The Curse & Strength of Being Trans
There is nothing that anyone can say that can make it past the armor I have forged over my lifetime. Anything they might use against me has either already been said, has already been an inner demon I have defeated, or is nothing more than hateful bigotry. Regardless, I have thick skin and have been through far more than most transphobic jackasses have in their shitty lives.
Slowly I make my way down the hall towards the bedroom, making sure to move quietly. I know that I will find you still curled up under the folds of your blanket. My heartbeat thrums with excitement and expectation, eager for the sight of your body sprawled out before me. As if I had sent a plea to some unnamed deity, I find you uncovered, body strewn over the crumpled-up blanket you had forsaken at some point. Even in the dim light, the curves of you make my body feel like it has caught fire. I crave the feel of your skin against my fingertips and the taste of you on the tip of my tongue.
Shall We Play A Game?
One of my favourite little games to play with you, babygirl, is teasing you until you can't stand it. I love to play it as often as I can. Most times it ends up with you begging me to end your suffering, fill you up and satisfy that need to have me inside you. Today was different though.