Smutstack #2: Tender/Tough
A newly out trans man finds release in the tender/tough touch of a more experienced lover.
[Content Note: Themes of consensual non-consent, use of the word ‘pussy’ & ‘clit’ for transmasc junk]
He was a few years older, and a few years surer of himself – he’d been around the block a few times, knew himself, his people and his places, had stuff going on in life other than his transness. He had that (elusive in early transition) self-assured aura.
It was Shawn who had reached out, spotting the fellow trans man’s profile on the usual app. Shawn was pretty fresh out of the closet. It had been maybe a couple of months since he did the thing – coming out to a few close friends and his parents who lived out of town. Admittedly, when Shawn came across the profile, he didn’t know if he wanted to be this guy, or be underneath him. The slightly older man looked rugged and hirsute and kind of everything Shawn hoped for in transition.
After a brief and efficient exchange of flirts and nudes, Shawn found himself in his soon-to-be-hookup’s small two-bed flat – shared with a flatmate who was conveniently away for the weekend.
“My name’s Pat… by the way. Realised I hadn’t said.” Pat was standing over him with a glass of water.
Shawn accepted the glass awkwardly, too shy to meet Pat’s soft, but searching stare. He sipped on his water.
“How long you been out?” Pat said, collapsing into a bean bag chair with his arms folded. “You’ve got a little of that deer in the headlights stare… Is this your first time?”
Shawn looked confused.
“No, I mean your first time with a trans guy, or… As a trans guy.” Pat chuckled softly. “It’s not a bad thing, I just, you know, want you to feel comfortable – maybe there’s some way I can help you relax. We can take it slow.”
The way Pat spoke – authoritative yet gentle, pushing back his tight curls from his moustached face, gesturing with open palms and strong arms – was already making Shawn wet.
“Shawn?”
Jolted from his dissociative gaze Shawn stuttered a slightly mangled response : “No – I mean yeah it’s my first time… For both. I kind of did the classic butch lesbian thing for a while, swore off men.” He scratched his ear nervously. “You know how it goes.”
Pat laughed. “I do. They say gender and sexuality are separate but they were always intertwined for me…” His voice trailed off as he thought back to his own short-lived butch era.
“Yeah.”
The pair sat quietly for a moment, then each began taking the other in. Shawn’s hazel eyes flashed over Pat’s body, trailing across his broad chest and soft stomach, down to the strong tree-like thighs protruding from his high-seamed jersey shorts. Pat leaned back into the beanbag, letting himself be surveyed. The muscles in his arms and calves flexed as he changed position.
Shawn put the glass of water on the floor, trying to hide the slight tremor in his hands. He was trying to match Pat’s confidence though his stomach was doing somersaults – a mix of nerves and desire.
Pat watched back. He took in Shawn’s smooth brown skin, rippled with soft stripes of sunlight that had flooded in through the semi-closed blinds. He had wide, rounded shoulders and slightly tense, but soft arms. Pat thought about pinning those arms behind Shawn’s back and using them as a lever to ease in and out of his cunt with painfully slow strokes.
He’d always liked larger men. Fat men. Stocky men. Men whose bodies moved with his, where you could see pleasure ripple across their stomach or ass with each thrust. He loved the physicality of it – flesh against flesh, bodies thudding and slapping in rhythm… But before that he could tell the boy needed to unwind a bit.
“Come closer Shawn,” Pat said, guiding him to sit between his legs and lean into him. “It’s okay. I won’t bite.”
Shawn obeyed, slowly letting himself relax into Pat’s body.
“That’s better isn’t it…” Pat’s strong, sinewy hands traced Shawn’s shoulders, easing into a kneading movement. “How about a massage?”
Shawn let the older man manipulate his tense muscles into submission. The push-pull of Pat’s fingertips fell into a hypnotic rhythm, unfurling the tight knots he’d gathered from binding every day. Pat instinctively picked up on it.
“Binding. A fucking pain hey?”
Shawn nodded, in too trance-like a state to speak. His hands felt so good.
“If you want, you could take it off... No pressure though.” Pat continued to work Shawn’s upper back through his shirt, tracing the lines of tension and gently teasing each of them out.
