The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.
I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.
And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!
We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.
There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.
Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.
Except...
I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.
I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.
The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.
Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".
There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.
And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.
His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.
I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.
That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.
I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.
Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.
Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.
If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.
It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.
I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.
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Coming up with the idea to take Simon out so that he can pick out a couple pieces of lingerie he wants to see you in, his choices really surprise you.
Request from here.
The minute you brought up the idea, Simon was on board, ready to dish out whatever money he needed to spoil his princess. It seemed like a win-win: you get new lingerie and he gets the benefit of picking out a few items that only he would get to see you in. How could he ever say no to something like that?
The first day you were both off you headed out to the local mall, ready to go on a different kind of mission, one that already had Simon salivating and itching to finish so you both could get back with the items in hand. You did promise that as soon as you got home you’d model them for him and there was no doubt what would inevitably come next.
Walking into the Victoria’s Secret all 6’4” of Simon drew a few stares, but he didn’t care; he was focused on you just as he was any time you two went anywhere. Arms wrapped around your middle to hold your back against his chest as you both slowly made your way through the store.
“Remember, it’s what you want to see me in,” you reiterated the rules for this excursion.
“Best believe I remembered, luv,” he said, his gravely voice hitting you ear just right to make you shiver with anticipation. “Haven’t been able to think of fuck all else since you brought it up, but I think that was your fuckin’ plan.”
You passed by several things that you were sure he would have picked up, you did say anything so nothing was off limits and that included whatever string number he may want to strap you in. The point was to get him excited to chose the bit of wrapping he wanted around his present, not that he needed it. He’d take you in a trash bag and still think you were the hottest piece of tail around.
A severe lack of Simon around your body broke you out of your thoughts as he had let you go to walk over to a display off to the left of you. The way he locked on, it was clear something had caught his eye and you followed him over just as he picked up a bra and pantie set and handed them over to you.
Baby pink with a bit of delicate lace lining the top of the cups, a tiny silken bow in the middle along the rib band and the same matching bikini style panties that had a slightly larger bow on the back, that was his choice. It was very sweet and dainty, something a very soft girl would pick for herself.
“Really? This one?” you questioned, eyebrow raised curiously.
“You said to pick one I liked,” he said. “I like this one. Is that a problem, sweetheart?”
It wasn’t a bad choice at all, just surprising. Never would you have imagined Simon pick something so...quaint. In fact you were sure he would have gone straight for the string thongs or see-thru lace bras, so when he chose that one it caught you off guard.
“Not at all, just didn’t think you liked that sort of style,” you backpedaled, not wanting him to think he screwed up.
“I can like pretty shit too, luv. After all, I chose you, didn’t I?” he chuckled. “This is what I want to see coverin’ across that sweet arse of yours... well, until I get to admire it layin’ on my floor.”
Your cheeks flushed bright red. Fuck, how did he always do that? “I was the one that did the choosing,” you pushed the subject as you tried to dissipate the heat in your face.
“Oh, is that so?” he shot back coolly, moving back in close to take your chin in his firm grasp. “The one that still gets nervous probably wasn’t the one callin’ the fuckin’ the shots. Don’t force me to make that blush brighter just to prove my point, luv.”
Touche, he had won this round; you knew he would too, screw being in public. He wasn’t afraid of people staring as they had been staring at him his whole life, might well enjoy himself while he drew the eyes. You gave in and backed down, receiving a quick peck on your lips for your troubles.
“Now, let me finish my shoppin’ so that we can get outta here and get to the actual fun part,” he said with a smirk.
Lord, he was insatiable. That man could have your pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and still be hungry for more.
Going through the rest of the place another similar set he found after a bit more of searching, this one a pale yellow with a little silk flower in the same places the bow was on the first set. He handed over everything over to you so that you could double check the sizes and make sure it was correct before he took it back so that he could pay.
Always the gentleman to his girl.
That large palm was plastered to your inner thigh the entire drive back and every now and again he gave it a squeeze. His mind raced as his imagination ran wild with images of what you’d look like in his purchases: beautiful? Always, but these pieces were more delicate than the others you had and so he was curious to see just how pretty you’d look in them.
