What are you trying to say?”
“Do you really want Trevor for yourself? Did you set him up with me to get his rebound over so you could get your paws on him?”
“Of course not! I'm offended you would even think that,” she said.
I shrank down in my chair, feeling very small and foolish. “Uh, sorry. I just … I have all these weird feelings.”
“Promise me you'll take it easy,” she said, sounding once more like my sweet, supportive big sister.
I felt like a total asshole for being suspicious of her. “The horses are already out of the barn.”
“Hmm,” she said. “Farming metaphors. This is not good.”
“ Transitional is good,” I said. “Do you know how many times he transitioned me last night?”
“Naomi, he's my boss . I have to look him in the face at work, you know, so please don't tell me anything too detailed.”
“Okay.”
There was a pause, then finally she said, “Okay how many times?”
“Three times.”
“That's a lot.”
“I know. It was so good. I think I want it three times a night now.”
She squealed then sighed. “Ugh, I need a boyfriend. You have to set me up.”
“All my friends are gay.”
“Well, keep your eyes open,” she said.
My sister and I finished our phone call just in time. Trevor came out of the hallway, looking clean and scrumptious, albeit a little rumply in the previous day's clothes. Those eyes took my breath away, orange-brown and flecked with black and gold. When he talked to me, his pupils were dilated, big and dark with interest for me. His desire made me crazy for him. Even though he wasn't model-skinny, he was such a handsome man, with thick, dark, wavy hair, and such a nice jaw line and chin with the cutest cleft right in the middle.
“The walk of shame,” he said, rubbing at the wrinkles on his shirt with both hands.
Over the top of my coffee mug, I said, “I can run an iron over that for you.”
He shrugged away the offer and said, “I earned my walk of shame.”
I thought of the previous night, of him tirelessly taking me to orgasm after orgasm. “You sure did.”
I was sitting on one the wooden chairs in the kitchen's breakfast nook, overlooking the backyard, and he joined me with his own freshly-poured coffee. Unlike me, with all my milk, he took his black, which didn't surprise me. He was a manly man, after all.
We exchanged flirty looks and pleasantries about the variety of products and conditioners in my bathroom, and then, he patted his lap and said, “C'mere.”
I stood, walked the long way around the table to get a refill, then came back and sat down on his lap. “Like this?”
He nuzzled my ear and neck. “I used your razor,” he said.
“I can tell!” I reached over my shoulder and rubbed his smooth cheek. “As smooth as a lady's legs.”
“Your razor is pink.”
I giggled. “But it did the job.”
He kissed the back of my neck while rubbing my thighs and butt.
I shifted position, feeling the heat and strength of his rising manhood underneath me.
He slid up the hem of my robe, running his hands down between my legs.
His voice low and growling, he said into my ear, “No panties.”
“It's Saturday,” I said. “No need to rush getting dressed.”
“No need to rush anything, except ...”
He used one finger to part my lips and ran his fingertip up over my sensitive nub.
I gasped in pleasure and surprise. We hadn't even been kissing, and already I felt the swelling and the readiness in my pussy. I reached down behind me and grabbed for him, through his trousers. He moaned into my ear again, then gently bit the back of my neck, under my damp hair, as he thrust against my hand.
We were seated near the bay window, with no curtains, and the room faced a tiny but somewhat private yard. The neighbors, if they were to venture outside, would see us, but perhaps not. There was a fence.
Trevor had both hands on my pussy now, one scooped under from behind, and one angled around the front, drawing
“Do you really want Trevor for yourself? Did you set him up with me to get his rebound over so you could get your paws on him?”
“Of course not! I'm offended you would even think that,” she said.
I shrank down in my chair, feeling very small and foolish. “Uh, sorry. I just … I have all these weird feelings.”
“Promise me you'll take it easy,” she said, sounding once more like my sweet, supportive big sister.
I felt like a total asshole for being suspicious of her. “The horses are already out of the barn.”
“Hmm,” she said. “Farming metaphors. This is not good.”
“ Transitional is good,” I said. “Do you know how many times he transitioned me last night?”
“Naomi, he's my boss . I have to look him in the face at work, you know, so please don't tell me anything too detailed.”
“Okay.”
There was a pause, then finally she said, “Okay how many times?”
“Three times.”
“That's a lot.”
“I know. It was so good. I think I want it three times a night now.”
She squealed then sighed. “Ugh, I need a boyfriend. You have to set me up.”
“All my friends are gay.”
“Well, keep your eyes open,” she said.
My sister and I finished our phone call just in time. Trevor came out of the hallway, looking clean and scrumptious, albeit a little rumply in the previous day's clothes. Those eyes took my breath away, orange-brown and flecked with black and gold. When he talked to me, his pupils were dilated, big and dark with interest for me. His desire made me crazy for him. Even though he wasn't model-skinny, he was such a handsome man, with thick, dark, wavy hair, and such a nice jaw line and chin with the cutest cleft right in the middle.
“The walk of shame,” he said, rubbing at the wrinkles on his shirt with both hands.
Over the top of my coffee mug, I said, “I can run an iron over that for you.”
He shrugged away the offer and said, “I earned my walk of shame.”
I thought of the previous night, of him tirelessly taking me to orgasm after orgasm. “You sure did.”
I was sitting on one the wooden chairs in the kitchen's breakfast nook, overlooking the backyard, and he joined me with his own freshly-poured coffee. Unlike me, with all my milk, he took his black, which didn't surprise me. He was a manly man, after all.
We exchanged flirty looks and pleasantries about the variety of products and conditioners in my bathroom, and then, he patted his lap and said, “C'mere.”
I stood, walked the long way around the table to get a refill, then came back and sat down on his lap. “Like this?”
He nuzzled my ear and neck. “I used your razor,” he said.
“I can tell!” I reached over my shoulder and rubbed his smooth cheek. “As smooth as a lady's legs.”
“Your razor is pink.”
I giggled. “But it did the job.”
He kissed the back of my neck while rubbing my thighs and butt.
I shifted position, feeling the heat and strength of his rising manhood underneath me.
He slid up the hem of my robe, running his hands down between my legs.
His voice low and growling, he said into my ear, “No panties.”
“It's Saturday,” I said. “No need to rush getting dressed.”
“No need to rush anything, except ...”
He used one finger to part my lips and ran his fingertip up over my sensitive nub.
I gasped in pleasure and surprise. We hadn't even been kissing, and already I felt the swelling and the readiness in my pussy. I reached down behind me and grabbed for him, through his trousers. He moaned into my ear again, then gently bit the back of my neck, under my damp hair, as he thrust against my hand.
We were seated near the bay window, with no curtains, and the room faced a tiny but somewhat private yard. The neighbors, if they were to venture outside, would see us, but perhaps not. There was a fence.
Trevor had both hands on my pussy now, one scooped under from behind, and one angled around the front, drawing
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