Hi my name is Crow, and I'm 21, this is my curated kink blog, welcome! I'm a huge butch bidyke ftm so I'm very gay and transgender. <3
@daddynb is my dom and partner :3
i love all trans people and women big t4t moments in here <3. I'm here to have fun and express myself through kink! I tag some stuff for me but not everything, just ask me to tag something if its bothersome <3
This is a strictly nsfw kink blog so if you're not a fan, just sob or block, but don't report <3
Dni if:
You are a radfem, cis het man, a minor, no age listed, blank blog, RAPE PLAY, OR USE THE WORD RAPE IN TAGS ED blog, detrans fetishist, race play, foot fetishist, pedo, ddlg, ddlb, age play, abdl, into scat play, a Republican or a nationalist or generally patriotic, homophobic, transphobic, ableist, racist, fatphobic, anti sex work, anti porn, anti kink at pride, just an icky person, a creep or a sugar parent of any gender, fake doms, basically if you don't prioritize consent and like to push past others boundaries that are very clearly stated dni. the list may go on at my discretion.
Interact if!
You are a lesbian, furry dyke, queer woman, sapphic nblw, nblnb, queer dudes, trans, q4q, t4t, butch4butch, butch4fem, fem4fem, kinky, likes my blog, is a mutual, wants to makeout with me <3 (I legitimately don't care what labels you use if you're a gay freak who likes weird sex stuff by all means) We support trans women on this blog <3
Kinks!
This is the fun part where I blab all about my weird and twisted mind in the realm of bdsm and sexual divergence.<3
I'm a sub leaning switch
Starting off softcore: puppy play, pit enthusiast, body hair love, leather care, lace, fishnets, furries, ballerina/dolls and dollmaking, praise, gentle vanilla sex, cockwarming, genital worship, body worship, giving orgasms, before care during care and aftercare, and lol that's it for softcore <3
Hardcore kinks: force masc, degradation giving and receiving, monsterfucker, bratting and brat taming, breeding, knife play, light blood play, sadomasochism mostly masochism, choking, biting/oral fixation, hypno, dumbification, rope, sensation play, wax play, edging/orgasm control, overstim, titles ie mommy/ daddy sir/m'am, leather, corsets, getting stepped on with big boots, boot licking, subby most of the time, in dom mode I'm sir/wolf. threesomes/ orgies, cuck play, voyeurism and exhibitionism, light cnc with many stipulations.
I'm just chill to get head pats be told I'm a good boy or a slut and get fucked like the sensitive crybaby bitch i am.
Limits
So my perspective on limits is that soft limits can either become hard limits or kinks as things change and hard limits are just nope never no thanks.
Soft limits (as a dom): med play piss/omo, being the cg in cg/l
Soft limits as a sub/bottom: manhandling (triggering)
Hard limits: rough anal, cutting, age play ie being the little, my feet, human toilet. And rape play very hard no. Breath play and somno.
(cw: sexual language, fully clothed, character is somewhat nonverbal, physical contact, limited skin-to-skin touching, sex toys, mild dominance with commands. a character implies a nonspecific past history of being SA)
L has forgotten how to talk about sex, or how to even enjoy it. Mac, ever the expert, is eager to try with her sweet butch.
When Mac told me she was stone too, I was a bit devastated. I really thought that was the end of it, I wasn’t sure what we could get up to. Of course, she’s always been the adventurous one.
We’d both been exclusively the top in our respective sex lives until then, and even though she made me crazy just seeing her, I could never tell quite what that pit in my stomach was pushing me to do. I’d never had an urge to bottom the way I’d seen it done, after a lifetime of watching how my other partners would go about it. I couldn’t picture myself so bare, making those type noises, letting anybody touch me so directly. It was pretty much off the table. Obviously, though, there were some little things on the outskirts of my awareness. Out for drinks when Mac and I were ‘buddies’ and she’d pull me around by the bicep, and I couldn’t just blame the flush on the liquor. Well, I knew there was more to it all, somewhere tangled in with those firm boundaries and others’ expectations too deeply to examine. It seemed so rigid- to be Stone or not. What did it even mean to me, particularly? I couldn’t unpack it after everything that had happened, so I never tried to.