“You ready?” you asked through the door.
Once you got back, you left him sitting in his chair as you went off into the bathroom to get changed. He had chosen the yellow to go first, saving his real favorite for last. As you slipped everything around your curves, you had to admit that it was actually really cute and surprisingly not too uncomfortable as well.
Good job baby.
“Get out here now, beautiful girl,” he called back.
Opening the door slowly, you stepped out and sauntered your way to him, stopping just shy of the tips of his boots. Placing your hands behind your back, you stood twisting your body back and forth as you let him admire his choice.
Silently Simon eyed you up and down, taking you all in. “Well?” you asked after a moment.
Eyes came back up to meet your own. “Do a spin for me, darlin’,” he said, making a spinning motion with his index finger. “Slow like.”
Turning around smoothly at a steady pace, you came all the back around until you were facing him again. He was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked to your body.
“What’s the verdict?” you asked again.
The corner of his mouth unturned. “I’ve got good taste,” he smirked. “Exactly what I fuckin’ wanted. You look amazing, sweetheart.”
His approval made you smile, excited that he liked it, even though you knew he would since he was the one to pick it out. That obsessive stare gave you new life; who wouldn’t want to be the object of Simon’s desire? “Should I try on the other one now?”
Simon nodded his head as he adjusted the crotch of his pants and you scurried back off to the bathroom to change, fueled by his intense interest in you.
The pink on slipped on just as easy and you actually enjoyed this one even more as it enhanced your skin tone to perfection and the little details were so sweet you knew why this one would be his favorite; you could hardly wait to go show him how good you looked.
Coming back out again you nearly ran straight into him as this time he was leaning against the door frame as if waiting for you. He didn’t say a word, but you swore you could hear his breath hitch in his chest as he gazed down at you in that soft little pink number. Calloused fingers came up to trace over the thin ribbon detail, following the curves of the mini bow in the center of your chest.
“This one I really fuckin’ like, sweetheart,” he purred in that gruff, low tone that set you alight.
You swallowed hard, your pulse racing in your veins already. “I have to admit you did really good baby,” you said. “Never thought you’d pick something so pretty.”
Fingers traced the line of the band under your breast along your ribcage before they came back up. “Like you in pretty, sweet things,” he said, slipping a thick finger into the top of the band between the cups. “Bows and flowers, light colors, that sort of shit. Suits you best, luv.”
“Aww,” you picked at him. “You going soft on me?”
That finger fully hooked itself into the fabric between your breasts and pulled you forward, making you take a step to bring you in closer until you were flush against his chest. Those amber eyes shimmered as he tilted his head down close to your neck. “All the shit I’ve to deal with at work, don’t ya wanna give this bastard somethin’ beautiful to touch?”
Well, when he put it like that…how could you deny him?
“My pretty little thing, so goddamn sweet,” he said with a groan, exploring hands releasing your bra so that they could run down the line of your back towards your hips before coming to a stop just under the curve of your ass. He cupped the cheeks one in each hand, massaging the meat in a circular motion.
Hungry lips embraced your neck, quick, burning kisses connecting with the skin to leave a trail of fire where he went. His arousal was already pressing up against your thigh as his hands on your ass squeezed harder; he had been worked up all day and seeing you all pretty for him it pushed him over the edge.
“Just wanna fuckin’ corrupt my little flower, ruin her pretty petals with my fat cock,” he breathed against the nape of your neck. His warm breath wafted down your collar bone to the tops of your breasts, making the skin pinprick with goose pimples while his words worked on your nerves to send you into a tailspin.
Were you supposed to stay sane after that? Because it just got really, really hard to think straight. “Yes,” was the only word your mind could form and you moaned it against the side of his head.
Fingers flitted around the waistband of your panties, outlining the band around your hips before it found the band descending between your legs; he followed that with his fingertips as well. “Mmmm, my beautiful girl, you know no one else even comes close?” he groaned. “Got the prettiest little thing around. Sets me on fuckin’ fire, how lucky I am to have such dainty thing at my disposal.”