“God you’re good at this.” Shawn said, his voice a soft whisper, almost a moan. Pat smiled. “–And okay, yeah. I’ll take the binder off but don’t look at my chest?”
Shawn removed his oversized t-shirt, then slowly began to roll the full-length binder up over his stomach. He looked hesitant for a moment.
Pat reached his hand down to rest it over Shawn’s. “There’s no pressure.”
Shawn took a deep inhale of breath, feeling Pat’s warm touch against him, brushing slightly against his belly button and triggering pangs of desire between his thighs. “No, it’s okay. I want to.” He removed the binder, with Pat helping him at the back.
Then Pat traced a finger from the base of Shawn’s spine to the top of his neck, deliberately, teasingly slow. The younger man let out an involuntary moan – the skin-to-skin sensation felt electric. Pat returned to his hypnotic kneading motion, with Shawn more than willing to be put under again.
Shawn was intoxicated. His chest was rising and falling in waves, his head leaning back into Pat’s capable caress. The dysphoria fell away – he didn’t care about his exposed chest, in fact he could feel his nipples hardening against the cool air. Longing to be touched.
Shawn used to love nipple play, until Gender happened. It’d been so long since he’d let someone else touch, tease, pinch him there. Now it was all he could think about. He began to imagine how Pat’s fingers might feel…
“You can… play with my nipples… if you like,” he said in between, long, deep breaths.
Pat smiled, more than happy to oblige. He let his long fingers trail from Shawn’s neck down to his nipples, softly brushing each teat in long, languishing strokes. Shawn gasped, throwing his head back in bliss.
“Fuckkkk.”
Pat licked a finger on each hand, then teased each hardening nipple with a wet, slippery touch. He circled the areolas, moistened his fingers again, then took each nipple between thumb and forefinger, rubbing them slowly and lightly.
Shawn let out another moan. Pat’s spit on his nipples was having a cooling effect, adding to the rich tapestry of sensation. Shawn could feel his wetness growing. His boxers began to cling to him: Warm, sticky, tight.
The younger man had relaxed – giving himself over to Pat’s gentle manipulation. Pat decided the time was right to play rough. He pinched Shawn’s nipples, pulling at them as if milking him.
“Oh–. God.” Shawn’s eyes flashed open. Pleasure mixed with pain as he succumbed to Pat’s strong, tightening grip.
“Not God. Pat. Say it. Say my name.”
Pat pressed his thumb and forefinger together even harder. Shawn’s nipples stung. They felt hot, squeezed and stretched to the limit.
“I won’t let go until you say it.”
“Oh fuck, okay – Pat. Jesus. It hurts so good Pat.”
Pat suddenly let go, letting Shawn’s erect nipples recoil in relief. Shawn collapsed into his lover/tormentor, breathing hard. After a moment, Pat tenderly cupped each breast. The warmth from his hands like a soft balm to Shawn’s bruised skin.
Shawn felt something wet on his cheek. He was crying. His whole body exhaled deeply: an out-breath of air that seemed to carry with it all the tension and angst of being newly out. There had been a release… His head rested gently on Pat’s warm thigh.
“It’s okay,” Pat whispered. “You’re okay kid.”
***
Pat had led Shawn to his bedroom, where they’d lain quietly together in the darkening afternoon light. Pat held Shawn close to his chest, stroking his hair.
“I think you’re ready now, Shawn. Let’s do what you came for. I’ll get the gloves and lube. I want you naked and spreadeagled.” Pat said, slipping away to retrieve the items from a drawer in his desk.
Shawn lay there, mesmerised for a moment. The command in Pat’s voice was compelling without feeling forced. Submitting to him felt natural, inevitable.
Once he lay naked on the bed, Pat cuffed his arms and legs tightly with underbed restraints. Suddenly coy, Shawn tried to press his legs together, he tugged unsuccessfully against the straps binding him.
Noticing this, Pat leaned close to his ear: “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. But you’re not leaving until you’ve taken my whole fist. We’ll simply be here as long as it takes Shawn. Try to breathe and relax.”
The reminder to breathe had been useful. Shawn hadn’t noticed he’d been holding his breath in anticipation. He watched Pat as he took his shirt off, then put a white latex glove on each hand. Shawn liked that it felt both clinical and intimate. He took a deep inhale, leaned back and let his gaze rest on the ceiling.
