This is what I was tryna say but I'm sleepy, stupid, and in sloppy cunt mode so couldn't find the words.
Like, I feel like people should just assume if a girl is talking about doing anything to make a woman she likes happy, we should assume the woman's trans bc why else would she be acting so love-sick & pathetic.
the pairbonding between trans women goes crazy, i meet another doll and we understand each other on such a fundamental level that cis women struggle to even fathom
and when its the right girl? oh id spend this life hand in hand gladly; id rip out my teeth and give them to her on a bracelet.
Hi girlies! This is a sequel to my first story to really take off! Thank you so much for the comments and attention it received! I’ll update this with a link as soon as I figure out how to!
Your best friend’s dirtbag older sister looks very nice dressed up for your date. A very flattering purple button down paired with black slacks made for a casual look that still made your heart beat faster. She let you choose the date on the condition she could pick the place. You chose dinner, she picked this place. Soft lighting washes over the dark wooden floors of the rustic interior. Your waitress is cute, too. Not that you have eyes for anyone else but her.
The way she chats, the way she touches your hand lightly between bites. Her eyes shine joyfully, the way they did when you were little and she ran around with a water gun in the house. You’re not sure if you’re imagining the rising tension as the night drags on, or if she’s intentionally trying to get you riled up. It can’t be. That would be presumptuous. But her smile hides something not entirely wholesome, and her lingering looks back up your assumption. She gets the bill. You told her she didn’t have to and you’d be happy to split, but silence is all you can find when she presses her hand to your arm digging in your purse and just says
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let me.”
The ride back to her place is short and magical. You’re certain Nancy won’t interrupt you this time, you’d pushed her to go on a date with the cute guy from the local coffee shop tonight. “Just as well” She said, “apparently my sis is bringing over a girl and I do NOT wanna be here when that happens”
Sorry, girl. You’ll tell her. Just maybe not tonight.
She opens the door for you and takes your coat, hanging it on the unused hook by the door. You follow her upstairs, heart pounding out of your chest with every step. As you reach the first landing, she turns suddenly, tilting your chin up with one hand,
“Hey, listen. I didn’t want to break the mood, but I have to say something or I’ll feel bad. I know I said we’d pick up where we left off, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If you want, we can just watch Netflix and cuddle.”
It’s…adorable. Her face is radiating with concern, but you can see the hunger in her eyes she tried to conceal at dinner. She wants you. That fact alone has been carrying you through classes and work. You smile, leaning up and kissing her. It feels good to be the one to initiate this time. Warmth spreads from your chest as your lips melt into each other. When you pull back, you tell her plain and simple. You want her. You want all of her tonight.
She whisks you off with renewed vigor, pulling you up the stairs in a giggling pair before shutting the door to her room behind her. With a small click, the lights come on.
“I’m sorry it’s not as pretty as the sunset was. But you’re just as radiant now as then.” Your lips find hers again, pulling her close, desperately close. Her body presses to yours and you’re certain this is right. Years of pining, of yearning all crash together as she guides you back to her bed. Where it all began. No weed to muddy your feelings this time. As she gently lays you down upon the unmade sheets, you feel all the doubts wash away. Gone with the pesky thoughts about it only being because of the weed. What fills this room now is passionate and raw and clear. She begins to unbutton her shirt as she did before, tossing it aside before gesturing for you to do the same. While you follow her orders, she ditches the bra. You’ve seen them twice now. That doesn’t change how beautiful they are.
“Go ahead, kiddo.” There it was again. The teasing voice melting your already thin walls down to paste, “get your hands busy. I’m sure you’ve been thinking about them.” She sways gently, knowing damn well your eyes are locked firmly on her chest, “Perv.”
You whine softly, groping her voluptuous breasts. Fuck. They’re soft. They’re wonderful. They feel perfect in your hands. So focused on them, you almost don’t notice her fingers hooking in your waistband.
“Lift.” There’s no thought given to it, your hips rise from the bed on command, giving her purchase to bare you further to her gaze, “Aw, how cute! I love this lingerie, kiddo. Did you wear it just for little old me?” You nod, heat rising to your cheeks as she takes you in hungrily, “awww, that’s so cute! I really like it, but…” her voice drops to a whisper as she leans towards your face, “I think they’d look better on my floor. Wear them again for me sometime.” It’s not a request. It’s not a question. It’s an order. You can feel your will slipping into her grasp but by bit. Your lips meet again this time accompanied by her tongue tentatively probing. You part your lips to let her in and can’t stop the whimper that comes when she suddenly dominates your connection. Before you can fully process the feeling of her tongue invading your mouth—it’s hot and wet and oh god she’s so good at it!—she’s in clasping your bra and tossing it aside. When she frees you from her oral onslaught, you look up at her through hazy eyes. That cocky grin. Her hands find your tits, fondling, groping, pinching, squeezing. Every action makes you squirm, buck, whine, groan.