Desperation gathered in his movements as he pawed at your body, causing you to respond to him as all your nerve ends across your skin began to ignite like he had just lit a match.
Without warning you were picked up and brought over to the bed where he set you down carefully along the edge. In an instant he had dropped down to his knees before you, one large hand gathered at the back of your head to pull you into his face so that he could press his lips desperately to yours. Wet, aggressive kisses he greedily stole from your mouth over and over again as he moved up into you.
“Lean back for me, darlin',” he said against your mouth.
Releasing you from his grasp you did as Simon said, laying back on your elbows so that you could still watch him. Hands on your parted thighs to steady himself, he swooped in. His face was at your pubic bone and he opened his mouth, collecting the waist of your panties in his teeth before he was pulling them down your legs, undressing you completely without the use of his hands.
Well damn, you had been curious to see how good they’d look on the floor since he had brought it up, but who could have predicted that they would look exquisite in between his teeth?
…Definitely a good choice indeed.
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Whole Lotta Love
Eddie x fem!Reader
18+MDNI, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, pet names like baby and sweetheart, both Eddie and reader are over 20.
I received a request for a fic where, no matter how hard he tries, Eddie can't make you cum, and I was happy to do it because it's a much more common situation than how it's represented in most media. I'm not sure this is exactly what they were looking for, but it was a very fun thing to write. This Eddie had me giggling.
a/n: I wasn't sure I would finish this wip after I wrote the first two lines, but then I was in the mood yesterday and smashed it out. It was a very quick write, definitely not my opus, but a true joy, all the same. I hope you like.
wc: 3.1k
Eddie flopped onto his back, huffing out a satisfied breath. “That was so good,” he hummed.
The fingers of one hand drew a lazy circle on his bare chest as it rose and fell, while his other hand scrambled over to capture yours.
Shifting his gaze, he caught you staring at the ceiling, unblinking. “Was that…did you…?”
“Um,” you paused. It wasn’t that you were afraid to be truthful with him, but the fact that orgasms weren’t flying out of you at the same rate made you feel inadequate, like maybe you were the problem.
He propped up on his forearm, searching your face, brow creased with concern. “Did I hurt you or…?”
“No, no,” you rolled over, pulling the sheet up over your hips. “It felt great.”
At that, he gave an actual sigh of relief.
“But, I didn’t cum. Or at least, I don’t think I did.”
“You’re not sure?”
You chewed at your top lip. “No, I am sure. I didn’t.”
He traced a few hearts on your shoulder with the tip of his calloused finger. “Have you ever? With me?”
Your silence spoke volumes, and Eddie’s mind raced to all of the times you’d been intimate in the past few weeks since you’d been together. He blamed himself for being too eager and sloppy, and shit—he was so crazy about you, it made him dizzy. He couldn’t believe you let him touch you, let alone cum inside.
His head snapped up. “But what about that time I went down on you in the closet at Robin’s party? I swear I felt you—”
“I was close that time,” you admitted, remembering how your legs shook and that heat began to build, in the same way it did when you pleasured yourself. “But then Gareth was shouting, looking for you and it went away.”
“Fucking Gareth,” he mumbled. “You were close then, okay. Can I try that again? Now?”
He was already moving down the bed, palming the crook of your knee to slide your leg open.
You put your hand on his head, glancing over at the digital alarm clock. “Not now, silly, I have to get ready for work.”
You wrapped the sheet around you and got to your feet, leaving Eddie to stare into space, alone with his tortured thoughts. “Come over tonight?” He yelled while you were in the bathroom. “Wayne leaves for work at 6, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”
“I’ll come over,” you said with your mouth around a toothbrush. You spat into the sink and then, “But I might be too tired for…other stuff,” your words were met with nothing but silence from the next room. “We can watch a movie or something?”
Eddie appeared sullen in the doorway next to you in his checkered blue and white boxers. “Do you not want to have sex with me anymore?”
