Our Entertainment. The dining room buzzes with chatter and the clink of wine glasses as you step inside. Your eyes snag on it immediately... your seat. It’s parked at the head of the table, a sleek, sturdy thing with a matte black finish, and jutting up from the chair is a thick, glossy dildo, shameless and impossible to ignore. My friends are already here, interspersed around the table, half drunk and grinning, their curiosity pinging between me and that obscene piece of furniture.
"What’s with the setup?" one of them asks, jerking his chin toward the chair. His smirk says he’s already got a guess.
I don’t dodge it. "It’s for her," I say, locking eyes with you. "Keeps her cunt busy while we drink. She’s the night’s entertainment."
Their laughter ripples through the room, and you feel the heat crawl up your neck. You’re still standing there, frozen for a second, but I nod towards it. "Go on. Sit."
You hesitate, but the pull’s too strong — my voice, their stares, the promise of what's waiting for you. You ease yourself down, and the dildo slides in slow, stretching you open with a dull, insistent pressure. A ragged little sound slips out of you, and someone across the table snickers. I work quickly, looping rope around your wrists and ankles, tethering you to the chair’s frame. Your arms flex, testing the give, but there’s none. Your legs are splayed, locked wide, and that dildo’s buried deep now, pinning you in place.
"Can’t have you pawing at yourself," I say, loud enough for everyone to hear. “That'd ruin the fun.”
I step back, letting them see you. All of you. Your thighs twitch, muscles jumping under your skin as you adjust to the fullness. I dip my fingers between your legs, brushing the edge of where the dildo’s sunk into you, and pull them back glistening. "Look at that," I say, holding up the evidence. "Soaked already!"
They lean in, eyes glinting, and the questions start flying at you. "Does it feel good?" one asks, teasing. "You like being stuck like that?" Another chimes in, as if he's just discussing the weather.
You try to answer, but your words come out fragmented, sliced up by the shudders rolling through you. "It’s... mmphhh... it’s a lot," you manage, and then your breath gets caught as the first orgasm slams into you, yet another uninvited guest. Your head tips back, lips parting, and a moan spills out, raw and loud. The table erupts with laughter, a few claps, someone muttering, "Wow, that fast?"
I don’t let you settle. I circle behind you, resting my hands on your shoulders, and nod at the man closest. "Go ahead. Touch her." He doesn’t need telling twice. His fingers graze your chest, finding a nipple and tugging hard. You yelp, a high, desperate sound, and your body jerks against the ropes. Another hand joins in — someone’s pressing two fingers into your mouth, sliding them along your tongue. You choke a little, drool pooling at the corners, and they laugh at you, delighted.
"She’s a mess," they say, impressed. "You trained her well."
"She’s a good fuck doll," I agree, casual as anything. "Watch this." I remove their fingers, grip your jaw, tilting your head back, and shove my cock into your mouth. You whimper; eyes glassy. "See? She’ll take whatever you give her."
You’re fighting the restraints now, hips shifting, chasing friction that isn’t there. The initial entrance pushed you to orgasm, but now that you’ve settled in, it’s not enough. The dildo is filling you up but not moving, not giving you what you need. It’s maddening, and I can tell. I see your breath turn shallow, the way your fingers curl into fists. I love it. They love it. The whole room is feeding off your desperation.
Another hand snakes out, latching onto one of your nipples, pinching it tight and rolling it slow between their fingertips. Your moan comes out choked, garbled around my thick cock shoved deep in your mouth. "She’s loud," one says, grinning at me. "Is that the only way you can shut her up?"
"Pretty much," I say back, voice flat and smug. "Only keeps quiet when I’ve got her throat stuffed" That earns a burst of rowdy yells, glasses clinking in approval. "Don’t be shy now, I’m the only one that can fuck her, but you all can touch!"
And just like that, they swarm you. Hands everywhere, a frenzy of grabbing, stroking, yanking at your skin. Fingers are digging into your thighs, palms smacking your chest, someone raking nails down your side. It’s a flood of sensation, too much to track, hitting you like a shockwave that leaves you squirming, ropes creaking as you strain against them.
You’re trembling now, sweat beading on your forehead, and I can see the strain in your arms as you pull against the ropes. Another orgasm is building. Your thighs clenching, the little gasps you can’t hold back. Even more of the tells that I've learned to track. "Go on," I mutter. "Show them how greedy you are." It hits you hard, your whole body locking up as you cum again, a strangled cry breaking free. The table’s a chaos of noise. More cheers, filthy comments, a fist on the table. You’re panting, chest heaving, and I slide a hand down between your legs, stopping just short of where you want it. "Good girl," I say, voice carrying over the racket. "Keeping us entertained."
does anyone want to play 'first faggot to moan loses' where we both get stupid high and wrestle while fully clothed until one of us gets a hand down the other's pants
gangbangs are usually depicted as this very rough thing, a handful of people just selfishly using whoever is at the center, passing them around, taking their pleasure without much care. and that’s fucking hot.
but, consider: romantic gangbang. being deeply in love with the four people fucking you. we’re all here for your pleasure, for your emotional satisfaction as well as physical. showering you with love and adoration and affection and praise as we worship every inch of you. us working together to maximize your pleasure, cooperating with the goal of getting you so utterly lost in it you feel like you are just floating on a cloud.
