Genderqueer

I read a thread on Fetlife today about being “genderqueer”. This is a word that’s fun for me to say but I never really had any example of anyone that was genderqueer. There was the FtM guy in the documentary I just got done watching who said he was genderqueer and he may very well be, but I didn’t associate him with being that. This person talked about how she was a girl, liked her female body, but didn’t always feel female. In fact, she wished she could switch parts for whatever she was feeling that day. I wholeheartedly agreed. She said something about how she was more gender neutral, could be male or female. Again I agreed! I had a long conversation with someone on CollarMe who talked about how he could definitely tell that I was both male and female and asked me what the most feminine thing about me was. Like a total class act, I answered, “I bleed from the vagina once a month”. Luckily he enjoyed my sense of humor.

Gender is one of those things that I don’t talk a lot about with anyone except Miss C and that’s only because she laughs at me and tells me I’m a boy all the time. And when she tells me that I’m ‘her boy’ I get a little silly. I can’t help it. And no, ‘Miss C’ does not mean that she is a Mistress (though I bet she could be if she really tried, I prefer to picture her as a submissive, to her boyfriend, who gets spanked a whole lot for that awful mouth of hers….tangent) it’s just what I’ve always called her and she IS feminine (in that…kick your ass kind of way) with an androgynous name  so I throw the ‘Miss’ in there so people know I’m talking about a girl.

The other thing that I don’t talk a whole lot about is orientation, and that’s because it’s hard to define for me. On days where I think I’m more male, I’m heavily attracted to women (straight!) and …really femme guys (gay!). When I feel more like a girl, I’m mostly attracted to really femme guys (straight!) but would never pass up an opportunity with a super submissive looks at me with her adorable kitten eyes and begs to make me happy girl (sooooooooooo gay). Then you have that somewhere in the middle grey area where I’ve always loved anyone that identifies as trans (uh…bi?) because they have a lot of the boy/girl stuff happening in their head that I can relate to and typically their bodies match well with whatever it is I’m craving, which ideally is tits and cock (hahahaha wtf) which I’ve found out recently (thanks Dan Savage) is a totally hetero male fantasy (you got me, I don’t know what I am anymore). So I like to toss out the word ‘pansexual’ and tie it up with a little bow and unwrap it from time to time.

But try saying ‘pansexual’ around people I work with and they think I get off on cooking. Which obviously is not true because I’ve never cooked. So there you have it. My gender and my sexuality in one post!

Ah, Blogroll

One of my weaknesses, I would say, is that I don’t remember things I hear as well as things I see. I can capture an image in my head and hold it there for what seems like forever. If someone writes me a letter, I can usually remember just about everything they wrote in it. If someone whispers in my ear though, I’ll hear them, I might even love what they said, but the odds of me remembering what they said to me two weeks later are minimal. The only exception that I can recall off the top of my head was the night j told me he loved me for the very first time. I can still hear that clear as day.

So for a while there I didn’t remember everything that dil and I talked about at dinner, except for that very amusing explanation of what he spent five hours learning about in school right before he came to meet me for the first time. There were hand gestures though, which was visual, which is probably why I remember it. Back on track! We were talking about the moment we knew something. Either when we knew we were a Dominant/submissive, a crossdresser, one of those people with gender issues, what have you, anything that we spoke about that might set us apart from the guys across from us having a beer or the quad in front of us enjoying dinner.

When I finally started embracing FemDom for what it really was and not what I thought it was, I resorted to blogs. I needed to read something real, from people who had some idea of what they were doing, who made it a real part of their lives. I stumbled and got frustrated and eventually found three that I still read to this day, three that have truly shaped who I think I am and who I hope to be in the future.

I think one of our biggest topics is always crossdressing. We were discussing words and negative connotations and how for me ‘sissy’ is the absolute worst but how we both agreed that ‘crossdresser’ really conjures up some bad images in the minds of most as well. I hated to admit that early on I had bad images of crossdressers too. In theory I loved them. Who doesn’t love a man dressed as a woman? But eventually I began to realize that it didn’t always mean that a man could pass as a woman, and suddenly there was this great divide in my head.

Did I still like crossdressers? Did I still understand them? Would I be capable of being in a relationship with one? That’s about where I found these blogs, and in two of the three blogs the male submissives crossdressed. At first I wasn’t sure. I didn’t quite get it. I could see how much fun they were having though and I even got to hear how much their Mistresses enjoyed it. There was something there I wasn’t quite grasping. I sure do like to have fun though, so I kept an open mind.

It wasn’t until months and months later where I finally saw a picture that for no real reason at all made it all click for me. There was nothing overly feminine or overly masculine about him. In fact, I think he was just reclining on the couch. But for whatever reason, this picture tied together everything that I questioned and now, looking back on it, I think it was because it wasn’t for a contest, it wasn’t for a scene, it was just him being him. It was just the way he was. Just a way of life.