“No, baby I do!” You assured him, eyebrows high on your forehead. You cupped some water into your mouth and spat it out while he ran his knuckle down your arm. “I really really want to, I just don’t want us to force this. It’s okay if I don’t have an orgasm every single time.”
“Yeah but it’s not okay with me,” he muttered.
You turned and planted kisses down his throat, dotting smooches along his collarbone, and then the final peck was on his pouty mouth. You rubbed the tip of your nose against his, “I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”
—------
You parked on the other side of Eddie's van at the trailer that night and assessed the windows curiously. At a glance, it looked like the living room had caught fire from the amount of candles that were lit. The song Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin poured out into the soft yellow light of the porch, and you knocked.
A few raps of your knuckles were met with a loud curse and something like a metal pot crashed to the floor in the kitchen. No one came to the door, so you entered with caution, and your senses were greeted with the smell of something burning in the oven.
Eddie was by the sink and he spun around with a startled look, wiping his hands down his jeans. He wore a Slayer shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and his feet were bare, letting you see the black toe nail polish you’d delicately painted on a few days earlier.
“What’s with all this?” You blinked a few times, marveling at how tidy it was. But also, there were at least 15 mismatched candles ablaze on the side table, the top of the tv, and the counter.
He wiped his mouth and went over to greet you. “I just wanted to set the mood,” he grinned, grabbing onto your hips to pull you close. “I read somewhere that the atmosphere can help with, you know.”
“You read somewhere?”
“Just one of those magazines at the grocery checkout.”
“I missed you,” he smiled against your mouth as you said it. His warm skin smelled spicy and sweet, like he’d recently showered and put on cologne. The yearning you felt for him was all-consuming. A few hours apart weighed on you like an eternity. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, and already your loins were giving you the nod like, “yep, we need to have him inside of us.” You absolutely craved him on a sexual level, so why was it so hard to find your climax? It seemed to come easy for everyone else in the world: everybody at the party was cumming but you.
Eddie was nervous. He hadn’t felt that out of his mind since the day he confessed he had feelings for you, but if you didn’t feel the same that would be cool, because he didn’t want to fuck up the friendship: you were too precious to him. Your presence in his life made him feel sane and loved and seen in a way he’d rarely experienced in his life, if ever. A miracle happened that day, and you’d flown into his arms, asking him what took him so long.
But what kind of boyfriend would he be if he couldn’t please you? In every way?
You watched a sitcom while you ate dinner on TV trays, and when you came back from using the restroom, he had everything put away, dishes thrown in the sink, and he was sitting very propper at the end of the couch, watching you expectantly.
“Are you, um,” he cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?”
This was weird, he thought. He was making it weird. He needed to loosen up and not be so hyper focused on his mission. Maybe you were tired, maybe you needed to let your spaghetti and burnt french bread settle.
You straddled his lap, brushing hair away so that you could kiss his forehead.
“I think I’m ready to try again,” you whispered, and then you ducked down to nibble his earlobe. “Unless you’d rather stay here and—”
Before you could finish the thought, he was up and the two of you were moving out of the room and down the hall, kissing and fumbling with clothes as you went.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he nipped your jaw and side of your neck, banging the bedroom door open with the side of his fist. “I hate being away from you.”
There were a few candles around the bed too; on his nightstand, and a red one dripped wax from the window sill down the wall.
You stopped abruptly, staring at the bed. “Are those…rose petals?”
“Tulips, actually,” he rushed to the scene and swiped the soft pink curls away with his arm. “That was stupid, I just thought it would be—”
You caught his mouth with yours, tongues lashing at each other in such an erotic way that a small moan escaped him.
He wondered if that night would be the night he came in his jeans.
He wasn’t going to let himself cum before you, that was the plan. He’d jerked off shortly before you’d arrived, but that didn’t mean shit because he was absolutely ready again.
Suck it up, Munson.
All was off but for your underwear and while Eddie licked greedily at one of your nipples, you reached down to undo his button fly. “Release the beast,” you cooed.
He caught your wrist. “Not just yet, I can’t, I mean, I want this to be about you.”
