Sadie let's Marley know it wasn't consensual, but doesn't know how she feels

As everything eventually does, Marley’s orgasm finally comes to its conclusion. He doesn’t make a lot of noise while he cums against my lips, but when he’s finished, he lets out a long sigh of contentment. I feel his whole body relax. His finger is still in my behind, but it’s not moving, and his hand is simply resting on my ass. His other hand is resting on the back of my head, which is making it impossible to break this most intimate of intimate kisses. His leg relaxes under my arms, and inside my gripping hands I can feel his manhood losing it’s iron core.

After a couple deep breaths, Marley gets back to action. He pulls himself from my ass and gives me a playful swat. His hand leaves the back of my head and quickly gets the decorative pillow. He lays it further down his lap and helps me up onto the couch so that I can roll over and lay my head on the pillow. I want nothing more than to roll off the couch and onto the floor. To get up and run away, but I can’t move. My whole body, from the tip top of my head to the soles of my feet, is trembling uncontrollably.

I still can’t unclench my mouth so when Marley reaches down and clears off most of the cum from my lips my yelp is self-muted. I know I’m in the middle of a fight or flight response, that I’m likely having an anxiety attack, so it seems natural that I can’t focus on any one thing. My eyes are whipping around wildly looking at Marley, the ceiling, the upside-down TV, the couch arm, my heaving breasts, the coffee table. And even with this hypervigilance, I’m taken by surprise when Marley leans forward and kisses me. I let out a muffled “MMMmmnnoooo…” but it’s again fed right into his mouth and simply allows his tongue the access that he desired.

He can’t possibly be comfortable practically bending himself in half to kiss me in this position, but Marley keeps kissing me for several long minutes. He keeps kissing until through calming down or simple exhaustion, I stop trembling and shaking. When he pulls away, he’s looking down at me with both a warm love and a cool concern. He pets my hair with one hand and cups my cheek with the other, not seeming to not care that he’s wiping his own cum around as it’s still covering my lower face. His voice is calm but strident enough that it’s clear he wants an answer, “That was your first time right, Sadie? Your first time with a real man?”

It strikes my heart like a bolt of lightning. Not my first time with a man, because of course he knows I am, or was, a man. No, my first time with a ‘Real Man’. He’s a real man. I’m not. I nod, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. I absolutely don’t want to cry. I want to keep these feelings bottled up until I can make the embarrassment, humiliation, and shame alchemically transmute into hate, and anger, and rage. But Marley isn’t making it that easy. It’s easy to hate a cocky man. It’s easy to be angry at a man who doesn’t care about you. It’s really hard to rage against someone who’s actively caring for you and trying to be nice and kind.

Leaning forward again, Marley places another kiss on my forehead, his voice staying smooth and calm and hypnotic, “It’s okay baby girl. It’s okay to be conflicted. If you’re feeling embarrassed, that’s natural. If you’re feeling like something was wrong, that’s perfectly fine. In a transition like yours, it’s common, almost expected, that experiences like this will heavily pendulum from ecstatic and happy to sad and demoralizing. What’s important is that you do it with someone that cares for you and can care for you afterward. I care for you Sadie. And I will care for you.”

Marley’s hand comes up to cup my breast. He’s not actively petting it or working on the nipple, but it’s clear he’s a moment away from that. His vocal tenor never changes as he asks, “You didn’t cum did you? That’s okay, it can be hard to find an orgasm during your transition. Especially in your first few times. We can work on it if you want. It’s tough with you locked up, but I could tell I was making you feel good with my finger. Do you want me to continue that? To use my finger to make you feel good and cum? Do you wanna cum like my good little girl?”

Wishing that the world opens up and swallows me whole doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. Because there’s a part of me that wants to say yes. He had me so close. SO CLOSE. But I didn’t want a man to make me cum before, and I don’t want a man to make me cum now. I close my eyes, tears streaking out both sides, and shake my head negatively. I don’t even trust my voice at this moment. I don’t even know if I could open my mouth as it’s clenched closed so tightly.

