And it has Addled her Brain

She needed a story -- one of romance, passion, grappling hands and yielding bodies -- to understand, to see, how a transman had sex. To get an insight to thoughts, feelings, concerns and joys.

Her embrace with Phillip on the dancefloor last weekend told her that most of the mechanics remained the same -- foreplay, kissing, touching, driving each other insane -- but again, the nerd in her couldn't help but want to know more.

Through words. Through plot and passion and people.

On her way to the Transgender & Crossdressing category of stories, the kinky slut in her first perused the BDSM, Fetish, Lesbian and Group Sex categories (where she'd flagged a couple authors with potential). After each story she read, her cunt was left pulsing with need and flooded with want.

And then she came across The Last Gentle Thing* by ebdy_queer.

... he ties my arms... moves downward, kissing my stomach, my hips, my pubic mound... then uses the restraints to pin my ankles to opposite sides of the bed.

Giaan's cunt pulsed at the image this narrative created. In her imagination she was the one being tied to the bed, Phillip was the one topping her and taking control of her body. She scrolled down the page to continue reading, while her free hand began tugging at her turgid nipple.

... he kicks his jeans away and moves... to straddle my face. His T-dick is hard. "Suck me off," he says...

Giaan closed her eyes, hand moving down to slip beneath the elastic band of her sexless flannel pyjama bottoms, though the short trimmed pubic hair to stroke her bald, wet lips. She pulled some pillows closer to her neck and shoulders, to better feel Phillip straddling her face. She licked her bottom lip in subconscious anticipation.

... hands in my hair, pulling hard... rocking into me, grinding against my face... I continue sucking as he fucks my face... leaning harder into my mouth and coming, his body shaking, ejaculating onto my mouth and chin.

"Fuck," Giaan whispered, splitting her engorged lips open to cool her heated clit. Reading the male pronoun attached to the lewd act of face fucking made her throb. Just as the next line did.

... "Now it's your turn," he says.

Giaan continued to read the story, feeling her achy hole clench at nothing, needing to pull something inside to pound away at the building pressure. But she continued to only open and close her cunt lips, edging herself to madness.

Once she finished the story, she let her iPad fall to the side and sunk her middle finger deeply into her achy hole, allowing the heel of her hand to press over her mons to stimulate her pierced clit. She sucked in a breath at feeling her heat, wondering if Phillip would feel similar.

Her hips gyrated against her hand while she imagined sucking Phillip, riding Phillip. Of him fucking her with cock soaked in their combined come. Of him using her cunt for his pleasure, and filling her with his juicy come.

She felt her legs shake and tense, and knew an orgasm was near. Denying herself once more, she clenched her legs together and stilled her movements, instead reaching for her phone.

And called Phillip.

"Giaan?" came his sleepy thick voice.

"Phillip," she breathed, the sound stating her desire.

"What're you doing? What's wrong? It's after one," he said.

"I've been reading," she said softly, coyly, as she traced the outside of her swollen lips again.

"Shocker," came the sarcastic reply. Then, "What exactly have you been reading?"

"A story about a transman fucking his cis girlfriend."

Silence. One beat, two.

"Really?"

"Uh huh," Giaan moaned. "Really, really."

"And?" Phillip asked, rolling to his back, hand moving beneath the band of his briefs to rub over his sex and poke his dick to life.

"And," Giaan whispered, "you said you'd only had top surgery. Right?"

"That's right."

"So..."

Phillip chuckled. "You're wondering what going on down there?"

"Well, in this story, the guy has a T-dick. I had to look it up. And the narrator also refers to it as his clit. So yeah, I wondered."

"What you looked up is, I would say, fairly accurate."

"And what do you call your sex?"

"What do you call yours?"

She laughed. "I usually call her GG. But I get it. I need to know, though. Would I kill the mood if I told you to fuck me hard with your cock, or your cunt, or both?"

Phillip sucked in a breath, the sound static through the phone making Giaan's toes curl. "No, you wouldn't kill the mood," he assured her.

"Well, that's good. I tend to talk dirty during sex. But say the wrong thing..." she trailed off.

"I get it," Phillip replied, pressing his thumb to the base of his sex, two fingers cradling beneath, and began slowly jerking himself off. "Some story you found there, Red."

"It turned me on like you wouldn't believe thinking about you and me as these characters. So much so," she confessed, "that I've been edging for the last hour or so. But I wanted to share my orgasm with you."

