...

SEA CHANGE

we were about to fuck, but the more we talked about it, the more we started laughing.

we had nearly everything in common: both of us physically couldn't bottom in the traditional sense, but we both loved intercrural sex. pushing, shoving, choking, biting, but what boundaries we had were identical too. that kind of alignment was so unique to both of us that the sameness itself was exciting; our laughter was pleasantly incredulous. there was one thing unique to her, however, which she politely prefaced before we got down to it:

"just so you know," she said, somehow timid and unabashed at the same time, "so you don't get surprised, i squirt."

my face did something and she huffed, a soft laugh, lips turning up at the corners. "oh really?", i replied.

she—and let's call her Iskierka; she was a dragon in all her feral greed and groping possessiveness—she simply nodded. she explained what things would trigger it the fastest, but she would let me know if it was going to happen. "i just want you to have that data beforehand."

(and maybe it's worth noting, but Iskierka is a trans girl. what exactly squirting meant in that scenario was an exhilirating unknown. that could mean a lot of different things. "it's not pee," she added.)

my eyes were probably shining, i think, in silent response to that "data"; my intentions laid bare. it made her shrink back, not necessarily in fear, because even as she played at being prey for once, she bit her lip. demure and unprotected. she had shifted her weight back, making a feeble gesture towards escape, but behind her was only the corner of her bed, of her room. she was backing herself into a role as i insinuated my way into my own. taller than me but beneath me now. she looked up at me, lip bit skin-scrapingly hard. i looked down at her, my shoulders still stinging from a half dozen crushing bites from Iskierka's maw. they were already in the process of blooming into deep bruises—i had them for a week and a half afterward, purple and green swatches on stretched canvas. she told me before that she didn't like always being dominant or submissive, she liked her dynamics to be fluid. she told me once, gasping as i caressed her with gliding closeness, gripping every part of her not with pinching lightness or harsh clawing but simple firmness, "wow. you take all my violence and turn it into sweetness."

one of many transformations that had taken place, over prior days and nights with Iskierka. she led me to embrace parts of myself that i considered idle daydreams. i am, at last, a snake woman, or something like it. she was a dragon—"scales attract scales", was what she'd said when we'd writhed entangled the time before. she had pure force on me—there was no denying her strength, and it was thrilling to try—but i could wrap myself around her, coiling warm and gentle, until suddenly she'd realized she was incapable of getting out. where she could have fought harder against me, she instead relaxed so completely that, combined with her unfathomable softness, she seemed to have melted. she hadn't, though—that was yet to come.

so, like a snake, i undulated toward her, my palms sliding up her shins where i gripped her knees and parted her. she shivered, mock-fear with a current of the real kind, and i reminded myself to smile outwardly with a fraction of the smile i felt inwardly. eye contact is usually hard for me—her as well—but when Iskierka's eyes met mine, she couldn't tear them away. she couldn't. it was intoxicating. saliva had been welling in her mouth, glands probably triggered by some emotional admixture of desire and uncertainty, but it meant her lip slipped away wetly from her teeth and she remembered, all at once, that she could speak. "um—"

"um?" i mimicked immediately, interrupting her train of thought.

"you're so—"

"i'm ssssso what?" i couldn't help it, none of it: not the playful exaggeration of my own mild lisp, leaning into my nature; not the smirking mockery either. she was getting smaller somehow, and i remembered her asking me nights before, straightforward as any other mundane notion, if i would be interested in roleplaying a vore scenario with her. she had asked with the intention of me being the meal.

she began babbling. "you're just so—i don't—wow—usually i don't feel this submissive this fast but you're—"

Iskierka was interrupted by my taking her shirt off, and she stopped talking. "Mmf" isn't a word, so i don't think it counted as talking. we had been shirtless around each other before, so i didn't ask permission. her sports bra was covered with rainbow dinosaur shapes. i grabbed the fleshy part of her ribs just beneath the band, squeezing until her skin filled my palms—she felt so malleable—and pulled her up toward me, just a little, enough that she could be reminded i was strong, too. "i'm taking this off now."

