Insurmountable?

Talking with Elle yesterday, I realized something: I don't expect our relationship to last. I'm frantically trying to get as much out of it as I possibly can, cram as much awesome into it as possible, because I feel that my days with her are very finite.

So anything that gets in the way of optimalizing our time together stresses me out, even something like one of us feeling tired or arriving a bit late. Because it feels like I'm waisting time that could be spent better. I can't just relax when I'm with her, can't just hang out in the same space. I don't just shrug and think we can always do whatever-important-thing some other time, because I'm constantly feeling like there won't be another time. That the entire relationship is on a timer.

Why? Because I firmly believe that she's better than me. 

She's younger, thin, fit, strong, gorgeous. Infinitely desirabile. She has so many options out there, why on earth would she stay with me? She's a 10, I'm a 2. At least in terms of appearance.

She doesn't see it that way, doesn't compare appearances like that, doesn't value her own looks. Just like someone who's always been privileged, don't see their own privilege. 

On the other hand, I know more than she does, about a lot of things. She says I challenge her intellectually, and she loves that about me. I'm good with words, curious, interested in lots of things, and generally like to think I have a functioning brain. But... I've always had that, so (like a privileged person) I don't put much stock in it. Don't value it. Don't see that as desirable.

Is it fatphobia talking? Dysphoria? I hate my body. Hate so much about myself. And I'm a mental health wreck. I can't wrap my head around why someone would want to be with me, but especially not someone magnificent looking like her. I constantly expect us to implode somehow. Not that she'll leave me, necessarily (though I find that likely), but that something somehow will break us.

I might have been burnt by my short relationship with Cord too. We went from all lovey-dovey to complete flaming breakup in a matter of a few hours. There were issues, sure, but there's always issues in a relationship. Question is if they're surmountable or not.

I don't want to loose her, I want us to work out.. Though I don't know if we will, if I keep being so high strung around her. This might be a self-fulfilling prophecy.. And I don't know how to step out of that spiral. Just like I don't know how to make someone like me when they initially don't, I don't know how to make myself trust someone (or some situation) when I initially don't. I worry that might be what's insurmountable in the end. 

Golden Retriver vs The Groak

Elle has a girlfriend, my metamour. Lets call her Liberty. They've been together for the same amount of time as Elle and I, give or take a week or two. 

They are closer in age, Liberty is about 3 years older than Elle. As oposed to my 12 years. They also seem closer in temperament. Goofy, extremely creative, they share ideas and experiences on a very different level than Elle and I seem able to. Sexually they are also really compatible. I bring nothing to the table that she can't get from Liberty, and there's stuff Liberty can do (sexually) which I can't. In addition, she's cute, intelligent and interesting. And available. I constantly feel like I don't measure up compared to her, in bed or out of it.

I like her. I just want her to like me. She doesn't. She's afraid of me. Intimidated by me. She sees the mask of control I put on when I'm nervous, and thinks that's the real me. Thinks I'm really in control. Thinks I know what the fuck I'm doing all the time. Can't seem to see that it's masking. It's a coping strategy. Just like my grandmother with dementia, I control the situation and the conversation and thus appear more lucid than I really am.

I feel cast in the role of the popular kid at school. The bully who knew they were on top, and made sure to keep everyone else down. The very people me-as-a-child was afraid of. And now that apparently is me. Some big, scary creature. Like The Groak from Moomin. (Whilst I see myself more like a golden retriver, who just wants to play fetch and be scratched behind the ears. A lovable ball of fluff, who wouldn't hurt a fly. How can I be something so different in Liberty's eyes?!?) 

She's clear that this is her anxiety talking, and she takes full responsibility for that. Fine. That doesn't really change anything for me, though. Her opinion matters to me. And right now, that opinion isn't as favourable as she seems to think it is.

Also, she's clear that she can't handle seeing me and Elle together. Even to the point of us being in the same building as her, when we play or cuddle. This is in the way of them moving in together. Even with separate bedrooms, it wouldn't be enough separation for Liberty. She couldn't handle having me there. So I'm in the way. Blocking perfectly feasible plans, through my sole existence. And there's nothing I can do about it.

Nothing except back out, that is. Remove myself from the equation. If Elle wasn't with me, she'd have more time to be with others (Libery included), they could move in together (away from Elle's crazy room mate), and Liberty wouldn't have so much anxiety about all of this. It solves everything for them.

Not for me though. And if I am to believe Elle, not for her either. She wants to be with me, or so she says. Me and Liberty both. I'm full of doubt about that, but in the end I still love her. I don't want to give her up, if I can find some other way. I just don't know how to fix this.

How do you make someone like you, when they clearly don't?

(Addendum: Evenings like this, I miss being able to cry. This feeling of "I'm just about to start crying" has lasted for hours and hours now. Getting it all out would have been a relief, but testosterone makes it almost impossible.)

Lots of kinky sex

Elle and I are having a lot of kinky sex, and there's just so much I haven't written about here yet. For example: 

-More consensual non-consent. Last in the form of her begging me to stop, while I'm fucking her. Hot as hell, we both loved it. Will absolutely do it again. She's also requested being fucked or facefucked while asleep/half-asleep. Will try to make that happen too, at some point.

-Watersports. I've peed on her twice now. Just like when doing rope bondage, it's currently too much fiddling, setup, and false starts, for it to really feel sexy.. But I'm hoping it'll get easier (and therefore sexier) with practice. It's currently very interesting, but certainly hotter in my mind than in reality. 

-Age play. We've done it a tiny bit, but our roles relies too much on Elle playing innocent and unwitting. The pressure of that play acting makes it less appealing for her, I think. So we need to work around that somehow. 

-Elle's birthday was set up as an intimate play party. At one point she had five people touching, hitting, tickling or pinching her. It was a dream come true for her, and I'm very glad I was able to pull it off. It didn't get overtly sexual, but that's hopefully for some other time. Later that same night, I played with wax for the first time in what I think is 20 years... I covered her back with wax while she was lying on the floor, assisted by two female friends of hers. Fun, and not as scary as I thought it would be (I actively dislike open flames being toyed with.)

-Fucking machine. Elle owns one. I've tried it twice now, on me, once with her assisting and once alone. The idea is hot, but I feel like it could be better in reality. I struggle to get the angle right, and the dildo that comes with it is a bit on the small side. Still: Fun. Next up is tying her down and letting it pound her hole too. I think I'll enjoy watching.

-Predicament bondage. Elle owns an anal hook, so we tried a tiny bit of predicament (anal hook attached to a low neck rope) while she was in a hogtie on the floor. It's definitely something I want to explore further, preferably with her standing. (Just need somewhere up high to attach her.)

-Gridning toys. I've ordered a Gind and a Medusa from Darque Path. The Grind in medium firmness, the Medusa in firm. Estimated shipping late January. Very excited about them, hope they feel the way I want them to feel. 

-Double dildo. The FunFactory one. So-called strapless strapon. Isn't actually strapless. Worked well enough with the support of a harness, but is completely smooth where it hits my clit, so didn't do a whole lot for me. Maybe I could put a grinding toy inbetween there, once they arrive from the manufacturer..?

-Simultaneous orgasm. Happened tonight, actually. Elle was fucking me, kneeling on the floor, while I was lying on the couch. This gave me room to play with the wand (Doxy Die Cast wand) at the same time, which made me come. She orgasmed while I was in the throes of mine. That isn't something that usually happens, so it was a fun experience. 

-Other stuff: I've also fingered and fisted her seveal times, she's rimmed me once, she's given me oral (both on prosthetics and on my own bits) several times etc. I've made myself come (using the wand), while biting her... Just because I get turned on by the sounds of her pain. 

So yeah, lots and lots of kinky sex. It's fun. I want more.

Orgasm at 60%

I knew it would probably happen, and it has: My orgasms have changed since I started testosterone.

The build-up is just as intense, just as sweet. The craving for release just as intense. But the orgasm itself feels... Muted. A single explosion, more than a rolling wave. Perhaps 60% as intense and satisfying, compared to the old 100%. I started noticing it a few weeks ago. 

It's annoying. Makes me wish I was munti-orgasmic. Or at least that I could come many, many times during a sexual encounter. I can't, though. If I come once every 30 minutes, that's a lot. And the orgasms become exponentially more work as I try to have more of them. So usually I don't bother after the first one or two.

I've been 9 months on testosterone now, and there's so much I love about it. So much that feels so right. This part, though..? I wish I could do without this part. Also the acne. Hate the acne. 

Another fantasy - heavily inspired by Elle

Content warning: Age play, consensual non-consent

(Caveat: This is a fantasy scenario involving consenting adults who engage in sexualized roleplay. In no way or form do I condone or desire anything like this with real children. Children cannot consent. This is a pre-negotiated scenario between adults who can use safewords to withdraw consent. In this scenario, "no" doesn't actually mean "no".)

The fantasy:
I grab your arms quite roughly, and cuff them in front of you. No gentle leather cuffs this time. No ropes. Handcuffs only. Cold, biting, unyielding steel against your wrists, keeping your arms contained. Giving you a serious disadvantage, if you were to start fighting me.

You're looking nervous, innocent and somewhat bratty, in that short skirt and top. You're barefoot, wearing just a pantyhose underneath the skirt. Arms stretched uncomfortably in front of your body, your chest squeezed together by your upper arms to form the very beginnings of a cleavage. You look young. You look delicious.

