anywhere any time soon!' - I thought, smiling.

"Alright, then, you stay until I kick you out. In the mean time, I need to be more comfortable. Come on."

I took his hand, and we walked to the bedroom.

March 11th, 11:01 PM
The nightstand light was on in the bedroom, and strewn on the bed were outfits I'd consider wearing tonight but hadn't made the cut. I quickly gathered them up, including a bra and a pair of panties—embarrassing for sure—but in my defense, I hadn’t planned on having company tonight in this room. I unceremoniously dumped what I’d gathered in a pile on the chair near the window.

When I looked back at Paul, I wondered if maybe this was a bad idea. He looked interested in my attempts to straighten up and way more relaxed than I was. What are you thinking, Mr. Kline? Maybe he was thinking I was entertaining—the way I tried to make everything neat and orderly. Was I implying more was going to go on here than he might be comfortable with? No, this was unplanned. Planned, and there would be rose pedals on the bed, chocolates, and champagne.

Wait, I’d invited him to the actual bedroom! Of course I was implying ‘things’ might happen! Augh... This is ridiculous! Why am I over thinking this shit? Should I say something? I saw the TV remote and picked it up, extending it to him.

"Find something to watch, get comfortable, and I'll be right back after... Yeah, be right back,” I huffed nervously.

He smiled and aimed the remote at the TV while I rummaged through a dresser drawer for something that would give me more freedom but didn't scream 'easy’, yet hid things from the waist down. This shouldn't be that difficult; why was I making it so? I grabbed a few things and headed to the bathroom without saying anything or looking back. I was self-conscious enough right now, and every move I made felt like...! Get over yourself! Fuck, focus! Try relaxing for God’s sake!

When the door to the bathroom closed, I got a momentary respite from feeling like I wasn't being true to myself. I needed to pause listening to any of my inner dialog and be ‘normal’ with him! What do I need to do first? I needed these shorts off and to be free from the gaff that kept me from looking obviously male. I unbuckled the small belt buckle at my waist, undid the button to my shorts, and zipped down the zipper - letting the shorts fall to the floor and stepped out of them.

I hated how my legs being so long made my torso look so short. Then there were my big feet... Augh! I kicked the white sketchers off, then placed them side-by-side next to the vanity. Are my feet really that big? Screw it! I folded the white Old Navy shorts, putting them on top of the shoes. If Paul came in here, I certainly didn't want him to think I was a slob, though he might already have that thought given the clothes I'd left all over the bed.

I looked in the mirror. Yeah, I am out of my element here.

I pulled my panties down and then removed the gaff and tape holding things in place. There was relief, but intense shame once my male bits were free. Why did every positive seem to be flushed down the shitter because of this last bit of my previous self? Stop over thinking this shit!! Why do you do that!?!! This is ridiculous! Move the hell on!

I was a lot less aroused now, so size and swelling were no longer an issue. I pulled on a cute pair of cheeky panties that were both tight-fitting and rode high enough in the front to keep things semi-under control. Well, as best as can be expected, or until I get aroused again. I grabbed a pair of loose-fitting runner’s shorts to finish up my 'comfort' look. They didn't hide everything going on down there exactly, but at least it was better than suffering an immobilized, aroused lump in the gaff, which was your basic bondage encasing device.

I undid the buttons on my top, slid it off my shoulders, and stared at myself in the mirror. My shoulders are too wide... Grrr! Stop! Think! Bra or no bra? Bra... No question—it's stupid to even consider the other option. I folded the top and added it to the pile of clothes I had taken off. I had a baggie t-shirt, a compression-type tank top, and a loose-fitting tank top to choose from. In order, it was frumpy comfort, cute but too tight, or nice and comfortable. The loose tank top won out and was quickly pulled on.

I ran a brush through my hair and considered touching up my makeup—no time; I felt like I'd been in here way too long already. Lip gloss? No, not like he's going to notice! I stepped back for a final inspection. It was going to have to be good enough. Why can't I ever be satisfied?

As I opened the door, I thought maybe if I was any longer, he might be asleep. Wouldn't that be… And as I looked around the room, it was empty. My heart sank. I looked out the door to the living room area; there was no sound or movement. I was about to panic until I heard the flushing toilet from the other bathroom, followed by the sink being turned on. Relief washed over me.

OMG! Relax, would you?!!?

I hadn't even noticed the TV was on an all-music channel, classic soft rock; the song Hotel California by The Eagles was just beginning to play. Not exactly my taste in music, but it wasn't horrid—I'm pretty sure my parents listened to this stuff, maybe even my grandparents?

"You look comfortable. Better?"

I spun around quickly.

