Treats

I was recovering from a breakup. I didn’t know it at the time, but so were they.

My recent break up had hit me hard. It had left me feeling undesirable and sad – and I’d been moping around for weeks. It was a fairly slow day, a Tuesday, at the sex shop I worked at, and I found myself re-adjusting a strap-on harness for the millionth time that morning when three people came through the door. My coworker greeted them automatically before I said anything. I smiled and went back to my adjusting, un-tucking tags and tucking them back in just to have something to do. 

I wandered back to the counter and rested on my forearms, trying not to stare at the people shopping around. They were all visibly queer, but one stood out to me in particular. They were tall and looked strong, with a stern & furrowed brow that made them appear a bit perplexed. They strode around the store with a gentle confidence, examining the paddles, harnesses, and kink sections of the store like an expert. I wondered if they were. 

Out of boredom, I tried to read the energy between the three people – were they friends? A triad? A couple taking their date out to buy a new toy before heading home? I chuckled to myself, thinking about how much I like to assume all people in groups larger than two are part of a polycule. 

The tall, strong, handsome one came up to the counter with a paddle. I rang them up, making light small talk that quickly turned into light flirting. We made eye contact as I handed them their bag – I smiled, pleased to just be near a hot queer person who wasn’t wrecking my heart. 

“Hey, wait. Do you have a pen? I just thought I’d give you my number. Here, if you want it.” They scrawled numbers across the receipt with the pen I had handed them. 

“Okay thank you. Yeah, thank you,” I said awkwardly, scurrying away into the back room to hide. My face felt hot. My coworker gave me a big raised eyebrow smirk on my way back into the store.

“Soooooo,” they said coyly, “are you gonna text them?”

I swallowed. “I think I am.”

Kent. A non-binary queer babe from Seattle. A filmmaker. A bartender. A comforting, fierce, gentle energy. I was more than intrigued. I was already hooked. 

They had only been visiting Portland for a couple nights when they gave me their number, so they asked if they could stop by my work on their way out of the city. The next day I waited anxiously in the empty store, hoping they would come by but not totally believing they would. When they opened the door, my stomach dropped. Their broad shoulders and sleek clothes gave them the rugged confidence of a football player mixed with the irresistible suave of a dapper 1950s dreamboat. I felt my whole body being pulled towards them. I couldn’t look away from their sharp eyes, their hands. And they brought me a lemon bar. My bulge was already pressing against my jeans when they walked through the door, and even more so when I took a bite of that dessert. I could feel myself melting as they stood next to me. They looked at me with a gentle and approving gaze as I ate their treats. I wanted more of that, more of their loving approval. My heart dropped knowing they were leaving. I’d probably never see them again. 

“Can I have a hug? Before you go?” I asked.

When their body leaned into me, they felt so safe and soft, like a gentle bear. I pulled back from them in surprise. 

“You’re like a really good hugger,” I said looking away. My cheeks were burning. 

“Thanks.” They said, smirking. 

The seasons were changing, and my heart was healing. The sting of my breakup didn’t feel so constant anymore. I was ready to feel something besides sadness. I could feel my desire building to make out with a stranger on a dance floor, to take home a Tinder hottie, or maybe even plan a trip to Seattle in case a certain hot queer was available for a one night stand. 

I grew up in Seattle, so I had a pretty good excuse (or reason, depending on how in denial I was at the moment) to go visit. I texted Kent. 

Hey dude! I’m considering boppin up to Seattle around September 10th for a day or two! If you’re free that week, I would love to link up at some point :)

Hell yes, please!

Thursday would be good for me. You’re also welcome to stay the night if need be. Obviously no pressure in any direction but if that’s the way it goes, you’re welcome.

The plan was to go to dinner after a drink at their apartment. I hadn’t seen Kent since they stopped by for a hug weeks ago. They were hotter than I remembered. Soft fawn brown hair cut in a tight fade that gave me chills. And they had freckles. I am such a sucker for freckles. Their piercing blue eyes were slightly shadowed by their serious eyebrows. They had this warmth to them—I didn’t know them at all, but I felt safe with them. We sat on their roof for a drink that turned into hours in the afternoon sun. An electric hum was burning between us, a desire to touch, to know what each other’s skin felt like. 