"Take off your clothes." My voice is already husky from desire. 
"What?!? No!", you say. As if I'd asked you a question. 
I grab your cuffed arms, and stand very, very close to you. Menacingly, I say: "First: You'll call me Sir. Secondly: I wasn't asking. Take your clothes off now, or else.."
"Or else, what?", you ask cheekily. Trying not to sound intimidated, but I can hear the slight hesitation in your voice. I can see the way your eyes avoid mine. 
"Sir", I remind you. "Or else your clothes will be removed for you", I say, clearly enunciating each word as I grab a pair of scissors from a nearby table. "Now, last chance: Take off your clothes, little girl."

"No, Sir!", she throws back at me, in a bratty tone of voice. "No, I don't want to!" You're playing tough, but I can tell you're starting to worry. 
"I forgot to mention something", I say, grinning, a sadistic gleam in my eyes. ""No" doesn't exist today."
I grab the scissors and take a step towards you. You back away, fear in your eyes, your cuffed hands up in front of you. "I'm just a little girl, Sir! Why are you doing this to me! You can't do this to me, Sir!"
"That's right", I grin. "You're just a little girl. And I'm the adult. I make the rules, I decide. I can do whatever I want, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Scissors in one hand, I grab your arms with the other and pull you closer to me. "Now you get ONE choice", I say firmly. "Stand still, or get cut."

Putting the scissors against your belly, I start cutting into the fabric on the side of your top. You squeal, equal parts ticklish and scared, but you have the sense to stand still. Cutting up through the arm hole under your arm, I grab and tear through the last piece of fabric on the sleeve. Just because I can. Because I want to show you how much bigger I am than you. How weak you are, compared to me. 

Cutting along the shoulder, I come to the side of your throat. You're turned partially away from me now, silent and trembling. Eyes downcast. I make quick work of the rest of the top and tear it away from you. Then I remove your skirt in a few quick motions. Underneath you're wearing pantyhose. Through the sheer fabric I can also spot cute cotton panties. Typical for a girl your age. As I put the scissors to the edge of the pantyhose, near your hip, you gasp "No!" and try to move away from me. I grab onto the pantyhose before you can move too far. "That word doesn't exist today", I remind you. "And you were to call me Sir." I continue cutting and tearing at the pantyhose until all I can see on your legs is your young, beautiful skin.

"Better", I mumble, as you stand before me. You're naked except for panties and handcuffs. You stand slightly bent forward, trying to conceal your body from my gaze. You're clearly embarrassed, and somewhat worried for what comes next. I grab onto your upper arm and pull you towards the couch. "Come here", I say firmly. "Kneel on the couch for me, facing the backrest."
"What are you doing to me, Sir? No! I don't want this!", you protest. You struggle a bit against my grip on your upper arm, but quickly realize I'm much too strong for you. 
I don't answer you, just attach the handcuffs to the rope already prepared. It's tied under the couch, on the other side, so while you're not tightly bound other than by your wrists, you still can't get anywhere.

"Sir, what are you going to do to me?" You sound worried now, kneeling backwards on the couch. Your head is turned towards me, struggling to see what I'm up to, your arms cuffed to the rope on the backrest. I don't answer you, just carefully open my belt buckle. This makes you more worried. By the sound of my pants hitting the floor, you've turned around to the cuffs and the rope. Pulling at it, twisting your wrists, trying to find a way out.

I'm hard, and looking at your young, almost-naked body makes me even more turned on. I move closer, and you glance back at me, still struggling to free your wrists. Not getting anywhere. One look at my crotch, and I can see you blanch. You've never done anything like this before, but you must have some idea of what I might do to you. Some idea you won't like it. Your attempts at freeing yourself grow more frantic, but I can see from the set of your shoulders that you know it's no good. You're not getting anywhere, until I release you. 

I grab hold of your panties and push them down, exposing your bum. Then I take the scissors and cut them all the way off. I'm excited now, impatient. A gloved hand with some cold lube make you gasp and squirm. I stand behind you and slightly to the side, forcing my way into your hole, first with one finger, then with two. Your body is thrashing under me, as you start begging. "Please Sir, no. No, no, no! I don't want this. Please stop, Sir. I'll do whatever you want, just please don't do this. Sir, please."

I ignore your pleas for a while, as I finger you. Making sure you're lubed up and as open as you can go. You're a young girl with a very tight hole, after all. And you're struggling. This won't be pleasant for you. Luckily I don't have your pleasure in mind tonight. Just my own. And your pleading just makes it better. 

"Really?", I ask mockingly. "You'll do whatever I want, if I just stop what I'm doing now?"
"Yes, Sir! Please, Sir, please, just stop this! I'll do whatever you want!"
I grin as I withdraw my fingers. "Will you be my good, little girl now? Will you stop fighting me, as long as I don't use my fingers on you like that?" I stroke her hair with my other hand, comforting her. 
"Yes, Sir!" She leans into my hand, defeated and embarrassed. "Thank you, Sir. Anything but that. I don't want your fingers there." She shivers.
"That's my good girl. I won't use my fingers inside of you anymore... I'll use my cock in stead."

Your head shoots up, eyes wide, horror written in your face. "No!", you gasp. 
"What did I say about that word?!", I say sternly. "And you forgot to use my title again. For that, I won't go as easy on you as I had first intended. You really, really don't want to make me more cross with you now, little girl. Or you'll be even more sorry." I roll a condom onto my dick and lube up. Grabbing your waist and hips, I make you bend down more so your bum is sticking out. As I line my dick up with your hole, you start begging again.

"Please, Sir. Why are you doing this to me?! I don't want this, stop, please!" Ignoring your pleas, I start pushing inside you. One long, slow, steady motion. Indomitable, I spear you, as you howl. "Noooo!"
I laugh, as I bury myself in your hole, and your shieks turn to moans. You're so full of me, right now, and you've got nowhere to go. I pull back out and push in again slowly a few more times, before I increase the tempo. When you can catch a breath, you keep begging me to stop. I don't answer you, and by now I don't think you really expect an answer either. 

I moan as I plunge in and out of you, occasionally changing the depth or the speed to make you moan or shriek a bit more. I enjoy the sounds you make when I'm inside of you. You're so tight, so warm, so young. Beautiful, fragile, innocent. It's like your body was made for me to take, dominate, defile. Your pleading turns to mumbling and moaning, as you're shaking in your bonds. I think I see tears falling from your eyes, but by now I'm not really paying attention to what your face is doing. You're just a hole now, for me to fill.

When I can't take anymore, I lean over and untie you from the couch. I pull my dick out of you, then place you on your back on the couch, stretched out with your cuffed arms over you head. Straddling your slim, smooth body, my weight holding you down, I rub myself on you.Your head is turned away, eyes closed and brimming with tears, but I don't care. You're mine, I'm the adult here, and I can do whatever I want with you. Straining and panting, my face sweaty and red, I rub myself on your body until an orgasm explodes between my legs.

I lie on top of you, panting, in post-orgasmic bliss. Slowly getting up, I notice that you're covered in my sweat and other bodily fluids. Your face is soft, your eyes red and swollen. You blink at me, like a wounded animal, and I smile down at you. I unlock the handcuffs, and pull you close to me in a hug. 

"You did good, little girl. I'm very happy with you. Come on, cuddle up in my lap for a while. Then we'll get you in the shower afterwards."

A fantasy excerpt

Content warning: Age play, consensual non-consent

(Caveat: This is a fantasy scenario involving consenting adults who engage in sexualized roleplay. In no way or form do I condone or desire anything like this with real children. Children cannot consent. This is a pre-negotiated scenario between adults who can use safewords to withdraw consent. In this scenario, "no" doesn't actually mean "no".)

(Also please note, I use "he/him" pronouns for myself in this story, because it's purposefully playing with male stereotypes. I prefer people to use "they/them" pronouns in real life (unless I've told you otherwise, specifically). All references to genitalia are made vague on purpose, so this text is very trans friendly.)

The roles: 
Y: An older, adult man

E: A young girl

The fantasy:

Y: *warmly* You look beautiful, my little one. Twirl, let me see all of you. 

*E twirls, smiling*

Y: Come closer, let me take a look at that skirt. 

*Y touches E's skirt, feels the fabric*

Y: I like this skirt on you. 

E: Thank you, Sir. 

Y: Bend over a little for me, will you. 

E: *light resistance* But Sir.. 

Y: Come on now, it's no big deal. Stand right here, hands on this desk. 

E: Yes, Sir. 

*Y walks around while studying E*

Y: You are a good girl, aren't you E? 

E: Yes, Sir. 

*Y touches the back of E's thigh, just where it meets the skirt*

Y: And you want to do as you're told, right?

E: *more hesitant* Yes, Sir. 

*Y slips his hand a bit further up E's thigh, touches lightly*
*E shivers lightly*

*Y gently begins to raise the hem of E's skirt*

*E makes a hesitant attempt to stop him, reaching to adjust her skirt*

E: Sir, why are you..?

Y: You want to make me happy, don't you little girl? I enjoy touching your skin; whether it's your arm, your face or your thigh. There's no reason to stop me from doing that, is there?

*Y touches E's arm and face lightly, then returns to the thigh*

Besides, you're a beautiful, sweet, young girl. I like looking at you. I can't look with all this fabric in the way, can I?