"Ah, yes. Much better…" I know I sounded flustered saying that, but I tried to smile my way through it.

"Good... You look cute. Is that your running gear?" he asked.

Paul was now standing next to me. Why was I a frozen statue? I felt a flurry of emotions and tried to compartmentalize them: excitement, want, comfort, and want. Wait, I said that. What? Paul took my hand, and I just watched in slow motion, freeze frame movements, his lips now on mine, bodies barely touching, electric...

March 11th, 11:16 p.m.
When the kiss ended, I still had my eyes closed. I was completely mesmerized. I could have been floating, adrift on a body of water, I felt that at peace. I'm sure it was the alcohol still making me loopy and, of course, Paul being sexy as... I felt him move ever so slightly, and my eyes popped open.

"Where'd you go?" he asked.

"No where...," I croaked knowing I was blushing yet again.

"Is your bed too soft?"

What?

"Is there such a thing?" I asked smiling.

Paul let his hold on me wane and reached over to the bed, pushing on its top with two hands, then spinning to sit on it—bouncing a few times for good measure.

"Oh God! This mattress is so much nicer than mine. I sunk into mine the first night and woke up with back problems. Been sleeping on the couch ever since."

I hadn't thought there would be such a wild difference in mattresses in the hotel, but I wasn't going to argue or suggest that he just ask to change rooms. I crawled up onto the bed, plopped my head down on the pillow, and sang tauntingly to him, "Ah, my bed's better than your bed, my bed’s better than yours..."

He was watching me and laid back on the bed next to me, rolling over to face me.

"Your mattress has something mine doesn't, that's for sure."

"Me?" I asked playfully.

He was looking at me from across the pillow.

"That's probably the biggest difference," he said, lifting his head and moving over to kiss me.

I pulled him closer and got lost in our tongues, lips, and minds, giving in to one another yet again. This could never get old I thought!

He had a hand at the small of my back, pulling me closer, and I tried to wrap my arms around him tighter, pulling him in close. When his hand moved lower to my ass and squeezed, I couldn't help but moan softly. He was gentle but firm in his grasp of my ass. I tried grinding my hips into his, but feebly, it was more like I was rubbing his leg with slow and awkward gyrations.

That action got his hand running up the back of my tank top, caressing me softly, all while our tongues were in a sprint for who could get more from our lips being locked together. I felt a tug and could feel the strap of my bra being undone. I pulled back from our kiss and studied his face; he was smiling.

"I didn't think I could still do that one-handed," he said, including a nervous chuckle to hide some embarrassment I think.

"Oh really? You haven't been practicing today for that move," I said, smiling up at him.

"I could try that a hundred times and only be successful thirty percent of the time."

I giggled, but it was probably more out of nervousness, hoping the barely B-cup breasts waiting for him to discover weren't going to be a disappointment. Before I could reconcile what might be coming, his left hand snaked between my hold on him and around an overly padded bra, and he had my right breast in his hand.

I sucked in a slow breath as our gazes on each other never shifted, and I intently studied his face for some reaction, rejection, shock, or fear. He squeezed softly, making me suck in another slow breath, and I closed my eyes while enjoying everything about his touch. When his lips touched mine, I felt like I was melting. I wanted him so bad. I wanted him to want me...

The kiss ended up being a mere peck, as he was more interested in my cheek. No, my neck and I stiffened and moaned louder than expected when his tongue traced to my earlobe, his lips sucking it gently. I wanted to pull him on top of me, but that wasn't a good idea. I might not have been fully engorged in my running shorts, but any contact between our bodies and that part of my body specifically was going to mortify me beyond how I thought I could explain it to him. It would certainly be an unwelcome shock to him, right? He knows I’m...

"Elizabeth..." I heard him whisper.

I shuddered, pawed for his face, and kissed him with an intensity I cannot ever remember experiencing in my life. He joined in with as much gusto as I was demanding, squeezing my breast, tracing the now solid nipple, rubbing it, and pulling it lovingly. He did all that while I sucked and tried to love on his tongue like I couldn't get enough. I was gasping for air through flared nostrils as small peeps of pleasure escaped happily.

When he stopped kissing me, I wasn't sure what was happening, but tugging and pulling at my tank top told me he wanted my top off. I tried to catch up and loosely tried to move with his pulling, and somehow the tank top and bra were gone, both flying crazily over the edge of the bed. I wished the light was off. His staring at my chest, I couldn't read him. Was he disgusted? Confused?

"Beautiful... Oh, my God, you're so beautiful," he said softly.

I looked away briefly and pulled him to me, kissing him softly. When I pulled away a moment later, I said, "Your turn..."

