queer – Inside The Mind of a Black Artist

Fuck: IV

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Are you uncomfortable?” You ask, sitting up.

I scoot towards the headboard and close my legs. “Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know…dysphoria I guess.”

You come sit beside me at the head of the bed. Silence passes us and I put my face in my hands, covering my eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I reply with a quick shake of my head.

You sigh and put your head on my shoulder.

“You never want to talk about it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable during sex or any other time.”

“I know…it’s just. It’s not you. I love having sex with you and being with you. I just wish I could give you more.” I feel tears welling in my eyes and I blink them away.

“More what?” You turn to look at me.

We turn, our bodies to face eachother and you take my hands in yours.

“More what…?” you ask again.

“I don’t know, I wish I could be inside of you…with a penis…you know?”

“I get it. So is having sex with me too much for you?”

“Kind of. I just feel that I can’t really feel anything sometimes.”

“Anything like what?”

“The emotional stuff. I feel attracted to you I do. And it feels good when we have sex but it’s like I’m not there.”

“Is that why you always shut your eyes?”

“I guess. It’s confusing me, having to settle. Being trans. Being me. It’s confusing.”

“Well I’m not confused about you. You are just like any other man. No less. But I hear you and you have to tell me what you want because if this isn’t working for you…”

“No. It’s not that—“

“What is it?”

“It’s me. Okay? It’s me.”

“Well, I’m with you. It’s us. Just tell me how you feel.”

I look away from you and take a deep breath, contemplating my thoughts. I shake my head and fill my cheeks with air.

“I mean…I wish you were more engaged with me. But I feel a lot when you fuck me. And…I want to be able to pleasure you the way you pleasure me.”

“Don’t you feel like something is missing when I fuck you”, I ask, “don’t you wish you could feel more?”

“I don’t feel like a real man.”

“You are.”

“I know. But I don’t feel that.”

“What do you feel?”

“I don’t know. I just…are you fucking someone else?”

“What?”

“Just tell me the truth.”

“Yes. Sometimes. When you’re gone and…I need someone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know I needed to.”

We stare into each other eyes. Crickets sing outside of the motel window.

“You don’t think I would want to know if someone is fucking you other than me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Does he have a penis?”

“Stop.”

“Tell me.”

“Yes. So what? He’s not you.”

“What are you telling me?”

“I’m telling you that I love you.”

“…Love…?

You grip my hands on your breasts as you climax. My eyes run wild as I watch you shake and quiver with pleasure. You laugh as the waves rush onto the shores of your body. I giggle a little too as I try to steady my breathing. I grind myself with you as you come, hoping to intensify the orgasm. The seconds feel like minutes before you collapse onto my chest, heaving and chuckling.

“Thank you”, you whisper as your breath starts slowing.

I wrap my arms around your back and massage your spine. “Thank you”, I reply.

You prop your chin on my chest, smiling at me, looking into my eyes. “You held your orgasm for me didn’t you?”

“Its okay”, I kiss your forehead, “I wanted to. I was enjoying you.”

“I enjoyed you also, but I want you to come…if it’s okay with you of course. Can I taste you?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” You grin at me and your eyes shimmer with passion. We kiss for a few moments before you begin to lick and suck patterns on my neck.

I close my eyes, and bite my lip. I massage the nape of your neck while you explore me.

“Your skin smells like lavender.”

I smile. “I wonder what it taste like.”

You bite your lip and give me that look you give before you are about to rock my world.

You kiss my chest and trail your tongue down my stomach until you settle yourself between my legs. My breath deepens and I spread myself open to give you space to get comfortable. I feel your tongue and I tense up involuntarily.

“Are you okay?” You ask me, peaking from between my legs.

“Yeah…yes…I’m alright.” I clear my throat and try to relax my body.

You begin tasting me again I clench my jaw. I look up at the ceiling and try not to think too much.

Fuck: II

Our kissing intensifies.

I close my eyes shut tight because I feel the urge to explode; to squirt all over you, but I hold it back. I try to wait it out.

I’m having fun, I determine, No need to come right now.

“Are you close?”, you whisper between my lips.

Shit.

“Yeah. I’m sorry” I say, embarrassed. My eyes are still shut and my lips still pursed closely upon yours.

“Hey…it’s okay.”

You plant soft kisses on my cheek and trail the kisses down my chin and into my beard. I exhale through my nose and feel the sensation. The spots on my skin warm up as your lips stimulate them.

You plant one on my lips.

I grin slightly before we begin to make out once more.

I feel myself starting to sweat and the urge fills me up again. You roll yourself on top of me with a seamless straddle. Gripping your thigh, I align your pussy onto me. You rock your hips back and forth…tentatively. I breathe into you. Both our mouths are open and our moans exchange.

You sit up and throw your head back as you start to ride me faster.

“Oh my god”, you pant.

I place both my palms on your breasts, swirling them in small, slow circles. I can feel the firmness of your nipples.

I thrust into you harder, causing you to bounce; the bed creaks.

I squeeze your breasts.

“You like that?”

“I…fucking love it”, you moan.

“Tell me…oooh…yes. Say it.”

“Oh my god”, you screech, “I love it. I love it!”

Fuck.

Might I say you look beautiful right now, on your back, legs spread wide for me.

I lower my head down between your legs and kiss your clit a few times. It’s wet. You’re wet. I’m wet. You taste golden. I slide my tongue inside of you and you shiver.

“Kiss me”, you whisper.

I lift my body up gently to meet you. My lips glisten with your fluids. Our tongues meet and twirl with the other. They dance, and you pull me closer. Our nipples are touching, we are so close. I slide my middle finger in you and massage you from the inside. You moan into my mouth and I can taste your breath and saliva. I taste your 3pm cigarette.

I am in love with you.

But something tells me there is more under the surface of your discarding of me. I need you, now more than I ever have. Why? Because I am ready to love you actively and fully. Transparently and forreal, woman. Can you hear me? Can you feel me? I feel you. Or maybe I just feel myself, hoping a piece of me can float amongst the universe and reach you somehow. And…I know this happens to people. They do not get the lover or the romance, but I am in love with you.

I never felt this way before.

A feeling of being so close and so far away from you. I am having a hard time expressing this…mainly because I wish I could express this to you. Talk to you. Tell you everything, and nothing. Nothing at all cause you do not care. Seemingly.

That is all I know for sure.

I feel it. I hope you do too.

A Hopeful Lesbian Lover.

Yeah, so obviously there is no handbook on how to be a lesbian or whatever that even means. How do I ensure that I am not portraying, bi-sexual. what if I am bi-sexual? shit.

This is confusing. This has surpassed confusing, I am livid with the thought that I may not be gay enough because there is not a fucking handbook where I can check the criteria.