*Starts raising the hem of the skirt again*

*E is standing with her hands resting on a desk, bent lightly forward. Her skirt pushed up to the small of her back, held in place by one of Y's hands. Underneath are panties, with a cute pattern on them.*

Y: You're my good girl, aren't you? You want to please me, right?

E: *hesitant* Umm.. Yes..? I guess so..

*Y starts to pull down E's panties*

*E stands up, pulling her panty into place, her skirt falling down like it should*

E: *firmly* No, Sir, you can't do that! 

Y: Now, now. Children don't get to make the rules. Children listen to adults. And good, little girls do as they're told. You said you wanted to be my good, little girl, right?

E: *hesitant* Well, yes... 

Y: Well then, you can turn back to the desk please. And this time, I want your elbows on the desk, not just your hands. Come on now, no dawdling. 

*E hesitantly turns back to the desk and does as she's told, bending over further than previously*

*Y moves E's skirt up again, and gently strokes her thigh*

Y: See, that wasn't so hard, was it? I knew you could do it, my love. You're my beautiful, little girl after all.  

*Y starts to pull E's panties down again, exposing her butt cheeks*

*E stands back up again, pulling the panties back up*

E: *very firm* No! I don't want you to do that!

*Y grabs hold of E's ear*
Y: *firmly* I thought I made it very clear, you don't make the rules. You don't get to decide. I'm the adult here, I tell you what to do. Not you. 

*Leads E to a chair, sits down, pulls her over his lap*

Y: You aren't behaving like a good young girl should. You're being a bad girl right now, and bad girls needs a spanking. 

E: No! I don't want you to hit me.

*E squirms to get away*

Y: Lie still! You aren't doing what you're told, so this is the least of what you deserve. If you lie still and take your punishment, it won't hurt as much. And it will be over quickly. 

E: Ok, fine!

Y: *firmly* No, that's NOT how you talk to me. Do you want even more punishment, is that it? I'm very disappointed in you now. 

E: *defeated* Sorry Sir. Just please don't hurt me, Sir. 

Y: I will spank you, love, because that's what you deserve. But I won't hurt you any more than I have to. 

*Y flips E's skirt up, and spanks her a bit with his bare hand*

Y: I'm not done with you, but your clothes are in the way. Stand back up, please. 

*E stands up, questioning*

Y: Now please remove your skirt. 

*E removes the skirt, standing with hands over her crotch in an attempt to hide her body*

Y: Get back down here over my lap. 

*E gets back down*

*Y spanks a bit more, significantly firmer*

*E squeals and squeaks*

Y: Have you learned your lesson now? Do you know who's in charge here?

E: Yes, Sir. 

Y: And who is that? Who gets to decide what happens here? 

E: You do, Sir. 

*Y hits E a few times more, then stops*

Y: Get back up and place your elbows on the desk again

*Y starts stroking E's thighs and ass again, then starts pulling down her panties*

*E squirms a bit, clearly uncomfortable, but remains silent*

*One ass cheek is revealed, then the other, panties get pulled down to mid thigh*

Y: You're such a good, little girl for me. I'm not hurting you now, am I?

E: No, Sir, this doesn't hurt. 

*Y pulls the panties all the way down and off, then keeps stroking E's thighs and ass*

Y: In fact, I think you're quite enjoying this. Spread your legs for me, girl. 

E: But Sir, I shouldn't... 

Y: Come now, we just went through this. Who's in charge here? 

E: *defeated* You, Sir.

*E spreads her legs, while still leaning forwards with her elbows on the desk*

*Y strokes her down the ass and further forward between the legs*

Y: *triumphant* Like I suspected. You like this. You're turned on by this! You dirty, litte girl! 

*E is clearly embarrassed, stands back up, moves away and covers her crotch with her hands*

E: No, I'm not! 

Y: Good, little girls don't lie. They certainly don't lie when adults ask you direct questions! Put your hands on your head, please. 

*E shakes her head, still covering herself*

Y: *very firmly* Do you want me to get angry with you? You really wouldn't like it when I'm angry, little girl. That soft spanking you got earlier is nothing in comparison. Now, DO. AS. YOU. ARE. TOLD: Remove your hands and put them on your head. NOW!

*E clearly shaken, does as she's told, embarrassment coloring her face, her eyes downcast*

Y: Better. Now let me see. Spread your legs for me. 

*E stands with her legs spread, hands clasped behind her head, eyes closed from shame*

*Y touches her between the legs, notes her obvious desire*

Y: *gleefully* My girl.. My dirty, dirty little girl. You're such a slut! Is that a way for a good, young girl to behave? 

E: *mumbling, clearly embarrassed* No, Sir.

Y: You want more, don't you? You crave it. 

E: *hesitant, squirming, but unable to deny it* Yes, Sir. I want more, Sir. Please, Sir. 

Y: You can take your hands down. Then get down on your knees for me, here, over by the chair.

*E does as she's told, grateful to get out of the very revealing and embarrassing position*

Y: You say you want more.. Do you want to please me? Will you do as you're told now, when I tell you?

E: Yes, Sir. Please, Sir. I want to please you. I want to make you proud. 

*Y removes his pants and underwear, then sits in the chair in front of E and spreads his legs*

Y: Then you may kiss me. Here. Take this in your mouth, to lick and suck. That would please me greatly. Will you be my good, little girl and do as I tell you?

E: *nods* Yes, Sir. Like this, Sir?

*E begins to use her mouth between Y's legs*

Y: Exactly like that, my sweet, little girl. And don't stop. I know you can do this. 

*E proceeds to go down on Y, for a good long while*

Y: You're such a good girl, I'm so proud of you. You can stand back up now. Elbows on the desk, please. 

*E wipes drool and other liquids from her face and lips, while getting into place*

*Y touches her on her ass and between her legs*

Y: *affectionately* You're such a horny girl. Such a beautiful, slutty, dirty girl.

*E squirms, clearly from pleasure, though with a fair bit of embarrassment too*

Y: Now keep your legs spread wide, I want to feel how much of a slut you really are. 

*Puts on a glove and some lube, then starts playing with E's hole*

*E moans lightly*

Trying three again

So far, I've met Novice three times. We've also spent many, many hours talking over phone and video. We can meet maximum once every two weeks, because that's all I have time for. Elle and my family share the rest of the week between them. I have no intention of changing this. 

As I was afraid of, I've fallen in love with Novice. And the feelings are reciprocated. 

I've tried juggling three romantic relationships before several times, and it hasn't worked out. Several times. However, those relationships were supposed to be equal. My relationships to Saint, Elle and Novice aren't. They aren't hierarchical, in the sense that one of them gets any say in what I do with the other two.. But there's definitely a hierarchy in terms of time. Novice doesn't get an equal part of my time, that just isn't on the table. It's absolutely not fair, but it's all I can offer. The alternative is not do be a couple at all, I think. Maybe, just MAYBE, this solution will enable me to make this work. To prevent me from burning out. I really hope so.  

Novice and I have a staggering amount in common. Not in terms life experiences, by all means. Novice entered the kink scene four months ago, and has had very few sexual encounters before that, for example. No kids, no long term partner, and no previous experience with polyamory. However, our references almost completely overlap. We've obviously spent time in the same parts of the internet for years and year, we know the same memes and pop culture stuff. We've also read many of the same books, we enjoy the same sorts of movies, and we have strongly overlapping tastes in music. Our minds also work similarly in this regard, so we find ourselves making the same references when we speak. It's fascinating. 

We recently played Agricola together for the first time. Novice had never played it before, and yet I lost. That was unexpected, but very, very fun. (Agricola is always fun, I love that board game! I've taught it to Elle too, and Student.) I want to play again.

That same evening, the 3rd of December, we had sex for the first time. I haven't written about it before, because it felt comfortably uncomplicated. Similar to my encounters with Student, it felt.. Easy. Like it should be. 

That doesn't mean Novice found all of it simple.. or at least Novice's asshole didn't, when I pushed a finger deep inside... We'd talked about it beforehand, of course, and I've fingered people before. So it didn't feel complicated or difficult FOR ME. Also, despite not much experience, Novice seemed talented in the "playing with a pussy" department. Especially my clit really enjoyed what was being done to it. That was an unexpected and really pleasant surprise. Despite this, I'm fairly certain I'm not seen as a woman anymore. I worried a bit about that beforehand, but I think it worked itself out.

And the rest of it was... Sweet. Pleasurable. Good. I enjoy getting to know a new person, learning what works and what doesn't, how a new body wants to be touched. And being in love sure doesn't hurt, either. Hopefully, meeting up once every other week or so will keep our feelings for each other on a low simmer; Enough to maintain them, not enough to make them flare so powerfully that this limited scope doesn't work anymore. We get along really well. I want this to work.

With a closed fist

Last night, Elle asked me to hit her thighs and upper arms with my closed fist. I've never hit anyone or anything with a closed fist before. Not in kink, not in real fights, not as a child at play, not at a gym, not frustratingly hitting a couch pillow, never. So at first, I was very apprehensive, but I quickly got the swing of it. The thud as my fist hit, the moans and screams of pain, the reverberation throughout her arm or leg, it was very interesting. Intense. Fun. I need to do it more, I want to build more strength in my wrists and arms. 

Then she asked me to bite her, and I was thrilled with that request. The sadistic urge to hurt, combines with the primal urge to bite, control, dominate, own. It's a heady rush, crawling all over her body and holding her down, while biting and growling at her. 

