A Legal Trap Ch. 08

WARNING, THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT.

Author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

March 11th, 10:43 PM

The click and thunk 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 he was nervous also and without a word he pulled me towards him.

"I, well, I'm not like very practiced at this and 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."

If the lighting was better he probably would have seen I was flushed, partially due to the alcohol coursing through my system, but more so because I wanted to kiss him. We were so close; 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, smoldering. I literally felt woozy, weak in the knees. If not for him wrapping his arms around me I might have done something embarrassing, like falling over. So many thoughts were spinning through my head right now.

His arms released their hug and I felt his hands move to my hips, all while the kissing intensified. I was happy; excited that he was more at ease in the connection we were sharing. There were flashes of raw want, primal and urgent, then slow mind numbing romantic and playful exploration during our kiss.

I could hear my strained breaths rising and falling in volume to our seeking of pleasure and basking in knowing we were having the desired effect on one another. I'm sure I moaned quietly a few times during the minute or so that last kiss went on for.

When we broke the kiss I was searching his eyes for the fear I had seen the night before, it wasn't there. It made me smile.

"What," he asked cocking his head slightly.

"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. We were freely dancing around our wants and it was glorious. When we broke the kiss this time he stepped into me, forcing me back a step and I was now against the entry way wall. A quick look into my eyes and we were kissing again. His hands on my hips, his hips against mine slowly grinding into me, once, then a second time.

HRT effects are different for everyone. I had been asked every question imaginable and then some, in regards to my remaining male parts. That last bastion of 'biological male' only added to my deep gender dysphoria and general anxieties. Yes, dysphoria because what I believe in my heart and soul is constantly called into question because of what hangs between my legs still. It is there, I can still feel it, see it, and I certainly have to deal with its only functional purposes a couple times a day.

Some people are curious purely on a cerebral level and wanting to understand 'How does it feel knowing you're a woman trapped in the wrong body?'. While others want to know details to feed their fetish-leaning fantasies. The questions always ranged from:

Do you tuck? Yes, I am usually tucked. Yes, it sucks, but that part of my body is fairly dormant anyway, so whatever. Is that what defines me?

Did you shrink? What, like laundry? Yes I did shrink. That was a massive worry as to having enough 'material' available when I could finally afford new genitalia via GCS, GRS, or whatever letters they were stringing together this week to call that surgery. According to my doctor it's a normal part of HRT / testosterone blockers and the lack of nocturnal blood flow to the damn thing means ya shrink. Need a tape measure?

Erections? Not really. I tend to leak pre-cum like crazy but it takes a lot of work to even become mildly engorged. My mental state tends to drive being stimulated. Why would that matter to you?

Don't you want sex all the time? Huh? My sex drive is very different than pre-HRT, at least for me. It's hard to explain to people, not that it's their business, but most of my want comes from a stimulation of my mind. Nothing confusing there! At least right now with Paul kissing me...

Do you cum? Yes, I can still ejaculate. It's not like before beginning HRT where there's a build up and an explosion of pleasure. Now there's a muted ejaculation feeling that's not overly satisfying physically and cum that is barely a few pitiful drops of mostly a cloudy liquid. It's not easy to get to that point without a lot of stimulation of the mind and beating the hell out of myself. Glad you asked?

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. A perfect storm...

Being tucked right now was however becoming uncomfortable and Paul grinding into my hips was not helping. I could feel his excitement protruding like a hard rod between us and every tiny move we made seemed to raise the level of our mutual arousal. I had no idea what the extent of this portion of our evening was going to entail, 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 greedy 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 okay?"

This was going to be an awkward conversation. If we were going to take this, whatever this was working out to being, there were preparations, boundaries, and a need for patience. That last one would be hard for both of us, I'd been on the wrong side of patience too many times to count. There was going to be a need to understand these things or it would all come to a screeching halt. I could feel the embarrassment beginning to roll on.

Could he see it too? Now what? Do I say something? I didn't want to explain this crap! Fuck!

"Elizabeth..."

Paul look worried. Crap! I was taking too long to reply, AUGH! Say something!

"Yes, I'm a, I, any... I mean, would you mind if I got more comfortable?"

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

"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 you could... I mean, I'm going in the bedroom. If you want you could come with?" I was trying to smile and wasn't sure it didn't appear strained.

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

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 disappointment. A questioning look blanketed his face, "No... I just, I'm... 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."

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

"I'll stay until you kick me out, how about that?"

'Aaah, I hope you're prepared not to be going anywhere,' - I thought smiling. "Alrighty 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 that didn't make the cut. I quickly gathered them up, including a couple of bras, a pair of panties, and unceremoniously dumped them 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. Maybe I was just entertaining - the way I tried to make everything neat, 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, champagne...

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, I'll be right back."

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 'anxious slut' and hid things from the waist down. This shouldn't be that difficult, but I struggled to pick a few things and then headed to the bathroom without saying anything or looking back.

When the door to the bathroom closed I got a momentary respite from feeling like I wasn't being myself. If I listened to any of my inner alarms going off, I'd know if I controlled things that could happen we would probably be better off and not run into any awkward territory. The variable in all that was I wasn't sure where Paul's head was. Focus!

I needed these shorts off and to be free from the gaff and medical grade tape that kept things mostly hidden. I unbuckled the small belt buckle at my waist, undid the button, and zipped down the zipper. I let the shorts fall to the floor and stepped out of them still wearing my sneakers.

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 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 thinking 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 comfort zone here. I can do this!

I pulled my panties down, removed the gaff, and struggled to comfortably remove the tape - slowly. There was the typical relief at there being less 'constriction', but also shame once that part of me was free. Why did every positive seem to be flushed down the shitter because of this last bit of my physical self? I need to stop thinking! This really is ridiculous! Focus!

