Mondayitis
- 3 years ago
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Blue Monday free porn video
The following story contains mention of drug use and is sexual in
nature, featuring explicit terms that some may find objectionable.
While some members of the LGBTQ+ community accept and use these
descriptions, I am aware that some choose not to and may find them
distasteful. No offence is intended. In my defence I prefer to treat
every character in my story as different, with a unique personality,
lifestyle, and language that I feel reflects all aspects of the
community. I hope you will continue to read and come to love the
characters who live in my head as much as I do. ? Gosunkugi
BLUE MONDAY
Adrienne daydreamed of swimming in lilac. Surrounded by flowers. Lying
back and drifting down the stream like Ophelia. Lifting her legs one at
a time out of the bath she examined them closely and felt them for
smoothness, then her arms, underarms, neck and face. When she passed
inspection she checked the time on her phone and stood to rinse off the
suds.
She opened the bathroom door, and seeing the hallway was clear walked
quickly to her room. She wore only a long t-shirt, and although it
reached down to her upper thighs and covered her junk it probably
wouldn't be cool to get caught short.
Making it to safety, and slipping into the nice underwear and tucking,
she made a turn in the mirror holding the shirt above her stomach. They
were a good find, while more than she usually liked to spend on
frillies, she liked how they flattered her hips and bum. Worth it.
There was a knock at the door and she pulled on the tracksuit bottoms,
tying them at her waist. Singsonging: "Come in," as she turned the
music down,
One of her housemates, Steve, popped his head in. "Hi, Ade, have you
got any Rizlas I can borrow?"
She always found it funny how people asked to borrow certain stuff when
they had absolutely no intention of giving it back.
"Yeah, gimme a sec," she replied and tossed him a multi-pack of rolling
papers so he could help himself.
"Don't think I've actually been in your room before." He was still
there, looking at the posters on the walls.
Adrienne thought it wouldn't hurt to appear more sociable. "Roll me a
couple of cigs and you can hang about if you want. Keep me company
while I get ready."
"Cool." He obliged with the speed and ease of an experienced festival
rollee, and tossed her one to smoke, which she did, half leaning out of
the window, letting the street smells in along with a delicious cooling
breeze.
"Is that by Junji Ito?" He was looking at the black and white poster on
the wall, a blown up panel from Ito's Uzumaki, depicting one of the
characters having their head devoured by a spiral, her eye collapsing
into the void where her brain should be.
"Yeah, there's a couple of books on the shelf if you want to borrow."
He poked at the books and ran a finger across the spines. "Are you into
all that body horror kind of stuff?" He asked.
She felt naked all of a sudden, caught off guard, and turned away under
the pretence of blowing smoke out into the night. "It is a bit of a
clich? I suppose."
He turned, looking ashamed. "Oh god, sorry. I meant manga, not
y'know..."
"It's fine. I'm trans, Steve, I can deal with the odd faux pas."
She expected a whole slew of questions to come spilling from his mouth
then, but to his credit, he turned away again and continued examining
the walls.
"Wow, and who's that?"
She didn't even need to turn around to know who he was talking about.
"That's Jin Xing, Chinese dancer," she answered.
"She's pretty," he said.
Understatement of the century there, she thought. There's hope for you
yet, Steven.
She finished the cigarette, pitching it out of the window and rummaging
through her nail varnishes, unsure of which one to go with. Out of the
corner of her eye she watched him squinting at the DVDs with his head
tilted to the side to read the titles.
"Blue or black?"
He started and looked at her quizzically. "Sorry?"
She held up the bottles for him to see. "Blue or black? I can't
decide."
"Oh. Blue I suppose."
"Blue it is then." She juggled a text on her phone and the brush
awkwardly, in danger of dropping it and ruining her duvet.
He sat next to her on the bed and plucked the nail varnish out of her
hand. "So what are you up to tonight? Bit weird to get pissed up on a
Monday."