you just lie back and close your eyes, having no idea whose fingers or tongue or cock is in you at any given time. you don’t know who is currently sucking and biting your nipples, or who is kissing your neck and pushing their fingers into your mouth, or who is taking a fistful of your hair and turning you toward them to plant a kiss on your head. you don’t bother to figure out whose cock is thrusting into you with vigor, or whose tongue presses against your clit shortly after they pull out. you just know you are in a room with 4 people who would do anything for you.
you don’t have to worry about whether we are enjoying it. it’s impossible for us not to, with you at the center. it’s impossible to not be pleasured by your body, so very beautiful and delightful and delicious as it is. we do use you for our pleasure, but only in the way we know you like, and we do it so sweetly and caringly, because we all love you so very much.
being a trans guy is awesome like don’t you wanna feel your dick pulsing between your legs ? Don’t you wanna rub your dick up against something, slide your hand down your hairy stomach and touch your very own cock ? Why would you wanna deny yourself the pleasure of getting your dick sucked and watching porn with your bros until you’re both so horny one of your ends up getting folded on the couch and creampied ? Be a faggot for gods sake, do us all a favor and be the man you’re meant to become.
I wanna turn another trans guy into my own personal slut. Show him how good it can feel to let me be in control of his pussy. I’ll constantly distract him. Slide my hand into his pants in public and wait for his dick to get hard. “You like that faggot, want me to use your pussy right here in front of everyone don’t you ?” And when he starts getting off on it I’ll rip my hand back and grip his face until he licks it clean. I’d stand behind him and bend him, pull down his pants and tell him it’s just to check on his hole. Slip my fingers inside and fuck him on my fingers until he’s a whining mess. Have him send me pictures in his underwear when he’s supposed to be working and making him fill his hole to make sure he can take me later.
What if we were just hanging around and sat there with my hand far too high on your thigh and pretending not to notice the way your breath hitches and you subtly spread your legs wider for me. Pretending not to realize how far my hand went and how im lightly stroking your bulge. Pretending to not notice the way your hips are moving to chase my touch until you whine please
During/after my Adderall crash recovery nap is my most vulnerable, it's like I'm already half way to sub space. Easy mode! Just overstimulate me and then tell me I'm a good boy and I will be drooling and maybe crying
if you wanna get fucked so bad youre gonna have to work for it baby. sit on me yourself and ride me like you mean it . you wanna cum ? fuck yourself faster for me ,, i wanna hear you beg
being a trans guy is awesome like don’t you wanna feel your dick pulsing between your legs ? Don’t you wanna rub your dick up against something, slide your hand down your hairy stomach and touch your very own cock ? Why would you wanna deny yourself the pleasure of getting your dick sucked and watching porn with your bros until you’re both so horny one of your ends up getting folded on the couch and creampied ? Be a faggot for gods sake, do us all a favor and be the man you’re meant to become.
Gently touching his dick while he's sleeping next to me, and when he wakes up, calling him a messy little slut, asking him what perverted things he was dreaming about that got him so wet.
T4t cruising and play party of my dreams last night. Got to get on my knees and give a trans femme head. She gets me on a swing and fills me up with her cock. It's so easy and natural.
Later that night I spot an older butch trans guy with a a buzz cut. I'm giving him lots of eye contact and he approaches saying he's shy. We start making out and talking about how we want fuck. I leave a trail of bites on his stomach and bring him to the same swing I got fucked on to start fingering him and strapping him down. We get to do some cuddling and talking and I got his number.
“Fighting that leads to sex” this “fighting then making out” that
Fighting that leads nowhere. Fighting fully clothed, then dragging our tired asses out for a strong drink and some trash diner food. Not talking much. Maybe one of us breaks the silence and says ‘man, I kinda liked that’, and then the other says ‘shut up, jackass’
Having the terrible realization that transition perhaps has led me to be more like my father more closed off, unemotional, impatient and always trying to be the most rational. I've had my second or maybe third relationship end because of my emotional unavailability. Gotta figure out how to feel on T.. it feels so right to be on T but emotional experience is so stunted when I'm T.
You’ll only know how things feel when you try them. Put on that heavy leather jacket of your parent; pair with dark-washed jeans and a pair of boots that are older than you; maybe that musky, woody scent. Who cares if it's bigger than your body? If your pants are too loose? If your shoes are too tight? Allow yourself to test the waters. Allow yourself to be a guy. To act like a guy. To smell like a guy. To be around other guys.
But most importantly, allow yourself to enjoy: take that faggot you've always wanted but feared rejection from, and talk to him. Fuck him hard. Leave your mark on him: hickeys, bites, slap marks. Pull his hair so hard that strands of it collect in your palms. Make him moan for you. Not for anyone else. Stop waiting for someone to pick you up and have you instead, when you can have this slut all to yourself; fight the first bastard in an establishment who dares to raise his voice in the slightest to you — overpower him, hit him back, show him that your bite is as strong as his, if not stronger. You don't have to live in his shadow when you can make him live in yours; Get a hobby, whether it involves physical contact or not. Work to be the best at what you love most. And you know why? Because you can be anything you want to be, man. Can't you see that you've already come halfway? Can't you see how much you can still improve in yourself?
Be proud to be a guy. Live to be a guy. That's your time.
Where they say: “You’re a freak”, I say: “That’s a fucking art.”
