Post the Twenty-Seventh or Chocolate Mousse

The candles were lit. The table was set. And the music was playing. John Coltrane, hir favorite. Everything was ready and everything was perfect. All that was left was for hir to arrive. I paced back and forth about the living room, checking my watch every two seconds. I was nervous. And ze was late.

I walked back to the mirror and gave myself one last check. I adjusted my tie and shifted my skirt. I looked fierce. Where was ze?

I entered the kitchen, gave the curried lentil soup a quick stir, checked on the stir-fried tofu with noodles and made sure that the vegan, gluten-free, chocolate mousse was properly set. All hir favorite things. All made by yours truly. All smelling and looking absolutely delectable. So where was my partner in crime?

I moved back into the dining room and sat down with a restless sigh.

A knock at the door and I leapt up in excitement. With my heart pounding, I quickly moved from the dining room to the foyer to the door. Taking a deep breath to steady my shaking body, I opened the door gracefully, a dazzling smile across my face.

And my heart almost stopped for the beauty before me. Six feet in height, wearing skinny jeans that covered legs for days and in a tight red top, it was all I could do to stop myself from jumping on hir there and then. As it was, it took me a minute to recover the power of speech and invite hir in. I could tell that ze was already enjoy hirself, watching me trip over myself.

How was it that ze could do that to me so easily? I still don’t know.

I did all the things that a gentlequeer is supposed to do. I asked for hir coat and pulled out hir chair. I asked how hir day went and what exciting projects ze was working on. I inquired after hir mother’s health and what ze thought about the latest Beyoncé video. My thoughts were absolutely not on how I wanted to lick hir thick thighs. Nor were they focused on the shape of hir lips and how I wanted to bite into them. The notion of plunging my tongue deep into hir ass did not enter my mind once. Not at all.

As I was clearing the soup, ze said, “You want to fuck me.”

I nearly dropped the bowls.

“That wasn’t a question, was it?” I replied.

“No, it was not.” Ze said, rising from hir seat. And in one fluid motion managed to take the bowls from me and, placing them down, pinned me against the hard wood of the table. Hir lips brushed against mine, teasing a moan out of me. How did ze disarm me so easily?

“Perhaps,” ze crooned into my ear, “we should skip the main course and go straight to dessert?”

I could only manage a shaky nod.

Ze wrapped my tie around hir hand and pulled me toward the bedroom, stopping on the way to collect the mousse. In the bedroom, ze pushed me gently unto the bed and climbed on top of me, straddling me, pressing down on my already raging boner. I groaned, bucking against hir.

Ze dipped hir fingers into the mousse, covering hir fingers in dark chocolate. I parted my lips slightly, eager for hir fingers to enter me. Ze was only to happy to oblige, running hir mousse coated fingers around my lips. I tried to take them into my mouth but ze pulled up saying, “Tut tut, my love. Patience.”

Ze continued to tease and taunt me by running hir fingers across my lips while hir other hand searched under my shirt to find my nipple. Ze gave it a good twist, causing me to gasp. I wanted so badly to suck on hir fingers and taste not only the mousse but also the softness of hir skin but I knew that if I got ahead of myself ze would punish me. So, I endured the sweet torture that ze was inflicting me.

I nearly came when ze finally allowed me to suck on hir fingers. I sucked on them earnestly, throughly enjoying the feel of hir fingers inside my mouth and savoring the sweetness of the mousse.

I made damn good mousse.

After I had consumed all the mousse from hir fingers, ze pulled hir fingers out of my mouth. Ze then took hir fingers and placed some mousse on hir lips. Ze leaned in close, inches away from my own lips. I was breathing heavily, smelling the combination of the chocolate and hir breath. It made for a heady combination.

“Lick my lips.” Ze commanded. I did so readily, exploring the contours of hir mouth and enjoying the softness of hir lips. I ran my tongue across and back again. Hir lips parted slightly, so I began to explore the inside of hir mouth but ze quickly clamped down on my tongue.

“I did not give you permission.” Ze said when ze finally released my tongue.

“Forgive me.” I muttered.

“Forgiven.” And ze kissed me. And what a kiss. Hard it was, and yet gentle. Intense, and yet, subtle in its intensity. With hir tongue down my throat, I was in heaven.

After a time, our lips separated with a sigh and I stared into hir eyes. Dark, they were, stormy. Irises that seemed to be one uniform color and yet when you looked, really looked, you saw the riot of color that was. You saw the bands of gold and pools of green. Tiny spots of amber and a subtle, pervasive brown. But more than all, hir eyes held a deep tenderness, a love that would engulf me, consume me. I was willing to be eaten.

“You have been such a good servent, my love,” ze said, “I think that deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

“If it would please you, mxtress.”

Without a word ze got up and slowly took off hir clothing, revealing the dark skin underneath. Skin that has remained soft despite the harshness of the world. Skin that was engraved with scars and stretch marks, symbols of the struggles that ze had fought through and won. Beautiful trophies of living.

“Hike up your skirt.” Ze commanded.

I did so, revealing my lack of underwear and rock hard cock. Ze admired the sight for a moment and then reached into the desk drawer, pulling out a condom and a bottle of lube. Ze easily placed the condom around my cock and applied lube, rubbing my cock for a few moments that made me arch my back in desire.

Ze straddled me again. Ze rocked back and forth, rubbing my cock against hir pubis and stomach. I groaned and thrust against hir, I wanted to be inside hir so bad.

“Please,” I pleaded, “The teasing is too much… Please…”

Ze smiled wickedly and said tauntingly, “Whose cock is this?”

“Yours, mxtress.” I said meekly

“Correct. So, since it is mine, does that mean that I can tease it all I want? That I could, in fact, do whatever I wish with it?” Ze asked, while still rubbing hirself against my cock.

“Yes, mxtress.”

“Then, I will have no more complaints from you.” And with that, ze grabbed hir shirt off of the bed and gagged me with it. Ze started to move down, rubbing my cock against hir pubis and hir lips. The gag muffled my groan of frustration but ze heard it and moved back up, rubbing hir belly against my cock.

“I said, no more complaints.”

I nodded as ze began to move down again. Ze moved at an agonizing pace, moving only a few inches at a time. I didn’t make a sound. Slowly, slowly, my cock reached hir lips. Ze ran the head of my cock around hir lips and slowly eased the length of my cock inside hir.  Ze closed hir eyes in pleasure as ze sat on top of me, my whole length inside hir.

I was lost in the same bliss. Lost in the same love.

We started to rock back and forth together. Moving at the same rhythm, the same pace. I thrusted into hir as ze pushed down against me. Our fucking progressively got faster, more frenetic, more intense. And as we started to move more quickly, I began to lose my sense of self. It was almost as if I were falling into hir and ze was falling into me. The boarders that separate where I begin and ze ended became blurred and then erased. I could feel what ze was feeling, the passion, the exhilaration. It was almost as if I could feel what ze was feeling, the feel of my cock inside her, the sliding in and out. And I sensed that ze too felt what I was feeling.

I ceased perceiving time and space. It seemed that this moment of fucking spanned eons and yet only lasted a second. It seemed that I traversed the length and breadth of my history in that moment. I saw the past clearly and at the same time saw the future. I knew that I could stretch myself and land at any point in that convuluted line but I knew where my place was.

Here. With hir.

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About witchymorgan

I'm a 22 year old womanist, sex positive, pansexual, polyamorous, queer, bruja, transwoman. Social justice activist by day, social justice activist by night. Fun! View all posts by witchymorgan

2 responses to “Post the Twenty-Seventh or Chocolate Mousse

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