"Did you?" he murmured, heart thumping, sex throbbing.

"Uh, huh," came her teasing reply. She continued relaying the story to him, enjoying the way his breath caught when she described the guy face fucking the girl. She wanted him to know she wanted him to treat her the same way, to restrain her and use her and turn her into a quivering little cumslut.

Then, abruptly, she asked, "Would you fuck me with a strap-on?"

"Fuck yes," Phillip responded. "I'd love that."

"And would you want me to clean you all up after? On my knees, looking up at you?"

"Mmm, most definitely."

Giaan hummed, probing her pliant core with her middle finger. "That's so fucking hot."

"I'd want to fuck you without wearing one, too, you know. Just like your story."

"Oh, god," Giaan moaned, strumming herself into a tingled tangle. "Would you fuck me doggy?"

"Couldn't stop me," came the pinched reply.

"Fuck, it's hot hearing you jack yourself off while we talk like this, Phillip."

"You started it, Giaan."

Their laughter was light relief for the pent-up sexual tension they both felt. She quieted as she pictured Phillip riding her from behind, humping his dick through her ass crack, against the backs of her thighs. She rocked her pussy up, adding her ring finger, pressing her wrist firmly over her mons.

"I'm fucking myself with two fingers right now. Fuck I want your hands on me."

"My sex is so hard for you right now, Giaan. Thick and juicy," he moaned. "And I want to fuck your cunt so bad."

"Mmm," she groaned. "Yes. I want to feel your dick all over me, and your dick juices inside me."

"Fuck, Giaan. I'm gonna come if you keep talking like that."

She laughed. "Should I stop?"

Phillip continued to stroke his cock with three fingers, spreading the slickness. He shook his head in the dark, whispered a quiet no.

Quietly now -- for the night demanded it -- they listened to each other's heavy breathing and strangled moans, imagining the other masturbating under the covers. Occasionally, Giaan would moan his name; in response, he told her how hot this was. Together they pushed themselves with fingertips and a reader's imagination over the edge.

Her panted breaths elicited images of her riding him hard -- packing or not -- while he tugged and twisted her nipples. As he stroked himself closer and closer to completion, he thought about how he wanted to wrap his lips around her stiff peaks and suckle her as she spilled her come all over his sex and thighs.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he grunted, thumb strumming firmly around the base of his sex.

"Almost, almost, fuck," she chanted, seeing in her imagination Phillip roughly -- possessively -- fucking her with four fingers as his thumb worked its magic on her clit, while his mouth marked her breasts and neck with little love bites. Her cunt was a tangled mess of confused nerve-endings; her thighs and lower abdomen tensing with approaching orgasm. She wondered vaguely if orgasms felt similar for Phillip.

And it was that thought -- the thought that he could feel like this at the same time as her -- that pushed her over the edge.

"Oh god," Giaan sobbed, breath catching. She withdrew her fingers to strum them directly over her bejewelled clit hard, harder, hardest, to draw out her orgasm.

"Fuck. Oh fuck," Phillip cried, feeling his hand flood with come. He continued to rub his entire hand over his sex, extending his pleasure.

When her orgasm had subsided, Giaan, panting, overheated, kicked the covers away and welcomed the cool night air. Her nipples instantly pebbled beneath the silk of her night singlet, and she wanted nothing more than for Phillip to suckle them warm again.

Her room smelt of musky pussy; she could only imagine how much stronger the scent of sex would be with Phillip. The thought made her smile.

"Well," she murmured, "that happened."

Phillip chuckled, finally relaxed after a long week of wondering. "It did. I'd probably eat you out after an orgasm like that. Just FYI."

"Fuck. You'll kill me."

"Death by orgasm. There're worse ways to go."

Giaan chucked. "You're not wrong."

Silence fell upon them again and Phillip yawned.

"I should let you go," Giaan murmured sleepily into the phone.

"Mmm," came the reply. It made Giaan smile.

"I'll be seeing you soon, Phillip."

"Uh, huh," he grunted. "Friday."

Giaan pulled the covers back up and rolled to her side, imagining Phillip warm and sold behind her.

"Goodnight."

* * *

When the ever-elusive Friday came, Phillip's mind -- and store -- was busy. Not since opening Café Book had his store seen such high traffic. Over a hundred copies of Rosalie's poetry had been ordered, and he knew more sales would piggyback upon collection of the book the next day and following week.

