Butchtastic Social Media Update

In case you weren’t aware of Butchtastic’s social media presence, here’s a run down:

If you want to connect to me through Facebook, I have a personal blog page.  If you ‘Like’ my page, not only will I appreciate it, you’ll get notified when I post new entries here.

I have recently started a new tumblr, The Real Butchtastic.  Blog posts will be posted to my tumblr and I will also share other tumblr posts that turn me on in some way.  Additionally, I share Gay Like This with Roxy – though we haven’t updated it in quite some time, there are a lot of sexy pics there.

I still have a twitter account, ButchtasticKyle.  I don’t spend as much time there as I did, seven years ago.  But I stop in occasionally and this blog posts links there as well.

As always, I welcome respectful questions sent by anyone who is truly interested in my answer.  Wondering about my sex life?  Who I’m dating?  My family, my job, my hobbies, my transition?  Email me — Kyle at Butchtastic dot net.

 

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The Way She Sees Me

My new love, the one who seems most able to make love stay in a way that makes my heart sing and thump and shake it’s rump… she sees me.  This morning I sent her a picture of my morning face.  She said something about the bear fuzziness showing, and then realized it was shadow… at least to the biological eye.  To her true eye, it was foreshadowing… this is what she told me next:

——————————

I can see the hair, like an aura. The new hairs give off energy as they poke through. So, it’s already there… Just not that long.

I see YOU.

Your becoming and unfolding is…
Lovely
Delightful
Scary
Wonderful
Special
Privileged that you share with ME
Amazing
Beautiful
Spiritual
Loving
Like a sunrise
Like a sunset
Like crocus poking through the snow
Like bright red maple leaves before they’re all red
Like kittens with newly open eyes
Like children learning to walk, run, bike, drive, live
Like art
I just love you

—————————————-

Thank you, I love you, too… thank you for seeing me and loving me and for all the wonderful ways you show me how you feel, and also, thank you for being you, for owning your truth and being a force of love and truth in the world.

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Returning to the Dungeon

Tomorrow night I will be attending a public play party for the first time in two years.  The last time I went to the Seattle Center for Sex Positive Culture (nee The Wetspot), I was triple topped in a powerful scene that left me crying my eyes out in much needed release.

Between now and then I’ve gone through a dark time of depression, started and ended therapy, started transition, gotten legally married and taken on a new professional role with my company.  I’ve had four new lovers and broken up with three of them.

I am about to go pack a bag for adventure.  Tomorrow my boyfriend, Mal, will be coming up from Portland and we will go up to Seattle together.  We’ve got a hotel room and a pretty good plan for the evening.  We’ll be going to Blood, Sweat and Queers.  It’s the first time for Mal, the first time in two years for me.  Also, I will be topping publicly for the first time.  Mal will be there as my boy and I could not be prouder or more excited.

We have talked about what we want to do and how we want to do it.  We have our outline, our expectations, our hopes.  We have a lot of ideas.  We’re both excited and nervous, each wanting to please the other.

We might do everything we’ve planned for.  We may do none if it and write a completely new script by the time we get there.  No matter what, I know that we’ll enjoy each other and our new adventure will be a success.  This is a new beginning for both of us.

And damn, it’s gonna be hot.

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Like a Clear Blue Sky

About a month ago, one of my poems was published in the Elephant Journal

I want my love to be like a clear blue sky

with perfect conditions for flying

I want my life to be an excellent launch pad

a firm foundation of love and support

I want my loves to cheer me on as I take flight

watch as I soar and glide

And receive me with open arms full of love

when I land

 

And I will do the same for them

let my heart be your firm foundation

When you want to fly

know that I am cheering you on

I am watching your beautiful flight

and waiting to receive you

With open arms full of love

and a heart that will always be your landing place

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Trans* Folks, Where do You Get Your Fashion Cues From?

While talking to my boyfriend, Mal, the other day, we got on the topic of masculine fashion and our personal styles.  I feel like my style borrows somewhat from my high school days, but also from my take on working class casual.  I like t-shirts under plaid button-downs (long and short sleeve, depending on the weather).  I wear button fly Levis and favor tennis shoes or boots.  Socially, I hang around guys who are 30s-40s more than guys my age, and I know some of them have influenced my fashion tastes.