“I need an even playing field if I’m going to be relaxed enough to…you know.”
He couldn’t get his pants off fast enough at the urging of your hand that was quick to breach the waistband of his boxers to stroke him. He was rock hard and the tip was already weeping, needy for you.
“Is this all for me?” You ran your thumb in circles over the tip.
Eddie tensed and huffed out a breath that fanned the hair away from his face. “Fuck, baby, every inch.”
If he wasn’t sharp, he’d cum right there on the spot.
You bounced when your body hit the bed, and Eddie dropped to his knees between your legs. The visible wetness on your panties were taking a toll on his already fragile state. He wasn’t patient enough to take them off of you, he just put his mouth right on the material, nuzzling at your pussy through the fabric in a way that pulled a few sharp gasps out of you.
“I missed her so much,” he pulled back the final barrier with one finger, licking a few times on your swollen lips, and then cursed. “You’re so wet already.”
“Well, that’s what you do to me,” you propped up on your elbows to look down at him, sucking in your bottom lip at the sensation of his breath on you.
He slid your underwear off the rest of the way, trying to recall what he’d read in that Playboy article he read a while back? Something about writing out the alphabet, and the woman you are with won’t make it to “x” without cumming.
“How does this feel?” His tongue rolled along your folds in a way that made you wonder what he was doing. He lost track of the letters at around “M”, hips bucking into the side of the bed, cock pulsing so hard, he had to reach down and take some of the pressure off.
“G-good,” you gasped. “Just like that but then, up a bit higher.”
You weren’t exactly an expert when it came to your own pleasure, either, you only knew what felt good when you touched yourself. If Eddie made you cum, it would be the first time you ever experienced that with another person. You wondered if you should tell him that.
He followed your instructions, swallowing while he consumed you, until he found the tiny pearl treasure at the top and your grip tightened on him.
“Hmm I think I found it. Hey there pretty baby,” he murmured into your cunt rolling his tongue around the spot.
“Yesyesyes, right thereeeee Eddieeee.”
The pressure and the speed was perfect and your hand went to his head for encouragement, but then he slowed down and moved locations, licking up the arousal that dripped down your slit.
“Baby? Could you go back to that thing you were doing a second ago?”
He compiled without a word, trying to find the same pacing again, but the moment was gone.
“Eddie—” you spread your legs wider as an invitation. “I really need you inside of me now.”
Well, he wanted that more than anything. But one pump and it would be all over for his dignity. His eyes were rolling back, seeing cartoon stars just thinking about it.
Truth? He wasn’t going to make it.
You noticed his hesitation. “We can keep trying…after. But I need to feel you. It’s lonely up here.”
“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he crawled up onto the bed, kissing along your stomach, up between your breasts as he went, and then nuzzled at your neck. “My dick can wait until—”
But he choked on his last words when you took hold of him and rubbed the tip of his length along your wetness.
“Sssshittt,” his whole body trembled.
Sliding himself in, becoming one with you, made him emotional in a way he’d be embarrassed to share with anyone else.
“I love you so much,” your voice came out as a cry when he sank halfway in, locking eyes with you. The stretch made you squeeze around him, eliciting a whimper from so far back in his throat that he wondered if it came from somewhere else, some far off place.
Once he started to move, he thought about that sweet little pearl and lifted up enough to put his thumb there and move it around. Your head went back and you exposed your throat to him.
Eddie grimaced at how close he was, fuck that—he had to slow down. The way he was touching you, it was making you stiffen like you had when he was on his knees, and he was taking note of everything.
But then you started telling him how bad you needed him to cum, to fill you up, to make you his. He tried to hold out but then his eyes locked onto yours when you told him you loved him again and he couldn’t stop the wave once it started, no matter how hard he clenched his jaw and his buttcheeks.
One long babble came out of him as his thrusts got sloppy. “Oh fuck I love you so much I’m cumming so hard, I’m…I’m…holy shit I love you.”
He didn’t ask if you had come that time, because he knew better.
After he caught his breath, he pulled you with him, twisting onto his side, slipping two fingers where his cock had been. “What if I push all of this cum back inside so it will stay there? Hmm?”