Then she asked me to stop, while VERY CLEARLY signaling that she wanted me to continue. We haven't played much with cnc before, but what little we did was fun. I DEFINITELY want to explore that much more. The session then organically evolved into a verbal humiliation kind of game. I called her worthless, a plaything, a sex toy, an object that I can use, nothing more than a thing. A useless, little thing. All of that WHILE I was riding her, fascinatingly enough. 

The penetration messed it up a bit for me. I couldn't keep getting pleasure from that, while telling her how useless she was. The cognitive dissonance became too great for me. So I eventually had to stop it. She seemed a bit disappointed, and I hate to disappoint, but it was getting too much for me. I'm sorry about that, but stopping was still the right thing to do. I haven't played that heavily with humiliation in... at least 4-6 years, I think. 

I want to do it again, though. Maybe while riding a strap-on strapped to her, in stead of her own junk. I think that would be easier for me (and another tool for humiliation). I also want to spit on her next time. We hadn't talked about it beforehand, but now we have. And she's agreed. 

All in all, I love the directions our kink is developing. It feels like nothing is off the table, all options are open. She encourages me, perverts me, and we explore this all together. It's fun, intense and really sexy. I love it. I love her. 

Secrets

Once previously, I've put restrictions on myself with regards to this blog, because of who would be reading it. That didn't go well. I'm in a similar situation now. 

Not because there's someone nitpicking over what I write about them or anything like that, but because of secrets. Specifically, I know a big secret about someone close to me. I can't write about it here, because others who have access to this blog don't know that secret yet. And it's really not my secret to tell. 

It's quite a paradox, really. Because although it's a big secret for that person, it doesn't really affect me directly. It doesn't feel difficult for me, or like something I'd have a need to write about other than as a passing mention. 

However, BECAUSE I have to keep this knowledge from others I care about, THAT makes it difficult. I detest secrets, I detest dishonesty. I feel like I'm lying to my loved ones, by keeping things from them. 

I accept the situation as it is, because it's not my secret to tell. And I respect that person a lot and don't wish to loose their trust. So this isn't intended as a way to make them open up about their secret, this isn't intended as manipulation or whining. They'll have to open up in their own time, when they feel ready. 

This is simply me letting off steam and dealing with my feelings in the only way I can: By writing. That is all. 

Edit january 2024: The secret here was that Novice was a trans woman. She came out to everyone in late 2023, so it's no longer a secret.

Same sex, very different wrapping

Elle and I had really interesting sex yesterday. In terms of activity, it wasn't wildly different from what I've done before: Fondling her, spanking her a bit, calling her a slut, fingering her and fucking her. For the second time ever, I came while I was inside of her, which is absolutely amazing.. And we managed doggy style (me standing on the floor, her kneeling on the bed) really well, which is a first... But the activities still don't feel like anything revolutionary... The wrapping / stage / skin of the scene, however.. That made all the difference, and THAT felt revolutionary.

What do I mean by "wrapping"? It's the roleplay stuff. Clothing, posing, pet names, titles, way of talking, all the little things that don't have anything directly to do with the sex.. But which puts the sex into a specific setting. An easy example from the kink world would be the difference between getting beaten because you really want a beating and asked for it, versus getting beaten because you've been bad and deserve "punishment". The activity is the same, the "feel" for the scene can be very different. I use the term "skin" for this too, inspired by that way to personalize computer game characters (or digital mp3 players in the early 2000s), where the aesthetics are the only real difference.

Yesterday's scene had an "ageplay skin". We still have a ways to go to make it feel more believable, but it was a good first attempt. I told her she was my little girl, and forced her to admit how horny she was and what she wanted me to do to her. Telling her that no proper little girls behave like that, that she deserved to be spanked. Made her beg me to fill her up, then gave her what she wanted while calling her a dirty, depraved young lady. It felt incredibly taboo, and turned me on to no end. I'm getting wet again just writing about this. 

We talked about it later, and I asked for a bit more resistance from her next time. Not a wrestling match, just a bit more hesitation and modesty. I know she's really horny as hell, but in order for me to defile her she'll have to start out more innocent first. She seemed to really like the idea.

 As with anything I'm really into, I worry that the other person isn't... That's she's humoring me, or going along to please me. But I remind myself that she's the one who brought up age play to begin with. And she's confirmed repeatedly that this is something she wants to explore. That makes me really happy. I'm glad we can share this process, figure stuff out together. 

Sexual awakening

My sexual awakening happened at a nudist beach, and involved a dick. 

I was 12,5 or 13,5 years old. I think 12,5 is the most likely. I'd been going to that beach for years with my parents, it felt familiar and safe when I was a kid. But as a kid, you're oblivious to a lot of things...

Before then, I'd been touching myself for years. Especially in the bath. I'd also been giving myself orgasms by rubbing my crotch against something firm, like straddling snow mounds or while in a saddle (on a horse). They weren't the mind-blowing, body-shaking stuff I get now, but they were nice. I enjoyed them. They didn't FEEL sexual though. Slightly forbidden in that "don't let people know what you're up to" - kind of way, sure.. But it was just something my body did, like breathing or speaking or shitting. Seeking pleasure felt natural.

That summer, things changed. 

Next to us, on that nudist beach, was an older man. I remember him as white-skinned, but very suntanned, somewhat wrinkled, and with a bit of a belly but otherwise fairly lean. Though to be fair, I'm not sure if "older" means 40ies or 60ies, I can't really recall. What I CAN recall, though, is his dick. He lay on his side, facing us.. Facing me.. And his dick was semi-errect. It felt as though he was looking at me. As though he was turned on by me. And I liked it. No, I loved it. 

He moved further away from us after a while (I guess my mom glared at him or something), but placed himself further down towards the surf.. Looking up, he would see right up our crotches. So I made sure to spread my legs a little. Not by much, I didn't want my mom to notice.. But enough. I remember this so, so vividly. The taboo, the excitement of being watched, all of it. 

This wasn't the first time I saw a dick. I've grown up in a fairly nudist household, we'd typically all share a bathroom in the morning. I'd seen my dad and my little brother naked lots of time. But to my recollection, it was the first time I saw a dick erect. 

I awakened something in me. Changed me. I realized later that this feeling was exhibitionism, and I kept exploring it later that summer and the summer after; Walking around in the forest near my home, in a short skirt and no underwear... Lying down to masturbate in secluded spots where I could imagine myself being watched. Enjoying the idea of being desired... (Perhaps because that had been such an impossible dream up until that point? I'd been bullied for most of my life, after all. I wasn't anyone's first pick for a girlfriend. In being desired, there's also a level of acceptance that I was craving.) 

Was I an exhibitionist? I'm sure I was, and still is.. But now I'm wondering if it might also have been something else. Was I projecting? Making my desire FOR a dick into a desire to be viewed BY someone with a dick? Or is that a stretch? 

Some of my most exhibitionist fantasies have turned out to be about gender after all: Like this fantasy I have about lots of people with dicks jerking off while watching me, preferably while standing over me... Well, lets just say it's not about the people. My focus is wholeheartedly on the dicks jerking off. And the more I focus on them, the less I care that they're watching me or have anything to do with me. I just fantasize about the jerking off - part. That's really what I want. A dick. 

I've already made this realization once before, regarding some cnc fantasies that were really about dysphoria... It would make sense if my exhibitionist fantasies were really about something else too.

I don't know... This feels like a stretch, and at the same time not. Feels like I'm onto something, but haven't quite hit bullseye yet. Will need to keep digging at this one for a while. 

New Kink Unlocked

Elle and I had a really, really good evening last night. A good, long talk concerning the topics from my last two blog posts. After that we played and fucked and cuddled for a good.. Five hours, maybe more. Glorious! I don't think we've had an evening like that since she moved into her new place. I felt so much closer to her, more accepted. Loved. It was wonderful. 

I wrote just over a month ago about a new kink I'd unlocked: Watersports. I never really got the point before, but now that I can involve a dick on my end all of a sudden it makes sense. So much sense. It's something Elle is really interested in too, but haven't actually tried with a partner before.. So that's somethinig we'll be working towards. Part one will be for me to practice standing up to pee, both alone (to get familiar with that use of pelvic flood muscles) and with her (to get familiar with peeing standing up with her present). 

Once I'm used to that, we'll probably use it in a session. Peeing on her, while she's kneeling in front of me (probably IN the shower, because fucking hell anything else just isn't practical!). Seeing it run down her head and back, seeing the humiliation in her eyes as she's used like nothing more than a pee post. Then ordering her to clean herself up, like the dirty girl she is. This scenario is really appealing, and not something that would have turned me on much in the past. 

That "unlocking" of a new kink happened just over a month ago. It's exhausting to think you've got yourself figured out, only to realize that both gender, sexual orientation and now even sexual preferences are completely up in the air. I feel this very strongly right now, because last night, I unlocked another kink. (This one gendered too, like everything is these days.)

I suddenly see the appeal of age play. 

I've known about age play ever since I entered the scene at 18, and once I talked to some age players and learned more, I accepted it. Understood it on an intellectual level. I never "got" the appeal, though. Not on an emotional level. I especially never understood the appeal for the Big/Adult in the scene. 

Now I do. 

Elle has very carefully hinted that she's a bit into this for a few weeks. Not pushing, just mentioning it in passing. Last night, while cuddling and doing aftercare, she started sucking on my thumb. Now, she's sucked my fingers before, in that "this is a dick-substitute"-kind of way, which is hot of course.. But this was different. This was in the "cuddling child sucks her thumb"-kind of way. I realized what was going on immediately, and it felt... Right. So I called her "my good, little girl", and felt her melt into my arms. (I've called her a "good girl" a lot, which she likes, but it was the "little" that made the difference this time.)