For example, I know for certain I won’t be wearing a fedora or trilby any time soon.  And sometimes I find myself lost in a sea of short sleeved plaid shirted guys when I’m out and about.

I’m curious what other trans* and gender non-conforming people have to say on the topic.  As you began to dress according to your true gender, where did you look for fashion advice?  Can you link your current style to a family member, or influential friend or maybe a celebrity?  Or maybe you’ve carved out your very own fashion niche.

I’d love to hear from you.

 

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Date Night with My Boyfriend

We were in a saltwater town on the peninsula, holding hands and kissing every chance we got.  Sitting in one of the many pizza joints with a lot of other Seahawks fans watching the game, I looked across the table at my boyfriend, Mal.  I reached out for his hand and had an interesting realization.

I leaned over the table and whispered, “Do you think the folks here see us as two gay guys?”

He said, “Probably not, my voice is a little high.”

I wasn’t so sure, with his sharp new hair cut and the compression top and packy I loaned him, he was looking like a handsome gay boy to me.  And I don’t think that’s all just rose-colored glasses either.

Either way, it gave me some brain food to chew on.  I am used to being seen as a butch dyke with my girlfriend, I am getting accustomed to being seen as a straight dude with his girlfriend.  What I have is zero experience being seen as a gay man with his boyfriend.

I liked it.  I liked it a lot. It gave me giddy happy bubbles in my belly, as a matter of fact.

It also flashed through my mind, as we walked out of the pizza joint and down the sidewalk, that gay men experience a lot of homophobic harassment and violence. Being in a small out-of-the-way town in a largely conservative area meant I *should* be mindful of that danger.  I gave it a thought or two, but it didn’t stop me from slipping my hand onto his arm and letting him lead me down the sidewalk.  And that particular act was meaningful for both of us.  I felt the way his shoulders went back and I felt myself blush.  I had been the ‘arm’ for so many of my dates over the years but had never been on the arm of someone else before.  I felt really cared for and special.  That’s how we make each other feel, cared for and cherished and lusted after and special.

This courtliness lasted a few blocks until I saw a dark alley that needed to be exploited. I pushed him against the wall and we kissed hard.  Our hands were all over each other, my hand between his legs, right where I’d wanted it for a couple of hours already.  I squeezed and stroked his packy and pressed it against his clit, making him gasp.  Then I reached under, to where his jeans were wet with desire.  We paused for a moment as some innocent bystanders went by on the sidewalk.  Giggling we moved further into the alley to where it opened up in a small courtyard.

An empty and fully lighted parking garage beckoned from under the building ahead of us.  Mal led the way and we peeked out at the sidewalk through the iron bars separating us from the street.  I pressed up against his sweet ass, letting him feel my bulge.  He groaned and my hips started working.  I was imagining my cock inside him, and and rubbed out a quick orgasm, muffling my cries against his shoulder.  Damn, he’s hot.  All that kissing and groping had me pretty worked up.

From there we continued our tour of “dark places to have public sex in Port Townsend’, giggling and slapping ass.  Next stop was a dark alcove just off a sidewalk near a Thai restaurant.  I pushed him back against the wall, and reached between his legs again.  That wet spot beckoned.  I pressed my fingers against his front hole, kissing and biting his lips, neck and shoulder. Sliding my hand inside his pants, finding his little cock, my sexy Mal came for me, crying out as quietly as he could, eyes wild, breathing hard.  I kissed him softly and he flipped me around, slamming me against the wall with a thud.  That’s when I realized the restaurant was open and we were easily visible if anyone had bothered to look.

He smiled the wicked smile I’ve grown to love, “Pretty hot, huh?”

I watched over his shoulder as one couple exited the restaurant and went the opposite way down the sidewalk.  His fingers found my hot spot and I came watching the waiter walk through the place, walking in our direction but not looking up to see him grinding against me.

Pretty hot?  Yes, lover, very hot.  Hot that you will stand me up against a wall and make me come, more than once.  Hot that you love being sexy and dangerous as much as I do.  Hot that you are just as willing to fuck me as you are to be fucked.  Seriously, incandescently hot.  Hot in a way that has seared the experience with you into my mind and heart.