“Wanna rinse off before dinner?”

In their apartment, Kent handed me a huge fluffy towel. I stripped off my tank top and boy shorts and hopped in the shower. After my rinse, I wrapped the towel around me and sank into their couch. The soft towel felt like feathers against my skin. Their apartment had large windows and the late afternoon sun was gleaming onto my body. I could hear Kent still changing in their bedroom, so I let my hand slide below the towel and rub my clit gently in circles. I heard their door open and impulsively moved my hand out of the towel. I grinned up at them.

They looked deliciously handsome in their black pants and black t-shirt. It was such a simple, hot, and masculine look. I leaned into the couch as they towered over me. 

“Your, uh, nipple is showing,” they gestured to my chest.

I glanced down to see that the towel had fallen down onto my stomach, and my nipple was in fact glistening with a bead of shower water in the golden air. 

“Oh,” I said, smirking. I pretended to look at my nipple like I had never noticed it there before. “This nipple?” 

Kent laughed and turned away, shaking their head, “Yes. That nipple. So, should we go to dinner?”

I shrugged, “Okay,” wondering if I was coming on too strong or if they just weren’t ready to start the fun yet. 

I grabbed my backpack and found clean underwear, jeans, and a t-shirt. I quickly glanced over my appearance in the mirror. My hair was disheveled and my skin looked a little splotchy from the sun. I used my fingers to comb my hair down and splashed some cold water on my face. It still amazed me, how many years I spent trying to be the hottest femme, and never feeling good in my skin that now, wearing no makeup and my hair cut short against my head, I felt hotter than I ever had. I dipped my hands into my jeans and rubbed my fingers over my genitals. I sniffed my fingers gingerly. The smell of my crotch was pungent and musky. I smelled way better than I was expecting, and it gave me some gentle chills to have the scent of pussy so close to my mouth. I took a breath; focus, Tuck. I grinned at myself and left the bathroom.

In the hall, I casually grabbed my leather jacket and pulled it on. 

Kent put on their coat and headed toward the door. I followed them, but I didn’t want us to leave. I’d been imagining Kent’s lips on mine all afternoon, and I was frankly shocked they hadn’t kissed me yet. I was savoring the opportunity to lean into my submissive self, but I still like to get what I want. 

“Wait. Aren’t you gonna kiss me?” 

Kent turned and smiled, “I was gonna wait until later, but yeah, sure.”

In one motion they grabbed me and pressed me against the wall, they pressed their lips against mine and held my head in their hands. The warmth of their lips felt like relief. I gasped and they pulled back. They turned my body easily and pushed me back against the wall, grinding their hips into my ass. I could feel their packer pressed up against my hole. A shiver ran through me. I didn’t realize how much I needed this. 

And just as quickly as they pressed against me, they pushed away. Readjusting their hair and pants with a strained breath. 

I turned, swooning. “Oh,” I giggled. “Okay. Like that.” 

They smirked and raised their eyebrows at me. “Let’s go to dinner, boy.”

We walked to the restaurant. It was dimly lit & full of people. We sat at the bar, our knees touching. The dinner was delicious, the drinks lovely, but I could barely focus on our conversation. My crotch was prickling with heat. 

When we finished, Kent walked me back to their apartment. I kicked off my shoes in their front hallway and shrugged off my jacket. My body was buzzing. I wanted to strip my clothes off right there, but I also wanted to be forced to wait. 

“Whiskey?” they asked from across the room. 

“Definitely,” I called back.

They poured themself a glass and then walked back over to me, taking a sip on their way. Their catlike eyes were piercing in the dark. I matched their gaze and gave them a coy smile, trying to seem confident when really I was melting inside. 

I reached out for the glass, assuming we would share it. They shook their head. “Do you like treats for being good?” They asked.

“I do like treats,” I said, laughing, “what would be a good boy thing to do right now?”