I'm a sucker for reactions. Any sort of reaction, really, but especially positive reactions. To see her cuddle deeper into my arms, tension draining from her body, hear her slight sigh.. That was magical. 

We talked about it a few minutes later, still cuddling close, and she told me she felt a need for that safety. For someone else to be responsible, for her to feel cared for and held. She doesn't really care for the "sit on the floor and doodle in a kid's drawing book" kind of stuff (she enjoys drawing, but that wouldn't feel kinky). I don't really see the appeal in that either. However, I find a lot of appeal in the traditional, really dirty and taboo gender roles that this sort of play gives room for. 

I want to play that dirty older man who defiles a young, innocent, pure, little girl. The preacher who attacks the girls in Sunday School. The uncle who holds the young niece on his lap, while she squirms... Both with embarrassment, discomfort and a new-found desire. I want to be called "Sir", want her to beg me to stop, as she tries to pull down her skirts or cover herself. I'll laugh and order her hands away, the strip her bare for the world to see. I want her to blush, hating it and loving it at the same time. 

This all feels INCREDIBLY taboo. Age play absolutely is, but having actual young kids at home myself makes it a lot worse. I know, intellectually, that there's absolutely no link between age play and pedophilia... Yet I also know how society as a whole views these kinds of kinks. And I carry a shit ton of internalized -phobia, shame, because of that. Yet there isn't anything wrong with sexual role play between consenting adults, no matter the subject at hand. The fact that it is so taboo is probably also part of the appeal. (To be clear: I have absolutely no interest in actual kids like this. Absolutely not. Consenting adults is the only, ONLY way.) 

What's even more taboo is that I realized that I'm curious about putting her in diapers. Not for scat play, that doesn't appeal at all.. But I'm already curious about water sports and orgasm control, among other things, so this doesn't feel like such a stretch. I enjoy the thought of lubing up a finger, putting my hand down her diaper and checking that her insides are clean.. Enjoy stuffing a but plug in there, or some other toy, and watch her squirm as she can't stimulate herself. Enjoy the thought of putting her over my knee and spanking her for wetting her diapers. Talking of her bum, or tush, not her ass. Her "pee-pee" or similar childish term, not her dick or clit. 

But perhaps most of all, I've fantasized today about having her kneel on a bed or a stool, dressed up as a young girl. Then make her bend over for me, playing at her not knowing what's going on, some slight verbal protests, playing all innocent and pure for me... Then pull down her panties (not strings! proper panties!), exposing her bum.. Then fucking her. Fucking her until I come, then pulling up her underwear (maybe even diapers?) and completely ignoring the raging inferno of horniness that I've just ignited between her legs. Watching her squirm and moan. Telling her to stand up, curtsy, thank me for using her. Make her go about her day, lube still dripping from her hole, soiling her pantie or diaper.

That's today's fantasy. It feels so, so wrong... And so, so right. There's definitely a new kink unlocked.

Stating your preference

Communication is hard. 

Communication both means expressing a message, AND ensuring that the message that is being understood is vaguely similar to what you wanted to communicate. So many things can create "noise", from either the sender or the receiver side of things, and thereby warping the message. That's how misunderstandings occur. 

Elle and I are misunderstanding each other these days. It's neither's fault, it just happens, but it something we really need to work on. From my end, I have very, very long experience with being rejected and feeling unwanted. So I try not to ask, because rejection hurts so much. In stead, I try to interpret body signals, looks, and other non-verbal cues. If I get the impression that she isn't into something, I often won't pursue it, rather than pushing and being rejected.

However, she also struggles with asking for what she wants. She even struggles with stating what she wants in a way that communicated how much she wants it. I don't think she even allows herself to really feel how much she wants things. If you really want something, it matters more. And rejection, or simply lacking what you desire, hurts more, too. This is also a form of rejection sensitivity, very similar to my own. 

When I ask what she's into, and get lukewarm responses.. When I ask her what she would like to experience at a party we're going to in a few days, or how she'd like us to spend our time together that evening, and all I get are shoulder shrugs and "meh"... That's not enthusiastic consent, in my eyes. "But!", you might interject, "you can't consent to anything if you aren't presented with options to say yes or no to!". Which is true.... I just struggle with even presenting those options, if someone's demeanor is "meh" to begin with. 

The fact that she's so much of a people-pleaser makes it even more difficult, because I don't want to put her in a position where she feels like she's disappointing me. It's very uncomfortable being the person doing the rejecting, too. I hate the idea of making her uncomfortable or guilting her into going along with me. I love her so much, so her feelings and opinions matter a lot to me. She told me last night: "I already struggle with saying what I want, I will never ask for things I don't desire." Which I can understand, intellectually... I just can't wrap my head around it emotionally. I'm unable to really trust her word, when I suspect some other underlying cause or motive. 

This is also coupled with my fear of being selfish. I feel undeserving. The last three times we've had sex, she's told me to "use her" and "take what I want". Which is hot, and ought to make me feel good, but it really feels like a trap. It doesn't feel like free reign to ACTUALLY do what I want, because I have no idea going into that situation what SHE really wants. And I want to please her, to give her pleasure, to make her feel good. To make US feel good. And I need to feel wanted. Her lying passively on her back and letting me "use her" doesn't really do it for me, if I can't be absolutely certain it's something she gets pleasure from. 

That situation feels more like "I don't really feel like sex, but I guess I can lie her while you do your thing... Just get it over with". And when I'm horny enough, I'll take it. Because I'm fucking desperate. But it doesn't make me feel good, afterwards. On the contrary, it makes me feel guilty of taking advantage of her. Using her body for my own pleasure, with very little thought to her's. 

The only solution to this, is for both of us to try to be more vulnerable with each other. Trust each other. However, just saying "well, you'll just both have to say what you want", isn't as simple as it sounds. Being vulnerable is scary, and it opens us up for more rejection. Even though she tells me what she wants, I won't always be able to fulfill her desires.. And even though I tell her I want to have sex with her, doesn't mean she'll always want the same. 

We need to make plans for HOW she can reject me in ways that hurt less.. For example "no, I don't want to have sex right now, but I'd love it if you'd let me hold you while you gave yourself an orgasm". In the same vein, we need to figure out HOW I can suggest, or ask about things in a way that makes her able to express degrees of desire. And HOW we can ensure that I believe what she says, and don't chalk it up to her being a people-pleaser or feeling coerced. Maybe some sort of scale (1-10 or something) could be useful? I don't know, don't have all the answers yet. 

I just know that I want to work on this. This rejection sensitivity we're both struggling with, ought to make us uniquely qualified to understand the other person. I think we can work this out. I believe in us. It just takes work.

Undesired

I started this blog originally, because T didn't believe me when I said we hadn't had sex for several months. So I figured I'd document every time we had sex, as a way to prove my claim. That was back in 2007, we'd only been together for about 2,5 years. We worked ok sexually in the first year, but were never really that compatible to begin with. So it quickly faded once we started living together. 

Saint and I worked really well sexually for the first few years, we're very compatible in many ways. However, it started lagging a bit while I was doing IVF treatments in 2014 and 2015. We rekindled the spark in the fall of 2016, when we tried to conceive, but since then our sex life has been minimal. We have the occasional play session, and there's a week or two sometimes when I think we're getting back into things.. But it doesn't last.

Even before T and Saint, I had gotten used to my sex drive being too much for my partners. We'd have a lot of wonderful, fulfilling sex at first, but once the crush became something more serious, our sex life would dwindle. Every guy, when told about this experience, claimed that it wouldn't happen with HIM.. And yet it did, every time. Saint is the one who lasted the longest, but even that eventually disappeared.

It hasn't always been his fault. When I was pregnant and the first few months of nursing, for example, I had very sporadic interest in sex. However, these past three years, I've been very, very into it.. And he hasn't.

This has been a problem all of my life; I've been too horny, had too much of a sex drive, been too needy.. Then I started testosterone. That has in no way, shape or form made my drive any less. 

I detest being rejected. I already struggle with taking up space, feeling like I deserve attention and love. I very quickly feel like I'm unwanted or in the way. I also detest the idea of being a nag, someone who can't take a hint, who keeps bothering someone when they've clearly showed that they aren't interested. I fervently don't want to be one of THOSE guys, who guilt their partner into having sex with them. Nothing kills sex drive faster than guilt and resentment, after all. 

I just want to be desired. Want to be wanted. 

I don't want anyone to have sex with me, because they feel they SHOULD. I want them to have sex with me, because they WANT to have sex with me. The only common denominator here is me, so the problem has to be with me. Why don't anyone want to KEEP having sex with me?!?

How I am perceived

I'm in this weird in-between-stage now. I think just over 50% of those I encounter in my day-to-day life see me as a man, but there's still a significant minority who gender me as a woman. So I can never know, when I walk into a pharmacy or a clothing store or a public office of some kind, which gender I'm viewed as, or if they clock me as trans or not. 

I have no idea what THEY know, or think they know, about me. Does a woman who sees me instinctively know that I know what period cramps feel like? Does a man who see me assume that I know how it feels to grow up as a boy? Does a trans person know I'm one of them, if I don't say it?

