My Kind of Feminism

The Oregon Girl asked this question:

Feminism, what does it mean to you? Do you consider yourself a feminist? If not, why not?

… this was my response:

Feminism to me is a philosophy and life approach that sees all people as having equal standing regardless of category or appearance. I want people of any gender to have an equal chance to pursue their dreams and loves and life goals. I have been a feminist as a female identified queer person and now as a trans identified masculine person. The idea of feminism is constant for me, but the way I embody, promote and support it has changed. It has changed because I am aware of my increasing male privilege and I know that the mechanisms I employed as a feminist who was seen as female will not be received the same way as they were then. For example, as a perceived female person, I learned to step up, speak up, create space for myself. As an
increasingly male perceived person, those same actions would look to be the typical man using his privilege to take space, speak over others, dominate conversations. So now my tactic is turning toward facilitation. I want to make space for others, I want to hold my tongue and allow time and space for others to step up and speak out. I want to encourage and support others in finding their voice and learning to take space in discussions. My feminism includes acknowledging my privilege and working to change the way I walk in the world so that my privilege does not negatively impact others. So my feminism includes working against classism, racism, sexism, misogyny, ablism and other systems of oppression.

Someone could argue that my way of defining feminism is broader than the definition others might use, but I can’t see the point in fighting sexism and misogyny if I’m not also going to fight other forms of oppression.

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Commitments

During my yoga practice this morning, we were thinking and meditating on how we spend our time and what ‘habits of frequency’ we engaged in as a part of our self-care and as a part of our involvement with those we love and our communities.

My thoughts tumbled around in my head and the word/intention that emerged was:

Commitment

As I often do when meditating, this thought started in the center of me and rippled outward.

What and who am I committed to with relation to myself?  To my family?  To my lovers?  To my friends and community?

I am committed to caring for my body, this flesh container I was born into.  I am committed to being generous and loving with myself, to being patient- even when it’s hard – with myself about habits and thought patterns I am not happy about having.  I am committed to starting with myself when I think about who I am responsible for and to.  I am devoted to the process of self-awareness and for becoming aware of my privilege and blind spots so that I might understand how those impact the way I walk in the world and how I might use my privilege to lift others up.  I am committed to taking better care of my physical body, as it is the only one I have and it has, and continues to, serve me well.  Without taking good care of myself, I cannot care for anyone the way I would like to.

I am committed to loving, nurturing and role-modeling for my daughters.  It is important to me to model my values and to support them as they work toward self-reliance and self-determination.  My goal is that they become responsible, caring adults who take responsibility for their own actions and also, for doing the work required to make the world a place they want to live in.  I am committed to being available to them for focused attention and to bear witness to their triumphs and struggles.

I am committed to my wife, my companion and partner for 21 years and counting.  I am devoted to the family and home we have created, to being a partner in the endeavor of continuing to build a strong and loving home together.  I am committed to giving her focused attention and to be a witness to her commitment and hard work, and to be a loving and generous ear to her struggles and dreams.  I want to build on our successes, learn from our failures and always move forward with best intent.

I am committed to my girlfriend, my new love, the new fire in my heart.  Oregon Girl went from a hot ember to a steady flame very quickly and yet it feels as though she’s always been in my heart, waiting for me to discover her.  I am committed to the intentional, authentic and open-hearted relationship we are building together.  I am devoted to my role as her lover, her boyfriend and her friend.  In each of those capacities, I will offer positive, constructive and loving energy.  I am also committed to being my most real, authentic self, allowing myself to be vulnerable and to let her in to my deepest core spaces.

I am committed to my lover, the strong, warm and comfortable Hippy Goddess, who envelopes me with a sense of solidity and acceptance.  I will continue to look for ways we can spend time together, despite the challenges our schedules sometimes pose.  I am devoted to being a friend who is a lover, making space to bear witness to her struggles and triumphs, the ways life brings joy and hardship.  I will make time for hugs and snuggles to aid in her healing process.

I am committed to close friends, friends I’ve known for years and some who are have only recently entered my life.  I am committed to spending time with them, bringing them together or joining their gatherings.  I am continually delighted and fulfilled by the various talents and energies and lessons my friends bring into my life.

I am committed to my community, to bearing witness to the hardships others face even while I live comfortably.  To always seek ways in which I can bring joy and comfort to someone else’s life, preferring to do so one-on-one but accepting that sometimes I will contribute to larger causes.  I am committed to living intentionally, to always looking for how I can improve my positive impact and lessen my negative footprint on my neighborhood, city, state, country, world.  I will hold myself accountable for my actions and cultivate humility in myself.  I will endeavor to come up with solutions and positive ways to address issues rather than focus on blame.

I am committed to being a better person tomorrow than I was yesterday.  Some of the ways I will accomplish this will be internal, many will be acted out externally, in my interactions with the people in my life.  I am committed to making those interactions as positively impactful as possible.

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Who am I?

I’ve been thinking about this question a lot lately. Yeah, more than usual.  A year ago that question and most answers centered around who I was in relationship to transition. Or who I was in relationship to relationships.  Today it’s more about who am I – Kyle or Casey.  The former feels more like a pen name all the time, whereas it used to feel like who I was/becoming.  This year, I have most definitely come back to myself again.  I will still the name ‘Casey’ here rather than my actual name, for good reasons, but it’s harder and harder because I’m proud of the name I chose and went to court to make mine legally.  It suits me.

