2004
"Almost there, pumpkin."
I made a sleepy-grump noise and Anthony chuckled and rubbed my scalp. I leaned on him and looked over his shoulder out the airplane window, just as I felt the first drop. A voice came on overhead: Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for landing.
We were flying into Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. That morning at dawn we'd been married by a Wiccan High Priestess on a New England beach, a small, simple wedding attended by our leather family. Same-sex marriage wouldn't be legal for another eleven years - and in those days we didn't know if it would ever be legalized - but I was still legally "female", so we had gotten legally married; the priestess was ordained by the Universal Life Church and was LGBT-friendly, and she had pronounced us "husband and husband". Anthony and I had been together for close to seven years now, and Anthony had proposed to me last Christmas.
Our marriage wasn't just us being sentimental romantics, but there was a practical reason. Anthony was in his fifties now, and he was in good health and he'd aged well - he was such a hot silver fox, and we still had sex at least once or twice a day - but he wanted me to be able to make next-of-kin decisions for him for the future should he become medically incapacitated.
And that was vice versa. I'd been on testosterone for two years, though the prescription was not exactly through legal methods, and until I could somehow get legally recognized as male, we decided it was in my best interests to keep my face clean-shaven, much as I wanted a beard. It was harder to safely monitor my body's interactions with the T with the amount of illegality involved with the T prescription, but that wasn't why I wanted Anthony to be my next-of-kin with medical stuff - we were in Mexico for two weeks, the first to have a proper honeymoon, and the second week for me to have top surgery and recovery; one of the gay couples in our leather family was watching Mozzie for us.
I'd dozed off in the last leg of our flight - I'd had a little bit of whiskey in-flight and it helped take the edge off - and now I was wide awake as I felt the gravity of the plane making its landing... felt the gravity of life, itself. We were really doing this. We were married now, and in a week I was going to have major surgery, which would give me a much more masculine body shape, and I would no longer feel it necessary to wear a shirt when we made love. I was nervous about the surgery, even though it was several days away, but it was still a relief to be on the "final boss" of my transition next to the paperwork, which we were hoping would be easier once I could prove I'd gone to all this trouble to face the world as male.
In the meantime... "¡Bienvenido a Puerto Vallarta, México!"
We had started that day on a rocky, foggy New England beach in the pastel colors of dawn, and now we were ending our first day of married life on the Pacific coast, on a beach of white sand with turquoise waters set ablaze by a vibrant sunset. We leaned on each other and watched as the waves rolled in; Anthony held my hand and his thumb tenderly rubbed my wedding ring.
"I love you so much, kiddo," he said, his voice husky. He turned his face to me and his eyes were too bright, mirroring the tears in my own eyes. My chest had that tight ache, like it could explode from my feelings.
"I love you, Daddy."
We kissed passionately. We kissed and kissed, hot and hungry. Even though we were on a gay beach and we'd seen plenty of guys making out and groping each other, we still had enough decorum to get to our hotel room, kissing our way through the twilight, fumbling in the door, peeling off our clothes right away. I kept on the Hawaiian shirt I'd been wearing through the flight, but now Anthony was unbuttoning it, and I didn't stop him. He did hesitate before he took it off, looking into my eyes. "If you're going to be too uncomfortable, I can leave it on, but I want you to know - I need you to know - I accept you. If you don't want to go through with the top surgery, if you're scared, it's OK, you're still a man to me. You're still my husband."
That made me love him even more. "I want the surgery," I told him. "But if you're OK with seeing all of me, after seven years..." I could deal with it for one night, wanting to be skin-to-skin with my husband on our wedding night.
Anthony touched my face and gave me that sweet, tender smile that always made me melt. "I am. And I can make it worth your while, I know something fun we could both do together."
Since we'd been on a plane all day and even in May it was warm on the Mexican beach, I wondered - "Shower?"
Anthony's smile became a grin. "Of the golden variety, if you're down."
I squeaked. We did watersports once or twice a month, and the thought of doing that on our wedding night, "marking our territory", seemed especially appropriate... and decadent.
We usually did piss play in the shower, or outside in the yard - we'd moved to our own house with a storefront and a cute little backyard, in 2001 - but Anthony showed me now that he'd packed some sheet protectors in our luggage. He fixed up the bed as I took off the last of my clothing, and then when the bed was ready he paused to look at me completely naked for the first time.
"Can I touch you?" he whispered.
I nodded.
He ran his hands over me. He didn't grope and fondle my breasts like a straight man would, he caressed my chest and stomach and back up to my shoulders. He pulled me against him and I felt his hard nipples on mine, and I almost came untouched. "I love you," he said, rubbing my scalp, my back. I snuggled into his shoulder and relished his touch, his acceptance, his love.
We both had to pee after the long flight - we'd gone on vacation a couple times before and I'd learned to hold it because the tiny airplane bathroom and feeling the movement of the plane gave me a panic attack, and Anthony didn't like it much either - but first...
Anthony began kissing and licking me all over. This time he licked and sucked at my nipples, and as much as I hated my breasts I let myself enjoy the physical pleasure of his mouth, the tenderness of his loving. After seven years he'd learned my body well and knew how sensitive my stomach and thighs were, spending a long time teasing them with his lips and tongue and teeth and fingers, until I was arched to him, panting, quivering, my thighs slick with my cream. He took a few long, slow licks at my clit, and then he slid up to kiss me, sharing my juices with me.
I returned the treatment, rolling Anthony onto his back. My fingers played through the luscious dark pelt on his arms and chest and thighs and calves as I kissed here, licked and nibbled there, giving his sensitive nipples special attention, playing with one as I licked and suckled the other. I licked up and down his shaft and around and around his cockhead, making streamers with his precum, making him groan as he watched me worship his beautiful cock. I explored his body for what felt like an eternity, loving every inch of him, getting more and more worked up as I feasted on his beauty, grinding myself on his hairy thigh.