She watched him paint her nails carefully with more than a little
surprise. "A few drinks around town if it's not too busy. The gang
likes to gather when there's no nobheads about. Probably end up at The
Arches later. "
He turned her hand to get to her little finger, not taking his eyes off
what he was doing. "Is that the gay club?" He paused while he waited
for her to answer.
"Yes. But I suppose they prefer the term LGBTQ clubs or something now.
More inclusive and all that. They get a couple of DJs in, the
occasional drag act"
"Oh."
She was a little disappointed in his attitude, or lack of interest.
"Why's that? You want to come?" She teased.
He smiled shyly. "Kinda, yeah. Not really my scene though, all that
shit music. I like a quiet pint."
"Oi. It's not shit! It's good to dance to. Besides, I've seen you admit
to liking The Chemical Brothers once." She examined his nailwork, not
bad.
"I was off my face at the time though," he said, looking guilty.
Ade chuckled. "True. You was, as they like to say, proper monged."
He looked at her seriously. "Can we not use that one?"
She was a bit taken aback and tripped over her tongue. "Righto, I just
meant in that context you know, drugged up and that."
"It's fine. I just don't like that word much."
The atmosphere in the room had changed considerably, and she closed the
window, taking the opportunity to get a move on. "I need to get
dressed."
He got off the bed and made his way to the door. "It's cool. I'll catch
you later. Have a good night, Adrienne."
She watched him leave and rolled her eyes. She doubted she'd
irreparably damaged their friendship, and the irony wasn't lost on her
being corrected for once, but she decided to make it up to him later,
maybe with a peace offering of a takeaway. She wondered why she'd never
thought of him in a romantic fashion before. He was totally her type,
and not down on her being trans which was rare. Now that she thought
about it, he often went out of his way to do little things for her,
little boyfriendy things that she took for granted. Would it be so bad?
She tapped the phone and threw it on the bed, letting the music get
picked up by the Bluetooth speaker on the desk. Some old-school 90s
trip hop played as she dropped the tracksuit bottoms and lifted the t-
shirt over her head to toss in the dirty laundry pile. After taking a
moment to admire the underwear again, she pulled the dress off the rack
in the wardrobe and held it against herself. She'd definitely put on
weight in the right places, she'd need some new jeans, but the dress
was loose and fit her perfectly. A miracle.
She shimmied to the beat and applied some roll-on deodorant. A little
mascara and wine-coloured lippy and she was done. She tousled her hair
dry and let it fall messily to her shoulders. That would do for The
Arches.
o - o - o - o - o
She left the house as the taxi pulled up with her friend Jen in the
back, and climbed in awkwardly.
As they sped along the city streets, Jen slipped her two pills and Ade
necked them with some water. She wouldn't come up for a while yet, so
plenty of time to drink and gossip. Her friend's hair tonight was a
shocking red, and she found herself beyond jealous. Jen was a few years
ahead of her transition-wise, more experienced, confident, streetwise,
and in Ade's eyes, in a whole other league entirely.
Jen tapped a cigarette out of the packet and was offering one to her
when the driver interjected. "Sorry, ladies. No smoking in the cab."
She took one anyway and tucked it behind her ear, giggling as Jen
silently mouthed the word, "Prick."
Her friend was stretching her lovely, long legs. She'd kicked off her
shoes and was folding her feet under her bum when she asked out of the
blue, "Ade, you're into all that Japanese shit right? Have you heard of
a bloke called Yoshiyuki Iwase?" She utterly butchered the
pronunciation, but A for effort, Jen.
Adrienne didn't have to rack her brain too hard. "He was the one that
photographed all those naked pearl divers, yeah?"
"Have to get up early to get one over on you, you perv. Yeah, I saw
some of his work linked on Twitter. Sexy stuff," Jen said, surprising
her.