I’m also proud of the way my external transition is being complemented by an internal one.  I am out and proud in my family, community and at work as a trans* guy.  I’m four months into testosterone use and feeling better and more comfortable in my skin all the time.

These physical changes are triggering mental and emotional changes.  That physical comfort has been complemented by a mental and emotional ease that I have never felt.  Part of that may be that I’m finally out of the deep dive of depression I was in for so long. Part of it may be the time I’ve been on the planet, figuring out my priorities and learning to live with my strengths and weaknesses.  But part of this new ease is definitely the result of me making the decision to transition.  I’ve been asked if I noticed the difference once I started taking T, but I started noticing the difference as soon as I made the decision to take T.  The voices in my head, the endless debate on what to do, when to do it, how much to do, etc., finally quieted.  That was an amazing sensation and it’s still quiet up there.  Because it’s quiet, I can move forward and live my life. Because it’s quiet, I can think, I can process, I can see my life more clearly.

What do I see?

I see myself as someone who has struggled with their gender all their life.  I see myself as someone who has attempted to fit into one box after another, trying to conform to the rules of a succession of communities without success.  I could fit in externally, but not internally.  I always felt like I was making exceptions, forcing myself into shapes I didn’t naturally come in.  As I tried to make myself fit, I would temporarily feel like I was a part of that community, relaxing into the role they saw me filling.  I was the lesbian, temporarily.  I was the dyke, for a while.  I was butch, and still am, but in a way I am defining for myself, rather than conforming to someone else’s standard.  I am genderqueer, coming from an authentic place informed by my lived experience of being outside the binary since I was conceived. I am trans* by my own definition and my own way of being.

I am going to continue to blog and write as Kyle Jones but this is an alias.  The person I really am, the one I am becoming more and more, is much bigger.  See, Kyle has been the persona from which I could explore my gender… but I’ve folded that exploration into my true self.  Kyle has been a way to explore sides of me I withheld from the rest of my life:  the boy to his Sir, the faggot, the slut.   From a Kyle standpoint, I’ve been able to live out fantasies of being a butch about town, a guy with a harem, a Casanova, yes, even at times, a player.  I won’t lie and say I haven’t enjoyed living through that side of me but it’s not genuine.  I think I’ve done what I needed to do through that lens.  Now it’s time to take what I’ve learned back into the greater whole.  Now it’s time to integrate.

Summer is over and it’s harvest time, time to bring in all that has been developing since spring planting.  Today I picked the remainder of the squash, cucumbers and beans from my actual garden. It’s also the time of year that I pull together the threads and ideas planted throughout the year and decide what to harvest – keep for the future – and what to put on the compost heap.  I’m keeping vulnerability, honesty, healthy communication and emotional intelligence.  I’m keeping the sense of self, the strong, calm feeling of knowing who I am, finally.  I’m also keeping the knowledge that I am still evolving.  Onto the compost heap go the need to have many partners – or potential partners – as a way to fight my insecurity and fear of scarcity, along with as much of my sexism and misogyny as I can. On the heap goes fear of being alone, fear that I’m not enough, fear that if I don’t do everything and get in on everything, I’ll miss out on all the good stuff.  Into the harvest basket goes the increasing sense of confidence that the good things happen where I am, if I will just keep my eyes, mind and heart open.  I’m harvesting the decision to concentrate on quality rather than quantity.  I’m filling my basket with the understanding that my heart may have no limit on how much love it can hold, but my time and energy have limits on how much I can give to those I am in relationships with.

No doubt about it, life is good, and it’s only getting better.  Happy Autumn, everyone.

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Enough of the down voting

I am aware, through down voting and frankly unkind comments, that some people who visit this blog are not fans.  Honestly, if you don’t like what I’m doing, I don’t understand why you keep coming back.

A month or so ago, someone who had been a fan of this blog became an unfan.  She told me off and said that I wasn’t interesting any more since I wasn’t involved with and posting about Roxy.  Well.  So basically, someone who had claimed to be supportive and happy for me when I was happy, was really only happy when I was happy for reasons they approved of.  Huh, sounds kind of abusive and controlling, doesn’t it?

Well, fuck that.  If you can’t celebrate my happiness regardless, you’re no friend of mine.  I don’t know that this same person is the one who hit my recent posts with ‘thumbs down’, but who ever it is can also fuck off.  If you have something to say, leave a comment or email me.  I’m removing the passive route.  That also means I don’t get the thumbs up, but I’ll take that hit.

If you have something to say to me about what I post, fucking say it.

Right now, I am happy in a way I haven’t been happy in a long time.  I’m in love with my fabulous girlfriend, OregonGirl.  I’m having a very loving and sexy friendship with Hippy Goddess.  I have a wife and kids and a great career and community.  Life is good and I’m going to talk about it and not apologize to those who wish my life hadn’t changed in the past couple of years.  Hey guess what?  Life happens, get with the program or get left behind.  I’m happy and if you’re not interested in hearing about it or celebrating that with me, find another blog to read.  Take your negativity and your bullshit elsewhere.

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Show me, Daddy

[this is a story about role-play involving consenting adults]

I’m sitting on the couch, reading the paper.  My girl is in the bedroom, getting ready.  We’re about to try something new, something we hope will be hot.