But I didn’t want it to end with her, just as much as I didn’t want to fold to my own pressures anymore. So I said to Mac, one night after making dinner at my place, that I wanted to talk. We sat farther apart than normal, I was trying to stick to my guns, because I knew if she had her hands out anywhere I could see them I’d chicken out. Really, I can’t remember too well what I told her, it all kind of tumbled out of me. I remember how she softened in reassurance, though.
“L, you know we… you know there’s no wrong way to fuck, right?”
That threw me for one. I mean, literally I was aware of that- being a lesbian, you’re already fucking ‘wrong’ even if you’re with a femme, so at some point you accept it. But being stone is even worse. When it’s two stone butches, it’s not even something you could find most places if you went out looking for it. What does it even mean, two tomboys who don’t like to be touched, where do you start? So, yeah, I knew she was right, but I’d never really believed it, I think. She watches me have this revelation for a moment before interjecting.
“What do you actually like? I mean, what parts of sex feel good? Why do you do it?”
It takes me too long to think of something to respond with, and she gets more concerned.
“We don’t have to, L. If you don’t like.”
I stammer. “I-I do! I like parts of it. I like some parts.”
I’m staring at the floor, working up the courage to say exactly which parts those were. I think she realizes Im getting ashamed of myself, so she stands up to do some tidying and give me a break from scrutiny. Mac’s been ‘around’ a lot more than me, and in a lot more intense scenes. Part of that is the leather and the chains and the fucking, but part of it is knowing how to talk about this stuff before you do it. I’m grateful one of us knows how. The faucet squeaks on.
“You can keep going, I’m listening.”
The sink faced away from where we had been sitting, so I can see her and she can’t see me. It gives me a nice view of her hands, moving confidently from task to task, slick with soap. She’s in a pair of jeans from her work that set pretty low with her leather belt. The legs of them are stiff with starch, but her ass fills out the seat without leaving anything to the imagination. I suspect when she makes a house call to some sweetheart dyke with a wiring issue, it must be a nice surprise. This time. It’s not a surprise- it’s an intentional view, for me, and I like that it’s on purpose. All of the wanting in the room obliterates my fear.
“I like it when I keep my clothes on. When both of us do. Not just for comfort reasons. I like the clothes.”
Mac shifts her weight, purposefully showing off a little more.
“You like a dyke in a uniform.”
She’s lucky she wasn’t facing me, I just turned the reddest I’ve ever been. I go on, stammering still.
“I don’t like being touched uh, below the belt. In the genital area. God, that sounds gross. And uhm, I don’t like swearing. Or even just aggressive or loud talking. Anything angry. I do like feeling your packer, even if you don’t want me to touch it. Just against me when we’re close. I like that, the touching with bodies, but not grabbing. Chest-to-back. You know already, that handsy stuff.”
“No hands?” I look at her soapy hands and forearms getting to work on a stuck on spot, firm and slick, and, yeah, like I said, she has me rethinking.
“W-well- it’s just- certain kinds of touch.”
“Okay. Say more.”
“Like um, I don’t like sudden yanking or grabbing, or tracing around with your fingers… anything too delicate or too rough… I don’t like that. I do like seeing your hands. I like that a LOT. I just prefer they stay put if you’re touching my body. And that they stay where I can see them. It makes me feel anxious otherwise.”
She places a plate on the drying rack. “Understood. Anything else?”
“Um… not that I can think of.”
“Okay. This is an open list, then. Add to it when you need.”
I nod, before realizing she can’t see. “Okay.”
She finishes up the last dish she was working on, considering something before asking again.
“One more thing. You didn’t mention- do you like to cum?”
I’m staring at the floor again.
“Ah… yeah.”
She turns on her heel, leaning back against the countertop and wiping her hands on her pants pockets. “Just checking. A lotta of stones don’t. And I thought maybe…Do you not normally, when you’re having sex with other people?”
Always on the money. “Is it that obvious?”
Mac walks over, carding her damp hand through my grown-in buzzcut, how she had been doing since even before we were together. She keeps her hand still once it sets there this time, and I’m silently grateful not to feel the awful crawling feeling I normally get. I let out a tense exhale I wasn’t aware of holding in.
She smiles apologetically. “Yeahhh, a little. It’s a shame you feel like you can’t ask. I mean, I’ve met stone butches who get off topping, and a lot who find it unpleasant. All of them still like sex within their boundaries. Easy to see why your heart’s not in it if your partners don’t care.”
“It’s not that they don’t care, usually. I stopped bringing it up. It’s unreasonable to expect that of them.”