He and his staff had rearranged the store, set up additional lighting -- what was it with women and fairy lights? he wondered -- and help set up the stage. All through it, he had kept an eye out for Giaan, but she was nowhere in sight.

Oh, she was present. On the phone. Via email. With a message via an assistant or other lacky. He had heard more form her in the last eight hours than he had since agreeing to do this goddamn poetry slam whatchamacallits.

Why had he agreed to this again?

Hearing the satisfactory closing of the till, the high pitched scream of the coffee machine, the smell of books being flipped through, Phillip knew why he had agreed to this.

And then, with the cheery jingle of the store bell, there she was.

She's why, he told himself. Don't even pretend she isn't.

She was hidden behind a large bouquet of flowers and he could hear her talking into her phone. Busy, busy was the stunning Giaan Gallagher.

Over the flowers, he caught her eye. She continued to talk into her phone, place the arrangement down on the stage, broke eye-contact only to point to someone, then the buds. Then back to Phillip. He jerked his chin toward his office, started a slow walk backwards to its door.

"Yep, yep, got it. All over it," he heard her say as she approached him. "I've gotta go."

The moment the door was closed behind them, he had her pushed up against it, hands tangled in her fabulous fire of hair, mouth plundering. He pressed his body to hers, hard lines to smooth curves, and forced his tongue between her lips.

On a gasp of surprise, Giaan opened her mouth, granting him access. Her hands grasped his hips, pulling achy centres together. Phillip groaned into her mouth, rolled his hips so his zipper pressed against her core.

"Oh fuck," Giaan whispered, her neck tingling under Phillip's whiskers and lips. She tiled her pelvis forward to rub herself against him. "I've been wanting nothing but this for the last thirty hours, forty, I swear."

"Mmm... me, too," Phillip hummed, lips covering hers again. His hands moved down to cup the sides of her breasts even as hers fisted in his hair to change the angle of the kiss.

"We can't," she said against his lips, her words and body in conflict. "Not yet."

"One more minute," he breathed against her mouth, tongue tracing its shape, committing it to memory. "One more."

"Mmmkay," she murmured softly as the kiss became gentler. They explored each other with lazy confidence, hands and lips roaming. Giaan moved her palms down over his chest, back up to mould his shoulders then his neck.

Phillip slowly rocked his hips against hers, his dick hard in his briefs, the friction spreading through his core, making him clench his ass. He wished this event over already, wanted nothing more than to drape her body over the couch and do the things to her they had spoken of in the dark.

She lowered her forehead to his, breaking the kiss. "Minute's up," she whispered, thumbs tracing the shell of his ears.

"Once this show's over Giaan..." Phillip began, leaving their mutual desire unsaid when she looked up and seared him with her eyes.

"I know," she whispered. Then, in a bright tone, "Come on. Let's do this."

* * *

It had been a pleasure watching her work a room, Phillip pondered later, when the night's main event was over and only a handful people lingered over leftover wine and words.

Giaan had spoken to each student who competed -- sixteen in total -- gifting them a notebook and pen. She had praised the spoken word of amateur poets, thanked emerging writers for sharing their stories. She had laughed with Liam on stage, welcoming people to the event, looking magnificent in tight emerald green shirt tucked into the high waistband of black trousers.

And now, she laughed with some publishing executive, pushed her hair back only to have it curl gently over her shoulder before stacking the chairs. A not to subtle signal to the half dozen people that the night was over.

From across the room, her eyes met his, and she smiled.

Soon, her eyes seemed to say. Soon they would be gone and it will just be us.

Between breaking down the room to help the team coming in early tomorrow morning, Giaan shook hands and hugged the last people out the door.

"This was just so much more than I could ever have imagined, Giaan," Rosalie said over another farewell hug. "Thank you so much."

"I could be flippant and tell you it's my job, but I won't. This was awesome. You should be so proud of yourself."

"I am. But already nervous. Hard act to follow."

"Don't think about that now. Now, just take your sexy girl home, get drunk and fuck like minks the rest of the night."

Rosalie laughed, grasping her wife's hand. "Best idea all night."

Giaan followed them to the door, locking it closed at the jingled bells. And turned to see Phillip, pen in hand, tallying the night's takings. But then he looked up, pinned her under his tawny stare.

