The Breakthrough

Chapter 1: The Break

Daniel woke up at 6am to go to his job at costco.

By 10:40 on a Thursday morning, Daniel had walked past the bakery counter four times for no reason at all.

Cindy, twenty-five, was behind the glass with her hair in a ponytail, a streak of flour on one forearm, laughing at something a customer had said. She turned to slide a tray into the display case, her apron strings pulled tight across the curve of her ass, and Daniel a twenty six, five-foot-four, lean as a fence post stealth transman in his work shirt. He forgot what he'd come out onto the floor to do when he saw Cindy.

She bent to wipe down the bottom shelf, her collar fell open, and he caught the soft, ridge of her breasts.

Heat dropped through him, low and fast. By the time he reached the family bathroom, he was so hard it hurt, his T-dick thick and swollen against the seam of his pants his lower part leaking.

He locked the door. There was only one toilet, he leaned over as if it was going to catch his load, braced one palm flat against the cool tile, shoved his pants down just far enough, and wrapped his other hand around himself: a little over two inches of flushed, throbbing heat. Not long, but as thick around as his thumb, and so sensitive that the first slow pull made his knees go soft.

He closed his eyes and imagined Cindy. Cindy bent over the bakery counter, her perfect supple breasts, so perky so perfect. He stroked faster, thumb circling the base, and in his mind she was kneeling below him, breasts out ready to take his hot ropes on curve of her breast, running down between them, marking her.

In his head, the dam always broke.

The pressure built where it always did, low in his belly and dick, a tight, aching fullness, like something enormous was backing up behind and demanding out. It wasn't only pleasure. It was need, a raw, animal I have to ejaculate, I have to, please that climbed and clamped around his pelvis and made him bear down with everything he had.

He shoved his hips toward the wall. He stroked himself hard and fast and pushed, pushed, as if he could force it open just this once.

The orgasm crashed over him anyway, bright and brutal. His thighs shook. A groan tore out of him and he bit down on his lip to muffle it as his dick clenched and clenched and clenched around the need to shoot.

Nothing came. Nothing ever did.

The pleasure rolled away and left the pressure behind: that full, desperate, backed-up ache, a flood stopped at the gate. He stayed there panting, forehead against the wall, dick still twitching in his fist. It had felt good. It always felt good. And it always, always felt unfinished.

He washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror, flushed and wild-eyed.

Next shift, he thought. I'm asking her out. He couldn't take another day of wanting her this badly with nowhere to put it.

The next shift, Daniel rehearsed it in the parking lot, in the locker room, and twice in the hallway outside the bakery. None of it survived her smile.

"Hey, Daniel." Cindy looked up from the sheet cake she was frosting. "You've walked past me about forty times this week. Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Totally. I just... would you..." He shut his eyes and started over. "Do you want to get dinner with me? Like a date. A real one. Friday. Or any day. Whenever."

For a second she just looked at him, a smear of buttercream on her thumb.

"Yes," she said. "God, yes. I was starting to think I'd have to ask you."

He floated through the rest of his shift.

Chapter 2: The Date

The steakhouse was the nicest place within twenty miles: dark wood, candles in red glass, a waiter who called him sir. Cindy wore a green dress that hugged every curve he'd spent months memorizing, and over ribeyes and a bottle of red she laughed at his bad jokes and slid her foot against his under the table.

He'd promised himself he'd tell her tonight. When the plates were cleared, his mouth went dry anyway.

"Cindy, there's something you should know before this goes any further." He turned his wine glass by the stem. "I'm trans. FTM. I haven't had bottom surgery, so what's under my pants might not be what you're expecting."

He braced for it: the flinch, the polite smile, the sudden need to get home early.

Cindy tilted her head. "Okay."

"... Okay?" daniel thought

"Okay." She reached across the table and laced her fingers through his. "Daniel, I don't care. Honestly? I've always thought you were cute. Like, embarrassingly cute. I burned a whole tray of croissants once because you were stocking the milk cooler and your shirt rode up."

His face went red as a tomato, ears and neck and all, and she laughed, delighted, and squeezed his hand.

"Come home with me to my place," she said.

It was the easiest yes of his life.

Chapter 3: Her bedroom

Cindy's bedroom smelled like vanilla and clean sheets, lit by a single lamp. She shut the door behind them and turned, and they stood face to face, close enough that he could feel the heat coming off her.

"Drop your pants, Daniel," she said softly.

His heart slammed. He undid his belt with fingers that didn't quite work, pushed his pants and boxers to the floor, and stood there, hard and flushed and thick, the cool air raising goosebumps along his thighs.