“Unreasonable?” She can’t stifle her reaction to that one. “Baby. I get difficult, but how is it unreasonable to expect your partner to make an attempt to please you?”
I pause. “I just mean it’s hard to get there when you can’t LET people touch you.”
She softens. It’s kind of the crux of it, right? Being stone sometimes means being misunderstood by partners. People hear ‘no receiving’ and have different assumptions. I wouldn’t let a partner do a lot of things, but I don’t object to all receiving. Sometimes you want it, and they only know one way to give it. Sometimes they don’t believe you when you say your limits. Sometimes they think they know better. Mac knows I’ll get mad if I feel like she’s pitying me, so she reroutes.
“ There’s other ways, though, L. Like I said. No wrong way if it works for you.”
“I haven’t found a way with a partner yet.” I look at the floor, starting to get washed up in shame.
She grasps, cautiously, at what little there is of my hair, tilting my head back to look up at her.
“You let YOU touch yourself, though. Does that make you cum?”
Fuck. Steaming heat off her eyes tunnels down into me like a hot iron bearing dropped on ice. She was staring into me now, and with my mouth hanging delicately open I might have made a sound, some pathetic gasp, if my pulse wasn’t thrumming loudly in my ears over all noise.
“Y-yes.”
She hums and nods, feigning unaffectedness. She does not remove her hand.
“I overheard you the other day.”
I restrain a grimace. I had thought I played it off well, when she visited me out of the blue and I had to rush to meet her at the door. I guess not. I try not to think about the fact that I was moaning her name through the perilously thin walls of my apartment.
She lets go, which sends my head bobbing forward stupidly. Im mesmerized. She swings herself over me in a smooth motion, careful not to touch, just to loom above me. I notice (I might have sooner if I hadn’t been staring at the ground so long) that some time between dinner and this conversation, she had swapped in her hard packer.
“How do you like to do it?”
I lean forward.
“I can show you.”
She’s pleased by my forwardness, by me displaying that my eagerness is genuine and insatiable, but not inconsiderate enough to entertain it without discussing.
“You know I’d like that very much. But don’t rush yourself for me. Let’s talk a little more.”
I pause, cause I want to do it right now, but I know she’s right and if I push through that dizziness Id snap back to awareness in a few minutes and need to step away.
“To start maybe… maybe we could just sit. Touching. Get a little acclimated first? And then I show you.”
She smiles, sitting back on her hips. I take a deep breath, and the clouds in my head started to part. I wonder, for a moment, how I could have ever thought stone-butch-on-stone-butch made no sense. We’d never been ‘together’ like that, and maybe never would, but she knew right off what was ok.
“So we get close, chest to back, and then sit till we’re ready. And then you show me how you like to touch yourself. I keep my hands off, where you can see. And you can let me know if any of that needs to change.”
I get a shiver. She’s methodical, but the words are still putting a heat in my ears. I’m glad shes doing this, I wouldn’t have thought to.
“You can put your hands around my waist if you keep them still.” I stammer, desire freezing me up. My voice is getting smaller and smaller in my throat. “I might ask you to, uh, help out.”
She looks me up and down, turning stern. She stays gentle, seeing it would be hard for me to specify out loud. “And you’ll let me know how you want me to do that?”
I nod, too embarrassed to speak. My thoughts are racing so fast that they aren’t even words any more. Just feelings and noises and giddy anticipations. She’s casual, and it lets me feel like this is normal. I can do this, because it’s normal. I chant it to myself.
“It seems like you’re having a hard time talking, baby. Are you ok? You still here?”
I cant meet her eyes, but I’m here with her. I nod overenthusiastically, trying to compensate for my sudden silence.
“It’s okay. It happens to a lot of people. I can take a turn talking, if you’d like. Can I tell you what I need?”
I nod again, happy that I’m not the only one with needs and demands, not ruining her good time. She breathes a sigh of relief seeing me smile.
“Okay. For me, being stone is no direct contact with anything under my underwear and bra. I still negotiate it beforehand if it’s over clothes, so tonight I would prefer if you didn’t touch there. I don’t have any hangups with orgasming, but I only like to as a result of touching my partner. I don’t like the attention on me. I am strictly a top and I feel very unsafe with partners trying to switch on me. I don’t like biting. I don’t want to be called anything but Mac this time, ‘cause I dont like people dropping titles out of nowhere. Don’t push my knees around too much, they get sore sometimes after sex.”