I've become so used to the "us women" kind of mentality. I've lived through #metoo, I've grown up as a "good girl", I've shared memes along the lines of "we are the daughters of the witches you couldn't burn". I've always used that common ground as a way to build trust with other women. Now that's gone. All of a sudden, women I don't know keep me at an emotional arm's length. Even when I told my client (in a job meeting) that I was trans and used to live as a woman, that emotional distance was still there. Appearance, instincts, matter more than intellectual knowledge apparently. 

That experience is both really affirming, because it means I wasn't seen as a woman.. But it's also.. Bittersweet. I'm loosing a social interaction tool that I've been pretty reliant upon. I need to find other tools, other ways to connect with people and build trust. Especially with women. I wasn't prepared for that. I guess I should have been, it was bound to happen... But I wasn't. 

Oh well, it's all part of the change. The transition. 

I welcome the challenge. 

Cis women can't have ruined orgasms

There's a distinct difference between the orgasms of someone who's testosterone dominant versus estrogen dominant. At least in my experience. 

When my body had estrogen as it's main sex hormone, my orgasms would build. It would be possible to ruin the build, have me "re-start" more or less. But there wouldn't be a point-of-no-return where the orgasm itself could be ruined. If I came, but didn't stimulate, the orgasm would still feel nice. 

Now that my body is testosterone dominant, there's a very slight time gap between the point-of-no-return where the orgasm WILL happen... And the pleasure actually kicking in. Maybe as much as half a second. I'm confident that it's possible, if stimulus is removed at the exact right point, for me to get the orgasm without the pleasure. (I haven't tried this, why the fuck would I. But I can feel that time gap, so I'm fairly sure it's possible.) THAT's a ruined orgasm. 

So. Now we know. 

The pacing of an orgasm, right at the plateau, is controlled by hormones. 

Interesting.

Only half the body

 Today, marks 8 months on testosterone. I just increased my dose again a few days ago, so I now have more acne than ever. That's a bother. The rest of it, though.. The rest is wonderful. I'm really impatient with the changes. The downy, almost see-through hairs on my upper lip aren't visible enough, the growing clit is far from big enough, the deepening voice isn't deep enough. I want more, moooore. Yet I also recognize that it's a good thing I can't change everything overnight. This allows my mental image of myself to keep up with the physical reality of how I look. 

I used to have trouble staying present in my own body, and would for short bursts struggle to recognize my mirror image as myself. That doesn't happen anymore. On the other hand, my feelings of generalized anxiety are much more present and noticeable these days. That's the cost of less dissociation: I'm so much more in touch with my own feelings now, so I notice more how crap I feel. 

For example, I usually don't wear a binder during sex anymore. Having boobs, even visible exposed boobs, doesn't cause me to dissociate. However, I can only bear dysphoria for one half of my body at the time. Meaning that if someone (myself included) are working on my "downstairs", I need to cover the "upstairs" somehow. A binder, a t-shirt, a pillow, anything so the boobs aren't visible. Not doing so causes a tremendous amount of anxiety. Before, I wasn't aware of that anxiety. That's what the dissociation did. 

On closer inspection, I guess it's still dissociation."I don't really notice the dysphoria much if only half of my body is in focus".. That's got to be a limited form of dissociation, right? However, while I might be dissociating the dysphoric pain away, I stay me. My gender, my mind. I don't go on autopilot anymore. That's something, at least.

Trails of the egg

Like I mentioned in my previous post, that new guy has read through my entire blog. This is what that post was SUPPOSED to be about, but I got side tracked. So here it is: Old trails, clues, about my gender from many years ago.

In his read-through he's stumbled upon some incredible finds; Basically going on an archaeological dig in my old thoughts, finding trails of the egg. Because the egg was there, definitely. I may not have known I was trans, but when you read back KNOWING that was the outcome.. Well, like petrified footprints from dinosaurs, a lot can be read from those trails. 

He's found three, so far. I've already written about one of them, which I wrote in 2014 after fucking a man in the ass with a strap-on for the first time. In 2014, I wrote: 

"sometimes when I masturbate, I fantasize about having a penis of my own. I image that the things I feel on my clit, is actually felt on the tip of a penis. That the thrusting movements I make with my hips, are thrusting movements inside of somebody. I've kind of done this in real life already, just without the sensation of an actual dick. So I imagine that I'm doing things exactly like when I use a strap-on on Saint, but in stead of a fake cock I dream that it's MY cock. That I'm taking him, controlling him, devouring him, possessing him. Fucking him. Me."

Then there's this one from 2016, about receiving a blow job on the strap-on:  

"It's a silicone dildo... That shouldn't feel good for me. There are no nerve endings there. It makes no sense. And yet... And yet, I get SO turned on by it. And so does he. (...)

In fact, for the rest of that night I wore the strap on harness underneath my dress. Not with the dick in place, but still.. Just the harness turns me on. It makes me feel powerful.

Weird, I know."

Or, as we now know: Not weird at all. Haha!

Looking through old photos, I also found one of me walking in the Oslo Pride parade of 2011 while "crossdressing" (wearing a man's hat, a white shirt, black trousers and a vest). But I though that was the earliest concrete trail there was.. I was wrong. The new guy found this nugget from 2010, and it's pure gold. There's way too much here to quote it all, but here's a few snippets (corrected for spelling errors): 

"Ever since I was a young teenager, I've had a "thing" for men who sexually interact with other men. (...)

for a period of at least three years (it's hard to put dates on these things, so it might have been more), I read almost no short stories with heterosexual couples as the protagonists. I wanted, and diligently searched for, erotic fiction about gay men. And gay men only. The subject could be anything, but as I look back I see that my favorite stories weren't about "gays" in the typical sense of the word. But rather of apparently straight men who ended up having sex with other men and enjoying the experience."

So the transformation, the self-discovery, the broadening of sex- and gender preferences is what interested me. Curious that.......

And then I come out and write it, black on white: 

"Part of it, I think, is the thought everyone had when they were kids: "What if I were the opposite gender for a short period of time? What would it feel like?"

Could it get any clearer?

I also touch up the feeling of shame that I've written SO much about lately. The feeling that probably acted as a protective barrier, keeping any knowledge of my own gender identity away:

"I remember a short moment, in one of the videos, where a man passionatly kisses another man. And again, I felt this thingling inside me. Excitement and curriousity, rolled in with a hint of what I think might be shame. As if I was seeing something forbidden, spying on them. But come on! It was porn! So obviously, I must be responding to something else.

(...)

However, I still think there are reasons here that I haven't uncovered. I don't know what they are. If Freud was here, he'd probably call it penis-envy, but I suspect that's his answer to practically anything. However, the fact remains: Men in affectionate, sexual situations involving other men is fascinating. And bizarely, kissing is more fascinating than a blow job. At least right now.

I find this strange, this fascination. I'd forgotten it even excited, and yet I suspect it's been there for years. I just haven't been aware of it."

It's clear as glass. I was trans in 2010. And in writing that post, I'm referring back to sexual and litterary preferences from when I was around 12. That's 1997. I was trans then. I don't know WHEN the thought "what if I was the opposite gender" actually struck me, I can't remember now. But I obviously remembered this back in 2010, and I wouldn't have written "kid" if I meant back when I was 12. I didn't consider myself a kid when I was 12. So it's probably from even earlier. I was trans then too. 

This post feels EXACTLY like the old post I wrote about BDSM called "I am true".

"in my experience, the most "dedicated" BDSM people and fetishists can trace their interests back. Either to their childhood (age 4-7, typically, and most common for fetishists) or early teens (age 11-14). Incidents where their interest in this subject has made itself clear, long before they knew what any of it was called.  (...)

because I had no indication that my interest in BDSM came from inside of me, I was afraid I wasn't "true". Wasn't "for real". You're probably laughing at me, wanting to tell me that every experience in the last few years points to the opposite. But you can't rationalize this, because it isn't logical."

This post does the same thing, but with being trans. Through that post from 2010, referring to stuff I did and thought when I was 12 or younger, I can trace my "transness" back to my early teens. Back to early puberty. I still don't have definite proof, I don't think I ever will. But it's something to calm my nervous mind when it once again starts angsting about whether I've just made it all up, tricked myself, brainwashed myself. I haven't. I didn't. I was trans then, I just didn't know it yet. And I'm trans now. Undeniably.

A new novice

I played with a new person a week ago. A submissive, uncertain geek. And new to the BDSM-scene. (Back to my typical pattern, in other words.) This is also a masochist, which is a lot of fun. And demi-sexual, which after Cord I didn't think I'd get into again. This feels different, but.. Yeah.. We'll see.

From now on named Novice, they've since read my ENTIRE blog. Yes, all of it. All however-many-hundreds of posts there are. And they're currently scrolling through a second time. I'm grateful for the devotion, absolutely, but also a bit freaked out by the amount of dedication. I worry they'll get way, way too hung up on someone they's only played with once. We plan on meeting up again in a couple of weeks, but I'm really uncertain at this point what will happen after that. 

I really like the person, we have a lot in common, but yeah.. I worry I'll hurt them. 

Also, I don't have time or energy for a third romantic partner, I KNOW that will go to hell really, really quickly. I've tried that... How many times now? Three? Four? It doesn't work out. And yet, I fall SO fast for people.. Especially people like them. So.. Yeah. 

Its not just their feelings that worry me. 