it wasn't a question, but there was tacit understanding that she could say no. her eyes were still incapable of looking away from mine. contact had been made, and it had not been unmade. she nodded her head while her eyes moved only enough to not move at all. i turned my palms upward, tucked my fingers into the band and pulled, nails angled, so that raking lines formed across her breasts. she inhaled sharply as one of her nipples was caught and then loosed. i hadn't bitten her much, not even a fraction as much as she'd otherwise marked me, but there was a marshmallowy quality to her chest that felt like i could've taken a chunk out of her without meaning to. the thought inspired caution as much as it intensified the coiling feeling low in my gut, like a serpent being coaxed. Anais Mitchell once sang: "a snake waked up in my body."

i pulled off her mini skirt next, and she dutifully shimmied it beneath her, not once daring to take her eyes off me. she could have, obviously; she could have reversed any of it at any time, flipped me over with the swipe of her hand and pinned me down by the neck for her devouring. she did not. not yet.

a sense of fairness intruded in my chest and i sighed long through my nose as i removed my own top and bra. her head was in a space where even the brief fabric interruption of my gaze didn't entice her to look elsewhere, and i felt a smug smile break across my face when i realized as much. by then we had removed all the barriers between us save for the last piece of clothing. this was a line we hadn't crossed yet, out of due responsbility to our mutual health (made to feel excessively responsible when we'd wanted this exact thing from the first night we met). but the results were in, no risks in our blood, and nothing left to stop us now. she was almost vibrating with anticipation.

but i would only have this once—we would both only have this once, this discovery. we'd exchanged no nudes, no photos at all beyond what we had on our profiles when we'd matched. the only inkling i had of what to expect came on a prior night; she'd thrown me around like i was nothing but a light stuffed animal, clawed red marks across my belly that wept pinprick pink where she'd snagged my stretch marks. i had felt so much desire well up in my mouth to please her that i took her hand in both of mine and asked if she trusted me. bemused, she nodded, and i uncurled two of her fingers. i opened my mouth, extended my tongue, and laid the pads of her fingers there, drawing her wrist toward me so that she was forced to push them inside. her eyes had been wider than wide, her own mouth agape as i lapped at her fingers, then took them deeper still, until her knuckles bumped against the roof of my mouth. she had shuddered then, clenched her thighs together involuntarily tight. "wow," she breathed out then, "i hope there's enough of me for you when—" (presumptive, but not; it was a known trajectory for both of us) "—when," she repeated more firmly, and her eyes fluttered closed at the pop of my lips relinquishing her digits back to her.

so i didn't know if there would be 'enough', but that was a laughable concept to me. i hadn't felt the need to tell her that 'not enough' would be a novelty, that her potential smallness would be something entirely new and therefore fascinating to me. but patience: "patience", i said. "this is delicious to me, not knowing yet. not having seen you fully yet."

i hooked my fingers under the waistband of that final barrier, but remember where our eyes were: only on each other's. Iskierka's breathing quickened, but i kept her gaze in mine as i pulled the fabric away. it was tempting beyond words to look down right away, to give myself the sight i wanted right away, but in that space, embracing myself fully, feeling the heat of someone's want staring into me and seeing the reflection of a self i could more than easily bear to feel wanted, i found something more intoxicating than i've known in a very long time. this wasn't the illusion of control: it was control; not a pretense of confidence but the thing itself. the feeling wasn't a fleeting thing, it belonged to me.

i balled the fabric of her underwear in my hand, clenched, then tossed it aside. our eyes still locked, i slid my knees to either side of her hips and wordlessly, she canted them so that her feet were no longer on the bed. her eyes had grown almost watery with focus or need or both, and when i laid both my hands on her inner thighs, she rolled her eyes back and risked a slow blink. her breathing had gone faintly ragged, and i could tell that Iskierka was approaching the limit of her own patience. at the end of that limit laid violence, sanctioned by me but not exactly conducive to where i was going, and i liked where i was going. i didn't want to have to stop to fight off a dragon, and then dole out a token punishment, only to try and reset to this moment. it would have been fine, had our time not been so strictly limited: two hours yet remained.