It’s when her knee slides up between your thighs that you realize you’re not the only one who’s been waiting for this night. The fire in her eyes has intensified. She lifts your chin (why does she know how well that works on you??) Her voice wavers almost imperceptibly, restraining something.
“I’m going to take charge, okay baby? If you ever need a pause, a break, tap out. Take your hand, slap my arm or wherever you can reach, please not the face, and we’ll stop and regroup. Or if you need, stop entirely.”
You can’t help the giggle that rises from your horny haze. You assure her you can take it. Your low whisper draws her closer, a single provoking phrase in her ear.
Fuck me, please.
You can almost hear the snap as she groans that delightful growl in your ear, knee pressing into your cunt as she commands simply, “Grind.” You only needed permission. Within seconds, the room fills with your whimpers as your hips rock back and forth over her thigh. Her hands resume the attack on your breasts as her lips graze your neck, “I’m going to mark you.” You nod fervently, barely able to utter your pleas as she latches on. Your hips move double time, desperate as your release builds until she pulls away. You can’t stop the whine that she draws from your mouth. She laughs, that teasing tone returning,
“Calm down, kiddo, I’ll get you off, don’t worry. But not on my thigh. Not tonight. I’d love to watch you cum yourself stupid grinding on me, but tonight I need your pussy. Lift.” You raise your hips again as she pulls your panties off. She bites her lip, moaning at the sight of your dripping cunt, “Fuck. You’re so beautiful. So pretty. And all…mine.” She drags a finger up your lips, her touch electric, tensing your body before it passes. A few passes over your quivering entrance later, she grins at you,
“I bet you wanted this, kiddo. All those times hanging out here, all the slumber parties. Dreaming of my fingers between your legs, maybe something more…robust? We can work up to that. Right now, I need to feel you. Look at me, baby, I need you to watch as I finger you.”
When her finger slips in, it’s almost too easy. Joy shoots up your spine. You’d close your legs if you could, if not for her weight keeping one pinned to the bed. The expletives start to roll from your tongue as she works the digit in and out, slow, controlled strokes. By the time she adds another, you’re already lost in her rhythm. Her free hand on your breasts, her mouth on your nipples, licking, biting, sucking. It’s quite frankly, too much. But god, you don’t want her to stop.
You feel it coming a mile away, building fast and tumultuous in your core. You reach for her, tap her arm, whine out as best you can. You’re going to cum.
“Do it. Cum for me, kiddo.” Her voice is all it takes to shove you over the edge. She holds you through it, cooing softly as you ride out the most intense orgasm of your life. She withdraws her fingers and chuckles, “good girl.” Through lidded eyes, you watch her languidly lick her fingers clean before rolling over in bed. She pulls you close effortlessly, holding you tight to her chest, “hey. Was that okay? You look absolutely exhausted.” You nod and affirm, “let’s just cuddle for a bit while you come back to planet Earth. Once you’re cognizant, I’ll break that little brain of yours all over again.” You whimper and whine into her bosom. You can’t stop the next words that come out of your mouth. You’re not sure you would even if you could. Three words. They’ve probably been true for a while, but now you say them.
Your best friend’s dirtbag older sister. Smokes too much weed, talks too loud, always crass and rude. You were in love with her. Her parents called it rebellion. She called it freedom. Called you “kiddo.” Primarily because you scrunched up your face and yelled when she first said it. Secondarily because you stopped being upset about it at some point.
Your first kiss is on her bed. The sun sets through the big window, painting her skin beautiful shades. You’d agreed to smoke some weed with her. Asked, really. Life was stressful and even if you couldn’t break the bars of your cage as easily as she seemed, a single night of caring less would help. She talks you through what she does, every twist of the grinder shearing away the roughness in her voice. You don’t even realize you’ve drifted closer by the time she lights the joint.
You can’t stop her once her hand is on your neck. Her lips crash into yours, a sudden surprise followed by stinging smoke. She laughs wickedly as you cough your brains out, offering you water and rubbing your back apologetically.
You should’ve known it wasn’t mutual. You’re so busy cursing yourself for getting excited, you don’t notice the genuine concern budding on her face even after your spree ends.
“Hey, kiddo, I’m sorry. I thought…I dunno, I thought it’d be funny to shotgun your first hit. You’re always staring at my lips so…I thought, ah, fuck, Nevermind.” Her hand cups your face so delicately. Big soft hands, pulling your gaze from the sheets to her eyes. Your face heats up. Thank god you can blame it on the weed, “hey, talk to me. You okay? We can totally bail and pretend this never happened.”
But that’s not what you want. You want it to have happened, you wanted to kiss her. Maybe you even thought you’d get a chance today. It’s mortifying and embarrassing for her to have done it as a joke. You can’t SAY that, she already apologized.
“Oh, no, you’re not ‘fine’. You’re trying to burn a hole in the floor with your eyes, supergirl. You think you can lie to me? Who has been covering for your asses for years, huh? I know your signs. Neither you or Nance are any good at lying. Tell me.”