You moaned against his mouth, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “That feels good, keep doing that.”
“You like that?” He asked, just to be certain.
You nodded, and then, your hand slotted down between your bodies and his arousal spiked when he realized you were touching yourself.
He curled his fingers to feel that soft, spongy spot, asking how fast you wanted it.
You couldn’t speak, your concentration was intense, eyes screwed shut.
Oh sure, he was getting hard again. The feel of his warm spend in your tight hole was doing nothing for his resolve.
You clenched around him, and then he was whispering, “let me try again,” as he kept his digits buried and made his way down between your thighs.
His mouth had no trouble finding the treasure that time; it practically peeked up at him, begging for a resolution. He relaxed his shoulders, breathed in the musk of your arousal, and took you into his mouth with a vibrating groan.
“Right there!” You hadn’t meant to scream it, but it was an actual eureka moment. “Oh fuck Eddie, don’t stop…keep doing…keep doing that.”
He hadn’t moved his fingers in a while, but when he tried to incorporate that into the mix, you stopped him. “Keep them still,” you held his head, locking him in place—not that there was anywhere else he wanted to be. “Don’t move your hand just…Ahh yes yes…”
Your jaw went slack in a silent scream, but then his pace quickened, and before you knew what was happening, the blinding white wave crashed through you, rolling through your limbs like satin electricity, making you whine an extended, “cummingcummingcumming,” while you clung to his hair so you wouldn’t fall off the earth.
Eddie was astonished to learn that could feel it happening. The juicy walls around his fingers spasmed, fluttering like tight ripples, and he drove his tongue in eager circles, wondering if he could make you cum twice in one go. Was that even possible? His heart all but flew out of his chest, it was beating so fast, and he moaned long and hard.
But after a bit, you were trying to push his mouth away. “Wait wait, now it’s sensitive,” but he was so determined, he didn’t pull off until you physically lifted his head.
He stared up at you, licking his wet, swollen lips.
You were breathless, letting the final bits of glitter swim through your veins. “That was—”
He kissed your cunt one two three times. “That was what?”
He was grinning now, feeling like he’d just won the lottery, or at least a new car. The sense of satisfaction was officially unmatched.
He made his way up the bed to hold you, but you surprised him by taking his fingers into your mouth to suck them clean, dragging teeth along his flesh.
“I’ve never cum that way with anyone else before,” you said in a whisper, but when he finally registered the weight of the words, his eyes widened.
“My sweetheart,” he pulled you flush against him, giddy, holding your face to brush his lips over yours. “I’m really your first?”
You gave his shoulder a teasing love bite. “And my last.”
“Oh nowww you’re in trouble,” he rolled on top of you, interlacing his fingers with yours to brace your hands above your head, and then he went to work munching at the side of your throat, growling as he did so.
You screamed and giggled, realizing he was hard again as it nudged at your hip. “I see you’re ready for battle again.”
“I was born ready, baby,” he straightened to see your face. “You want to try a new position? I was reading this—”
The front door to the trailer burst open.
“What the hell? Edward? You tryin’ to burn the place down?”
It was Wayne.
Shit shit shit shit it was Wayne!
Home hours early from work, for whatever reason.
The door to the bedroom was wide open and his heavy footfalls were rapidly approaching from the hall.
Eddie threw the sheet up over you, and a few tulip petals fluttered to your face. “I’ll be right there!” He shouted, trying to jump into his jeans. He missed a leg hole and stumbled back onto the mattress, making you snort out a laugh.
He got to the door just in time to greet his Uncle, blocking any view of the room, buttoning his pants as he stood there.
You could hear Wayne’s voice change. “Is, ah, is your girlfriend here? Sorry, I didn’t see her car.”
“No that’s cool, we were just—” and then he maneuvered him out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.
You lifted up to listen to their murmuring voices, and then Wayne asked, “why is there wax all over the carpet? Blow these fuckers out before the curtains catch fire.”
You had to bury your face in the pillow to muffle your laughter.
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