Quite deliberately, Giaan unbuttoned the first three buttons of her blouse, kicked off her heels and quietly made her way across the room to the bar. Phillip watched as she poured two glasses of whiskey, neat,

She sat opposite Phillip, pushed the glass toward him before lifting her own in a silent toast.

She swallowed, smiled, brow arched.

"So," Phillip said, rolling the glass between his hands, eyes roaming down to exposed cleavage, up again.

"So," Giaan echoed, hooking one arm over the back of the chair, thrusting her chest forward.

"Fuck it," Phillip muttered and knocked back the amber liquid. He pushed to his feet, chair falling back, and a breath before Giaan stood, grabbed her hands, pulling her into his body.

One hand grasped the back of her neck, the other at the base of her spine as he covered her mouth with his, hard and needy, giving her a glimpse of the pent-up frustration he'd been feeling the entire night.

"You have no fucking idea," he whispered into her mouth, "no fucking idea how good you looked working the room tonight."

Giaan groaned, hands fisting at the collar of his shirt, desperate to render the material away, to remove any barrier between them. "Not nearly as hot as watching you watch me," she breathed, moulding her curves to the lines of his body, licking his bottom lip. "Watching you want me."

Filling his hands with her hair, Phillip walked her backwards towards his office while tugged his shirt out of his waistband, unbuttoned it. Her groan vibrating against his teeth and tongue as her hands journeyed the planes of his chest.

He pressed her against the closed door, pinned her under his hips as he finished unbuttoning her blouse. Lowered his head to lap at the swell of her breasts.

"Yes," Giaan hissed, one hand fisting the hair atop his head, the other pushing the shirt from his shoulders. She arched her hips in welcome, in demand, desperate for him to sate this need he'd awoken inside her.

Phillip pulled down the cups of her bra, exposing her pale pink nipples. He sucked in a breath at her form before lowering his head to suckle at her tender teats. He drew her left nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue around her flesh, massaging with the rough padding of his tongue.

Giaan pulled his face back up to hers, moaning into his mouth as her hand fumbled behind her for the door handle.

"Here, let me," Phillip said, husky voiced, and pushed the door open behind her. The office was lit only by a shaft of soft light coming in from the open doorway. Her calves bumped into the barrel coffee table, so she hitched herself up, wrapping her long legs around his waist. Keeping the grip firm as he lowered her to the couch.

"Fuck, Phillip. I need you to fuck me so bad."

He cupped his hands under her bum, angling her so she could feel the shaft beneath his trousers. Her eyes opened wide in surprised desire.

"Oh, I will. Don't you worry."

"Shit," she said, arching her hips up to grind against his length. "You've been packing all night? That is so fucking hot."

With quick and nimble fingers, Giaan unbuckled his belt and snapped open his pants, freeing he flesh coloured phallus from its restraints.

"How does..." she started, instinctively stroking, pushing back against Phillip's sex.

"It's strapless," he groaned, covering her mouth with his, the heat of their breath making his head spin. Giaan's ministrations on the toy caused his sex to clench around the bulbous end, while the base of the toy rubbed against his aching dick.

"Fuck, you're going to unman me, Giaan," Phillip whispered against her mouth.

"Not a chance," she said, pushing his trousers down over his hips.

The small couch couldn't accommodate their height, so reluctantly, Phillip stood, pulled his pants off completely, eyes locked on Giaan, breasts spilling out over her bra, shirt open, pants still on.

"You need to get naked. I need to see you," Phillip whispered, grasping the cock and stroking it as he watched her.

Giaan bit her bottom lip, loving how he pleasured himself as he looked at her. She arched her hips and pushed her pants down her thighs, revealing that she hadn't been wearing any underwear.

"You're not the only one with secrets," she murmured as she kicked her foot free, leaving her legs splayed wide and tracing a fingertip around her glistening lips. She parted her labia, Phillip's eyes finding the jewel glinting in the soft light.

"Clearly," he chuckled, leaning over to kiss her again, hand roaming down, fingertips playing over her piercing, loving how she gasped at his touch.

"You like that?" he whispered into her mouth, middle and index fingers twitching on either side of the small bar.

"Uh huh," she shuddered, breath shakey as the pleasure inside her started to build. "So good."

He continued to work her sex, his other hand fisted in her hair to keep her mouth open and avid beneath his. In response, Giaan grunted in pleasure, whispered "yeah, right there, right there", and squeezed his hips, torso, shoulders, anything to convey the feeling between her thighs.