I pulled at his polo shirt, and he obliged willingly. I got my first look at a moderately hairy chest that was more defined than his baggie shirt let on. I ran a hand through his chest hair, letting my nails gently scratch him.

"Oh, I like this a lot." I playfully rubbed his hairy chest with an open palm.

That comment was ignored, and I watched as he lowered his head to the breast he had cupped in his hand. I could feel the heat of his breath first, then the warmth of his lips, tongue tracing the nipple, sucking sensations, hand squeezing softly, pulling. I was on my second or third mental orgasm, body stiff, one hand locked in his hair, encouraging him to continue. It felt beyond words and explanation. I... Fuck me! I mean, literally, I would scream that at the top of my lungs if it were a possibility right now! Please, take me!

It was possible, of course, but not in the traditional sense. And regardless of what one might see in the porn bullshit online, it takes prep to be ready for that, lube—lots of it—and a partner in the right mindset. Yeah, anal sex could be on the table, but this was not going to be the night for that, though I might have a hard time turning him down if he kept this up.

A slurping noise startled me, and I arched my back from the pressure of his lips on my nipple.

"Auuuahh..." I pulled at his hair to get him to release it, but he continued suckling. "Ppppaaall...," I huffed as I mashed his face into my breast, which caused me to squirm even more beneath him. He let me pull his face from my tit, and I swished out a few breaths aloud. Holy shit!

"Oh, my," he said like a teenage boy, enthralled by what he'd just experienced and, of course, by the reaction he'd just gotten out of me.

I pushed him back, and he plopped playfully onto the pillow next to me.

"Haha," I said, smiling down at him after crawling over to him so my chest lay on his. I looked at him and kissed him softly, a quick peck.

I was beyond horny now, anxious to ramp this up a little and maybe take a little control. I was looking at him, wondering if I could just...

"What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said slyly as I let a hand drift down his side.

"Hey now, I'm ticklish."

"You shouldn't tell me those deepest, darkest secrets. What if I wanted to tie you up? Guess what I'd do to you first?"

"Yeah, I'm not much for being tied up. Little claustrophobic, truth be told."

"Really?" I asked.

"Mmmhmm... I'm not a fan of elevators or enclosed, tight spaces."

"How are you going to come visit me in Seattle?"

As soon as I said that, I thought maybe I was being too forward. Was I expecting we’d...

"I can wait for you in the lobby. Don't they have a lobby? There’s probably a Starbucks in your building. No, that's where your buddy Lisa has her espresso-man crush satisfied."

"Lobby yes... The coffee stand Lisa's college kid works at is there."

"He into her?"

"I don't know; they play a good game of flirting back and forth."

I let my hand move slowly across his waist and could feel him tightening his abs. I smiled at him; he just raised an eyebrow. A few more inches, and I found the button for his shorts, tugged, and was surprised that it came unbuttoned with barely any effort. Paul's eyes were locked on mine as I unzipped his shorts and wasted no time caressing a very hard cock inside of some kind of athletic spandex-type boxer. I could feel a wet spot and paused a finger over it, gently rubbing the sticky wetness.

Paul's breaths were a bit more strained when I started unzipping, and there was more strain as I rubbed his cock through the smooth fabric of his boxers. I looked at him, smiled, placed a tiny kiss on his lips, and then kissed his chest, moving my lips lower until I was about to kiss his stomach. I repositioned myself lower on the bed, hooked the sides of his shorts, and pulled them down while he shimmied a little to help.

I tossed them as playfully as he'd tossed my tank top and bra over the side of the bed. He just watched and smiled, my little tits jiggling with every move I made. I'm sure it was entertaining for him, and right now I honestly didn’t care he was drinking my upper body in - I was about to git-sum!

When my fingers hooked the waistband of his boxers, he closed his eyes. I pulled them down and off quickly. His cock swayed and bounced through that momentary awkwardness; he was as firm and rock hard as I’d expected. When I touched it, he inhaled quickly through clenched teeth, letting his breath out slowly in little huffs. I marveled at its size, which was probably average, but its girth gave him an impressive heft. His eyes remained shut, and when I wrapped a hand around his cock he jumped ever so slightly. It's my turn to make you writhe in ecstasy a little, Mr. Kline.

The last time I was in a position like this, where my lips were this close to a man's cock, was just over three years ago. I still had a tiny burn mark just above my ankle as a reminder of that night. The lighting being used—one of two basic floor lamps—got knocked over onto me while the head asshole was filming the three of us going at it. His friends fucking me from both ends might sound dreamy, but I'd happily tell anyone it's not worth the trouble and not that much fun.

