The Muse's Undoing

My sexual awakening was like a category five hurricane, and I haven’t escaped its path since. Those nine months with Fischer were the eye of the storm. Since he left, I’ve consumed the landscape.

Yes, I’m obsessed with beauty, but I find beauty in all forms, and I revel in it. Fill my mind and body with it. Feel it beneath my tongue and fingertips, wrapped around my cock, or inhale it into my soul.

As my sketch nears completion, my seduction begins.

“Valentine?”

“Yes, Matthew?”

“Will you let me suck it?”

She giggles. “Maybe…”

“Will you let me suck anything I want?”

“Like what?”

“Your pretty tits?”

“Mmm… I don’t hate the sound of that.”

She has small, pierced breasts, the result of injected hormones she’s been taking since she was nineteen. Trans women run the gamut in terms of what they want in bed, just like anyone else. Depending on the hormones they take, or their perception of their bodies, I never know what I’m going to get.

Valentine prefers having sex with gay men, especially confused, closeted gay men, so having a cock works to her advantage more often than not. I’m neither confused, nor closeted. I want what I want when I want it, and today I want her. Badly. Every part of her. But she likes to taunt me with what she’ll let me have and when.

“How long until you have to leave for work?” she asks.

“A few hours still.”

“Don’t you need to sleep?”

“You have somewhere you need to be?”

She works nights. The club where she dances is open until four a.m. “Sleeping,” she says.

“I can suck you to sleep,” I say, wanting that sexy cock in my mouth so badly I’m willing to beg, though I know she’d rather have it the other way around, sucking me…not that I’m opposed… It’s only that I want to make her come. I want to go to work with the image of her head thrown back, gasping as she’s overtaken, the taste of her cum lingering on my tongue. But there are other ways to make Valentine come, as she and I both know.

“You’re bad,” she murmurs, her eyes barely open, aiming a sultry gaze at me.

“You love how much I want you,” I remind her.

“Against my better judgment.”

I set my sketchbook and charcoal pencil aside, climbing back into bed with her.

She stretches a thin hand out to stroke my cheek, her long, bejeweled nails scratching lightly through the scruff on my jaw. She’s all snow-pale skin with pink accents, begging to be smudged black by my fingertips. Tiffany blue eyes. Enchanting. “Tell me a secret,” I say.

“You’re one of the most beautiful boys I’ve ever seen.”

I smile. “That’s not a secret.”

“Tell me one, then,” she says.

I move closer, resting a hand on her hip and bringing her closer to me, longing for her friction against my rapidly filling cock. “What kind of secret?”

“A dirty secret,” she says as she obeys my body’s unspoken need and pulls herself flush to me, her hand wrapping around the back of my neck, her leg around my waist.

I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I’m a silo filled with filthy secrets. I grind our cocks together, my body vibrating with lust. “I wanna make you choke on my cum.”