She comes in dressed in a classic private school girl’s uniform.  I can already feel the heat rising in me and all she’s done is walk into the room. I keep my gaze resolutely on the paper, but I can only pretend to read.  She’s standing quietly, hands behind her back, waiting patiently for my attention.  I want to grab her and pull her onto my lap without ceremony, but I know she wants more than that.  Well, we both do.  I push my impatience down and stare sightlessly at the newsprint for another moment.  She shifts her feet, and out of the corner of my eye I can see that she’s staring intently at me, willing me to give her my attention.

I wait another thirty seconds, just to increase the tension, then carefully fold the paper and set it aside.

“Yes, dear?  Do you need something?” My eyes take in every detail of her, lingering on her hemline, cleavage, neck, lips, finally her eyes.  The eyes that bewitch and entrance me every single time I look into them.  I get lost for a moment and see the corner of her mouth twitch.  She’s pleased with herself, and she should be, she’s so gorgeous.  I let her know how turned on I am by adjusting the crotch of my pants slightly.  I’m wearing a short sleeved button-down Dad shirt with pants we got from the thrift store and that I would never wear otherwise.

“Yes, Daddy, I… can I talk to you about my day?”  Her lips make a bow shape and her eyes are big, she bounces a little on the balls of her saddle shoe clad feet and my eyes are glued to the way she bounces under her white blouse.

Clearing my throat, I lean back, “Of course, sweetheart, come here and sit on my lap. Tell me all about your day.”

She settles onto my lap, and I stifle a groan as she presses against my cock.  I wrap one arm around her waist and hip and rest one hand on a knee, fingertips resting on the top of her thigh. She reacts to my touch every so slightly but I feel the subtle shudder and see her lips part as she pants faintly.  She’s as keyed up and turned on as I am.

“Alright then, how was your day?”

“Well, it was OK I guess”, she pouts.  She looks at me from under her lashes.

“What happened, baby?”  My hand moves slightly further up her thigh, fingertips stroking lightly.

Fingertip in her mouth, sucking on it, I realize I’m clenching my jaw at the thought of her mouth on me.

“Well, Daddy, the boys at school were mean to me today.”

I straighten up, who’s being mean to my little girl?

“Tell me what happened, honey.  Who was being mean?”

“Some of the boys, mostly Jeremy.  They were teasing me.”

The hand holding her hip digs in lightly, pulling her closer.  She wraps her arms around me, resting her forehead against my temple.

“What were they teasing you about?” My brow is wrinkled, I’m not sure what she’ll say, we only planned the broad outlines.

“They said I wasn’t a big girl, they said I was just a little girl and I would never be a big girl.. and … um.”  She stopped and looked at me with big eyes, lip quivering.

I raise my eyebrows, she’s gonna make me work for it.  ”What, baby?  You know you can tell Daddy anything.  Anything.”

My fingernails trail lightly across her inner thigh.  My hand has been moving up slowly and is now an inch under her skirt.  She gasps and squeezes me.  I give her a moment to catch her breath.

“Alright now, baby, tell Daddy what happened, all of it.”  My voice is filled with honey and authority, my fingers continue to work their way up under her skirt.

She sniffs, sits up and lifts her chin.  ”OK, Daddy.  I will.”

“We were playing at recess and Jeremy and Michael said they wanted to play boyfriends and girlfriends and they asked Sarah and they didn’t ask me they said they needed to find someone else.  I said I wanted to play, too, but they said I couldn’t, that I was just a little girl and I had to be a big girl to play with them.”

I believe I should get a medal for not smiling myself into a cramp over her portrayal of the little girl who desperately wanted to be big.  Damn, she’s good.

“I’m sorry they hurt your feelings, baby, it wasn’t very nice of them.  Now… ” Putting a bit more stern Daddy into my voice, “What kind of game is ‘boyfriends and girlfriends’, anyway?”

I can feel myself sliding into the part, stern Daddy usually does it for me, helps me leave the lover/boyfriend role behind.  Stern Daddy fills me up and takes over.

“Um, well… Daddy, if I tell you, will I get in trouble?”

“At this point, missy, you will be in trouble if you don’t tell me, so you choose.”  My voice is a little harder now, my face stern and authoritative.  A little shiver runs through her as my energy connects with hers, her eyelids are half closed.  We’re both in it now, time to play.

Her voice quivers slightly and my groin tightens, “Well, we pretend we are boyfriends and girlfriends and so we go on pretend dates and kiss and… stuff.”

“Kisses, or pretend kisses?”

“Um.. kisses on the mouth, Daddy.  They say that’s how big girls kiss, and Daddy, I want to be a big girl.”

I lean back and ask in a gruff voice, “So you’ve kissed these boys on the mouth, is that what you’re saying?”

“No, no, Daddy, not yet” she’s flustered, I give her a quirk at the corner of my mouth to let her know I’m enjoying her.  It’s easy to get lost in this play and forget who we are.

My fingers are massaging her inner thigh, still inches from her panties but close enough to feel her heat.  ”Not yet?  So you plan on kissing them?”

“Well, I want to but they say I can’t because I’m not a big girl, and I am a big girl, Daddy, you’ve told me I am but when I try to tell them they just laugh at me.”  She’s so connected with her character, her eyes have gotten wet.  I’m betting her panties are, too.

