I hope nobody remembers this but yeah noway I'm finishing that thing. Post went in a direction I just could not really enjoy and I couldn't ever get a clear direction of what I even wanted to do with the theme in the way I had set it up. It'll remain unfinished but just to get it out of my drafts I'll paste it below and whoever wants to can read, but like... it's too nice for my tastes. Not flavorful in the least......
Trans girl who unintentionally wakes you up on summer mornings by shuffling in under the blankets and sniffing your crotch, too entranced to understand you've even woken up. Not as if you're ticklish, but still. You could've used another hour of sleep, maybe two. Groaning, you run your hand through bits of her hair. She barely budges. In fact, knowing you're awake only made her gutsier. Suddenly she's panting louder, pressing her nose up to your clit, merely breathing as much as she has has made your panties stick to your crotch far slicker. You see what is presumably her hips lifting up and down underneath the blanket. A real slow, dazed rhythm. Seems as though she really did hold back to prevent you from waking up. To no avail though, you're already wide awake.
Unveiling her, you pull the blanket off and discover what a mess she really is. Her face is glistening and the look in her eyes tells you she's someplace else. Still, she looks up at you. So needy. "Morning, sunshine" you mutter. She whines in response. Caressing her chin, you feel she's almost purring. "Get up here, gorgeous." This she seems to understand. As if in a hurry, she shuffles to lay on top of you, head resting on your boob, still with that pleading look in her eyes. She doesn't seem to be aware of it, but her hips are still grinding, only against your thigh now. The wet sensation of her precum doesn't get past you, either. Not that the sensation of wetness is alien to your situation anyway. Feels like it's sweltering out, and with her on top of you, it's not any better. Though you couldn't care enough, just look at her. So pretty, so cute, so hopelessly desperate. As if you'd miss out.
You lift your arm and rest it behind your head. "Eat up", you urge her, smirking as the look in her eyes already deepens. The armpit hair she's locked eyes with has curled, unlike its usual fluffy, dry state. Traces of sweat beads are visible still, along the creases of your armpit. She barely has time to think before instinctively diving in, excitedly lapping up every drop. You can barely see her, as deeply as she's pressed her face in there, but it's not difficult to tell that her eyes are rolled all the way back. Her hips turning more desperate, needier.
You have to wonder, how long has she been going at this to have abandoned her dignity this badly? For how long has she possibly huffed musk underneath those blankets which are too thick for the season to become this braindead? Skull's gotta be empty at this point. In reality, you know she's a real sweet girl. She's a producer, you know. Real hard worker. Stands in her closet with her yeti mic more often than she grabs clothes from it and slouches over her keyboard staring at fl studio til she can't stop complaining about her back, about her shoulders. Called you over real late last night for a massage. You must've done a good job, cause look at her now. Leaning in to you like that, she must really feel relaxed. Back arched and a melted expression, looking like she can barely keep her eyes open, but with how far up she's looking you might as well wonder if she's trying to show off her bloodshot whites. She has really got to blink more often.
Despite both arms being above your head, giving your armpits plenty of air, you sense an uncomfortable sensation from the one not currently tended to. A drop running down your ribcage. In an impulsive outburst you quickly run your fingers through the back of her hair and grab it, dragging her face along the drip. There, relief. While she's still there though, may as well clean up further. To the sound of her muffled moans you scrub