She looks me up and down. Mac knows this speech like the back of her hand- she’s more concerned with whether I do. I give another feeble nod to indicate I got it all.
“…Okay. These are the big ones, but I’ll let you know if anything else comes up. And, L- I need to know how you’ll let me know if there’s a problem. Do you feel like you’ll be able to say no verbally?”
It’s a good question. I cant even do it now. I shrug, then noncommittally shake my head.
She looks me over. “Could you use a nonverbal cue?”
I consider it. My head has stopped swimming enough to speak up.
“Two taps?” I croak.
She chuckles. She used to do wrestling in highschool.
“Okay. Can you show me?”
I pat her bicep twice.
“Very good.” Shes doling on the praise on purpose. What a tease. “I think we’re all clear. You can tap out if you want a break or to ask a question, too, okay? For any reason.” She gives this safety speech like she’s the instructor on a zip lining tour. It shouldn’t be sexy, but both ideas make my adrenaline rush the same way.
“One more thing. Um… L or baby for me.” I add. “Not as a title or anything. I just… like it.”
She leans forward and kisses my forehead, how she usually does.
“Course you do, baby.”
She stood up, taking a seat at the other end of the couch for more space. She patted her lap gently, but I hesitated.
“Should I… go get my stuff first?”
She raises her eyebrows, but nods affirmatively.
I was incredibly wobbly on my way up to my room. My thoughts were still occupied by the conversation, and what was going to happen, even though I knew it was going to be slow. Maybe the slowness of it was a piece of the thrill, like when I went up these stairs again it’d be much, much later, and I’d have maybe done something I’d never done before, and at the very least I was getting fucked by a very very hot dyke. Very very slowly, to boot.
I hurried back down the stairs two at a time after grabbing the necessities, sheepishly realizing halfway down and slowing my pace to seem less eager.
She smiled when she saw me, the easy one that started at one end of her mouth. She might have laughed, on any other day. She gave me a hard time a lot when we were just friends; she’s the kind of butch who’s always making jabs. It’s funny when it’s funny, but she knows now’s not the time. She’s being incredibly careful with me, speaking with flat words and no implications. I don’t even know what I’m asking for, and she’s making a point not to try and tell me what she thinks I’m supposed to want. She’s being very cuddly, very entry level. I’m learning to do this all over again, so I appreciate the approach. I’ve never had anyone care like that, and it reminds me why I love her so much.
She opens her arms. “C’mere.”
I situate myself with my back to her chest, pressed flush. I get nervous some times about things brushing my back, sneaking up on me. It’s one of those things that happen to you after something happens to you. So it’s nice to feel something solid. Mac already knows this and I don’t have to say anything. She breathes, and I rise and fall.
She seatbelts her arms around my waist, clasping her hands and then leaving them still, where I can see them. It makes flashes of excitement polka dot me all over. Her hands are rough from work today, and in the low light from the kitchen stove (she turned off the overhead while I was upstairs) her veins and knuckles make her look confident, seasoned. Very butch, in the way I like being and the way love seeing. I’m a little obsessed with her hands, as much as I worry about what they can do. But right now, I know they’re only going where I say. We sit like that, secure and warm, for a long while. It was a long day, and easing into each other feels so nice, but the energy of our previous conversation means neither of us feel like sleeping.
I can see out of the corner of my eye that she’s eyeing the tote bag I brought down with me. I was vague enough that I know she’s wondering what it is. She shifts in her seat subtly and clears her throat, and I realize abruptly that I’ve probably been pushing that hard packer into her with the way I’m positioned. I start thinking about grinding down into her while we do what we’re about to do, if I could even make her cum like that. I know she doesn’t want us to focus on just her, but honestly, grinding my ass into her packer like that would probably make me cum faster than it would her. I shift a bit more upright, as our postures had slumped into half-sleep. It grinds on her and It takes her by surprise enough that she moans before she catches herself, and then it breaks into a chuckle.
“You ready?”
I nod. I try leaning over her clasped arms to grab my bag, but she beats me to it and places it in my lap gently. She’s eager.
I fish out my vibrator- it’s the hitachi magic wand kind, but with a wireless rechargeable battery- and a condom. It’s been plugged in for a good portion of the day, since I rarely let the battery die. I unzip and shove the vibrating end between my jeans and boxers, sticking the handle out from my fly. I button over top of it, securing it in the zipper like I do with my strap. Mac’s eyes are hot on me as the gears start turning in her head.
