106: Vines and Feminism

Grace held me with such tender love that I was almost incapable of moving my body. Her lips were on my neck, pressing wet warmth to the soft skin there, and it was heaven.

Gods, being tired and horny was such an issue. I wanted to drown my girl in tender love, but it was all I could do to slowly trail my fingers up and down her abs.

"I'm so tired," I mumbled, even as my brain buzzed with another of her kisses.

She made a throaty, thoughtful sound and paused her exploration of my collarbone. "We can stop, if you like."

I shook my head as an idea came to me. "No… my body is much more tired than my head. Which uh… you can say no if you want, but can I use my um… my other appendages?"

My cheeks flamed up with embarrassment after I'd finished speaking, because it was… I mean it was so pornographic, what I wanted to do. It was the type of thing that people way more kinky than me were into, and yet, I could actually do it. I tested my idea with an experimental flexing of my will.

One of my hair vines thickened and became smooth, along with taking on my magenta colouring. I hovered it experimentally into the air so Grace could see and watched carefully for her reaction.

She took in a sharp breath, eyes wide, and glanced between the vine and me. "You… you want to use that on me?"

My little nod of affirmation was shy, but hopeful. The idea was gaining traction in my mind, making other parts of my body react with eager anticipation.

Grace blinked several times, staring at it with an almost intense level of consideration. The expression was somewhat undercut by the rising blush on her cheeks, though, and it was the blush that won out. "Yes… that… okay. It's not something I ever thought I'd be into or have the opportunity to try, but… yes."

I opened my mouth to tell her that she could tell me to stop at any time, but she captured my lips in an urgent, messy kiss. I forgot all about my vine for several moments as I rose to match her. Each hot little brush of lip and tongue did more damage to my concentration, until I was wrapping my legs around one of hers so I could cling to her. I needed as much contact with her incredible body as possible. I needed to feel her, to claim her, and to allow myself to be claimed by her.

My vine, freed from my imperfect conscious control of its length, became just another limb to me, and it dove down to my lover’s eagerly parted legs. She was still wearing underwear, but that was easily pulled aside with a few thinner vines.

Her heartbeat went triple time as I did so, while her breathing grew slow and erratic. “Oh god, why is this so hot?” she asked into our kiss with a nervous, excited laugh. “I always uh… thought this kind of thing was sort of gross.”

“Maybe it’s because it’s almost never depicted with consent in mind,” I murmured, knowing exactly what she was talking about.

“Probably,” she said, leaning back to give me a warm, trusting, adoring smile. “But you, though. You Ryn, are so fucking wonderful. I love you so much. So uh… please…?”

“Grace,” I whispered, lost for words. That look, oh my god, that look.

I was so hesitant with my new vine, just carefully caressing her at the junction of her thighs. I didn’t want to mess this up and hurt her, but more than that, I wanted this to be good. I wanted it to feel amazing.

One thing I had learned very very quickly about sex, was that you didn’t just shove things straight into a girl. Arousal and the general build towards climax were entirely different when your brain ran on estrogen. It needed a careful build up, almost like you were stimulating their mind as much as their sensitive nerve endings.

Another vine tentacle grew down out of my hair and wrapped around our intertwined legs, connecting us, gently restraining us. Our kiss broke off when my hands began to roam, Grace letting out an adorable little gasp when I tweaked her nipple. Everything I was doing was slow, soft, and sensual, while my senses were trained on her, watching to see if she liked what I was doing.

Fingertips danced over tense muscles, easing the stress of the day, all while they raised goosebumps and small noises from her. Then, I opened my emotions back up to her, letting her feel just how much I cared for her.

“I love you,” I whispered into her ear. “I love you, Grace, can you feel it?”

“Y-yes,” she nodded breathlessly, and opened herself up in turn.

Her arousal hit me like a physical thing, washing out from my mind and down my spine, setting my skin to prickling with anticipatory pleasure. Goodness, I was really doing that to her? I had to throttle the incoming stream of emotion and sensation before I lost myself, it was so powerful.

She cuddled closer in against me, pressing her face up into my neck. There was a smile on her lips as she haphazardly kissed me there, but she quickly lost focus on that when I positioned my vine at her entrance. I held it there, waiting for permission to enter, seeking confirmation that this was what she wanted.

Her hand, which had slipped inside my shirt, found my nipple and pinched it. “Give.”

I squeaked, then laughed, then thrust the vine tentacle inside her. “I thought you said you weren’t interested in receiving a strap?”