Marley’s hand moves away from my breast, but just by an inch, staying on my chest, warming me and conveying that I’m still held and safe. “It’s okay Sadie. You stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back. I’m just going to the bathroom, okay?”

When I don’t say anything, I feel him lift my head and the pillow up enough for him to slide out and lay the pillow back down on the couch. I cross my arms under my breasts and start to shiver again. I can’t stop the tears again, but I’m not openly crying. It’s more like the emotions are slowly leaking out of me.

I hear Marley step into the bathroom. I hear him run the water, and then wash something. He then runs several things under the water and comes back to me. I still keep my eyes closed as he lifts the pillow and sets it back down on his lap. I’m closer to his body again, resting on his crotch, and that realization comes with a new smell. Clean. Water. Soap. He washed himself down there.

I jerk once when I feel the warm wet washcloth on my face. I feel the soapy sudsy bubbles of the soap and know he’s truly cleaning me. As soon as he has my lower face, nose, and neck soaped up, he uses another washcloth to rinse my face. I’d love to say that I could no longer smell his pungent cum, but it went up my nose and I’m afraid I’m going to be smelling it for a good long time. I’m simply thankful that it didn’t go far enough in that I could taste it. I jerked a man off. I made a man cum. I smelled his cum as it coated my face. But I can still hold my head up high, knowing that I’ve never tasted a man’s cum.

When Marley has me clean, he uses a hand towel to pat my face and neck and nose dry. The stress of the day, the less than satisfying chemically induced sleep, the feelings of inadequacy, the inebriation, and the final soul crushing humiliating sex, all start to weigh on me. I try to open my eyes, and my eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds apiece. I finally manage to peek out from behind my concrete eyelids and see that Marley is calmly looking down at me. His hand is still idly working through my hair, and he’s pulled a throw blanket from the back of the couch onto us. When he sees me looking at him, he sounds like a man talking to his toddler child. “Tired?”

My response is as ingrained as it’s true. I nod. Without waiting a single beat, Marley slides his arm up under my knees and my upper back and lifts me up like I weighed nothing. I turn toward him but refuse to put my arms around him. He only needs four long steps to get us to the bed and without dropping me, he manages to pull the covers back, the sheets out, and lay me down on the bed. He has the covers up to my chin and actively tucks the sheets and covers back in, making me feel like the whole bed is now hugging me.

Turning out the light, Marley kisses my forehead, says quietly “I’m going to shower. I’ll be back. Sleep.” Before stepping away.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but it must have been as soon as Marley stood up. I’m woken back up when I feel him sliding back into bed with me. I had to be out of it as I can feel that he’s finished removing my dress as well as my shoes. I’m in bed with only my panties on. As Marley snuggles up behind me, his big arm resting easily underneath my breasts, he kisses the back of my head and says quietly, “You’re safe Sadie. I know it’s been a roller coaster and that a lot is running through your head, but you’re safe. I’ll keep you safe and I won’t do anything with you without your direct consent. Sleep, rest, and we can talk in the morning. Or not. It’s up to you. Just sleep my good girl.”

And I do.

When I wake up, I’m initially confused. The room is dark, but the curtains aren’t pulled together perfectly and I can see bright morning sunlight shining in. It doesn’t take me long to remember yesterday. To remember last night. I also remember that our flight was early in the morning. Sliding out of bed, feeling fairly stiff, I look at the clock and see that we haven’t merely missed our flight, it’s almost noon. Moving to the curtains, I slide them open and marvel at the hustle and bustle of activity below us. It strikes me that while likely no one can see through the window, I’m still standing at it wearing nothing but a pair of panties.