I still can’t exactly articulate what the change was, or what it meant, but I do know that once that feeling washed over me and my brain caught up, I was able to go back through the archives, look through all the pictures, and suddenly where before I questioned what was going on I simply understood. And he was beautiful. The laughs and the smiles and even the sultry looks he was giving his Mistress who was holding the camera, they all made sense. So I flipped to the other blog that I usually read and I saw the same things there. The Great Divide seemed to have closed up and all of a sudden I felt as though ‘crossdresser’ was probably the most endearing term in the whole world.

A few years back, one of those blogs closed down. For a while I felt lost. That was my path. If they could do it, I could too! There was the constant reassurance that at least one couple out there lived the way I wanted to, and while I still had the other to look up to, I still felt as though I lost a role model, male and female, submissive and Dominant. Now they’re back, and I honestly couldn’t be happier. I’m going to take an evening and read all the way back through the archives and relive all of those moments again from where I am today. Then I’ll hop and check out the newest post at the other one, and be giddy all over again.

What of the third one you ask? Male Master/female slave, so not much relevance to this particular post, except that I would love to model my own toy after the female in that relationship, because I think she’s a wonderful slave who could give hope and inspiration to a lot out there who think all female slaves need to be doormats.

Once I’m done basking in these blogs and people that I have far away internet love for, I’ll even go back through my own blogroll and prune out the people who have taken down their blogs or stopped updating. For now though, I’m off to read, squee, and bask.

Femme Friday

Thursday night we were supposed to get together. In the middle of the afternoon it turned out he was unable to get out of a conference call that would start at 7pm that evening and could go on for whoever knows how long. Dinner was canceled and subsequently all the rest of the plans I’d had for that night. Each of us had a little while to pout about it, because that seems to be how we each handle it, but after an hour or so we seemed to be doing a little better. In fact, we got to talk on messenger all night long while he took that phone call and another one an hour later. Our conversation was going all over the place, with me admitting a few things that I normally wouldn’t (for fear of looking crazy).

Friday morning and Friday afternoon I’d had just about enough with the world. What I wanted more than anything was to hit my boy and call it a night. I was reluctant to see him at all, because my husband and I celebrated our 10 year anniversary over the weekend (but today is the offical day) and I didn’t know how he’d feel about sharing any part of the weekend with j. He had planned on running some errands that morning though, so after a bit of situating, we decided I ought to spend the night with j and that he’d just come and pick me up the next day and we’d go on our date.

When I got dropped off at j’s door (with little notice that I was coming over at all, really) he answered it while hiding behind it, so I knew he was dressed ‘appropriately’, which to us means that he’s nude and wearing just cuffs around his ankles and wrists. This is entirely plausible for most of the year because of where we live, and the pretty consistent and warm temperature. Once I got inside though, I saw that he’d taken ‘appropriate’ a step further and was actually wearing all of the pretty stuff we bought for him a couple of weeks ago and did nothing with. So my boy was looking pretty fantastic in his pink silk robe and his dark stockings.

He knelt for me for a bit and we caught up on what’d happened during the week. I told him that I wanted to hurt him but to be honest, right this second, I don’t even think that happened. What I remember happening was taking him to bed straight away so I could have some fun with him. I remember holding him and pressing him into the bed and chaining him to the headboard so that I could use his body and so he couldn’t move. I remember slowly undressing him and using him. I also remember the fun of gender reversal.

Typically when I’m fantasizing, I’m fantasizing about taking him. In bed in the morning I usually roll him over and press myself up against his ass and I can rub myself to orgasm and he usually gets into it just as much as I do. So I decided that since we were already in this place and in this frame of mind, I might as well put to good use the FeelDoe and harness that I have stashed at his house for occasions just like this.

I totally understand why guys might balk at the idea of sex if they’re new to it. Really. I don’t think I did any part of that right. For a while, I wasn’t even certain I was poking him in the right way. We tried several different positions, pillows under the hips, me kneeling behind him, me standing behind him, I may as well have climbed up on something and then jumped on top of him at the rate we were going. Eventually we finally found a position that was going to work, which involved him being slung over the bed sideways and me standing between his legs behind him. We were positioned well and I was pretty certain I was going to get this right and that’s when he looked back over his shoulder and told me that my cock was just too big.

Sigh.

But it sure didn’t ruin anything. We just decided to have a good old time using our own genetalia in the way they’re typically used. Afterwards, he curled up against me. We ended up roaming all over the bed really. One of the best positions was when he had his head resting against my hip, looking up at me, so I could run my hands down his stocking-clad legs. Eventually he was rid of the stockings too, so I could just touch his skin. I rubbed his feet and he told me he’d never had that done before. Now though, now he can see why I like having it done so much.