Ade agreed. "I suppose you could rub one out to it if you wanted, but
it's nice art." She had picked up a giant coffee table-sized collection
on nudes a few years ago at Waterstones, and remembered being
mesmerised by the section on Iwase's work. The black and white bodies
relaxing on the sand and rocks, the natural, explicitly feminine, curvy
women seemed more real to her than the stick-thin figures that were
plastered on every surface and in every magazine, show and movie.
They talked about art for a little while and soon the taxi came to a
stop.
The pub was dead, and Adrienne was glad. Getting a few drinks in minus
the hassle was what she needed tonight. They sat in the beer garden and
smoked. Lolling in the warm spring air.
Jen steered the conversation to mutual friends and suddenly remembered
something. "I bumped into Vanilla yesterday. She's got that bootleg of
that Brazilian soap opera you can borrow if you want."
"Ah, nice one. I feel a bit of the loop, loads of catching-up to do."
University had absorbed her utterly, and now it was over she had time
to reacquaint herself with the social scene. A For?a do Querer was the
TV show from South America that had drifted into their transy periphery
by being the first time a transgender actor had starred in a major role
over there, She decided she had to see it.
Adrienne filed the news away, ready for the next time she met up with
their friend, the drag queen supreme who went under the name Vanilla
Chai. "Who's the DJ tonight?"
Jen rolled her eyes. "Urgh God, Danny Neckbeard. Can't understand how
he keeps getting booked."
"He's alright when he plays the old stuff."
"Danny's wank, Ade. It's like he's got feet for hands." Jen lit a
spliff and took deep lungfulls, blowing the noxious smoke away from her
out of courtesy. It didn't really help, and soon the beer garden stank
of cheap weed.
They were eventually joined by Jen's cis friend Rachel and her
permanent hanger-on Diane. Adrienne didn't like Rachel much, they'd
never really bonded, having zero in common. Any attempt to talk about
men with her left her feeling like Rachel was just humouring her. Diane
she didn't talk to at all, Adrienne felt like trans women intimidated
the hell out of the poor girl. Still, it was promising to be a good
night, and there was no sense in letting petty shit spoil it.
She got the next round of drinks in and felt the first blushing thrill
of the ecstasy, dancing to the table, singing: "Come on, Barbie let's
go party!" Amazingly not spilling the glasses everywhere, making Jen
roll her eyes again and Rachel laugh.
o - o - o - o - o
They paid the cover at the door of the club and walked into a sweat-box
of dry ice, blacklight and pulsing music. She felt a grip on her arm
and Rachel shouted over the beat, high on her own devices, "Oh my god
this is fucking brilliant!" And soon the four of them lost themselves
in the throbbing music and heaving bodies.
Eventually Adrienne needed another cigarette, and danced all the way to
the toilets. It was indeed a quiet night, as evidenced by the fact
there was no queue for once. She filled her water bottle up at the sink
and checked her reflection. She was a big sweaty vibrating mess, but
she felt like pure sex.
There were no smoke alarms in the Arches facilities, and the gorillas
on the door never came into the club unless there was trouble, so she
didn't think anything of sitting in one of the cubicles and enjoying a
sneaky fag.
Her moment was ruined when the toilet door slammed open and someone
fell to their knees in the next stall over, vomiting explosively into
the bowl.
Adrienne sighed, took a final drag and dropped the butt into the
toilet, getting up to check on the groaning casualty.
"Dianne love, are you okay?" She knelt down next to her and put an arm
around her shoulders, offering her some tissue.
The diminutive girl wiped her eyes and mouth. "S-sorry, me and drugs
don't mix. I'm an idiot."
She offered her some water, and brushed her hair out of her face. "It's
fine. I could tell you some horror stories of the scrapes Jen has
gotten me into."
She led Diane over to the sinks and helped her clean up.
"How do you do it?" Diane said between splashes.
Ade was confused by the question, thinking she was talking about not
throwing up.
"You and Jen, you're so gorgeous all the time," She laughed and burped
"Urgh, I hate it."