Shawn felt the rubbery friction of Pat’s fingers as they parted his outer lips, brushing his engorged clit then trailing down to where his wetness had gathered. Pat pushed a finger inside – not deep – just enough to open his hole and tease the nerve endings there.
“I see you’re nice and wet for me already. Good little hole.”
Shawn squirmed with shame and desire.
“–But you’re not wet enough for me. We’ll have to do something about that.” Suddenly Pat’s lips were cupped around Shawn’s dick. Shawn jolted in shock. He gasped as Pat gently sucked him off, his tongue flitting out sporadically with agonizingly soft licks. Pat’s finger still rested *just* inside him, a barely-there caress that made Shawn desperate for deeper penetration.
“Ugh – uh. God.” Soft, involuntary moans escaped him.
Pat pressed his lips more tightly on Shawn’s dick, sucking harder now. Shawn’s hips began to buck in waves.
“Mmm good boy. Now you’re really starting to drip.” Pat said, easing the rest of his finger into Shawn.
“Pat…?” It was all Shawn could muster. Pat’s long index finger felt so good inside him, tickling his walls, pushing against him. He wanted more. He was ready to be stretched.
Pat kept sucking and wriggling a searching finger inside the spreadeagled man. With his tongue, he found the sensitive, erect head of Shawn’s dick, and pressed into it.
“Oh God Pat I’m close-.”
Without skipping a beat Pat replied: “Good. I want you to cum for me. But don’t think that means I’m finished with you yet.” He thrust his finger in deep, curving it upwards and stroking Shawn’s g-spot with a come-hither motion.
It was enough to push Shawn over the edge: His body convulsed as he felt his pussy contract around Pat’s finger – which remained firmly pressed on his g-spot. Pat kept sucking and licking and fingerfucking Shawn as he shook with orgasm. When Shawn tried to wrestle away from his touch, he used his other arm to pin the boy down by his navel.
“Oh fuck. It’s sensitive.” Shawn struggled against his restraints, but the tight cuffs around his ankles kept him spread wide open to Pat’s overstimulating touch. Before he could voice another complaint, he felt his body riding a new, growing wave of sensation: “Oh God I’m gonna cum again.”
It sounded less like a statement and more like a submission – Shawn let his body succumb to Pat’s torturous game. He said it as if admitting defeat. His abs and buttocks clenched as he climaxed again – hard. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he shuddered violently.
When the tension in his muscles had ebbed, and Shawn lay spent – like a rag doll – Pat slid out of him slowly. Clinically. Then reached a hand up to stroke Shawn’s cheek softly.
“Well done. You did good.” Pat opened a bottle of water and let Shawn sip from it, helping to raise his head to the rim as he was still bound to the bed. “Have a drink and catch your breath. Then I’ve got a little something else for you.”
Pat returned to his desk, pulling out a black balaclava with only a mouth hole.
“You’re going to wear this now. Okay?”
Shawn’s eyes widened, yet he found himself nodding.
“Good.”
Pat pulled the balaclava over Shawn’s face, thrusting him into darkness. He sucked in air through the small mouth hole, trying to adjust his breathing to the impediment.
“This is called depersonalisation.” Pat’s disembodied voice penetrated Shawn’s darkness. “Try to relax into it. You’re wearing the hood because you’re not Shawn anymore.”
Shawn heard the sound of a lid being uncapped, then felt the cold sensation of lube at the entrance to his hole.
“Right now you’re just a hole.”
First, a single finger, then two, three squeezed inside him.
“What are you?” Pat’s voice was suddenly much closer.
Shawn inhaled then exhaled deeply. “A hole,” he surrendered.
Schluch.
It was the wet, suction-like noise of Pat pulling his fingers out of Shawn then punching back in again. Applying lube liberally Pat began to slip rhythmically in and out of Shawn’s aching pussy.
“What a good, hungry hole you are. You’re dripping all over my bed.”
Shawn could barely muster a response. Unable to move, unable to see, he could only breathe slowly and allow himself to be repeatedly penetrated by Pat’s long fingers. He could feel his hole stretching out around Pat, yielding to his entry. Helplessly exposed with no choice but to welcome his lover/tormentor in.