It was another night where he told me that he thought I was the best boyfriend ever. I always feel a little shy when he says it, but happy, and a little bit proud. So it was only natural that when we went out together last night, I reassure him that I’d already planned Valentine’s Day for us and that he didn’t need to. I think he knew already though, because he told me he liked how I did it, that if it was left up to him, he’d stress out about making the perfect plans. I much prefer it this way. After all, if I’m going to be his boyfriend, he’s going to have to be my girlfriend, and I like to spoil my girls with romantic dates and pretty things. That’s just how I am.

Sadism

The term ‘Sadist’ has never gone over well in my head. For years I’ve enjoyed the idea of pain and torture, but it’s always in a setting where everyone’s consented to it. There were many years in my life where I denied being a Sadist, until I read a specific thread about it on a specific forum where people were discussing it in a way that I could wrap my head around it. I took this new information to my friend Crow and admitted to her that I thought I might be a Sadist, that I might enjoy other people’s (sexual) suffering. She laughed and thought I was kidding. I told her that I was serious and that it was a bit troublesome. I then realized that she was laughing at me because everyone else in my life knew I was a Sadist. I was the only one that hadn’t been clued into it prior to that conversation.

Though I’m finally getting acclimated to the idea that I am in fact a Sadist, I still rarely call myself that, because I don’t like the imagery that comes to mind when such a thing is talked about. I don’t want to be approached by people asking me to hit them. That’s not what it is to me. In fact, more often than not, when I’m in the mood to seduce, I try really hard not to include any form of pain in my planning and execution. In some parts of my mind, the two things (romance and pain) don’t mesh. In others, they’re absolutely necessary, I can’t have one without the other.

As I’ve written before, I have a healthy dose of gender fuckery in my life. In the head, I’m a lot like a boy, at least what I view a macho boy to be like. Naturally I sought out a boy that was a little bit more like a girl, to complement the different needs that I had. On recent dates, my j has whispered to me things like how he always feels like the girl when we’re out together, the sort of thing that I really enjoy hearing because it means whatever I’m doing, I’m doing right, because that’s exactly how I want him to feel. Last night, because he’d had a rough week, I wanted to take him out and have dinner and a movie and then take him home and help him forget whatever might be on his mind. Whenever I’m trying to distance him from something, I always think pet play first, because he’s not required to think whatsoever during it. Life had other plans for us though.

Instead, when we got home from the movie, he needed to work for a bit. I waited up for him, because it sounded like everything was getting worked out in a timely fashion. I wanted to take him to bed and seduce him, use him, and then fall asleep with him in my arms, the way we do most every night we spend together. Everything was going fantastically well except that I couldn’t seem to find whatever it was I was lacking to push me over the edge into orgasm. (Also, nature decided to take away my testosterone driven fantasies by making me bleed on the very day that I was finally going to get to act out all my macho sexist fantsies, which didn’t help in the least.) Finally, in the soft and quiet voice that he usually has when he’s rolled onto his stomach with his head pressed down into the pillows so that I can rub against his ass, he asked me if I’d hurt him.

I tried to explain (though didn’t do so well, because I was busy trying to get to an orgasm) that I was trying to seduce him, couldn’t he understand? Pain sure didn’t fit into that. Except, as he pointed out, it sure does. It might not have always fit into our lives together (and I’m thinking quite fondly of the first time I tried to spank him and also the first time I was successful in spanking him) but now it plays a big role in what we’re doing. I love leaving marks on him. I love the sounds he makes when he’s being hurt. I love the faces he makes. I love his suffering. He’s asked me what I like so much about all of it and I’ve told him this much. I wish he could see it through my eyes, how beautiful he is when he’s bound and forced to endure whatever I want to do to him.

So after I added some clothespins and then just scratched him for a bit, I certainly was able to achieve orgasm. It wasn’t anything wonderful or stupendous, because what I really wanted to be doing was nailing his tight ass with my thick silicone cock, but it got the job done and the feeling of intimacy was as strong as ever. Hopefully we’ll be getting around to a little more pain in the future, with some better marks, and some actual pictures documenting these kinds of things. Who doesn’t like pictures, after all?

Gender Fuckery

This is actually one of my favorite topics. I’ve been dealing with gender issues for as long as I can remember. It started innocently enough, making a male character in a game instead of a female. Often times, my personality seems to fit the stereotypical male more than the stereotypical female so I figured I could pull it off convincingly enough. I found when doing this that a lot of what I said, or how I thought, or the way that I did things went over so much better when people thought I was a man than when I was a woman that I never went back. Not until about two years ago when I got introduced to Second Life. I wanted to stop roleplaying for a while and just be me, and in order to do that, I’d have to make a female avatar and be myself. A scary concept after existing online only as fictional characters.