On the other hand, they clearly see me as a woman. Or at least woman-adjacent enough that it makes no difference to them. They're really respectful about pronouns, tries to educate themself on trans issues and is really making the best possible, conscious effort.. But they're also been clear that they don't know if they'll still be interested in me when I grow more masculine. Which is totally fair, and I'm glad they're honest about it. However that doesn't change the fact that being unconsciously misgendered, which ABSOLUTELY isn't done on purpose, still hurts. 

So yeah, I don't know where we're headed. But hopefully, we can have some more fun along the way.

Damn, this post was actually supposed to be about something completely different, but this intro got too long. Will need to split this off into a separate post. Keep reading. 

Lost a fetish?

I've always had a great fascination with dicks. My love for giving blow-jobs has been legendary. I've said repeatedly that I don't do it for them, I do it for me. The scent, the texture, the taste, the changes in length, girth and flavor, the sounds, the motions, it's all something I've adored. I've lauded the virtues of cock sucking on this blog repeatedly. It's practically been a fetish for me, if such a "normal" sex act can even be called a fetish. 

However, something has happened... 

I still LIKE it. I mean, there's absolutely nothing wrong with going down on someone. I enjoy giving pleasure, and I think I'm fairly good at it.. However, I've lost that overwhelming URGE to suck dick. That need for it. I've basically lost the fetish, and it's reverted to just a regular sexual act among many others. Being buried between someone's legs for a whole hour doesn't tempt me as much anymore. Might even get boring, eventually!  

I think I first started noticing it this summer, though it's been a gradual thing. Looking back through the blog, I haven't talked in enthusiastic terms about sucking OTHER people's dicks at any point in 2022. What I have lauded, though... Is getting my own dick sucked. 

That's the clincher: I suspect it never was about giving blow jobs. Like everything these days, it's about gender. My gender, not their's. My dick, not their's.

My overwhelming enthusiasm for GIVING blow jobs, may just have been a substitute for my hidden desire to RECEIVE them. And now that I occasionally do receive blow jobs, and perhaps more importantly can fondle and jerk off my own dick(s) whenever I feel like it.. The fetish seems to have disappeared. 

It actually makes me a bit sad. My love for blow jobs was such a fundamental part of my sex life. I really hope it comes back, at least partially. I miss it.

Unstable room mate

From experience with previous relationships.. With Giant, Dane, Cord, among others.. When I start to write a lot of posts about them in a short amount of time, things typically aren't going very well. I typically don't have a need to write, if things are going well. 

So with that in mind, here's another post about Elle. The really frustrating part is: We, the two of us, are fine. At least as fine as two people learning to get to know each other can be, early on in a relationship. Cord and I ended in our first fight. Elle and I got through that part just fine, and I feel like we're communicating well enough. The problem isn't her, really. It's her room mate. 

Another trans woman, Elle has known her for over ten years. They've been sexual partners on and off for about as long, but not romantic partners. Elle is very clear (to me..) that she doesn't consider the room mate a partner on equal grounds with me and her girlfriend. And yet.. It's clear the room mate has a different idea. They've lived together for a month now, and there's been no end to the problems that room mate has caused. Every week, there's something new.

The room mate's really unpredictable, with wild mood swings and a very relative relationship with the truth. She's the kind of person who hears what she wants to hear, who remember the parts she wants to remember, and refuses to acknowledge a different perspective. She's controlling, manipulative, and mentally unstable. One moment she's screaming at me and threatening to call the police, less than 20 minutes later she's smiling, laughing and hugging me. The fact that she's also using drugs regularly doesn't help the overall impression, but I don't think she'd be any more stable if she'd been clean either.  I don't feel safe with her around.

The problem is that Elle isn't standing up to her. She's very clear, to me, that she doesn't want the room mate as an equal partner to me and her girlfriend. Yet she's willing to go along with it, to keep the peace. Even when that "peace keeping" means that both me and her girlfriend are worse off. 

I've started advocating for Elle to move out of there, get something for just herself. There isn't much on the market in her price range, but it's possible. It feels like a big step, when I haven't been with her for three months yet, to encourage her to move away from her room mate... But if she doesn't, I worry what it will do to us as a couple. I'm not sure I'm able to keep hanging out in a place that I find fundamentally unsafe.

My girl... Talking 'bout my girl

 Yes, the title is a reference to that old song by The Temptations. 

"My girl, my girl, my girl
Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl, talkin' 'bout my girl
I've got sunshine on a cloudy day with my girl"

And yes, this post is also obviously about Elle. But also about me. And about women in general.

Yesterday, I saw Elle wearing boobs for the first time. Boobs, a dress, high heels, a purse, a pearl necklace... Now, I've seen her in a dress before, and she's super cute. (To be fair, she's always cute. But cuter in a dress, in my opinion.) But the boobs made a big difference. She looked more "real" all of a sudden. Solid. Right.

She's got this smile when she's wearing a skirt or dress. Tight lipped, hesitant, but there's an inner light shining through. A light I never see when she's in her regular clothes; her hoodies, t-shirts and baggy pants. She looks afraid when she's wearing a dress, but also happy. Seeing her frightened makes me want to protect her. Stand in front of her with a shield and sword, to stop the world from getting to close. (What a terrible world we live in, when just wearing a dress is enough to make a girl afraid.) I never thought I would feel chivalrous, in that masculine "protect the women and children" - kind of way.. Yet here I am. She's my maiden in distress, about to be eaten by a monster. And I want to save her. It's a very unfamiliar feeling, one I haven't finished exploring yet. But it's not bad. 

What is bad, or at least more difficult, is my own gender dysphoria. Seeing Elle and her room mate dress her, try on accessories, discuss make-up and underwear.. It was a very stark reminder of everything I've left behind. Everything I've fled from. 

Then there's the boobs. I try to forget that I have any. Try very hard to not feel them, not think about them, push them out of my mind, ignore them. And most of the time, I'm successful. I'm a very old hand at dissociating, after all I did it with my gender for decades. To keep doing it with a body part isn't that hard. Just tiring and stressful, like all dissociation.

But dating a pre-op trans man this spring was bloody difficult, and there's an obvious reason why I don't date cis women. Even writing about it now makes me tense, my breathing shallow, my head buzzing slightly. Being reminded of my own breasts is painful.

Playing with Elle's nipples, touching her chest like you would someone with small breasts.. That's different. I think my mind knows that it's make-believe. It doesn't trigger anything. Seeing her with proper breasts though.. That triggered a whole host of dysphoria in me. 

I'll be damned if I'll let it stop me, though. Or her. She's happy, she looks RIGHT, looks like she SHOULD. I'm really, really happy for her. I want her to experience that more often, I want her to feel free to dress in a more feminine way and look however she wants, without thought to how it might make me feel. I want to celebrate with her, as she steps forward into womanhood. Want to support her, cheer her on, rejoice in her exploration of her own gender expression.

She asked me, partially as a joke I hope, how far she'd have to get in her transition for me not to be into her anymore. (This is a reference to when I asked a straight, submissive friend in the BDSM scene the same question.) I can't remember the exact words I used when answering her, but I know what I thought: That I love her. All of her. As she is, and as she will be. 

My own dysphoria will just have to fucking get used to it.

Touching incongruence

I'm not an idiot. I know that despite a few downy hairs on my belly and my deepening voice, when I'm naked people still see a woman. They see my boobs, my broad hips, my pear shaped body, my big, fat ass, the stretch marks on my belly from going through two pregnancies, my throat devoid of any Adam's apple. They see my pussy. (The clit still isn't bigger than many cis women's clits.)

The more layers I remove, the more naked I become, the worse it is. 

Elle doesn't make me feel like a woman though. Neither did Student or NN when I was with them. Even with them inside of me, I didn't feel like a woman. Or perhaps more accurately; I was able to ignore all the ways my body doesn't conform to my ideas about myself. When Elle touches me, strokes my tits, my ass, my waist, it doesn't feel like she does it in the same way as she would a woman. 

It goes the other way too. When Elle is undressed, I can't help but admire her. She's absolutely gorgeous. Long limbed, lean, strong, golden skin, a tight ass, and a dick that would make anyone envious (though perhaps especially me). I've told her repeatedly: She's gorgeous now.. With estrogen, she'll be downright dangerous. In my mind, I can see what it will do to her; Swell her breasts, give her more hips, a more defined waist. Soften her skin, make subtle changes to her face. She'll have the height of a model, with legs that go on for days, combined with a more feminine overall body shape. She'll be stunning. 

Yet she's not on estrogen yet, so she's struggling with the same problem as I do: The more layers you remove, the more aware she becomes of the incongruousness. Of the many ways her body doesn't match her vision of herself. The fact that I, and probably a lot of other people, find her incredibly attractive, probably doesn't help. Might even make things worse, in a way, because of the focus it puts on her body. 

So when I touch her, I try to touch her like I would any other woman. I play with her nipples, grab onto her chest like I would small boobs. I stroke her waist, her hips, her ass, like I would a more feminine body. Even with her inside of me, sometimes, we make-believe that I'm the one fucking her. And occasionally, I do actually fuck her, with fingers, hand, and dick. 

I fuck her "pussy", not "ass". I suck on her "clit", not "dick". I typically "use my mouth on her", I don't "give her a blow job". Words matter. They matter a lot. She doesn't "lick" me, but she can occasionally "blow" me, though. I ask her to "touch" me, not "finger" me. I try to avoid words like "jerk off" or "cum" when talking about her orgasms or solo play, though I'm not yet comfortable saying that I'm "jerking off" myself (unless I'm physically jerking a strap-on or the Joystick). 