“Oh.” She says, pleasantly stunned.
My hands are shaking as I take out the condom. I roll it over the exposed handle and charging port, sliding it over the buttons carefully. I paw at my side for the bottle of lube, but it’s fallen back behind us. She retrieves it, and I hold out my hand for her to give it to me. Instead, she uncaps it and squeezes some into my open palm.
I hold the vibrator firmly at the base, keeping it steady and hard against my clit. With my other hand, the one Mac lubed up, I start stroking the handle. Mac whistles low.
“That’s hot. Im gonna have to try that.” She moves behind me to get a better look, and I feel her packing heavy against my ass. “This how you always do it, baby?”
Im breathing very carefully, trying not to get ahead of myself. “It’s my favorite way. It k-kinda makes a mess, so I don’t do it every time.” I stumble over my phrasing, accidentally tugging it in a way that makes my hips raise.
She hums. “Feel free to make a mess.” She returns her hands to where they were, safely on display. My waist is bare there, from pulling my shirt up to unbutton. Her hands are warm, and I’m not scared, I’m hungry for them.
I take some time warming up, getting used to the feeling in my hands. There’s a mental step between it being a toy and it becoming an extension of myself, one I have to do slowly. The vibration hasn’t been turned on yet, to keep in this moment with myself, and this time, with Mac. I get into a comfortable rhythm, thrusting up into my hand and sweeping the base up and down underneath my clothes. Mac swallows hard, and I feel a twitch run through me that jerks the piece in my hand. I tentatively grind down on her.
“This good?”
She smiles, I can feel it without seeing. I can hear the lust in her voice when she says, “Yes, baby.”
It makes me squirm. Mac always calls me baby, since we’ve been together. Even sometimes before we were. I like thinking about it, how even before she asked me, the way she felt would poke out in odd spots, moments where she loved me too much to remember she wasn’t supposed to. I could listen to it all day.
“Um. Mac. Could you… help out?”
“Ohhh. I see.” She says with surprise. “Would you like me to touch it?” She asks, dripping sweetness.
“My cock.” I correct her, gently.
“Of course.” Mac kisses me at the base of my neck. She readjusts flawlessly. “Can I please stroke your cock for you, L?” She whispers it huskily into my skin.
“Please. Ah, please-“ I can barely wait for her to finish her sentence to start breaking into pleas. For all the permission she has to request, I’m the one who’s begging. I love how she knows how to ask, how she lets me feel in control like that. She knows that I need it, because she knows everything. But I know that she does it for herself as much as it’s for me. She gets her satisfaction from a job well done. She needs to be wanted, and I need to be understood. That’s how this works, and we both enjoy each other’s enthusiasm.
She wraps her hand around it, slowly to make sure I get a good look at her hands. Her fist closes tight around the shaft and she tugs up on it, pulling against my own hand steadying it at the base. I use my free hand to get some more lube for her.
Once she’s got her fisted hand all lubed up, she moves down my shaft slowly but forcefully.
My moan hovers in the space between soft and obscene, the kind of noise you make when you step into an ice bath. She bucks her hips slightly upwards, thrusting me up into her hand. I grab onto her belt loop with my other hand, trying to pull myself further into her. I can hear her keys softly clinking when she does it again, and the sound makes me whimper.
“C-can I tell you if I like something?”
“Of course, baby. Is it the hips?” She rolls them again, and I bite my lip at the feeling, but mostly at the sound of her.
“A-Ah, yeah, but… the keys.”
She does her best to downplay the pause she takes, cautious to make me go shy again. She decides to risk it, laughing sweet and dark. Her arm holds me a little tighter across the waist.
“God, you’re adorable, L. I like yours, too.”
The more gentle praise, the more I wanna say. She doesn’t need to coax it out, I want her to know.
“A-and I like you being so nice and not using bad language. Being so quiet. And when you use my name. I-it just- feels so good, Mac. You feel so good on me. Oh, please, yes-“
I’m whimpering my way through these confessions, most of which are a little too clunky to be effective dirty talk. But Mac really likes instructions. She exhales a rumbling groan that travels up my back.