Hmmm, how do I play this?   I could come down on her for wanting to kiss boys and … stuff.  Or I could be the best Daddy ever and show her how to be a big girl.

Guess which I chose.

“So baby, what can I do to help you?  Do you want me to tell the teacher about those boys teasing you, or would you rather … ” I paused, loving the build up and waiting to see what she said to me with her eyes.  Her eyes went from innocent to crafty for about a second, but I saw it.  She put her fingertip back into her mouth, sucking it coyly.  Clearly, she’d rather.

“Or would you rather I show you how to do big girl things, the kinds of things big girls do with their boyfriends?”

She fought to stifle her grin, she’d probably been wondering how I was going to twist the story line and clearly, she was pleased with the direction I was taking it.  She pulled in close, hands on the back of my neck.

“Yes, Daddy” she purred, momentarily dropping the facade, “Please show me what big girls do with their boyfriends.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, we should start with kissing, I suppose.  How do you think girlfriends kiss their boyfriends?”

Oh, the shy look, damn, I shift in my seat, feeling even harder than I already did.  I want to take her right now but that wouldn’t be fair, we need to play this one out, all the way.

“Um, like this?” she leans forward and gives me a dry peck on the lips.

“Mmmm.. that’s nice, but that’s not how boyfriends and girlfriends kiss.  If I were your boyfriend and you were my girlfriend, we’d kiss like this.”  My hand leaves her thigh and reaches around to cradle the back of her head.  I pull her close and kiss her, lightly at first, then sliding my tongue into her mouth, deeply.  She moans and her hands squeeze my shoulders, grip the hair on the back of  my head.  I break away gently and look at her.

She catches her breath, “Oh, Daddy.  Is that really how boyfriends kiss their girlfriends?  I really liked that Daddy, can we do it again?”

I chuckle softly and pull her in for another, this time she reciprocates more, boldly sucking my tongue and using her teeth on my lips.  The heat between us could fry eggs.

“Well, honey, you learn very quickly.”

“Really, Daddy?  Did I do a good job?  Do I kiss like a big girl?”

“Oh yes, sweetie, you really do.”  Her eyes are dancing, she can feel in my hands and my gaze how hot I am for her.  ”But you know, those boys at your school won’t kiss you like that.”

That pouty lip again, begging for me to bite it.  ”Why Daddy?  Why won’t they kiss me like that?”

“Because they don’t know how yet” I pulled her in for another long, hard tongue-dancing kiss.

Gasping for breath, she takes a moment to recompose herself.

“You know, babygirl, there are other things that boyfriends and girlfriends do besides kissing”  I raised my eyebrow and leered.  She blushed and looked down shyly.  Gorgeous.

“Like what, Daddy?”

“Well, sometimes they hold hands, or the boy might put his arm around the girl’s shoulders.”

“What about the girl putting her arm around him?” My sassy femme, I love it.

“Yes, honey that, too.  But there are other things they do, things you might not be ready for.”  I let that hang in the air, a challenge, a request, a reminder of how far this game can go.

“Oh Daddy, I’m a big girl now, I can do the things girlfriends do with boys!” Defiant, eyes flashing, struggling to keep the grin off her face, trying to be serious. “Daddy, will you show me the other things they do?  Please, show me, Daddy.”

Oh, my sweet girl, my gorgeous lover, I would be happy to show you.

“I don’t know, baby, not sure you’re ready for this kind of big girl stuff.”

“Please, Daddy, please!  Show me, Daddy, puhleeeasse!” Pouty lip, fingers digging into my shoulder, squirming on my lap, pressing her ass into my groin. Playing hardball, this one is.

“Alright, alright.  You’ve asked nicely, so I will show you what boyfriends and girlfriends do together.  It has to do with touching each other… in private areas.  What do you think about that?”

Her chest is heaving, I can imagine what’s flashing through her mind and it’s turning me on even more. “I, uh, well, but Daddy, is that… is that OK?  You told me that I shouldn’t let anyone touch me there.”

Playing hardball, nicely done.

“Well, that’s true most of the time but as you get to be a bigger and bigger girl and have boyfriends that is what you’ll want to do.  It’s natural to want it and it feels good.  But you should not let just anyone touch you there, you should make sure you know them very well first.”  I’m fumbling a bit, wanting to hurry this along, wanting to touch her wetness, kiss her sweet body.

She doesn’t seem to mind that I’ve blown ‘sex education and consent for minors’ in a big way, after all, we’re playing Daddy and girl, so we both know where this is heading.

She smiles sweetly but her eyes communicate lust and need, “Daddy, it’s OK if you touch me like that then, because I know you really well.”

Her voice purrs and she runs her fingertips from my shoulder down my chest, coming to a stop on my belly.  Huh, who’s seducing who here?

“Mmmmhmmm, yes we do know each other”  I let a little of the lover speak to her through my look, the lover who has been holding back from ravishing her, then slip back to Daddy.  ”Well, a boyfriend would probably touch you here.”  Cupping her breasts, squeezing lightly and I run my index finger around her nipple.  Her breathing becomes rough, her eyes half closed.  I can feel more heat coming from her now, but it’s not just physical, it’s the connection we have tugging on me from below my naval.  I lean in to kiss her, slowly, languidly, while stroking, squeezing and tweaking her breasts.  Her nipples are erect and her hips are undulating slowly, calling to me.  I release one, then two buttons and reach into her bra, lifting out her gorgeous breast.  I hold her for a moment, giving her a long, deep look and then dip down, taking her nipple into my mouth.