After that huge step foward, I came to realize that I like a lot of what I do from the male perspective better than the female. A lot of this is just the things I’d been taught or what I’d witnessed along the way and most of it isn’t factual. For instance, I was convinced for many years that women certainly couldn’t be in control. Their emotions would get in the way every single time. To some degree I still believe that, but I don’t think it’s such a terrible-bad thing anymore. So what. We’re emotional. Sometimes we’re more compassionate, or could be, anyhow. Our genders don’t really determine a whole lot socially. This was a conversation that j and I got into when we decided to go have breakfast at half past midnight in a cute little diner.

When I step back and look at it, I know it has nothing to do with gender. A lot of everything has to do with how we were raised, the values instilled within us when we were young. Even now I can look back and see the negative reactions from family members and friends alike when they realized that I was the one in charge of my relationships. I’m sure that’s where a lot of it stems from. Another factor is just hanging around the wrong people or gleening the wrong information from people. I wasn’t looking at the big picture.

What brought all of this to mind though was one really hot comment that came from j when I had him pinned face-down on the bed the following morning, after our gender talk in the diner full of crazies. It was a really hot comment to me now, but when it was said, it brought a whole lot of thoughts that I’d had over the past couple of years right to the surface of my brain and I almost, almost, couldn’t move past it to keep enjoying myself. But I did. Which, to me, shows growth in that area. So huzzah for me!

I came back from the bathroom and crawled over him, as I usually do. He sleeps nearer to the bathroom and I don’t want to walk around the bed. I usually get right up on him and start biting, because that’s what I like to do. Then I’ll rub myself against him and typically he’ll just turn himself right over, happy to offer his ass to me. I can have an entire orgasm from this, actually, and most often do. This time he actually spoke. He told me that he wanted to feel me inside of him. As I type it now, even, it’s hot to me. At the precise moment that he said it, I had to turn it over in my head. I had to make sure he’d said what he said. For a split second, I thought he was confused. Then I realized what he was wanting. I might have even put forth the extra effort to do just that, except the little voice in my head prevented me from doing it.

What very nearly came out of my mouth was that he’d never actually feel me inside of him. He’d only feel some silicone toy inside of him. He’d only feel the false representation of what he really wanted to feel inside of him. My boy’s a smart creature though and he surely would have retorted that it absolutely is me because we say it’s me, because we say it’s an extention of me, and that’s what he wants. He didn’t have to though because my good sense kicked in! (For once.) I kept my mouth shut, but I kept those words at the forefront of my mind.

What really got me about it was the fact that I’ve been struggling with the issue myself. In my fantasies I can always push him up against  a wall and take him. Bend him over the couch and take him. Smack him around and then penetrate him. Penetration is a huge part of what I fantasize about. In my fantasies, it happens just like that though. There’s no ‘Oh, hold on one second while I pull out this harness and finaggle a fake cock into it and then line it up just right so that maybe I’ll get some stimulation from it as well and then we’ll get to slowly warming you up so that it’s enjoyable for you and so we don’t have health issues later on down the road. I’ll be right back. Don’t lose that arousal.’ None of that. It’s just bam, bam, done. That’s hot. What I really have to go through to get it? Not so much.

So I took this super intimate problem to the only person that I’d trust with such a super intimate problem and we discussed ways to make it a little better. Maybe start play with it already under my clothes. Like, are you happy to see me or is that a fake dong in your jeans, eh? Right. But it’s plausible. I mean, it sure could happen. Maybe try incorporating it into some of our gender play. Those times when j’s crawling around in just panties and painted toenails and the such. Eventually something will click and it won’t seem so…fake to me, or so I like to think.

Fast foward two days to when we have a date (yes, yes, a for reals kind of date because over the weekend he was all kinds of cute and asked me if I’d go to the movies with him and I said yes, constituting a date) and he says something else that’s all different kinds of hot to me. As I’ve got my arm around his shoulders and we’re waiting for the theater to be cleaned he whispers to me how he likes that he always feels like the girl when we’re out. Zing! I love that. I love that because that’s the feeling I like to create. Because I like to take on the traditionally masculine role, except somehow I don’t ever get to pay, which is not traditional, but I don’t think I’m going to argue it either. When I plan the dates, I get to pay, so it’s all good.

So emotionally, I’m totally the guy. If only I could pull it all together so it could be done sexually as well, because I get this feeling that we both totally want it. Really bad. Me more than him probably, which is why it’s so frustrating for me. I’m sure I’ll get there.