The Night in Which I Finally Felt at Home

We are both more dominant, which is what I crave. I love that you make suggestions. That I don't have to be the one doing everything, while you don't try to do something without asking first. I feel ecstatic at having the reigns in my hands. I am still in wonder at having discovered the existence of someone so utterly sexually compatible with me. And it hurts having that taken away from me even before I could develop a taste for this still new and exciting hunger.

Sex is so much more than physical. Art, the expression of gender with which we two non-binary souls play, the creativity in the possibilities that I see. Beauty, the pause at the fragile, smooth dark skin, the breathlessness of catching the light in your eyes. Connection, the energy I feel coursing through the warm blood that is beating so closely to the surface. Fun, teasing you as I lie on top of you, pulling my head back just as you expect my lips to touch yours, lying next to you and needing to pause for laughter as the glory is building up in me too much.

The half a night with you has left me with some stains. Hair is something else to me now. When I see hair I want to weave my fingers into its depth, grab it, and tug the way that makes you dissolve in a smile that I would love to get the chance to eat again.

You will contact me and we will meet up, it will be sweet and affectionate, cuddly, and we will spend the first of many nights in your room, exploring sex in so many different ways. I am female-bodied and you are male-bodied, but we don't have penis-in-vagina sex. You'll take off my underwear with your teeth. I'll run my fingertips, tongue, fingernails, teeth along your thin body. You will adore my curves.

You will kiss my hands which makes me cry a little bit from adoration. Because of my disability this means everything to me. I walk with a limp but especially I can't use my left arm. It's a bit spastic, so my elbow is usually a little bent and my left hand usually more or less closed. My left hand is my weakness and my right hand is me, because I do everything with it. Giving it to you to kiss is giving myself to you. You kissing my left hand is you accepting me fully, with my disability.

I will discover you, what you like. I already found your hair as your weakness, I have seen what whispering in your ear does to you. I want to make you shake and shiver, I want to leave traces on you, on your skin, on your heart. I want ours to intertwine.

However, for the first time, what I care most about is you as a person, not what we do. Possibly I am disillusioned, I don't even know you, possibly these first and intimate hours were all that will ever connect us. But god I hope not. That thought breaks me daily.

Please Erika, give me a happy ending for this story.