Her hands go to the back of my head, pulling me in, holding onto me.  I’m pushing her to the edge, using my tongue and teeth to torment her.  ”Oh, god, oh, baby.. Daddy, ohhhh… ”   First one then the other, taking my time, lingering, loving the texture of her skin against my tongue, slurping and sucking until her nipples stand out like twin erections.

“Does that feel nice, baby?” My voice is husky and soft in her ear.  She nods, momentarily robbed of speech.  ”It feels nice for me, too.  A boyfriend would probably also touch you between your legs, would you like Daddy to touch you there, baby?”

It takes a moment for that to sink in and then she comes back to the present from wherever she’s gone.  Her lips are slightly parted and she’s looking at me with an expression that is not childlike at all.  ”Yes, Daddy, please I like it when you touch me, I want to feel good all over.”

Stifling the growl I can feel building up from my belly, I slide my hand from her knee until my fingertips are touching the elastic of her panties. Her breath catches, eyes big.  Now that I’m so close to her heat, it’s harder to keep up the dialogue.  Well, actions speak louder than words anyway.

I let my fingertips graze her, and she gasps, convulsing.  The slow steady build up has resulted in super sensitivity.   I continue to touch her, softly stroking her with the back of one knuckle, up and down.  She’s soaked her panties through.

“Daddy… oh, Daddy.. that’s.. ohhhh….” moaning and breathing hard, she’s leaning back against my arm, wrapped around her shoulders.  I pull her more firmly against me.

“That feels good, doesn’t it, baby?  I can tell you like it because your panties are all wet.” Her eyelids fly open, alarmed, has she done something wrong?

“It’s OK baby, you didn’t do anything wrong, this is what happens when girls get excited.  You are excited, aren’t you baby? You like the way Daddy’s touching you, don’t you?”

She wets her lips, “Yes, Daddy, yes, I like it a lot, please don’t stop, please do it more.”  My girl wraps her arms around my shoulders and presses her face into my chest.  I kiss her head and press a knuckle against her clit.  She moans and pushes herself against my hand.  Soon, I’m pulling back the elastic and touching her directly.  She’s so wet, so ready for me.  I’m holding her tight, trying to keep her in place as she begins to let go into the pleasure.  I lift her head up so I can kiss her neck, breath into her ear, bite her just below the jaw line.

“Daddy, Daddy, please, I need it.. please, Daddy!”

“Oh, what is it that you need, darling girl?  What is it you think comes next?”

“Daddy, I feel all tingly and it feels good but it also feels… like I need something more.  It feels kinda achy too, Daddy.  Please Daddy, I need something, something more.”

“Oh my darling girl, yes you do, don’t you?  There is something else that boyfriends and girlfriends do together.  Girls have holes, you remember when we talked about girls and boys bodies?”  She’s nodding frantically against my chest, she wants me to get to it, needs it so badly she’s close to breaking character. “Girls have holes and boys have penises and sometimes when a girl and a boy like each other a lot, the boy will put his penis in her hole.”  She’s thrusting against my knuckles now, my hand balled into a fist. “But Daddy’s penis is very big and your little girl hole is small, so I don’t think we should do that.”

She looks up and gives a half-sob, “But Daddy!  Please, I need it, I want to do the things boy and girls do together, I want to be a big girl, please Daddy, please…” she delivers this while looking up at me with her fathomless eyes and I feel drawn in as I always do.

“You aren’t ready for Daddy’s big penis…yet.  But I can do something else that you will like.”  My finger slides into place at her opening, lightly stroking the ring.  She sucks in her breath, holding it, waiting. I could ask her again, if she’s ready, but I can see she is and so am I.

I enter her slowly, stroking her velvet walls, watching as her head goes back and her eyelids flutter.  I strengthen my hold on her and begin rhythmically fucking her sweet hole, first with one finger and then another.  The elastic of her panties tugs against my hand as I partially withdraw my fingers and I could pause to remove them but I don’t want to leave her hot, wet lustiness for even a moment.  She’s getting close, pressing her face into my chest again, thrusting against my fingers.

“Yes, yes, yesyes, Daddy.. ohhhh… Daddy!” She comes in a long burst of heat, shuddering in my arms and squeezing my hand tightly between her strong thighs.

I keep stroking, pressing against her, following her lead in this dance we do so well together.  She comes again, a long ecstatic rolling orgasm and as she comes back down to earth, I lay her down on the couch, legs draped over my lap.  I watch as she returns to the moment, petting her legs, telling her what a good girl she is, what a good good girl and Daddy is so proud.

She smiles and reaches for me to join her.  I lie down on her and wraps herself around me, kissing my face and smiling, giggling.  Her eyes are shining, she’s so happy and I’m happy because she is and because it is so fun to play with her, to do anything with her.

“So that worked for you?” I ask, smiling because I know the answer.

“Yes, lover, yes… mmm Daddy, my hot, hot Daddy.  Yes, that worked for me very well.”

I tilt my hips into her and we both groan.  My need has become almost painful.

“I think my Daddy needs something, too.”  Her fingers are playing with the short  hairs and the nape of my neck.