It hurts. She’s right. You croak out the truth through a burning throat.
“You…didn’t want it to be a joke? What do you…oh. Oh, honey. Hey, kiddo, look at me.” Her hand corrects your line of sight again, “are you saying…you wanted to kiss me?” You’ve never heard her sound this soft before, this tender. It’s…nice. Like floating your head in the bath. Or maybe that’s the weed, “All you ever had to do was ask. I wasn’t gonna make a move on my lil sis’ bestie. Can you imagine how mad she’d be? Fuck…she’ll be mad at me for this, too.” It’s not a crash this time. A gentle, soft, intentional kiss. Drawn out, not interrupted by the acrid sting of smoke. As she pulls away, you follow, desperate for more, “Is this okay?” You nod. Everything outside the room fades away. Your shame, your embarrassment, your fear. They all melt away as she pulls you into her arms. Her hands begin to roam over your clothes, and you’re too far gone to wish you’d bothered matching this morning.
A jolt at her fingers find your nipple, drawing out a precious moan you didn’t mean to make.
“There ya go, make pretty noises like that for me, kiddo.” How are you supposed to resist that voice? The edge completely gone, the boisterous butch who cussed out men for being creepy to you currently has one hand up your shirt while the other traces patterns over your skin. Everything is warm, “Hey, kiddo.” She snaps her fingers. Brought back by the sound, you look up, “two things. One: I’m down to do this, but you have to promise me you’ll tell me to stop if it goes too far. I like you and I don’t wanna run you off. Two: do you want another hit?” You shake your head. Nothing to interfere. You want to be as present as possible for this, “Okay, more for me then.” She leans away, ember glowing briefly before she quashes it into the ashtray on her nightstand, dropping her voice as she returns to your ear,
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this. You’ve always been so cute, so shy around me. It got me soaked to picture you struggling underneath me. But it seems like you won’t be struggling very much, will you?” You struggle to answer, caught between flustered and embarrassed. With a nod, you prompt her to continue, “Look, I kept it real quiet cuz i didn’t know if you even liked girls, let alone someone like me. I liked watching you get flustered when I teased you.” Memories waft up amid the sunbeams, many times she’d enter a room where you were hanging out with Nancy, always with a crass phrase like “you twerps rubbing pussies in here or what?” And while you never were, the thought hasn’t failed to cross your mind. Suddenly, your face gets hot at the realization that it was both antagonistic and exploratory. Did she want to…?
Her lips capture yours again before you can chase that thought. You melt into her touch before she lowers you to the mattress. You gaze up through half-lidded eyes as she unbuttons her shirt. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before—you’d heard the phrase “put a fucking shirt on” from everyone in the house but her at least once—but the sight makes your breath catch in your throat all the same. Radiant. That’s a good word. She just laughs and gestures, “Cmon, I’ll lead, you follow.”
You remove your top as well, a step behind her as she flings her bra aside. Any attempt to follow that is futile. Your eyes are locked on her gorgeous breasts. She doesn’t fail to notice and laughs that sweet laugh you’ve heard so much. The teasing one, the “I win” laugh. She gently guides your hands up until they rest on her bosom, “Go ahead, kiddo, feel me up. You’ve been wanting to, right?” You nod, too embarrassed to admit such a thing out loud, “Kind of a pervert move, babe, wanting to grope your best friend’s sister? God, she’d be so grossed out if you told her. Not that you’re going to, right? It can be our little secret for today.” You nod again, squeezing her breasts in your hands. They’re amazing. Round, full, soft, heavy in your hands. Really, you’re a little envious, “you having fun? Can I do yours next?” You mutter a soft plea, “what was that, kiddo? I didn’t get that.”
A single word that set everything for the night into motion, “Please.”
“Lift up.” Something in her voice shifts, hungrier than before. You comply before her arms dart around your chest, unhooking your bra and tossing it aside in a maneuver you would later recognize as extremely practiced, “Good girl. Keep your hands on my tits.” Meanwhile, hers grasp for your own, sending ripples of pleasure across your frame. Her rough thumbs graze your nipples as she massages your breasts, intense and deliberate. You lock eyes with her after yours come back from rolling into your head, and there’s a spark there you didn’t see moments prior. Something…feral. Lustful. The tension builds, upwards and upwards, until the sound of the front door slamming jars you both from the horny fog settled in the room.
“Hey, Sis? My friend is coming over so make sure you’ve got a shirt on, okay?” Nancy called through the house. Fuck. You forgot to reply to her with when you were coming over. Not only were you already here, but neither of you had a shirt on.
“She’s already here, I was just keeping her company!” She yells back, dismounting your hips to retrieve discarded clothes. Her voice falls to a whisper as she returns with your bra, “hey, I meant what I said. If you’re interested, we could pick this up another time? Maybe…get some coffee, or a lunch first?”