Cindy sank to her knees until her face was level with his hips. For a long moment she just looked.

"Aaaww," she cooed. "Look at the little guy."

Heat flooded his face. "He's not little!"

She giggled, bright and unrepentant, then set two fingers on either side of the base and pressed back, gently pushing the soft skin of his mound out of the way until all of him stood out, swollen and bare, every bit as thick as her thumb. Her laughter faded. Her lips parted. She stared at him, mesmerized.

"You're right," she whispered. "Not little. Thick. God, look how thick you are. Look how hard you got for me."

She wrapped her thumb and fingers around him and began to stroke, slow at first, up and down, like she wanted to learn him. Daniel's breath snagged.

"That's it, handsome," she murmured. "Were you thinking about this at work? Every time I bent over that display case, I could feel you staring at my tits. Tell me you pictured this."

"Every day," he gasped.

"Mmm. I thought so." Her hand sped up. "Look at you, all flushed and shaking for me. You're so hard."

She looked up at him from her knees, eyes dark, cheeks pink. "I want you to cum on my face, Daniel."

His stomach dropped.

She had no idea. Of course she didn't; he'd never told her, and why would he have? He opened his mouth to say it... can't, it doesn't work like that, it never has... but she was gazing up at him with such open hunger, her fingers working him so perfectly, that the words dissolved on his tongue. One minute, he told himself. Let me have it for one minute. I'll explain after.

"Tell me you want to," she said, stroking faster.

"Tell me you want to make a mess of my pretty face."

"Oh Oh God... I do I do!" His hips arched into her fist, a helpless moan tearing out of him.

For a minute there was nothing but the wet rhythm of her hand and the sound of his breathing, the familiar pressure rising, that desperate, backed-up fullness gathering in his lower belly and dick.

"Oh... oh God, I'm gonna cum."

She closed her eyes and tilted her chin up, lips parted, the picture of eager invitation. "Yes. Do it. Paint my face, Daniel."

It was too much. He thrust into her hand and let go, and the orgasm slammed through him, and he strained, bore down with every muscle he had, trying with everything in him to break through, to give her what she'd asked for. His whole body shuddered. A ragged cry cracked out of him as, pulse after pulse after pulse rolled through his dick.

Nothing came.

The pleasure ebbed. The dam held. He stood trembling, hands tangled in her hair, panting.

Cindy waited, eyes closed, face lifted. A second ticked by, then another. Slowly she blinked her eyes open and looked up at him, then down at his Tdick, still twitching in her hand, then back up, her brow furrowing.

"Wait," she said. "What happened? Where's your load?"

His face crumpled. He backed up until his legs hit the edge of the bed and sat down hard, pants around his ankles, and covered his eyes. "I'm sorry. I should've told you. I can't... it doesn't..." He drew a shaky breath. "My orgasms are dry. They always have been, and they always will be. I feel it build and build, like I'm about to burst, like something's backed up and I desperately need to let it out. I try so hard. But it never comes. I wanted to give you what you asked for, and I didn't want to ruin it, so I just..."

"Hey. Hey." Cindy climbed up beside him and gently peeled his hands from his face. She didn't look disappointed. She looked tender, and a little stunned. "You've been trying to, every time?"

He nodded miserably. "Every time. As hard as I can."

"Oh, baby." She kissed his knuckles. "You didn't ruin anything. I just didn't know. Did it feel good?"

"It felt amazing. It always does. It's just... unfinished."

"Well." Her mouth curved. She trailed a fingertip down his chest, then lower, to where he was somehow still hard, still throbbing. "You were trying so hard to give me what I asked for. Do you know how hot that is? I just watched you fall apart in my hand, I'm going to be thinking about that all week." She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "And look at you, still so hard for me. That's so fucking hot. I'm not nearly done with you, Daniel."

She tugged his shirt over his head, tossed it aside, and stood to unzip her green dress.

Chapter 4: Her Turn

The dress slid to the floor, then her bra, then her panties, and Daniel forgot how to breathe. She was every bit as soft and perfect as he'd imagined: full breasts, a generous curve of belly and hip, that ass he'd dreamed about, and between her thighs, glistening, ready.

She lay back across the bed and spread her legs. "Now it's my turn. I've been soaked since the steakhouse." Her voice dropped. "Come eat my pussy, Daniel."

He didn't need to be told twice. He knelt between her thighs, kissed the inside of one knee, then the other, working his way up slowly, drinking in the scent of her. When his mouth finally met her, she gasped and fisted both hands in the sheets.