“Yes, my love, I do need ‘something’, would you join me in the bedroom and help me out with that?”

She pushes me up, “Yes!  I’m sure I can help you Daddy, let’s go.”

And she’s hustling down the hallway, pausing only to pull off her panties and fling them at me as I follow.

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Trans*date 09.24.2014: T Shot Day

I’m into my 4th month of taking testosterone.  Today I took my second shot at a higher dose, my first step up after 3 months at my initial dose.  It’s still not a high dose, but I like having some control over the step up of this…

tshot_4thmonth
Lining up my second dose of month 4.  I’m up to .4 ml or about 40% of a full dose.

 

I still sometimes nick a vein, but Dora’s good for patching me up.

dora_bandaid

So what’s changed in 4 months?  My voice has dropped from a low alto to a tenor and I love it.  It buzzes in my chest when I’m speaking in my lower register and I’m learning to sing with it as well.  I’m getting good reviews on both my speaking and singing voice.

Hair growth is coming along slowly.  My mustache is coming in thicker and darker, growing faster than it did before T.  My chin beard, already present before T, is getting darker.  And there is increased growth in the peach fuzz along my jaw line.  It’s hard to tell yet, but I may be starting to get some chest hair and belly hair growth.

10521653_824447820922498_8810506472053056569_nNow about the ‘other growth’ that some people have asked about… yeah, there is some.  If you don’t know, testosterone added to bodies with clitorises results in those body parts growing in girth and length and becoming penis-like.  So far I have gotten thicker, maybe a little longer (as reported by my girlfriend).  What I can feel is more thickness and a kind of knot in it, which a knowledgeable friend (Neighbor Femme) says it’s my new cockhead.  It’s all very exciting and new and *omg* sensitive to the point of painfulness sometimes.  I know now about ‘morning wood’ and sudden onset horniness in a whole new way.  But no, no pictures… you can find those elsewhere ;-)

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So I Should Post Something About My Girlfriend…

Yeah, I know, I’m a big ol’ lazy slacker.  I’ve been neglecting my blog and neglecting you all.  It’s not that I haven’t thought about blogging, it’s just that I’m so busy living there doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day.  Plus my work responsibilities are expanding so I don’t have as much free time during day.

As the Oregon Girl puts it, I’ve been busy sucking the marrow of life, so busy I don’t have much time to write about it.  Yes, I have and, wow, is it tasty.  There are a bunch of things I want to write about, but we’re going to start with OG because I’m fresh off an amazing weekend with her and I’d love to tell you all about it.

Well, most about it, there are a lot of moments I’m going to keep private.

So first of all, I gotta tell you, my Oregon Girl is pretty special.  I can honestly say that I’ve never met anyone like her.  She fits me so well, she fits me in ways I’d only dreamed were possible.  I keep thinking I know how good she is for me only to find something new.  I’m in love with her and she’s in love with me and it’s pretty damned amazing.

We spent this last weekend together at her place in Oregon, along a beautiful river.  We ate lots of great food, had fantastic sex and spent a lot of time hanging onto a floatie, naked in a cold river pool, watching salmon jump for insects.  It was the kind of getaway I crave during my hectic busy days in suburbia.  I crave her, too, crave the connections we’ve found in each other and the endless depths we are still exploring.  Yeah, I’m super in love with her and if you give me a drink and your ear, I’ll gush about her until you are sick of hearing about it.

She challenges me and inspires me.  She’s got some heavy life experiences, stuff that could crush a person but it hasn’t crushed her.  She’s strong, strong enough to hold me up and let me float free, strong enough to embrace my conflicts and my struggles.  And I get to be strong for her, too.  Strong enough to hold her when she’s overwhelmed, strong enough to be gentle when that’s what she needs most.  She challenges me in the best ways:  to be as authentic and real as I can be.  She sees all of me and loves all of me and I do the same for her.  I’m blown wide open right now, I’m leaking out and getting messy but she just smiles and holds as much as I give her.

It was beautiful this weekend, not just because I’m head over heels in love but because it was close to 90 degrees and we had a chunk of beautiful river all to ourselves.  For the first time in my life, I skinny dipped.  She’s a skinny dip enabler, my mermaid girl, and even though it was broad daylight, there was no one around but us and I couldn’t think of any good reasons not to get naked in the water with her.  The water was briskly cold at first but pretty soon it felt ‘just like regular’.

We floated and talked and had some intense moments.  We haven’t even spent two handfuls of days together yet, but our connection is deep and the energy we have between us is amazing.  Holding her hand or looking into her eyes hits me deep.  We’re on the same page most of the time and when we are physically together, and away from the stress of every day life, we are in sync in a way I’ve never experienced with anyone.

I brought my guitar and played for her, though I’m not ready for prime time, she was very encouraging and having my guitar there for whenever the mood struck me was really nice.  I also read something to her, something I’d written about us, while she made dinner.  And, Oh this is awesome, she has coloring books and really nice colored pencils and we had a blast Saturday evening coloring together.

Really, I could be doing anything with her and I would be a very happy guy.  Coloring, skinny dipping, shopping at Safeway, cleaning up, whatever it is, if we did it together, I’d have a great time.

She spoils me rotten, feeds me like a king and loves me up thoroughly.  She encourages me, she forgives me when I hurt her feelings, she shows me sides of her that she doesn’t normally expose and that leads me to open up even more to her.