"Oh sweetie, you have no idea."
"You are though. You're all supermodels and here's me looking like...
Princess fucking Tomato."
Adrienne put her hands over her mouth in mock exasperation. "Did you
seriously just make an obscure video game reference?"
"N-no?"
"You totally did!" Ade laughed. "Princess Tomato in the Salad Kingdom
is a classic."
Diane smiled. "I don't have many friends who are into games."
"Oh Diane, where have you been all my life?"
The door opened and Jen and Rachel fell in laughing. Jen ruining the
moment in typical fashion by yelling, "There you are, you proper slags,
come on, you're missing out on some quality dancing time."
As they left arm in arm, Ade offered her some reassurance. "You feeling
alright?"
"Yeah, much better now, thanks."
After another five or six songs, she'd lost count by that point, and a
lot of breathless gyrating, read: hilarious stumbling, Ade took a break
to rest against a pillar and scan the crowd, drinking deeply from her
bottle. She saw some of the same old faces, the regulars, the girls
from the lesbian scene (people she intrinsically avoided these days.)
Danny Neckbeard on the wheels of steel butchering another classic. She
was throbbing below the waist and bumping the back of her head against
the pillar, deeply regretting taking the ecstasy. Thanks to her
hormones Ade didn't get erections, so this was distinctly out of the
ordinary for her. Not to mention she was despairing at the idea of any
kind of sexual release in her future. Suddenly she spotted a familiar
figure lurking near the entrance.
"Oh my fucking God." She bounded over to Steve and pulled him into a
giant hug. "I can't believe you came."
He recovered quickly. "I got lonely. Besides, I figured I owed you an
apology."
"You owe me? Nah, I fucked up, I'm the one that should be sorry." And
she genuinely was.
"All square then?" He hugged her again and kissed her cheek. "Um, Ade?
Are you on drugs or are you really pleased to see me?"
She felt below her waist as stealthily as she could. "Argh, that's so
embarrassing. Give me a minute to pop to the loo, I need to adjust."
He had a hand on the small of her back and stroked tenderly. "It's
fine, don't worry about it."
"Steve, I can't dance in this state, and I'm feeling really self-
conscious."
He looked into her eyes with something akin to desire. "I can't dance
period. You want to head home instead?"
Her stomach did a flip, she didn't need to think about it too hard.
"God yes. I'll meet you outside, lemme tell Jen where I've gone."
After a diversion to the bathrooms, still no queue, where she was able
to rearrange her junk, she hit the bar where Jen was lining up a line
of full shot glasses. Rachel and Diane were sat in a booth in the
corner, heads on each other's shoulders, looking adorable.
"Just in time, girl," shimmied Jen.
Adrienne hated to burst her bubble and cut the night short. "I'm going
to bounce. I think I just pulled."
"Holy shit! Quick, drink this and get after them before they change
their mind. Down the hatch."
She didn't know what was in the glass, just threw it back and
swallowed. They both screwed up their faces at the taste of the vile,
aniseed liquor. She hugged Jen. "Love you, bitch."
"Good luck, you big tart, knock 'em dead."
o - o - o - o - o
On the step outside she lit another cigarette with shaking hands and
looked for Steve. She found him standing by the kerb and walked to him,
pulling him into a kiss and letting herself get pressed up against the
wall of the nightclub.
He kissed her neck and bit gently at her earlobe, making her glad she
had foregone earrings tonight.
In the taxi she leaned in close to him, letting his arm hold her tight
as she unbuttoned his trousers, her hand delving under his waistband
and squeezing his dick. His face was buried in her hair and she could
hear his soft gasps of pleasure as she ran her thumb over the tip and
spread his pre-cum.
She had untucked again and was tenting something fierce herself, and he
squeezed her playfully over the dress. She shook her head and moved his
hand away just as the taxi pulled up to the house.