Finally it was time. We kissed, and then I straddled his shoulders. I pissed in his face and he lapped like he was drinking from a fountain. I scooted back and pissed all over his gorgeous body, almost coming at the sight of his body glistening from my piss. When I was done I sat on his face and he slurped at me, tasting the combination of my cunt cream and piss, and got me close to climax before he patted my ass and said, "Daddy's turn, pumpkin."
I lay back, touching myself as he poured his piss onto my greedy tongue, then sprayed the rest of my body with his hot piss. I rubbed myself furiously, electrified by that feeling of being marked, claimed... watching his sexy cock pissing all over me. When he was done I sucked his cock, savoring the lingering notes of his piss mixed with the taste of his precum, and he reached over and played with my pussy as I sucked on him, until I was bucking my hips, fucking myself on his fingers, whimpering with my mouth full.
He climbed atop me, and I spread for him, tilted my hips up to welcome him. We shared a deep, hot kiss as he pushed inside me, and then I wrapped my arms and legs around him, clinging to him as he took me slowly, gently, our hips rolling together like the nearby tides. We wanted to make this last, our first fuck as husbands, and we kept it slow and sensual for as long as we could, kissing, caressing, teasing, lost in a dreamy haze of pleasure where the rest of the world slipped away and it was just us, enjoying each other's bodies and that connection between us.
When we couldn't hold back anymore he fucked me so hard the bed rocked against the wall and my broken cries were almost as loud as our bodies slapping together, my cunt squishing and slurping as his cock pounded me. My nails raked his back and he bit my neck, growling. Once he reached down to play with my clit, I knew I wouldn't last much longer and I whimpered, begging "Please, Daddy, please, make me come, make me come, Daddy..."
He nipped my lower lip with a growl. "Come for Daddy, pumpkin."
I climaxed with a cry, and two thrusts later Anthony cried out too, flooding me with his hot seed. We shuddered together and kissed, and then we laughed with euphoria as our bodies pulsed in time.
I slept naked in his arms that night.
"Hey."
I opened my eyes and despite the intense pain I was in, I managed to smile at Anthony, sitting at my bedside. "Hey," I said, hearing how raspy my voice was. "I made it?"
"Yeah, you did, pumpkin. You survived the top surgery." Anthony grinned and leaned in to kiss the tip of my nose. Then he started to cry.
"Oh, Anthony..." I wanted to call him Daddy but there were too many medical personnel nearby and everyone was bilingual. I cried too, with relief that I'd made it - that it was done, my tits were fucking gone - but also touched by Anthony being emotional.
"I tried not to worry too much," Anthony choked out, "I know people get mastectomies all the time, but I still worried. I couldn't take it if I lost you -"
I fell apart, crying harder. It hurt too much to reach out to him for a hug, but he took my hands in his and squeezed. "I love you so much," I said, my voice shaking. "I love you so, so much..."
"My brave boy." Anthony kissed my forehead. "My brave, beautiful boy. I'm so proud of you."
Hearing that he was proud of me fucked me up in the best way. I continued crying, the tears cleansing a long-festering wound that my parents had put there.
We kissed each other's tears and rubbed noses, and then he held my left hand in his left hand, our wedding rings touching.
"You're a good boy," Anthony said. "You're my good boy."
Going without sex for two weeks after the surgery was the longest two weeks of my life. It didn't help that Anthony decided to pay me back for all the times I'd teased him - he made me watch as he jerked off and gave me facials, and me having to say "thank you, Daddy" after he came on my tongue just made it even hotter.
But finally, I was cleared for sex. I was self-conscious about the still-fresh scar I had from my top surgery but Anthony took it in stride. "You look badass with that scar," he purred, lovingly running his fingers over it. "Like a warrior."
I grinned and giggled, and shook my head at him, though my cheeks flushed - pleased at that compliment. "Maybe I should get a tattoo there once it heals up." I bit my lower lip. "Maybe you could pick it out for me, as a way of... branding me, or something."
"I like that idea." Anthony kissed the tip of my nose and gave my ass a hard swat. "Maybe we could pierce your cute little nipples, too."
"Oh, fuck..." I shuddered, my cunt twinging.
"In the meantime..." Anthony put my collar on, and clipped the leash through the O-ring, and swatted my ass again. "Get on this cock, baby."
I straddled him and sank down, and he wrapped his arms around me. When he was all the way inside, he kissed the center of my chest, over my heart, and rested his head there for a moment. My eyes misted and I cradled his head. "I love you," I whispered.
"I love you." He looked up and I leaned in to kiss him.
Then I began to ride his cock, bouncing madly, desperate for it after two weeks. Anthony pulled on the leash with one hand and smacked my ass with the other, and I held onto his shoulders. "That's a good boy," Anthony said. "This is what Daddy's good boy gets. My good, brave boy..."
I loved that so much. I loved him. "Yes, Daddy, yes!"
"My hot warrior stud." Anthony slapped my ass again, and then his hand came around to play with my clit. "I love that bottom growth, baby."
"Mmmmm, Daddy." It was more sensitive now too, and I felt the tension building as he worked my clit in time with the rhythm of my hips.
"Can't wait to show you off to the guys. Maybe I'll make them jerk off all over your hot little body." We played with another leather couple once a month - Anthony got to suck cock and fuck ass, and I loved being spit-roasted and taking cock in all of my holes, it felt empowering to choose this and give myself freely, wantonly. I couldn't wait either, and my clit twitched in response to that thought. "Oh, somebody likes that, you delicious, naughty fuckslut."
"Yes, Daddy!" I rode him harder. Faster. At the speed of breaking away from my past, into this new life. With the love of my life.