She asked me to sing to her and I do love to sing.  I’ll jump on stage and grab a mic and put on a performance but with her, I felt shy.  It’s not just that my voice is changing and I’m still getting used to it, it’s that singing to an audience brings out my exhibitionist, it’s easy.  Singing to someone I love, one-on-one, is terrifying.  And wonderful.  And super intimate, peeling back more layers and dropping guards I’ve spent a lifetime holding up.  I sang to her, I made love to her with my voice and it was a wonderful thing.  I still feel shy about it, but I know it’ll get easier.

We’re building trust with each other, little by little, layering on experiences and stumbles and generosity and understanding and more love.  And it just gets better.  We haven’t come close to an end point to how interested we are in each other.  When she tells me how she sees the world, and what she wants from life and how she sees me fitting into it, I fall in love even more.  My life is better with her in it and I believe her when she tells me that her life is improved as well.  We’re both plenty strong and independent and we don’t need the other to save us and I think that’s a big part of why this works.  She doesn’t need me to rescue her – she likes it when I sweep the cobwebs away and split the wood for our fire, but she doesn’t need me to do it.  And as much as I have spent most of my romantic life playing the hero, I am done with that role.  At least in the swashbuckling, hop on my steed little darlin’, kind of way.  I want equals in my relationships, and sometimes I want to be rescued, too.

She tells me I’m the kind of feminist man she wants in her life, and I’m very proud of that.  And also grateful.  There was more than one time this weekend when I said “And I wouldn’t have gotten to this point with that if it hadn’t been for Roxy”.  And a couple of other times I gave a shout out to Neighbor Femme.  I am the beneficiary of some very good training and help given to me by people who love me.  And now because of the cumulative experiences in my life, I am in the midst of an amazing love affair with a wonderful amazing woman.  Gods, I’m a lucky guy.

OK, I could go on and on and on.  Let’s call this part 1 of a billion and I’ll call it quits for one night.  There’s a lot more to write about on the subject of my Oregon Girl. There are other subjects to write about as well, for example, my sweet Hippy Goddess and my kids and my wife and my job and my …. fill in the blank with something I haven’t written about enough lately.

Goodnight.  Sleep well, dream well, wake well.

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Life is Really Awesome

So much of the time I come to this entry screen to moan and groan about how hard life is but today I want to revel in the awesomeness I’m experiencing lately.  I want to roll around in it and get the smell all over me.

What’s new and awesome?  Everything.

But you want specifics:

I’m slowing down, settling in, quality over quantity.

Recently, it came to me that I needed to slow it down, that I was acting like I was on the continuous hunt and not appreciating what I already had in my life.  Or, more specifically, who I had in my life.  Over the course of about a week, this idea crystallized and I came up with an action plan:  step out of the hunt and concentrate on the relationships I am currently in, putting my focus and energy into those people rather than continually scanning the horizon for the next interesting person to come along.

Quality is my new way of being, over quantity.  This means I’ve been saying ‘no’ to some opportunities lately, and not just because I want to focus my romantic energies, but because I need to focus my energies period.  Too often, I stack events one after the other without down time in between.  Down time is important for refilling my bucket energetically, and also so I can integrate and ponder the experiences I’m having.  When I don’t take enough time around events, I get tired, sick, grumpy and not fun to be around.

Along with saying ‘no’ to additional connections, I have had the pleasure of saying ‘yes’.  I said ‘yes’ to a woman who lives in my neighborhood who I’ve been dating for a while now and ‘yes’ to a someone I’ve been hoping to connect with who lives a bit farther away.  Along with those two lovely lovers, I’m focusing more energy on my family, giving more time and attention to my wife and kids.

I’m going to call my neighbor Hippy Goddess because she will smile and shake her head at me.  She’s tall and powerful and sexy and knows some serious sex magic.  I love being able to stop by her house and ask her out on spontaneous lunch dates.  She and I have known of each other for over 10 years, as people living within the queer community here, but just during this year, we’ve really gotten to know each other.  And we like what we’ve gotten to know.  She’s definitely a keeper.

And then there’s the Oregon Girl, who lives to the south of me, too far for spontaneous visits but not too far to plan a lot of adventures together.  We’ve been to her family cabin in Oregon and to the Olympic Club in Centralia.  We have tickets to the Shawn Mullins show in Seattle in October and plans to get together later in September as well.  We are having a wonderfully flirtatious affair via the internet.  Thank goodness for the internet.  She’s someone I’ve been interested in for quite some time but couldn’t court because of her relationship situation.  Since that has opened up, I’ve been able to show her more of the real me, to excellent results.  OG is a big reason I’ve decided to get real and settle down into the relationships I had rather than be perpetually on the hunt.  She invited me to swim in the deep end.  I really like being in the deep end with her, she makes me think, tells great stories and gets me fired up in so many ways.

For those of you following from home, you might be wondering, “What about your Sweetheart in Seattle?”  She has decided to pursue monogamy with someone else and I wish her well in that pursuit.  I love her dearly and always will.

So now y’all are caught up with me… I have Gender Odyssey this weekend and I’ll be doing all the things and leading two workshops and participating in another and getting filmed for a documentary.  I’m hoping that once I get back, I can settle back into another of my loves… writing.  See you later.

 

 

 

 

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Things I’m Not Good At

I’m not good at being shallow.