My hero, the 'director', or 'videographer' as he liked to think of himself, moved quickly to get the lamp off me, so the damage was minimal, but the scar remained as a reminder of my stupidity from back then. Why, four years later, did I feel it now, that ghost burn on my ankle? I hoped Paul's expectations were lower than what he likely saw in that video—an easy one to find with me online. I assumed he had seen it and others too. Augh! Hello self-doubt! Fuck You!

This is going to be like riding a bike—something you don't forget how to do. It was certainly nerve-racking to be wondering, to worry, and to over-think whether I could do this and do it right with someone I might actually care for. I wanted to please him, but if I over think this, I'm going to ruin the moment. There is only one way to find out if I can get past my doubts.

I ran a finger through the slick, sticky cum at the tip of Paul's cock. He shook with the slightest of jolts. I looked up at him; his eyes were still closed. Okay, good, don't watch me. I looked back at my hand, surreal to see it holding him, and slowly wrapped my lips around the bulbous head of his manhood. This time his jolting was more pronounced, a thrust to be further inside of my mouth came quickly, and a small cry of pleasure escaped his lips. I felt powerful and, at the same time, energized, alive, and very satisfied with all the ways this was making me feel inside.

My free hand slid slowly between his legs to cup his balls as my lips made that first trip down the shaft. I kept my lips tightly against his shaft, my tongue guiding him deeper into my open mouth, and quicker than expected, my lips were at my fingertips wrapped solidly around the base of his cock. The head of Paul's cock was taking up every bit of space at the back of my throat—not yet to the gag stage, but if I removed my hand, it certainly would be.

I was so focused on my conquest—getting nearly every inch of him inside of my mouth—it took me a moment to hear and feel his breathing had changed. Tight, shallow huffs, and with every movement I made, they became more strained and alive. My mouth made the return trip up his shaft and slurped loudly at the head, which got me a satisfying little jump from his hips and a low moan. I rolled my head slightly to see if he was watching—nope, eyes still shut. Why hadn't I thought to turn the damn light out?

I blew on the head of his cock while jacking it slowly and rhythmically, then letting just the tip of it play 'peek-a-boo' between my lips. I was moving slowly, but Paul's hips were straining to not thrust or pump wildly inside of my mouth. We were out of sync more times than in, and I took more of him in my mouth to catch up, get back a rhythm. While not exactly in unison, he seemed to struggle less now, and his moans, those little cries and peeps of pleasure became louder, maybe even more desperate. I was sure I added to the symphony of noises myself, though not as intensely as Paul.

Could he hear me? Did he sense I was enjoying myself? Slow down; there's no need to rush this; you’re not the only one who gets to enjoy this, Mr. Kline!

When I felt a hand on my shoulder, I stopped all movement and slid my lips off his cock. I know we were in the room alone, but being touched surprised me, though it shouldn't have. I looked at his face; he was watching me. I slowly let my grip slip from around his cock and stopped cupping his balls to sit up a little.

He looked concerned.

"You.. I... That feels so amazing. You don't have..."

I felt shy for some reason. Wouldn't be because I was between his legs, little tits jiggling wildly and free as I was sucking his cock, or because I was partially erect myself in not baggie enough running shorts? Seriously, how much more embarrassing could this moment get? His hand touched the side of my face, and I leaned into it, breaking our gaze at each other.

"I'm... I want to, Paul."

When he didn't say anything, I took a quick peek at him and then lowered my head back to his cock. My lips parted slowly, gliding him inside my mouth, and I wrapped my hand around the base of his shaft again. I began bobbing my head up and down his cock, slowly at first, then picking up the pace.

When I cupped his balls, I got a shudder from him, and he began moving his hips in unison with my sucking of his cock. Slow, fast, his thrusts were bouncing off the back of my mouth. A few times I gagged a muffled gurgle, and I did my best to suppress many others. To his credit, he would ease trying to jam himself down my throat after hearing my discomfort. I got the sense he was in no rush for this to be over.

I was squeezing his balls, jacking his shaft tenderly, and trying to keep my jaw from hurting while keeping a steady lip pressure on his very thick cock. Four loud slurps later, he moaned, cried out through clenched teeth, caressed my cheek, and moved my hair to the side, but I kept going. I pulled him from my mouth, huffed loudly for a few breaths, and was right back to trying to get this man to cum.

Shifting to my knees, I crawled between his legs and felt his body stiffen as I slurped loudly at the head of his cock. He was close, so I sped up, jacking him while concentrating my lips on the bulbous, bright red engorged head of his cock. Then, with a loud groan, I felt a brief warm coating on my mouth as his hands were trying to hold my face while his hips were thrusting.