Steve paid the driver while she paused in the hallway, staring at a
stain on the ceiling distractedly, and when he came in behind her,
instead of resuming their exploration of each other's bodies or running
for the stairs dragging him by the hand, she walked into the kitchen.
He leaned into the door-frame and watched her make tea. "Is everything
okay, I-"
"Just... let's take a breath for a minute," she said softly.
He looked disappointed and it broke her heart. "Alright."
She threw teabags into mugs and added way too much sugar with a
clattering of the spoon.
"Did I do something wrong?"
She turned at last and touched his face, kissing him briefly and
resting her forehead against his. "No, no, Steve sweetie. I just need
to think about this."
She hoped he knew what she meant. This was happening fast, like being
wrapped in a rug, set on fire, and rolled down a mountain. And there
was more, so much more going on in her head, an animal that she
couldn't even begin to think about letting out of its cage.
She finished making the tea and headed upstairs leaving him standing
holding the steaming mug, and that's pretty much what she felt like, a
steaming mug.
He was still standing in the middle of the kitchen like a lemon,
forcing her to poke her head over the banister. "Well? Are you coming?"
Her room felt different now, like he was intruding on her sacred space
all of a sudden. Leaving the lights off so the room was lit only from
the street outside, she faced the window.
He stood a few feet away from her drinking his tea, and spoke to her
back, "What are you thinking about?"
She said what was on her mind, a quote from Virginia Woolf: "It is only
by putting a shock into words that I make it whole."
Placing the mug on the windowsill she leaned with her forehead against
the glass and continued, "This wholeness means that it has lost its
power to hurt me; it gives me, perhaps because by doing so I take away
the pain, a great delight to put the severed parts together."
She wasn't sure he could understand. "Perhaps this is the strongest
pleasure known to me. Can you turn around, please?"
After a beat she pulled the dress over her head, her cheeks burning.
Her dark hair spilled over her naked shoulders. She pulled down her
lacy underwear while bending over and her heart skipped in her chest.
It was almost too much when she turned and began pulling on pyjama
bottoms and a vest to see him staring.
"I don't want to seem like a prick-tease, Steve, but... I've got a few
hang-ups."
"I'd never make you do anything you weren't comfortable with, Ade."
"I know that."
He waited before asking, "What do you want to do?"
She blew hair out of her face. "Honestly. I want you to fuck me, but
I'm bloody terrified."
If he was shocked he hid it well. She went on, "So I just want to get a
take-away and curl up into bed... with you... would that be okay?"
He smiled. "That sounds like the best thing in the world."
She sat on the bed with him and sighed in relief. "Don't run away, will
you?"
He kissed her then and she melted, purring into his neck.
After phoning to order a suitable post-club meal, they spent the next
few minutes simply holding each other.
"Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?" He said abruptly.
She looked away, barely audible as she offered a blunt retort.
He didn't accept it, and kissed her again.
She returned his desire, urgently tasting his tongue, unable to help
herself.
Panting, she slid off the bed to her knees in front of him, tugging at
his jeans.
He helped, unbuttoning the fly. "I thought you wanted to take it slow."
"Slow doesn't have to mean stop," she said, managing to pull down his
boxers and free his swollen member, which got harder still at her touch
and the feel of her mouth upon it.
He exhaled as her tongue circled the head and in a dry voice said,
"Ade, you don't have to."
"But I want to."
She kneaded his buttocks, forcing all of him into her mouth.
He came quickly, and she swallowed, running her finger over her bottom
lip and sucking it clean.
The doorbell rang, and the moment was over.
"Takeaway's here," they both said at the same time, and laughed,
embarrassed.
A short while later they sprawled together in a food and post-coital
coma, he casually played with her hair while she played video games.
After losing a life she handed him the controller and tried to teach
him how to beat the level. They lay in each other's arms, enjoying
making the little sprite jump over the cactus.
Becky
- 30.07.2022
- 9
- 0