I can do it, I can operate on the surface, skimming through conversations and interactions but I’m left cold, empty, unsatisfied, drained.  I can’t imagine the people on the other side of that equation feel any better about it.

I’m not good at being a player.

I dabble, I can talk the game, I can write it in a story, in slick dialogue meant to dazzle and drop panties but it’s not me.  I play the long game, I swim in the deep end. I dive in and taste the current and get into the flow.  I’m about patience and endurance and building foundations.

I’m not good at one offs.

I’m sticky, I take root.  I’m hard to get rid of with my taproot snaking around the concrete of your foundation.

I’m not good at being cold and mechanical.

I’m an emotional person, I feel deep and my feelings have a lot of power in my life.  It’s hard for me to have a good time sexually unless I’m feeling something emotionally.  That’s not to say I need to be in love every time, but I need to feel something more than ambivalence.

I’m not good at cheating.

I don’t hold lies well, whether they’re mine or not.  I’m not good at fudging the truth when it matters, much less holding up a bald-face lie.  I will keep secrets, I’m very confidential.  I don’t tell the story that isn’t mine to tell, I’m not into gossip.  But I can’t go deep where lying is the norm.

Some things I am good at:

I am good at being easy.

Easy to like, easy to talk to, easy to hang out with, easy to kiss, easy to love.

I’m damned good at sex.

You’ll just have to trust me on that.  Unless you know.

I’m good at being open.

If I’m getting involved with someone, I’m doing it intentionally and transparently.  What I have is good and deep and tasty and I’m gonna give it wholeheartedly and honestly. I’m not good at half-way, I go all in.  I want to make connections, strong and deep like tree roots.  I want to be the deep pool that’s good for reflecting and a refreshing place to sink into.

Now that I’ve written all this, I’m not sure why.  I guess it hurts my feelings when people accuse me of being a player because I am really a very honorable person who values agency and consent and honest communication.  I’m really not good for one night stands and connection free sex.  Kind of the opposite.  I’m into investing, taking my time, waiting for sex until it feels right on both sides (granted, sometimes that’s not very long).  I want connection, I want attraction, I want to enjoy the non-sex times as much as the hotwetnasty times.  As much as I like discovering new people and new places, I also value consistency.  Once I’ve found someone I really like, I want to keep them.

And maybe that’s the real threat, maybe that’s what the problem is, maybe that’s why people who are insecure in their relationships get nervous and defensive about me.  It’s not that I’m a player who’s gonna love ‘em and leave ‘em.  It’s that I’m not.  I stick around, I make an impression.

I’m a keeper.

 

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Trans*date: 2014.07.13 … About Boobs

I’ve been searching for a while for a way to describe how I feel about my breasts.  For a while now, I’ve felt somewhat apologetic about my lack of hatred for them.  I’ve never hated them in the way that so many other trans men – or even butches – do.  No, I don’t hate them, I have received great pleasure through them.  They provided sustenance for my newborn daughter.  Though it’s true that when they appeared during adolescence, it felt as though everything was turning against me, as an adult, I came to a place of peace with them.  I even liked having them for a while, as obvious signs of my butch and female identity.

Until that wasn’t my identity any longer.

So what do I feel now?

I don’t like how they look.  No, I hate how they look under my clothes.  I don’t mind them bared, but I don’t walk around bare breasted that often, sadly.  In my day to day life, under t-shirts and polos, button downs and tank tops, they aren’t working for me any more.  I wince at their reflection in the mirror and I’ve deletes selfies that seemed to emphasize them too much.

So what has changed? Is this true dysphoria or am I adopting this sense of rejection from the outside.  Am I pushing them a way because of my transition, because I feel I’m expected to?

I still don’t hate them, I don’t loathe my body as it is or has been but i feel like it doesn’t fit me as well as it could.  sometimes when we feel that way, we go on diets, or work out more or go in for cosmetic surgery.  Is it just vanity to want these ever-more-sagging blobs of fat removed?  Maybe it is, but more and more I feel that my path forward leads through top surgery.

And still, I feel a bit guilty about that.  It seems that I should be more emotionally damaged about my female chest, that the existence of my breasts should be driving me harder.  I don’t bind because it’s too inconvenient and uncomfortable.  I’d love to have them be less prominent and more controlled but I haven’t wanted it enough to bind, so why does surgery look like such an appealing prospect?  I feel guilty that I am not suffering the kind of pain that others do, the pain that leads them to bind and damage their bodies in the pursuit of the physical profile they need to feel whole.

But really the overriding feeling I have about my breasts is indifference.  Maybe I’m distancing myself from them because I’ve already made the decision somewhere in my mind, to have them removed.

Maybe its just that they’ve done their jobs and it’s time to retire them.  I’m feeling so dispassionate about them that it’s a bit concerning.  Shouldn’t I be feeling more about this?

I think about two of my closest friends and how strongly they feel about top surgery.  These are people who identify as genderqueer and they are as unhappy with their chests as any trans men I’ve heard from.  And the stories I’ve read about trans men and the torment they suffered because their breasts and the huge sense of relief they felt once they’d gotten through top surgery.

Will I feel that?  Will I have a sense of relief, of homecoming into the body I intentionally construct from the one I was born into?  Can one feel great relief from indifference?  I’m not there yet, perhaps I’ll feel something more by the time I get there.

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