“Hmm, I’d say, take your clothes off for me.” 

“Okay,” I shrugged, unbothered. I could feel the brat rising in me, wanting to push them and play. I pulled off my pants and my shirt. My binder was tight against my chest, and it took some wiggling to get it off. 

“I like to see you struggle,” Kent said darkly as I yanked the binder over my head. 

“I bet you do.” I replied, standing there in my underwear. 

“Is that all you want to take off?” The question was sincere, but they still had a tone of dominance. I felt myself relax a little deeper, noticing their intent on getting active consent. So fucking hot. I could feel myself getting even more excited to submit to them as they showed me more and more that they knew what they were doing. 

“No,” I replied. “I want to take it all off.”

“Then do it. Now.” 

I pulled off my underwear and stood naked in front of them, feeling filled up with pleasure from the touch of their gaze. 

“Now you can have your treat.” They took a sip of their whiskey and leaned towards me. As we kissed they spit their whiskey directly into my mouth. The burning smokey drink and their soft delicious lips surrounded my senses. I wanted to melt into them right there. 

They pulled back, leaving me desperate for more. “Come here,” they said, leading me to the couch. I followed. They sat on the couch swirling the whiskey in their cup and looking me up and down. I started to sit.

“Did I say you could sit?” they said softly.

I giggled, and then put on my best respectful sub face. “No, sir, you did not.” 

“That’s right, I didn’t.”

I gave them a pleading look. “May I please sit down on your couch? Naked?”

They smiled. “Yes.”

I smiled back at them, and our eyes met. A look passed between us that was pure playfulness. We were both having fun. 

“Now, Tuck. I want you to tell me your boundaries. Your limits. And your experience with kink.” 

I grinned and perked up. I love to share my wants. I love explaining in detail how I’d like to be fucked or fuck someone else. 

“I’m a switch. I love to submit, dominate and do both in one night. I love being fucked, spanked, choked, told what to do and getting spoiled. I also love doing those things to others. Even though I love being dominated, I also like getting what I want. If you tease me too much I’ll get frustrated.” 

Kent laughed kindly, “Okay so basically I need to make sure you cum by the end of the night.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Were you considering not letting me cum?” 

“It had crossed my mind,” Kent said back, looking me straight in the eyes. 

I laughed nervously, “Okay, now tell me some of your yes’s and no’s and maybe’s, please.”

“Mm, how about ‘Please, Sir’?” They said with a note of disapproval. 

“Please, Sir.” I nodded sincerely. We both grinned, feeling a rise of desire. I couldn’t help but think of begging them to let me cum, calling out ‘Please, Sir’ into a pillow. But we had more to discuss.

We explained every small detail of our desires, and for a while we fell into a gentle and easy conversation, Kent rubbing my leg gently the entire time. I kept noticing myself breathing deeper and deeper. This is how it should feel, I thought as they suggested a safeword. Everything they said just made me want to climb on top of them and ride them all night.

Kent led me to the bedroom. Their bed was gorgeous, a beautiful dark wood headboard. I noticed under the bed restraints hanging down on the side. I felt a rush go through me as I wondered how many other queers had been in this room yearning to get fucked by this gorgeous, handsome Dom. The thought made me dizzy with desire. I wanted to be another notch in their belt. 

I felt Kent’s hands on my skin behind me and I tipped my head back onto their chest. 

“Mmm that feels so good,” I moaned. 

“You feel good,” they moaned back, “Now get on the bed you little slut.”

I crawled onto the bed slowly, giving them a view of my ass and the hole between my legs. They scoffed, “You little tease. You’re gonna get in trouble if you keep being naughty.” 

“I’m not naughty!” I protested teasingly. “I’m on the bed!” 

“You took your sweet fucking time trying to seduce me with that ass.” 

“This ass?” I asked, running a hand along my cheek close enough to graze my hole with my fingers. 

It had the desired effect. Kent grabbed my hand and tossed it away. “No. Touching,” they said. “Not unless I say so.”