And it's not perfect. I occasionally fuck up, and say the wrong thing. That's ok. I'm trying though, and so is she. Together, we're building this illusion of who we want to be. We're telling this story, together, of what our bodies look like and what we can do with them, despite what we know is the reality. 

We're not idiots. We know what we look like, we know what the other person sees when we're naked. We're fighting against indoctrination, and a long life before coming out, insisting we were someone we're not. We're fighting against the preconceived notion that a woman's body must look a certain way, have certain parts. And a man's body must look a certain way, and have certain parts.

Yet without hormones, without surgeries, Elle's body is still a woman's body. Because Elle is a woman. Regardless of shape, regardless of parts. And my body is still a transmasculine body, because I'm transmasculine. Regardless of shape, regardless of parts. That's the theory. The theory I find fairly easy to accept when it comes to her, and yet impossible to accept when it comes to me. It's what I'm trying to wrap my head around, try to accept when I see myself in a mirror. 

It's fucking hard though. Because when I see myself naked, in a mirror or in my mind, I see a woman. Still a woman, in every way. And I hate it.

Joy stick

I finally made the Joystick work for penetrative sex, and OH MY FUCKING GOD it was worth the wait. 

To grab my dick in my hand, line it up with a willing, waiting hole, lean forward as it slides into my girlfriend.. Hear her moans as I adjust my angle and push further into her.. Move in and out, and feel the dick following most of my movements,.. Turn the vibration on, and keep moving.. Every time I push in, I can feel it, as if it's a part of me. Feel it, as I build closer and closer to orgasm... Then finally coming, coming with my dick buried deep inside Elle's willing hole. 

I almost cried. If I hadn't been on testosterone, I certainly would have cried. But crying is physiologically more difficult now. 

I giggled and grinned, brimming with gender euphoria. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratefulness. Grateful that she let me do this with her, let me experience this with her. This has been a dream of mine for so long, a dream I didn't think would ever happen. I'm so, so grateful that I got to experience this.

I'm fairly certain that my fucking leaves a lot to be desired. I think she'd want me to take her for longer, and probably with a different stroke, tempo etc. But this time, she let it be all about me. Just a willing hole for me to enjoy. And there certainly was a lot of joy to be found. 

About half an hour later, I also fisted her again. She was tied to the bed, arms over her head and legs up in the air. She managed to take my entire hand for a bit longer this time, though she was quickly moaning and squirming and begging me to let her come. I eventually agreed, and took her clit in my mouth while my hand was wrist deep inside of her. It was super fascinating, she remained flaccid almost until the moment of orgasm. Never seen that happen before. 

The other day, we also mounted a strap-on onto her, so I could ride it. Worked really well, once her own anatomy was pushed away between her legs. It makes me optimistic that we can still have great, penetrative sex, even if anti-androgens and estrogens make her erections go away. (Assuming she still wants sex then. I hope she does.)

Dick exposure therapy

Remember when I wore a (strap-on) dick during sex with NN for the first time? Remember how fucking terrified I was? Oh, and remember back when I first started jerking off, using a prosthetic dick? How shameful that was, how much I was freaking out? Or way back in May when I first admitted to wanting a dick in the first place? I had to loose the trust of a good friend, before admitting the truth to myself.

Well, it's happening again. And again, it's dick related. I've discovered something new that makes me euphoric, and turned on. And it terrifies me. 

Not the sexual act itself. I don't think there's a single sexual act or kink that I couldn't talk about with a straight face and resting heart rate. I've been in the kink scene for so many years by now, it takes a lot to shock me. Something as simple as water sports, which is what this is all about, does not in any way terrify me. 

It hasn't been a big kink of mine before, but I've been open to the idea. I talked with Daisy and her (then) dom about peeing on her at some future play session back in 2016, and although that session never happened, I was open to the idea. And back in 2012, I forced Tight to wet themself in a session that was all about humiliation. So wet sex / water sports / the idea of peeing on someone doesn't frighten me. It just didn't appeal to me much.. 

Doing that with a dick, though... That thought's terrifying. And exciting. Very, very exciting. The idea of standing over someone, legs lightly spread, dick in hand, and pee on them.. Watching the stream pour out of the head of my dick, being able to direct it by moving my dick around.. The stream hitting them, running down their head, face, body.. Damn! 

I haven't had the slightest interest in being able to stand to pee before. I don't mind sitting when I go to the toilet, it doesn't bother me. But this. THIS! This is something else. Now I want it. A lot. And it terrifies me. 

What is this fear? Why this rushing heart rate, elevated blood pressure, tightness in the lower belly? Why this shortness of breath, this desire to flee? If not physically, then at least mentally? Dissociate. Escape!

It feels like shame. That's what I feel when I try to confront it. Crippling shame, just waiting to be named, called out, mocked. And the worst part, the best part, the most dangerous, scary, shameful part, is when I'm seen. Seen wearing a dick, seen jerking off. When my desire, my horniness, is not only seen but acknowledged. Embraced. Celebrated. It's terrifying, and glorious. It's healing, it's a baptism through fire. Confronting my deepest, most shameful self, lifting it out into the light. 

I think what I'm most afraid of is the ridicule. Because it takes SO much vulnerability to show this side of me to anyone. To let someone in. That's why I was shaking that first time I was with NN. Not only is this deeply personal, deeply shameful to me... But he saw me, he saw me laid bare. No semblance, no armor. Just me. The me that I know, deep down, is undesirable, unlovable, despicable, disgusting, vile. The me that I've spent so, so many years trying to hide. 

I can't remember ever making a conscious choice, I can't remember ever knowing that I was trans until last year... But that's obviously what must have happened. And whether there was an actual traumatic event, sometime when my desires to not be a girl really was mocked, I have no idea. It's possible my mind just extrapolated, but it was certainly based on good data; I was already being mocked and bullied for being who they thought I was... For being as similar to them as I was able. And not even that was good enough to be left alone. I couldn't possibly take off that mask and show them even weirder sides of me, could I?

As always, when writing about difficult subjects, I stray from the topic at hand. My mind shies away from it, like a burn that is painful to touch. So, back on track:

Yesterday, I wore the Joystick with Elle again. Just wore it, as we were cuddling and petting. She would pet it too, stroke it, like you would a real dick. She told me she got turned on by it, by me wearing it. I'd press against her, hump her, as she moaned in my ear. In the end, I jerked off (the base of the Joystick vibrates) and came while lying next to her. 

I've done similar things previously, with her and others, but its different now. My guards are down, or at least much more down than they were before. I dare to be vulnerable with her, to stay present, to set boundaries. To tell her I need a break, when my mind gets too overwhelmed. I dare to show myself as I truly am, and she hasn't ridiculed me yet. Not mocked me. Neither did NN, that first time. Nor Student, when I did similar things with him. Each time, the walls come further down. Each time, I prove to my terrified, traumatized, angst filled brain that it's ok; Ok to want this. Ok to want a dick. Ok to be turned on by it. Ok. To. Be. Trans.

Really, really trans. Undeniably. And it's ok. 

It's exposure therapy, really. A way of working through the mind blocks that I unconsciously created over the last 35 years, to stop me from realizing that I was trans. Each time I pass a hurdle, a new one soon shows up. A bit bigger and more terrifying than the last. So far, I've surmounted them all, though not without struggle. 

A couple of days ago, I got my doctor's signature and ordered the Peecock for free through the state health system: An stp (stand-to-pee device) that can also be used for play, if rods are inserted into it. When it arrives, I'll start practicing peeing with it. 

I'm still afraid, still stressed out, still really turned on by it all... Though I'm also deeply amused that peeing on my girlfriend can be viewed as a form of therapy. 

Feeling sexy

I played around with the Joystick yesterday, and took a couple of "dick pics" to send to Elle. Upon reviewing the pics I'd taken, I realized that looking at my own "dick pics" turns me on. It freaked me out a bit, because it felt incredibly narcissistic. 

We've all heard how autogynephilia is a bullshit, transphobic term, and the whole theory has since been debunked. Yes, sometimes trans women can get turned on by dressing in women's clothes and looking feminine.. But there's nothing wrong with that. It (apparently) happens to cis women too, it's normal to enjoy looking sexy. Also, early on in a transition, it's common to get turned on simply because of the thrill, the taboo, the rush of gender euphoria. It's normal. 

I knew that, yet hadn't heard "autoandrophilia" discussed at all. Didn't consider that this might apply to me as well. But apparently men can feel sexy too. That's apparently a big part of the reason for why they take dick pics to begin with. 

After talking with other transmascs about it, I realised that I've never really felt sexy. I've enjoyed OTHER PEOPLE looking at me and finding me sexy, enjoyed the attention, the compliments, enjoyed feeling desired. I've also been able to dress and behave in ways I knew would be likely to get such a reaction. However, I've never FELT sexy. Never seen myself as sexy or desirable. 

To be honest, I still don't. But looking at that prosthetic dick.. My dick.. It turned me on. Mostly because it looks so incredibly gender affirming, but also because I remember the feeling of it in my hand. And that is ALSO gender affirming, gender euphoric. So it compounds the feeling of euphoria and horniness. 

Is this how cis people naturally feel when looking at their own body? I this what "feeling sexy" feels like? I have no idea. But now that I'm not as freaked out by it, I think I like it.