My hips are starting to get twitchy, moving side to side in her lap, to delicious effect. She likes the way it makes her packer feel. She flips her hand upside down and starts stroking upwards, flicking and curling her pinky finger over the head. She slides upwards, arcing across the top as each finger traps the head in between ash she swoops her hand over. In between moves, she’s just plain stroking it every so often, pushing a little extra hard on the way down to make it hit my clit just right. My eyes are transfixed, and I can literally feel every move because of the toy, and even the special attention she’s giving the head, somehow. It’s making me throb.
“O-o-oh my goodness-“ I gasp out. My back is arching against her.
“ So sweet for me, L. You gonna cum?”
“Not yet, but-ohhh wow.”
She gives me a peck on the back of the head, into that hair she cant seem to keep her hands out of. I cant really separate at this point what’s getting me hot and what’s making me feel loved. It’s all just good feelings.
“C-can you turn it on, please?” I bob the base of my cock against myself.
She hums affirmatively, looking forward to this as much as me. She slips the condom upward surreptitiously, not wanting to snap me out of this immersion. She feels up the buttons, a little unsure of the settings.
“The bottom one.” I pant
“Thank you, baby.” She clicks it on.
Already, I’m feeling like I might faint. The vibrations slam into me, bending me into arches. At first I don’t make a noise, just open my mouth and shake. Then a choked grunt punches through me, and the pace of my moans kicks up. The first setting is a pulse, and I prefer to use it for all activities. I like the ebb and flow, how it gives you a rhythm and directive. Once I start to adjust, I notice Mac had let go of my cock. I lean back into her, and it stirs her back into the moment.
“Sorry, baby. You’re so pretty, I was watching.”
She reaches back and continues. I’m dizzily aware of her hand being at my waist, with fingers too close to my skin for comfort. I feel so good, but I know I’d feel better if she kept them where I could see them… where I could REALLY see them. I feel a little too heady to express it, so I tap at her wrists.
She sits up a little, putting her hands on either side of me on the couch. “You ok baby? Want me to turn it off?”
I shake my head, swallowing a pant. It’s hard to speak again. “Ah- K-keep going. Hands-“ I grab at her wrists. Mac flips her hands palms-up in response, receptive.
“Where do you want em?”
I pull them over and onto my cock, which is bobbing low from the strain on my zipper fly.
“I wanna watch.”
She smiles, and begins gripping and pumping again with the same fervor as before. She’s got me back into it, even more passionate than before. The vibrations are subtle under the dampening fabrics, especially on this setting, but it’s enough. Mac’s handjob skills are impeccable for some reason, and every move she tries is making my jaw hinge open and shut in disbelief. As she keeps working my cock, she notices the lube has started to dry up. She peeks around her, realizing the lube bottle has fallen again somewhere. Instead, she reflexively holds her open palm to me.
“Spit.”
It drives a spike of hot pleasure into me. I know Mac is sweet on me, but that little command, sweet but firm, was an exhilarating peek at her other side. I dont hesitate to obey.
The interaction only lasts a second, and I can feel her registering it after happens, clearly stunned at herself and me.
“Was.. that okay, baby?”
It was very ok. I turn to look at her, purposefully making eye contact and nodding. I want her to see in my eyes how much I liked it. I lean in so I’m glancing down at her lips over the bridge of her nose.
“Yea, Mac. That was hot.” I say it, and it sounds like my voice. “Tell me to do it again.”
She does, but this time it’s barely a stuttered whisper, and her eyes are wide. I don’t break eye contact while I do it.
She looks me over, shifting from dumbstruck to smiley. I guess I know what to say to put her at ease, too. We press our foreheads together and she mouths “kiss me?”. And then we do.
She returns her hand to me, slathering my own spit on my cock. It’s so hot.
“Ah-“ I gasp into her mouth. “The middle button, please.”
She smiles, and does just that. The vibration pattern on this setting is even more rapid fire pulses, which makes my knees pinch together. My reaction is not as explosive as the first setting was, but our faces are flush as shes kissing me, and we’re passing moans and thrusts between each others kisses. Mac’s reaction, however, is electrified. She’s moving faster, following the pulses at tempo. Every sound out of her is a savoring groan or word of praise for me, clearly enjoying having me in her arms like this. The vibrating end is starting to slip up and down in my pants, half because my grip is shaky, and half because my boxers are getting soaked. I open my legs further, careful to avoid Mac’s knees, and I’m not putting on a show when I say I get loud. Mac resumes her upward thrusting, in sync with how she’s stroking my cock. Her keyring chimes with every buck of her hips. Mac is starting to l gasp louder, synchronized to every bump or slide I can feel her packer make between us. It makes me smile through my next few moans. I get greedy and grab with both hands at the base, shoving it roughly against myself and throwing my head backwards over her shoulder.
