Ride

Erotic short. A trans man rides his partner’s thigh.

250w, trans M/cis M. Return of Arne Seven and Danny from Financial Security.

Seven’s thigh is ridiculously thick, and Danny knows having seen the old man naked that there’s real, heavy muscle under his trousers, that he’s stacked with it, and that’s why it’s so hard underneath him, why there’s so much to fucking grind against.

Seven is hitting back, legs spread, and he’s smoking his cigar, glancing at his phone from time to time, acting like he barely even remembers that Danny’s here and on top of him, grinding himself against his thigh.

His hands are tied at the small of his back, and his shoulders ache a bit, but all he can think of is the pressure and friction on his cock and against where he’s wet and open, dragging on his lips. He’s left a slick mess on the fabric already, so wet he feels like he’s fucking melting, but it’s so fucking slow-going, so hard.

He’s sweaty and he’s breathing heavy and whenever he gets a really good grind it makes his hips stutter so that he loses his rhythm, and his heart is pounding so hard in his chest he can feel it in his ears and his cock.

“Want a hand?” asks Seven.

“Yeah.”

“Ask pretty, then.”

“Arne–”

“Ah ah ah,” says Seven, exhaling smoke. “Try again.”

“Sir,” spits out Danny.

Seven grins at him, then tenses the muscle in his thigh, and Danny chokes even before Seven starts rhythmically raising his thigh, making him whine as something tightens in him.

“Good lad,” purrs Seven, and looks back to his phone.

Want to browse through hundreds more short stories? Here’s my Directory of Work. I’m also on Tumblr.