His cock slipped from between my lips, and before I could get the head of his cock back in my mouth, I got the first forceful shot of cum on my face. He cried out something while consumed in his own ecstasy and kept trying to push his cock back into my mouth while twisting my head in the wrong direction. The second burst of cum went into my hair, and Paul's body became very rigid as one hand pulled at the sheets and the other tried to guide my face back onto his cock.

I pulled on his shaft while he was thrusting his hips off the bed and got his cock between my lips, plunging him fully in my mouth until my face was buried in his pubes. I was grinding my lips against my fingers that had a death grip around his shaft, trying not to gag while he bucked his hips. His third weaker spurt of cum was now in my mouth, and I loosened my lips around his cock so as to let it dribble out.

I have never liked cum in my mouth. It was not sexy at all, and it was not a conquest spoil I ever enjoyed. It was sticky, thick, and smelled like bleach to me. Sure, the male orgasm is something I loved producing; I just wish the resulting ejaculate wasn't so...

I could feel his seed coating my hand, and with that added lube, I jacked him slowly a few times while holding firmly my lips on his shaft. That got me muffled cries, and when I looked up, Paul had a pillow over his face. I couldn't help but smile.

Easy as riding a bike, I guess...

::: --- :::
I would like to acknowledge the assistance of Bronwen Welsh in proofreading and giving me insightful advice. She is an accomplished author in her own right and I appreciate her time more than I can say...

Don't be afraid to click the "Thumbs Up" icon for this short story if it's done anything for you (you don't have to have an account to do so, and there are no prizes for most likes or payouts for that matter (I’d have bot’ed that bitch long ago if there was)). If you comment, I will reply, so let’s chat or not or whatever floats your noddle.

If there are problems or you have criticisms you'd like to share privately, feel free to message me on the site (you’ll need an account) or via email ([email protected](link sends e-mail)(link sends e-mail)) - I'd love to address them if I can.

I'm trying to grow as a storyteller; I'm far from perfect, so any help is much appreciated and valued. Thanks for reading...

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Comments

Beautiful... and insightful

Donna T's picture

Your chapter tactfully covered aspects of this genre I hadn't considered or read before. Erotically educational is a term that comes to mind. This is what I mean:
"Some people are curious purely on a cerebral level and wanting to understand 'How does it feel?'. While others want to know details to feed their fetish-leaning fantasies. Do you tuck? Did you shrink? Erections? Do you come? People always seemed way more interested in my 'junk' than I ever was... " Very unique. Short version: I like your writing and your story.

Donna

Erotically educational...

RachelMnM's picture

Certainly there is some of that, though not my intent. I'm trying to capture experiences that have been shared with me, in a work of fiction, that point out there's a lot of tough bumps on the journey to womanhood. Awkward at times, crushing mentally at others. I appreciate you commenting and I'm glad you are enjoying this story.

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

Easier...

RachelMnM's picture

After the training wheels are off and the kickstand removed. Lol

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

Rising to the occasion ?

Will Paul be tolerant with the surprise that rises up , or will that cool his ardor?

And that...

RachelMnM's picture

Is the million dollar question. Plenty of couples can - check out the "Transmermaid" on YouTube for example (she's dating a guy who's cool). To what depths are they doing stuff? Anyone's guess, but he's secure enough in his manhood that him and Maya are making it work (or were, been a while since I checked). Can Paul? That's the burning question to be answered later...

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

Yeah, cum on my face and in my hair......

D. Eden's picture

Nope, not my idea of fun.

Especially not in my hair.

As Inspector Clouseau used to say, “There is a time and a place for everything......”

In my hair is not it. Swallow it, sure. On my face, maybe - not a big fan of that though. That smacks too much like being treated like a whore. In my hair is just a big hell no.

Other than this diatribe on my own preferences, I am very much enjoying the story and this was an unexpectedly fast development.

D

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

Agreed...

RachelMnM's picture

But in the context of what was going on, Elizabeth didn't have full control like she thought and Paul was a little out of control. That stuff went places she would rather not have had gone - it was to illustrate two people not fully in sync... This is a pretty new and blossoming relationship... :-)

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

I hope this was a bonding

experience for Paul, I know it was for Liz...

Bond...

RachelMnM's picture

Better be our Elizabeth might get some very dark emotional places.

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

I have to ask

How the hel! does Paul know about Lisa and the barista? Jarred me right out of the moment with that comment.

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Nosey...

RachelMnM's picture

Paul knows a lot about Elizabeth's past, but him knowing about Lisa and her barista is a more recent clue - meaning somehow he's seen something within the firm. Question is - how and why? Keep reading, all will be revealed... :-)

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...