“K-keep going, oh-“
“Faster, L?”
“Please. Please, I-“ I’m interrupted by my own moan as she starts to move as fast as she can. “Oh my- ah, Mac!”
Her hands make obscene sounds slipping up and down, and I feel everything. I respond in turn, grinding down hard into her, so hard I can feel her packer moving up and down with us both. Her movements stutter a little, and I notice how hard her panting has gotten. She must be wet, too. The thought turns me on even more.
“Gonna cum, baby?”
I whimper. “Yeah, you?”
She swallows her words, struggling to breathe. “Yes. Oh, god- L-“
I click the button one more time, putting myself right on the edge. This setting is the highest intensity, so my voice gets extra high pitched. I try my best to grind into her and take her with me. The couch is squeaking under us.
“Mac, I’m c-“
I don’t even get the sentence out before I cum hard. I jerk open and splay my legs far out over her, thrusting my chest out and head back. She cums right along with me, squeezing me back into her with one strong arm around me. She holds me tight while she cums, still thrusting. She’s fumbling her way through prayerlike moans, muttering variations of “yes, baby, so good, yes, good for me baby-“ I’m still rigid and cumming silently. She finishes out with a few jerky thrusts to my ass, going from taut to soft against me. I finally release the breath caught in my body, and it comes out in a dirty extended moan. I drop.
We pant, lying down now and slumped together. She clicks off the vibrator sluggishly.
“How was that?” She offers.
“Oh my goodness.” It’s all I can say.
She smiles, eyelids getting droopy. I know I sound silly, but she likes it. “I love you.”
Neither of us have the presence of mind to find that corny. We smile and keep trying to catch our breaths.
“Mac.” I say it just to hear it.
She drags her limp arm away from the vibrator, careful even in this state not to move the way I don’t like. She brings a finger to her mouth and sucks it intently.
“Mhhm. Your cum tastes so good, baby.”
I cant tell if the throb I feel is aftershocks or not, but I love it when she talks about it like it’s real. It’s got me ready to go again. Even still, I have to smirk.
“It’s strawberry flavored.”
I can hear the finger pop out of her mouth. I sit up on one elbow, looking dizzy and stupid. We look at each other, suppressing giggles. We give up and break into peals of laughter. She tugs me in close while we’re still laughing, and I lean my head into her chest and feel it pitch me up and down. We quiet down and I close my eyes.
“Thanks, Mac.” Here I go, saying her name again.
“What? Thank YOU, dude. That was so good, what the fuck?” She sounds like herself again, and it makes me feel ease. Like I know the person I just let touch me like that is the same one who loves me and cares for me so much, every day. “Best time I’ve had in a while.”
I kiss her neck softly where I can reach, still feeling the hot flush on her skin.
“Me too.”
We lie still a very long time, till it’s clear we’ll fall asleep there if we don’t get up and clean off. She helps me to my wobbly feet, and we get to it.
Since starting T 6 months ago I am a very sweaty horny boy and I just thought that was a fun fact you might like to know. It'd be a reallll shame if some nasty perv wanted to abuse this informationnnn... owo and you might like to know I'll just have to sit and stew about it since I have roommates. It's so mean to make a boy so flustered when he can't do anything about it...
Lately I've been thinking a lot about "what would separate mecha crew equipment from that of a tank crew, or a fighter crew": A lot of military surplus stuff is already really close to what we're going for, and I realized "Motorcycle boots look a lot more like mech pilot stuff than military boots do", which got me thinking what other odd equivalences exist.
The one which really surprised me was how famous mecha live action SF Gunhed used a wetsuit as a stand-in for "generic scifi bodysuit", and that it worked weirdly well, actually?
"Why not latex?"
Latex rips too easily in contact with straps and hard elements, overheats far, far too easily despite having the looks. Thin neoprene works. really well.
So I kept exploring.
One thing I did seriously debate is other than rappelling equipment, would a pilot need something like a rigid knee-brace for hard landings to protect the ACL when they disembark from the robot which is common with high impact parachute equipment.