i gripped my way up her thighs, each squeeze bringing her back down into where she actually wanted to be. closer still, and my first reward made itself known: the surprisingly dense thatch of soft hair beneath my fingers as i caressed the pad of fat above her clit. (i asked her two full weeks prior how, if we should get to this point, she would like me to refer to her parts. she had beamed at me and answered easily.) the effect on her was instantaneous, and she was given sudden access to a wellspring of patience. my eyes still remained on hers, and likewise in turn, tracking downward with something like awe as i slid downward.

i had been checking in as i went along, asking Iskierka directly if she liked something. i didn't ask her if she disliked anything—when she did, she made it apparent, and anyway asking for the affirmative was more about keeping her in the moment, getting that nod to continue. she liked being 'consulted' with while i did what i liked, and that worked very well for and on me. when i asked again, my nose filled with the scent of her—the sweetgrass smell i've picked up on nearly ever person i've ever been attracted to, and a red clay note that belonged to her alone—the question rumbles out of me to be answered by a susurration of "yes yes yes".

i took her clit into my hands and both of us gasped at the sensation. she was soft in every way: the skin of it was hot and velvet, and she was in no way erect. she appeared unselfconscious about it and it didn't bother me in the least; hardness isn't the only indicator of excitement. i hadn't looked down yet, but she had looked up then, eyes on the ceiling as she gently, uselessly rocked into my hand. "Iskierka."

you'd have thought a bell had been rung with how quickly she returned her eyes to mine. i broke into a smile and nodded my approval. "that's more like it. i didn't even have to ask you."

"you didn't," Iskierka breathed, and shaking her head with some pride continued, "because i'm Good. i don't need directions to be Good."

she meant it in the way that she was a good girl, that she had displayed model behavior without being asked. it was undeniably true, and i felt a strange misplaced sense of pride in her for it. misplaced because it had nothing to do with me, mind you; i hadn't instilled that impulse in her. i smiled up at her, still feeling above her in that moment, relishing in her pinched brow, her restrained needy whimpers, her swollen, bitten lip. "you've been very good, Iskierka. that's what this is for."

i stroked her clit with my fingers, her heat too limp to be fully held, yet unmistakably throbbing. my second reward arrived then: there was a slickness that i gained sudden awareness of, which spanned from the pad of my thumb to the base of my palm. i ran my thumb over the head of her clit and found it wet. that i still maintained my eye contact with her was nearly a heroic feat, as much as i wanted to see then and there, but i was still savoring the experience. i was knowing her clit in real time, one sense after another. touch, smell, and then taste: i brought my thumb up to my tongue and dragged wet across wet. there was none of the bleachy smell to it, only the faintest saltiness—Iskierka's own sweat had tasted saltier when i kissed her neck earlier.

her plosive stammering came then: "pre," she managed at last. i knew that already—we had begun making out earlier that evening when we mutually admitted to ending our chaste first date with a distinct sensation of leaking a little bit. still, it was good to know that wasn't what she'd been referring to as squirting. more data.

the act of tasting her was enough to overwhelm my sense of control, and finally i shut my eyes. i nuzzled blindly against Iskierka's clit, reveling in the softness of it on my face, not to mention the way it made her shift gears from whimpering into outright keening. the tip of her fell slick across my cheek, feeling almost like a tear running down my face. i allowed myself a soft huffing laugh. when i opened my eyes to look up at her again, she was rapt and staring hotly down at me. if she could've, she would've breathed a lick of flame at me out of impatience.

and that was all the waiting i was willing to put either of us through. i wrapped my hand fully around her clit, locked eyes with her for a final time, and took her into my throat. the squirming softness of her was a delicacy i didn't have words for. i'd fantasized about it, both her specifically and other trans women generally, but i'd only experienced hardness, or fleeting moments of its diminishing afterward. it was almost entirely different, like eating seafood for the first time after a lifetime of only eating red meat. in the background, her desktop wallpaper lit the room more than her RGB mood lights did. the wallpaper was a centered image: fanart of Marcille from Dungeon Meshi on all fours, her small cock leaking and her hole filled with the tip of a dragon's tongue. Iskierka had mentioned that one of her most frequent fantasies was getting to bite down on someone so hard that they bled and then licking up the blood. she said she felt fine daydreaming about that, because really it was to keep herself from daydreaming about eating her lovers. i'd understood where she was coming from already, but in that moment, with my mouth filled with her still leaking clit, the urge to genuinely devour was strong—and fleeting, mostly because i do in fact have control over myself. but also because i was unbelievably distracted by what happened next.

