I finally decided to flex my creative muscle a bit and become a moreactive member of the community here on FM. I have much bigger plans thanthis, act...ally. This was merely a side-though while developing a muchlarger literary concept. A driving theme to all my works that will beposted here. But my overarching idea isn't TG in and of itself, so I feltit was more respectful of your community to start out with more run-of-the-mill bits of drabbling wank-fic. When the food is done I can tell every nerve in your body is on full sensitivity and craving my masculine love and abuse. I congratulate myself, only pay enough heed to subtly pull the back of your hair and kiss your neck and rub your nipples through your shirt before the waiter comes and I calmly order dessert. Just before it comes, I pull out a remote control and lay it on the table. I watch your face as it searches for meaning before I see your eyes dart mine with a look of begging. I can. With heightened senses, the sound of bubbles being poured into the crystal glass, I can almost see them in my mind.Suddenly, my chin is taken firmly, between thumb and first finger and tipped back...small drops of champagne poured carefully between my parted lips. The drops taste like no liquid ever before, tingle and bounce on my tongue and down my throat. I long to empty glass after glass, then suddenly feel a gush of liquid, deliberately poured to run beyond my lips, down my naked torso,. Perhaps I should do a bit more of the housework." You?" asked Elaine. "Or do you mean Carolyn?"I felt a pang of confusion, and covered it by laughing again. Elainewandered back into the living room again. What had I meant? Was Ibeginning to derive pleasure from being Carolyn? Was I finding some sortof inner satisfaction in being able to take on her persona?I shook my head. Carolyn was temporary. She was an invention, created tobridge a psychological chasm between a son and his father. In time.
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