"Yes. Just like that. God, your mouth." she moaned

He licked her in one long, slow stripe from her entrance to her clit, learning her. She tasted sweet and musky and a little like salt. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, then took it between his lips and sucked gently, and her hips bucked against his face.

"Right there," she moaned. "Don't stop. Don't you dare stop. Look at me, baby. Look at me while you eat me."

He looked up along the length of her body, her breasts rising and falling, her face flushed, her eyes locked on his. He slid two fingers inside her and curled them as he sucked, and she cried out.

"Oh, you're so good at this. Get your tongue in me. Make me cum on your face, Daniel. Make me cum."

He worked his tongue and fingers faster. Her thighs trembled on either side of his head. Her breathing broke into stuttering, helpless little sounds, and then she seized his hair and ground against his mouth, her whole body arching off the bed.

"I'm cumming!!!" she groaned

The orgasm ripped through her, long and violent, thighs clamping around his ears, her cries bouncing off the walls. He held on through all of it, licking her gently through every aftershock until she shoved at his shoulder, laughing breathlessly, too sensitive to take any more.

He sat back on his heels, chin and cheeks slick, grinning like an idiot.

"Look at you," Cindy panted, dragging him up the bed by the arms. "You're covered in me. So hot." She kissed him deeply, tasting herself on his tongue. "That was the best orgasm I've ever had. I mean it."

Chapter 5: Only the Tip

She rolled over on the bed, rose onto her hands and knees, and looked at him over her shoulder, ass lifted, hair tumbling loose from its pins. "Now fuck me," she said. "Like this."

There it was the ass that had hijacked his brain for months, round and soft and flushed, offered up like a gift. Daniel knelt behind her and gripped her hips, the same hips he'd looked at daily, and the real thing was so much better, warm and giving beneath his palms, goosebumps rising under his thumbs.

"Come on, baby," she purred, pushing back against him. "Give it to me."

He guided himself to her entrance, slick and hot, and pressed forward. His tip slid into her, wet heat closing tight around him, and that was all. No matter how he angled his hips, no matter how hard he pushed, the rest of him couldn't follow.

Disappointment sank through him, heavy and familiar. He went still, fingers tightening on her hips.

"Cindy, I... that's all I can... I'm sorry, I can't get any further..." he croaked

"Don't," she said. She reached back and caught his wrist, and when she looked over her shoulder, her eyes were fierce. "Don't you dare pull out. Feel that? That's me wanting this. Wanting you. I'm so wet for you I can't stand it."

"But it's only"

"It's perfect." She pushed back onto him, taking him as deep as he could go, and moaned. "Most of what I feel is right here at the front anyway, and you're thick enough to light me up exactly where I need it. I want you just like this. Now fuck me."

Something in his chest cracked open, warm and bright. He tightened his grip and began to move: short, hungry thrusts at first, pushing in as far as he could, his hips pressed flush against her ass, grinding into her with every stroke. Again and again, over and over, burying himself as deep as he possibly could, chasing every last fraction of an inch.

"Yes," Cindy gasped. "Oh, yes. That's it. You feel so good. Don't stop."

He didn't. He thrust faster, the slap of skin on skin loud in the quiet room, her breasts swaying, her breath breaking into moans. "Harder, Daniel. Give me everything you've got. I want all of it."

The pressure built again, low in his belly, in his dick, the flood, the fullness, the desperate, backed-up need. He tried, God, he tried, bearing down, pounding into her, begging his body to finally break...

"I'm gonna cum," he choked. "Cindy, I'm..."

"Let go for me," she growled. "I want to feel you cum in me. Let me feel it."

He slammed into her one last time and the orgasm tore through him as his dick thobbed hard, and with it the old, impossible push, his whole body straining toward a release that wasn't coming. He shook all over. dick pulsing hard. He cried out her name. the dam straining, throbbbing and holding.

Cindy felt every bit of it. "There you go," she breathed, pressing back to wring one last helpless shudder out of him. "I felt that. Oh my God, baby, I felt you."

He collapsed against her back, and they toppled sideways into the sheets, tangled and gasping and laughing. For a while there was only the sound of their breathing.

Of course, that old backed-up ache, the flood that would never break its banks. He'd keep bearing down every single time; his body would never stop reaching for it. But for the first time, he wasn't alone in the reaching.

Cindy rolled to face him, brushed damp hair from his forehead, and kissed him.

"So," she said. "Same time next Thursday? I'm off at six."

Daniel laughed, his face going red as a tomato all over again. "I'll bring dinner."

"Bring you," she said, her hand sliding down his stomach. "And that mouth."