Pat began spreading his three fingers apart while deep inside – pushing against Shawn’s walls and stretching him out.
“Uh–,” Shawn gasped.
“Oh you felt that did you? Time to put you to work. I want you to open up for my fourth. Can you do that for me, hole?”
Shawn felt his pussy twinge with a pang of arousal, briefly tightening around Pat’s fingers. There was something hypnotic in Pat’s voice. He couldn’t help but give Pat what he wanted.
Pat slid out, then began to push into Shawn’s pussy with a fourth finger. He took his time teasing Shawn’s hole open wider, applying sustained pressure against the weakening resistance of Shawn’s pelvic muscles.
Shawn squirmed.
“Breathe through it. You’re not going anywhere until you take it all. You’re going to let me in eventually.” Pat’s firm, yet soothing voice again. It was what Shawn needed to hear – as he inhaled and allowed himself to be conquered, Pat’s fourth finger slipped in.
“Good hole. See? It’s easier when you surrender to me.”
Time began to pass strangely. For what felt like hours – blinded and bound to the bed –Shawn let himself lay helpless to the penetration. Let himself give way to Pat’s probing fingers. Pat, the unstoppable force, he, the immovable object.
In. Out. In. Out. His hole was taking a pounding. Pat had upped the pace once it was clear Shawn could comfortably take most of his hand. With his thumb he would occasionally brush Shawn’s dick, making him spasm involuntarily. Pat liked toying with the boy like this – feeling Shawn’s pussy squeeze hard on his fingers as he did so. His hand was slick with lube and the boy’s wetness, slithering in and out effortlessly.
Pat began to thrust into him harder, his elbow bent for better leverage, whipping his arm upwards and inwards in rough, staccato movements. Putting his full weight into every stroke.
“Fuck fuck fuck.” Shawn squirmed again, trying to writhe away from being repeatedly skewered.
Pat responded quickly, pinning him down by the navel once more. “Take it. It’s what you came for. And you’re not leaving without it.”
Pat’s stabbing fingers felt intolerable yet irresistible.
Shawn took another deep breath, focusing on the intense sensation ebbing and flowing between his thighs. Tried to embrace it, not run from it. Surrendered to being used like an inanimate object, like the hole he was. This was, after all, what he had wanted. What he had asked the older man to do to him. He pressed his head back into the bed, hard. Bit his lip, then conceded to being impaled like a piece of meat.
That was when it happened.
A pang of pain shot up through his abdomen as Pat’s thumb broke inside him: all five fingers in his worn out, yet tight hole.
“Ah!” He gasped, expecting Pat to slow down and let him adjust to the new feeling of fullness within him.
It was the last thing on Pat’s mind. Pat punched in and out of him, twisting his fist in the warm, fleshy cavity. Pushing against the vaginal muscles and working them into soft, relaxed submission.
“I want you to cum for me.” It was spoken like a command, not a desire, or request. And Shawn was ready to obey. The directive alone was enough to bring him to the brink of climax. Pat had complete control over his body and his responses. He wanted to give Pat everything. Willingly.
“I said, I want you to cum for me.” Pat stated again, with more assertion this time. He was fist fucking Shawn so deep the younger man could feel fingers brushing his cervix.
Shawn’s body immediately responded to the reprimand. Orgasm came: A prolonged, full body tremor. Shawn’s hole contracted so tightly that he pulled Pat deeper inside for a moment. His body, rigid with tension, lifted off the bed and made him thrash at the restraints. Then he shook. He didn’t know how long for. He only knew it was long enough that by the time he’d stopped, Pat had uncuffed and unhooded him, and was holding him to his bare chest again. Stroking his face and telling him what a good hole he’d been.
The room was dark now, not because of any blindfold, but because the sun had set. They must’ve been fucking for hours.
Pat cleared his throat: “Well. That was a good start… But I think you can go further Shawn, don’t you agree?”
Still coming to and somewhat nonverbal, Shawn found himself nodding in agreement. He was spent, but he was happy. How could he not agree to more of Pat’s irresistible pain/pleasure games?