Some varieties also include counter-weighted springs which make it harder for you to close your knee, but make lifting heavy things on your back and climb much much easier during the ascent phase.
That led me towards Deck Crew helmets, which meet the hood requirement, and of all things, chin wraps which are really unobstructive and you can eat and drink while wearing one pretty comfortably (I say this as someone currently stuck wearing one)
So what we're looking at here is the HGU-24 and HGU-25, often worn by deck crews because it gets along just fine with the famous MCU-2/P AKA "Millenium" mask famous with drone communities as they're designed to be worn together.
Its literally the exact same mask with a minor paint adjustment.
"What's the difference between a drone and a pilot?"
"One wears AXENT and latex, the other wears HGU-25 and neoprene."
"Anything else?"
"Drones have less sex and do as they're told"
Its got the bash-plates you want for an ejector-seat, but it also has the padded foam you want for an impact element, and if it latches properly and the jaw mechanism is well made enough, you could probably include a hans mechanism attached to the jacket which locks into a socket in the pilot's seat to stop a pilot from breaking their neck in a collision.
What do you guys think?
Any suggestions? What I'm really curious about is what you think pilots would remove, customize or alter for practical or decorative purposes.
This is basically the result of roughly a year of casual research into pilot attire, outfits and looks.
The helm and the hood seem to be where the most manual cosplay stitching and 3D printing work is likely going to be required, with the wrap and helmhood.
Addendum:
I've not gone into waste management systems (UCL/FCL human-factors engineering stuff with internal and external recovery systems), since I'm looking at this mainly as an attainable costume or ensemble.
Edit:
I am learning some of you use aquatic mecha and find this unsatisfactory.
And you won't shut up about how the coolant mass flow rate lets you do really wild shit with your weapons my "land-loving" platform even can't dream of
While I am jealous by your sheer tonnage and the output of your reactors, I've got you covered.
Behold: Immersion suits.
They also make surprisingly good sleeping bags, even if you're on water.
They're literally designed to keep you alive if you're forced to abandon an oil platform, and are known to include a radio and even rations and a water filter.
I can do more if you like. There's Andromeda Latex (formerly Anatomical Latex) who do great stuff, the recent work on mecha break and if you wanna get fictional or psudofictional we can talk about retinal projectors and subvocalization detection?
You always admired lesbians from afar, they look so happy together. But i mean, they wouldn't look at you the way they look at her... I mean how could they it makes sense! You try to reassure yourself that the binarist approach to queerness is ok as long as it follows the gay rules. Men with men, women with women and only bi's have room for the *really* queer people. The strange ones and trans folks the un-cis. But one day you meet this dyke. he's different, he doesn't shy away from the way you look or the texture of your beard. You're so pretty.. He embraces you and he says i think you make a good butch lesbian. Does the way he kisses you and calls you sweet make you feel pretty? He can tell by the way you blush that it feels right. You are his pretty dyke.
Me and my femme both work at the same ~undisclosed grocery store~ and it drives me nuts. She works on the customer service very people facing end, and I, in the stocking, lifting, and moving shit end. I walk around all day picking up heavy shit, getting sweaty, thinking all. day. long. The real issue arises because we typically have mind blowing sex every morning before work. And I'm on testosterone... so I'm insatiably horny. So I fuck her brains out, remain horny even after, then I have to see her at work all smiley and interacting with customers, knowing who she really is. Knowing that that beautiful tall glass of water turns into a brainless puddle when my bottom growth is in her face. She'll wave at me all innocently, while I remember the way she looked while I pinned her by her pretty little hips and slammed myself into her. She's also on estrogen so she's growing tits right in front of my eyes. Doing her best to "boymode" at work, but I know what hides under those sweatshirts. I know that I wake up every morning and see her breast filling and rounding out. Do you know what it does to a butch like me to see them peek through? I'm walking around work rocking the hardest 2 incher in the world. I know I will get her all to myself when I am home, but god I NEED HER NOW
Why SHOULD I pull out after I cum inside? Huh? You think that's gonna help you now? The damage is already done, so you're keeping me inside. It's so warm, so fucking snug, and if you just keep still, fuck, stop clenching, you know I can't stop when you do that. Dumb little cumdump. Guess you need another one. And no, I'm not pulling out this time either, so stop your babbling, okay? Shhh, it's okay, it won't make a difference, just one more, yeah?
