Genderfluid loving

Thanks, Ruby Incarnidine

I want him here, in front of me. I want to heal the hurt in his eyes, and almost more than that I want him bent over my bed.
I want him so deeply that it's a low ache in the pit of my stomach.

I can see him now, in a long pencil skirt which emphasizes his beautiful legs, a cowl-necked blouse softening the width of his shoulders and emphasizing his tiny waist. I can see him in shiny, patent heels, walking toward me with an uncertain look in his eyes.
His woman-self has been hurt, decried, and it complicates my craving for her.
The hurt that she was caused, that I was a part of, complicates the image I have of her in my mind's eye- the soft swell of breasts and sweet little ass, the long, beautiful legs encased in sheer thigh-highs.
I want this part of him- this her- and that wanting is complicated and mixed in with my desire to heal her pain and express my love for this side of him, that is her.

I want it, though. Want to walk beside her with my cock heavy in my slacks, my already-masculine gait modified by its weight. Want to bind my breasts down and open doors for her like a gentleman, then press her to the floor beneath the weight of me. I want to drag her skirt up her thighs, leaving the heels and thigh-highs in place, and pull lacy panties out of the way for my cock, which is already aching.

I love him as a boy. And I am learning that I love him as a girl. It took nearly losing her to begin to see that.

In my mind's eye, I see my hands, devoid of their feminine rings for once, sliding up those thighs I know so well as a boy and seeing anew as a girl, slipping on the unfamiliar texture of the thigh-highs, which I've only known on my own skin, feeling the elastic slip into skin too soft to be a man's as my fingers travel higher, find scratchy-soft lace and what for this moment is my cunt.
The only cunt that I have, today.
The only cunt that I want.
I can feel my lubed fingers sliding inside, hear the little gasps and moans that drive me completely insane in either gender.
I can feel the urgency building, and I understand suddenly why so few men take the time that women want. This is intoxicating, and I want to press immediately into her- no lube, no prep, just my body owning the beautiful one beneath me.
Just this body, this man who today is my woman, writhing beneath me and moaning, begging me for more while I ride her.

It took almost losing her to begin to learn how much that I need her.

I'm sorry, my darling.
I want you.