“This-” her breath hitched as I pulled it out, then gently dove it further inside. “-is nothing like a-” she let out a stuttering gasp and gently bit the soft skin of my neck. “-nothing like a strap.”

The warm heat that had pooled low in my stomach threatened to ignite then and there. I had apparently discovered a fetish, because seeing her like that… it did things for me. She’d placed herself at my mercy, trusting that I would take good care of her, but she was still Grace, still as defiant and proud as ever. It was like petting a wild tiger, knowing full well that it had the power and will to turn the tables on you in an instant, and the only thing keeping you from being mauled was the pleasure you were giving it.

“You still haven’t used it on me, by the way,” I told her, placing a kiss into her soft hair.

“Used what?” she asked, distracted for obvious reasons.

Breathing the smell of her hair in, I closed my eyes and said, “That strap on. You said you had one.”

“Don’t-” she began, before being interrupted by a quiet moan that bubbled up out of her throat. “-Don’t know where it is. Please go- go harder… and stop distracting me.”

“Or what?” I asked, powerless to stop a cheeky grin from spreading over my face.

The grin vanished as quickly as it had arrived, my mouth opening into a wide O of surprise. She’d just… oh fuck, she’d just slipped two of her fingers inside me. “Oh,” I gasped, the muscles down the inside of my thighs quivering as she slowly, gently began to work me towards my own orgasm.

“I asked you to go harder,” she chuckled, licking at my neck. “Please.”

So I did, all while she used her strong, lithe fingers on me. It didn’t take long for us to fly off the edge together, down into the realm of lightning-struck nerves and wordless, heartfelt cries of passion.

****

Four hours later, and my body was in open revolt. Spurred on by muscles that sang with my girlfriend’s touch, I’d mustered the energy for the most intense, messy, and sexual experience of my life.

Now I was paying the price for that borrowed energy, as my tired body ached and complained, all while my thoughts floated in a sea of love and bliss. Grace’s hand was in my hair, gently teasing out the mess she’d made of it. It felt so fucking wonderful, especially with how hyper sensitive my skin was.

“I never expected you to be so… kinky,” Grace murmured, squeezing me for a brief moment.

I hummed agreement, too tired to show my amusement externally. I just flashed it briefly through our empathic link instead. “Me neither. That was fun, though.”

“It really was,” she said, nuzzling the top of my head. “Best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Same, although my sample size is limited,” I giggled. I loved the cuddling part after sex as much as the event itself. I mean, how could I not love snuggling up to my absolutely fucking beautiful lover like this?

“It’s good to know I’m improving, though,” she chuckled. “It also helps that I have such a wonderful partner in crime. Are you sure you’ve never done anything like this before?”

I knew she was joking, but I answered her truthfully anyway. “Nope. My brain was so muddled back then that I wasn’t even sure if my attraction to girls was envy or not. Then there was the whole thing with guys.”

“Wait, what’s this?” she asked, intrigued.

“Ah, it was… confusing,” I shrugged, trying to sort through old memories. “There was a guy in my junior year who took a liking to me, just friendship though, he was straight. He did protect me from a few bullies who were sniffing out a potential new target, though. The way he kept me safe was… I thought I was crushing on him.”

“But you weren’t?” she prompted.

I let out a long sigh and allowed myself to bask in her warmth for a moment before replying, “I wasn’t. One of our mutual friends joked one time that I should have been a girl so I could date him. Once I had pulled myself back together from that little comment, I had an epiphany. I wasn’t crushing on him, I just really liked the feeling of being protected, of being placed in a traditionally feminine role. Not very feminist of me, I know, but… it felt good, nevertheless.”

She laughed and patted my head affectionately. “Ryn, nobody who is even close to a good person will blame you for getting what little gender feels you could, back then. So, don’t be silly, it’s a non-issue.”

“Is it though?” I asked, realising that this was actually something that had been stuck in the back of my mind like a burr.

"Yes," she said firmly. "You're a woman, and whatever and however that manifests itself is your business alone. Wanting to be small, loving, nurturing, and in need of protection is just as valid as me wanting to look hot and shoot baddies with magic guns. That's feminism, in my opinion. The freedom to choose whatever place in society makes us the most comfortable."

"Oh," I mumbled, her speech almost too much for my tired, blissed out brain. "I like that… I hope I remember it in the morning."

"I'll remind you of it, but tomorrow," she yawned, and that was apparently the call to go to sleep. A call I gladly and rather instantly answered.

QuietValerie