Moving back into the room I open the closet and pull out my outfit for the day. Laying it out on the bed, I move into the shower and for the next half hour try to wash myself clean. When I’m done, it’s not because I’ve accomplished my goal, it’s because I realized that with how I feel dirty, I can’t get clean in a shower. I finish my morning skin care routine, put on some makeup, put my hair up into my twin high ponytails, and finally slip into my clothes. I was hoping to feel festive in my autumnal brown skirt and yellow and orange tight sweater that cups my breast and barely comes down to my tummy. But as I look in the mirror and see the happy colors, and worse see the ink that I’ve emblazoned on my belly for the next couple months informing “… potential black lovers that she is available…” I feel tired. Tired, confused, and used.

Hearing the door open I turn and see Marley walking in. He has a bag that immediately smells of food. Smiling at me he approaches me but stops a few feet away, saying, “Good morning sleepyhead. I ordered breakfast but you slept through room service delivering it, me eating half of it, and me putting the cart back out into the hallway. I’ve finished up packing everything from my room and just went down to get some lunch, hoping that you’d be up and out of bed. So… hungry?”

He holds the bag up and my stomach grumbles at the delicious smells. Nodding, I turn and take a step toward the table, but jerk to a stop when I recognize what I’m doing. Heading for the couch and coffee table. No. No, I don’t want to sit there.

Changing direction, I move over to the desk and sit down. Marley simply nods, follows me over, and lays out the food in front of me. It’s clear he was looking to eat with me as there are two full meals, two burgers, two fries, two waters, but he lays it out in front of me then pulls a chair nearby. When I pull one of the meals to me and start eating, he grabs up the other one and sets it on his lap, eating a few feet away from me.

The only sound for the next fifteen minutes is us eating. At first, I can’t even look at him. Even thinking that he’s off to my side, makes me remember and I feel like I’m going to start shaking again. But then I catch him out of the corner of my eye, and he isn’t the big monster that my subconscious wants him to be. He’s Marley. He’s my trainer. Eventually I can look at him. And then I can turn and eat while looking at him. By the time the meal is done, I’ve turned so that we’re facing each other. But I still have no idea what to say. Thankfully he does.

When Marley is done eating and sees that I’m finished he takes care of our trash and returns, sitting a little further away on the corner of the bed. “Sadie, I need you to know that the feelings you’re experiencing are normal. I’ve been with two other women that were transitioning before. One that I was in a relationship with, and one that I met through the gym, and she wanted me to be ‘her first’. I did my research both times and my experiences with both of them and with you fit within what I learned. That it’s a strong, almost violent, emotional rollercoaster. And if you feel hurt or betrayed or angry, then I understand. Because I failed you. We should have talked about this beforehand. We should have laid out our expectations. It’s not an excuse that excuses me, but between the excitement of the day and the **** and the fact that I’ve been attracted to you for weeks now, well, I let my inner desires rush me to a place that I damned well know we should have tread into slowly. Your demeanor tells me that you’re at least a little bit regretting what happened. That you didn’t want it to happen that way, or maybe even didn’t want it to happen at all.”

I’m surprised at myself. With as earnest and caringly as Marley says all of that I feel that I should have broken down. But I don’t. Instead, I nod and answer him, “You’re right. I didn’t want that to happen. At all. I never wanted to have sex with you, or as far as I was concerned with any man.” I hold my phone up as if he could read the texts and urban dictionary definition through my lock screen. “I found out what this tattoo means literally just before you moved my hand to you. I didn’t know. And I know that was like throwing a red cape out in front of a bull. Kari tried to warn me, you tried to warn me, Sarah tried to warn me. But I didn’t listen.”

Marley’s face practically collapses. He starts to say something, but I hold my hand up, needing to say this before I lose the nerve. “No, listen. I don’t look on what you did as ****. I’m not going to come after you or anything like that. But I need to process all of this. This…” I gesture vaguely toward the couch behind me “…this all changed me, and I need to figure out how I’m changed before I can talk to you about it. Just know that I don’t hold you to blame, this was my fault, but I don’t want you to think for bit that what we did was consensual.”