 I gave them a testing look as I flipped onto my back. 

“Just one more touch, please,” I begged, running my hands along my legs and up into my slit. My hands circled my clit only once before Kent was on top of me, pinning my arms down.

“You are asking for trouble. I don’t think you can be trusted.” With stunning ease, they pinned one of my arms gently down with their knee and strapped my other wrist into one of the soft cuffs attached to the bed. Then they strapped the other wrist down. I wriggled beneath them, testing how much movement I had. They started to pull up and away but I wrapped my legs around their waist. “No, don’t go yet,” I pleaded. 

They laughed in my face. “You greedy little slut. You want to get fucked so badly? Start behaving.”

I groaned, tipping my head back and squeezing my legs together hoping to stimulate myself just a little more. This was not lost on Kent.

They grabbed the tops of my thighs and pinned them down, fingernails digging into my flesh. The pain sent delicious shivers up my spine. I moaned, feeling my genitals swell even more. 

“Now stay there and don’t move,” Kent said sternly.

I huffed but decided to be good for a moment, hoping they would reward me with some fingers or their tongue. They started running their hands all over my body, scratching, tickling and massaging with expert hands. My back arched, my toes curled. I’m such a sucker for that kind of touch, sometimes I think it feels better than orgasms. That pleasure unlocked something in me, and suddenly I didn’t want to be a brat anymore, just to be fucked by them.

“Kent, please, I really want your fingers in me. Or your cock. Anything. I promise I’ll be good.” 

“You promise you’ll be good?” 

“Yes, I promise, just please shove your fingers into me.”

“Fuck,” they muttered,

And they sank two strong fingers into my hole easily, pumping them back and forth slowly and then faster, deeper. 

“You’re really fucking open,” they panted, kissing my leg. They bit down on the soft part of my thigh, growling into my skin like they wanted to rip me apart. 

“Yeah well, you’re really good at that.” 

They plunged another finger into me, making me gasp and groan. Somehow they produced a bottle of lube and flipped open the cap easily, pouring the cold sticky liquid on their fingers as they fucked me. 

I glanced down, and saw they had four fingers in me.

“Fuck yes that feels so good,” I moaned, “please don’t stop.'“

“I won’t stop as long as you keep opening up for me.” 

“I want to,” I groaned back. My hips were bucking, my wrists straining against their cuffs, I wanted more of them, all of them. “I want your whole fist in me.” 

“Fuck,” they muttered, their face getting flushed and sweaty, “I want that, too.”

They slowed down a bit and started turning their hand while they moved in and out of my hole. I felt my muscles stretch, a slight ache and twinge of pain as I wondered if they were really going to press their fist all the way in. I took a deep breath, and as I exhaled they pressed the rest of their hand into me. It dropped into me like a stone into a river, steady and heavy like it belonged there. 

The intensity of their fist inside me was nearly overwhelming. I breathed, letting waves of sensation crash over me like I was pinned on the ocean floor. It was delicious, complex, and deep. We stayed like that for several minutes as I adjusted to the sensation of having them so deep within me. I looked down at them and they looked up at me. Our eyes locked and I grinned. 

“I want to cum,” I said. 

“How?” they asked.

“Vibrator,” I said.

Again, with expert skill, they reached across the bed to their bedside table, hand still deep within me and pulled out a small vibrator. They unstrapped my right hand and placed the vibe in it. I turned it on easily and pressed it against my clit. It was all right there. The orgasm had been building. All night. All day. I’d been waiting for hours to release it. In minutes I was there, and they could feel it building from the inside. They rocked their fist back and forth within me, fucking me hard and harder until all I could feel was the orgasm about to burst from within me. It crashed through me like an earthquake, shaking my legs and stomach muscles. I cried out, feeling my holes clench with every moan. Kent slid their hand easily out of my hole. They looked at me in awe. I threw the vibe aside and pulled them on top of me, not bothering to undo the other wrist restraint. 

We kissed deeply, drinking each other in, their body weight pressing the last ounces of pleasure from my crotch. 

Still from a personal video of the author