Cindy Laura and I

By Kachar Ricuchi

Published on Sep 26, 2020

Transgender

I looked over at Cindy as the tip of my tongue was closing into Laura's dark rosebud. I had been concentrating on the beautiful approach to Laura, remember? The words for me were hypnotizing as ever, "Wlcm. Bknd. Bgntl. Godeep". Do you remember? Hey, they were also quite a thrill for Cindy who had loved to lick those words from the very beginning of our relationship, and she would voice them softly, sensually, "Welcome, be kind, be gentle, go deep", then tracing the letters with her finger, and tracing them again with her tongue, breathing very close to Laura's bud and giving her the first thrills of her ministrations. She would circle Laura's hole and penetrate it with the tip of her happy tongue with great joy. So she had started "to be me" spread on the sofa, observing us as we mimicked the love scene I had told them earlier and she had wanted to recreate. She was panting as she stroked her dildo grasping it well, which of course, with its double head, made it penetrate deeper into her. That is what she likes to use, when our cocks, her two lovers cocks, were busy. I had to look "at me"; there she was with her eyes open, attentive to our movements; from her angle, she could see my tip approaching its target, which was crowned by Laura's message. And then she had taken a liking to using that very same dildo on us. She confessed early that she had some penis envy while happy in her hot woman body, and it showed (or shoved?) as she never missed an opportunity to be inside us with it. The dildo was longer and wider than my cock or Laura's and Cindy seemed happy about that, childishly satisfied that she had the upper hand (or a dick up?) on us on that one. It was endearing, yet that dildo was serious stuff and while Laura and I were already used to our mutual anal intercourse with our reasonably sized cocks, where mine was larger -let me make that straight!- we had with Cindy's choice of male part a clear challenge to our assholes. But she was gentle from the very beginning, following Laura's carnally inscribed wishes and my firm verbal admonition. Oh, she had asked for it...

She was about to get filled with all the sperm from her very excited companion. I, witness to that very hot coupling, was about to explode again, oddly enough, with much more intensity than I felt the first time. I hoped that such arousal would produce a decent amount of my own semen so that I could fulfill my task with the flower. Oh, but they kept going at it, with heavy panting from both of them and me. My tension was so high that I had to let my cock go and rather concentrate on fondling my breast, reducing the intensity of the titillation on my groin in all its parts: the reverberations on my cock, the contractions on my scrotum and balls, the trembling of my perineum and the ringing on my asshole. A needed a break. After a minute my other hand got to firmly hold the flower, and I used this break time for a dry run (it had to be so!) of what I was to do: when ready, and perhaps before, I would grab hold of my cock again, somewhat calmed now, and be ready for the final run. I would need to bend the stiff cock to the right with my holding hand and place the flower about an inch from it and hold them face to face. I thought about the feeling of a mutual caress of the soft skin of my head and the soft petals of the rose. Yes, I started to stimulate my head with the petals, softly so as not to ruffle its tips. It felt good but produced not enough stimulation to quench my arousal - I would destroy the flower if had to satiate myself with it; the hand would have to play its handy role. Would the twist to the right affect the ejection of sperm? I needed a fair amount, for this second salvo. I had to make sure my aim was good so I had to keep steady my left and right arms, the slit of my head pointed at the umbilical cluster of tightly rolled petals, which unfold from its navel to the sides, mimicking the labia of a woman, albeit in more complex centrifugal flow. Surely, a sight to see, as did that famous painter who used a wide array of colors to portray flowers, whereas many saw vaginas as she probably did as well. It showed she longed for them. Here we go, I thought, as the panting was increasing up there; I am up. Less than thirty seconds later I exploded, thinking I better have a good aim this time.

Next: Chapter 26


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