This one is a little out of my comfort zone as, within erotica, I don’t stray far from writing cis, straight stories. I acknowledge that this is evidence of a significant limitation to my writing ability but sex is so difficult to write that I tend to fall back to what I know. Irony of ironies, I did once research and write a trans erotica story that I was really proud of, but it was the story that got me knocked out of 2019’s Smut Marathon competition and that knocked my confidence. I thought that it confirmed that my ‘queer’ voice wasn’t authentic enough rather than there being significant issues of transphobia within the Smut Marathon community itself.
So I’m trying again, and please do let me know if something in this story doesn’t ring true or is actually wrong!
She loved the shape of his dick in his jeans. She loved the subtle curve pushing out his fly and she loved the swagger in his step when he wore those jeans. Because he knew how good his dick looked, and he knew that she loved it.
Why did jeans look so good on everyone? She always struggled to drag her eyes away from chicks with pert arses and guys with huge packages squeezed into tight denim. It was such a flattering fabric and felt so damn good to touch. She loved to scratch her nails across the fine bumps in the cloth, sending vibrations through to the skin underneath, and touching just close enough to tease but far enough away to be decent. Most of the time.
Sometimes it was too difficult to resist. Button flies are designed to tempt – the delicious pop as they open up must have been created on purpose. Jeans are just meant to be opened! And once open, how could she not just slip her hand inside? Whether on the night bus in the dark, sliding up and down a hard cock as they looked in different directions, pretending not to know each other until her hand was slick with cum and his lip was ragged from suppressing a groan, or, another favourite, simply cupping their vulva with her hand, stealing their warmth on a cold day as they squirmed and wriggled against the chill of her fingers. She just couldn’t resist an open fly!
But with him, jeans were even hotter because of that swagger. He would swing his hips, almost like John Wayne, and get a proper stride in his step. And it all worked together to make his dick look unbelievable. Irresistible. Perfect.
They both knew his dick was silicone but he had worn it for longer than she’d known him so it was simply a part of him now. They played with a wide variety of different cocks when they had sex, fucking her with a range of shapes and sizes that would make cis men with regular factory installed dicks jealous, but he only had one packer. That was his dick and she loved it.
And, damn, it looked good in his jeans…