my mouth was filled with her, then overflowing with her, the hollow of my cheeks filling up with—what, exactly, i didn't know at first, and then—

Iskierka was moaning, her hands suddenly clutching my head and pressing me desperately down onto her clit—then desperately away.

"oh wow WOW that never—that's never happened so fast—" she began saying, as i processed what had happened. she had, in fact, squirted. it was the same consistency as her pre-cum, the same semi-saline slickness, but so much more of it. in my surprise i had left my mouth hang agape, and the remainder spilled over my bottom lip across my breast. i blinked. "—fuck. you look so," a thought she continued but still didn't manage to complete, because instead she grabbed the back of my skull and pulled me into a brief, frenzied kiss.

i blinked again, slower, maybe even out of sync. i was dazed with newness. my emotions were catching up with reality, though not at speed. "don't worry. i'm prepared for this, i have special sheets, let me grab them and you can keep, um—"

she politely gestured for me to stand up from the bed and i did, a little unsteady on my feet, as she laid down a thick black sheet. i knew what they were: absorptive play blankets. Iskierka had two ready to go. "we can use the other one if i need it. that really hasn't happened that quick before," she laughed a little nervously, "you're really good with your—um, was that okay?"

there was a haze i was just beginning to shake off. discovering things about yourself in real time, not because you processed them later, is always a little jarring even when it's positive, because there could be ramifications later. i was, in that moment, running my tongue along the back of my teeth. the salty taste was almost the same as before, but different. familiar. Iskierka, i thought, was very well hydrated. i looked at her and saw her open expression, waiting for whatever my reaction might be. i laid my hand on her hip and closed the distance between us, staring down at her clit, contemplative.

"is that the same as cumming for you," i asked, my own voice strangely resonant to my own ears, "or is it different?"

"it's similar, but not the same, it takes more for me to—"

i hooked her around the ribs and tossed her onto the freshly laid black sheet and she giggled, bubbly and thrilled. "what do you want to—"

she didn't need to ask. i'd already pounced back over her and shoved her legs apart before she could finish the thought. i wrapped my arms around her legs from beneath and swallowed the shallow length of her into my throat again. i wanted to taste her again, to know for sure, to know myself for sure. it wasn't long before her wordless murmuring climbed into higher volume, "fuck" and "yes" and "please" on infinite loop, until she crested over the edge and squirted again. that time, it was at length. that time, the tip of her clit was just deep enough that for a brief moment, Iskierka was pissing down my throat.

the sensation was alien and embarassingly revelatory. there are fetishes that disgust me, and which are none of my business, and then there are others that i've been ambivalent about, but made fun of because they seemed silly to me. i don't feel shame about what i like these days, but there's a ghost of some feeling like shame that haunts me when i end up liking exactly the thing i used to poke fun at. happens to the best of us.

anyway, i couldn't be Iskierka's amphora for long: i gagged at the sensation of liquid coming in too fast and backing up to the top of my throat, which convulsed as i swallowed down half and spilled the remainder onto her belly. she writhed, moaning, and seemed not remotely put off by it. i leaned down to the shining jut of her hip bone and dragged my tongue over it. it had very little smell at all, but what scent there was, was unmistakeable. i didn't try to correct Iskierka otherwise on the topic of what did or did not come out of her body. i was too preoccupied with what it said about me, if anything, that i liked it either way.

the night carried on after that—slick with the mess of that, we slipped slick against each other and kissed until her feral need overwhelmed her. she pinned me down on my front by my neck and rutted piss-slick against my ass until she came, her clit pulsing thin rivulets over my back. afterward we took a bath and talked the rest of the night away. i've been thinking about all of it every single night since then, and how inconvenient it's going to be to do anything about this new desire in the future.