The sticky wetness I found in the gaffe and on the tape spoke to my arousal thus far considering how much stimuli I'd gotten a few minutes ago. While I might not have the pre-HRT size, this stickiness I was examining between my fingers said I was engaged in more than one way. I cleaned up with toilet paper and reached for a cute pair of cheeky panties.

They were both tight fitting and rode high enough in the front to keep things semi under control - not that I expected anything to become rigid down there. I then grabbed a pair of loose fitting runner's shorts to finish up my 'comfort' look. They didn't hide everything going on, but at least it was better than suffering an immobilized penis in a gaff - which I always considered your basic necessary bondage device.

I undid the buttons for my top, slid it off my shoulders, and stared at myself in the mirror. Shoulders - too wide... Grrr! Stop! Stop! Stop! Think... Okay, bra or no bra? Bra, no question - that was stupid to even consider the other option. I folded my 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.

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. Augh! I stepped back for a final inspection. This is going to have to be good enough. Be satisfied! Be confident!

As I opened the door I thought maybe had I been any longer he might be asleep. Wouldn't that be... I scanned the room and it was empty as I entered. My heart sank. I looked out the door to the living room area, no sound, no movement. I was about to panic until I heard the flushing toilet in the other bathroom, followed by the sink being turned on. Relief washed over me! 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 of music, but it wasn't horrid - pretty sure my parents listened to this stuff.

"You look comfortable. Feel better?"

I spun around quickly. "Ah, yes, much better actually." I sounded flustered.

"Good, you look cute. Is that your running gear?"

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, want. Wait I said that, what? Paul took my hand and I just watched, slow motion, freeze frame movements, his lips were now on mine, bodies barely touching, electric.

March 11th, 11:16 PM

When the kiss ended I still had my eyes closed, I was mesmerized. I could have been floating, adrift on a body of water. It felt that peaceful. I'm sure it was the alcohol still making me loopy and of course Paul being sexy as... He moved ever so slightly and my eyes popped open.

"Where'd you go," he asked.

I know I was blushing, "No where..."

"Your bed too soft?"

What? "Is there such a thing," I asked confused.

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. I've been sleeping on the couch 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 and plopped my head down on the pillow and sang tauntingly, "Ah... My bed's better than your bed..."

He was watching me and lay 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 his pillow. "That's probably the biggest difference." He lifted his head and moved over to kiss me.

I pulled him closer and got lost in our tongues dancing, his lips softly over mine, and my mind giving in to his passions. He had a hand at the small of my back pulling me closer and I tried to wrap my arms around him tighter. When his hand moved lower to my ass and squeezed I couldn't help but moan softly. He was gentle, but firm with his grasp of my ass. I tried grinding my hips into his, but it was awkward and more like I was rubbing his leg with my slow and quirky gyrations.

That action got his hand running up the back of my tank top caressing me softly - all while our tongues continued to try and get more from each other. I felt a tugging and could feel the strap of my bra being undone. I pulled back from our kiss and was studying his face, he was smiling.

"Didn't think I could still do that one handed," he said with a nervous chuckle.

"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 more out of nervousness. I hoped the barely B-cup and lopsided 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, through the large arm opening, around my overly padded bra - to make things even more awkward - and he had my right breast in his hand. Our gazes on each other never shifted and I was intently studying his face for some reaction, rejection, shock, fear.

He squeezed softly, making me suck in a slow breath. I closed my eyes. When his lips touched mine, I felt like I was melting. I wanted him so bad. The kiss was a mere peck; he was more interested in my cheek. No, my neck... I stiffened and moaned loader than expected when his tongue traced behind my ear.

I wanted to pull him on top of me, but that wasn't a good idea. Would he feel my sex if he did? Any contact between our bodies and that part of my body specifically was going to mortify me if he was repulsed. Would it be an unwelcome shock to him? He knows I'm not...

"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 firm nipple with a finger, rubbing it softly, pressing on it. All while I sucked and played with his tongue like I couldn't get enough, gasping for air through flared nostrils.

When he stopped kissing me I wasn't sure what was happening, but there was a tugging, a pulling at my tank top which told me he wanted the top off. I tried to catch up and loosely tried to move with his pulling and somehow the tank top, then bra were both gone - flying crazily over the edge of the bed. I wished the light was off; his staring at my chest uneven breasts made me self-conscience. I couldn't read his reaction - was he disgusted? Confused?

"Beautiful... Oh, God, you're so beautiful..."

I looked away briefly, and pulled him to me, kissing him softly.

"Your turn," I croaked and pulled at his polo shirt.

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

"Oh, I like this a lot," I said while playfully rubbed his hairy chest.

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. I was on my second or third mental plateau, body stiff, one hand locked in his hair encouraging him to continue. It felt, I couldn't explain it if I tried. I, fuck me! I mean literally I would scream that at the top of my lungs if it were a possibility right now.

It was possible of course, but not in the traditional sense. And regardless of what one might think - it takes prep to be ready for sex. Lube - lots of it, and a partner in the right mindset, patient, and willing to work into getting it on. Yeah, sex could be on the table, but as much as I wanted it - this was not going to be the night for that.

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, but he continued sucking. "Ppppaaall..." and I resorted to pushing his face into my breast, smashing it and I couldn't help but squirm. He let me pull his face from my tit and I huffed a few breaths aloud.

"Oh! Oh, my..." he said like a teenage boy enthralled by what he'd just experienced and of course from the reaction he'd just gotten from me. He had to know he was turning me inside out.

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.