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Sunday, June 15, 2025

Adrian & Claire: Truth in Each Hand

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The room was quiet now, humming with that thick post-sex stillness, like the air itself was catching its breath.

Adrian lay on one side of me, chest still rising and falling from the deep, guttural release he’d just poured into me. Ethan curled in on my other side, watching me with soft, searching eyes, still holding my hand like he had all along.

I laid there between them, still bare and glistening, my body thrumming with aftershocks.

And then, as naturally as breathing, I reached out—my left hand to Adrian, my right to Ethan.

They both stirred at my touch.

And there I was, holding them both.

One in each hand.

One, thick and warm, still slick with the evidence of what he’d just done to me.

The other, smaller, softer, twitching with arousal but nowhere near the same weight. Familiar. Safe. But undeniably different.

My fingers curled gently around each shaft, comparing without guilt. Without shame. Just truth.

Adrian’s cock was heavy. Dense. Like holding something alive, something that pulsed with masculine power. Even softening now, it filled my whole palm and spilled past it. I could feel the heat of it in my wrist, like it had its own gravity. Like it belonged in a woman’s body. It didn’t just fill me—it rearranged me. It ruined me in the best way.

Ethan’s, by contrast, was slender. I could circle my fingers easily around the base, thumb touching forefinger. His shaft felt more like… a memory. Like something precious I’d known forever. But as I held them side by side—my palms cradling the truth—I couldn’t deny the words that came to me.

“Ethan,” I said softly, turning to him with all the love in the world. “When you’re inside me, it’s like someone’s finger is there. Intimate. Gentle. Familiar. It’s like being touched with love.”

His breath caught, but he didn’t pull away. He nodded slowly, encouraging me to go on.

“But Adrian…” I turned, tightening my grip slightly on that thick, softening cock in my left hand. “This feels like a man. He doesn’t just touch me. He fills me. Like my body was waiting for something this size, this weight, my whole life and didn’t know it.”

I smiled at Ethan, eyes tender. “You make love to me like you’re protecting me. But he takes me like I’m a feast meant to be devoured.”

Adrian chuckled low in his throat, eyes closed, one hand behind his head like a king relaxing on his throne. “She gets it,” he murmured, pride thick in his voice.

Still, I looked only at Ethan as I spoke the next part.

“And I love you for being part of this. For letting me be honest. For making space in our marriage for me to be fully who I am.”

Ethan’s eyes brimmed. “I love you, Claire. I know you have been wanting more and I don’t want to hold you back any longer.”

Tears welled in my throat. I scooted closer, letting their cocks gently rest in my open palms again, fascinated by the differences between them.

One, my history.

The other, my hunger.

“I don’t want to pretend these feel the same,” I whispered, eyes flitting between their bodies. “Because they don’t. One is soft. Familiar. But the other… Adrian’s cock… it’s like it owns me when it’s inside. Like my body remembers him long after he pulls out and craves the next moment it goes back in.”

Adrian smirked, his voice like velvet. “You’re damn right it does.”

I laughed softly, turning to kiss Ethan’s cheek. “But I’m yours, babe. Always. You gave me this gift. You made me into the kind of woman who could admit this to myself. Crave this for us. Enjoy it for me.”

Ethan’s voice trembled. “Do you feel like… less of my wife now?”

“No,” I said, pulling his hand to my heart. “I feel more. More feminine. More alive. More seen. Because now I get to be everything. A wife. A lover. A woman who knows what it means to be filled. And a woman who will always come back to the man who made it possible.”

We lay there in a triangle of breath and bare skin, the smell of sex and sweat still clinging to us.

I looked down one more time.

One cock: light, tender, familiar.

The other: thick, and heavy with a masculine presence in the room that made my thighs ache just from the memory.

Both sacred. Both mine.

And as I held them both, something in me clicked.

I didn’t have to choose. I didn’t have to downplay one to uplift the other.

I was allowed to name the truth.

Adrian’s cock owns my body.

Ethan’s cock owns my heart.

And I love both.


More about Adrian & Claire:

Tora
Tora
I’m Tora, a Japanese-American trans woman who channels my journey and passions into writing erotic stories. Born in Tokyo and now living in Seattle, I blend the vibrant culture with eclectic energy of my new home. My writing explores themes of identity, desire, and empowerment, inviting readers into bold, sensual worlds full of authentic passion.

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