Eventually, we continued on our way, holding hands, kissing when we felt the urge, goofing around down by the water.  Being with him brings out a whole different side of me, a boyish side, a playful, excitable, physical side.  I feel in turns aggressive and shy, sometimes within moments.  He is handsome, funny, sexyhot, smart and … well.. he knows just how to turn my crank.  I’ve been interested in being in a relationship with another guy for quite a while, but it just hasn’t worked out until now.  This guy, this handsome sweet, sexy guy, he’s got the stuff I’ve been looking for.  He is the combination of masculine and feminine that fits into the other side of my equation.  His kinks fit my kinks really well.  With him I feel safe to let my faggot side come out to play.  No, not just safe – I feel wanted, desired, craved.  I know I am the man he wants, and he’s the man for me.

It was an amazing weekend.  I am so lucky.  The luckiest.  I have a lot more to say about Mal and that weekend, and more… but that’s another post.

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Aggression, Anger and Topping: Finding the Way Through My Inner Maze

If I visualize my inner landscape as a maze, which isn’t hard to do, I can see my whole life as a journey toward the center of the maze.  What do I expect to find there?  I’m not sure, really, but that doesn’t stop me from working really hard to get there.

I can remember when I first started exploring BDSM, especially D/s, I confused topping with anger and violence and confused subbing with weakness.  I’ve learned a lot and grown a lot since then, on both sides of that dynamic equation.

When I was with Roxy, I mostly subbed to her.  I was her boy, her warrior, her challenge and her joy.  At times we switched, I topped her a few memorable times.  I wanted more of that and so did she, but I kept running up against internal barriers.  At the time, I couldn’t see how to access the aggressive dominant side of me without going through anger and violence.  It seemed to me I needed to step through those doors in order to get to a place where I could strike my lover, to cause pain.  That the pain was being asked for and was informed and consensual wasn’t enough to break down that wall.

Since then, I’ve been topped by others and continued to grow and understand myself better through those experiences.  I have also had more and more opportunities to explore my dominant side.  The first path I took in working through my internal blockage was through Daddy/girl scenarios.  I had willing lovers, I had a way to visualize my dominance that did not depend on violence and anger.  It worked for me, and them.  I could explore my desire to cause consensual pain, mixed it with sex and fetish.  Plus it was hot, really fucking hot.  Being able to meet my lover’s needs and have my needs met feels so good.  And it felt authentic, dominance settled comfortably into my role as Daddy, I didn’t feel that I was playing a role after a while, but rather that I was expressing another side of my self.

Daddy/girl became easier with practice, and my fertile imagination was eager to come up with new scenarios I could share with my lover.  I had gotten through some of the internal blockage keeping me from exploring my dominant side.  I felt like I’d hit my stride.

However, Daddy/girl wasn’t the center of that particular maze, not the endpoint but rather one of the cul-de-sacs I could explore more fully over time.  I have been feeling pulled to explore further, and fortunately, I have found an excellent fellow explorer.  I am currently involved with someone who is firing my D/s imagination along several lines of fetish.  I feel comfortable enough, trust her enough, to submit to her. I love being her boy.  I know I have new ground to gain in my exploration of submission with her.

I also have new territory to explore as a Dom.  Sometimes I am Papa to her boy, a relationship dynamic I have been fantasizing about for quite a while.  I now have a delicious, wonderful, sexy, strong boy who craves physical attention from his Papa.  It is through my boy that I was able to break through another internal barrier last weekend.   She has been asking me to be more physical, to hit her harder, to use my fists and belt and teeth and cock to cause the pain that brings her pleasure.  She’s done her best to provoke me — biting teeth, pinching fingers, punching fists, using her words — but my reaction has been to stifle my anger, to increase the control I have over my emotions as I attempt to control her.  And … let me tell you, she’s not easy to control. She’s strong.  She’s strong enough that it takes all my effort to keep her from flipping me. So why do I hold back hitting her as hard as she wants?  Why can’t I give her the reaction she’s asking for? Am I holding back out because of sexism, don’t I think she can take it as well as I can?  These are the questions I’ve been chasing around my head and I would not be surprised if she has been as well.

This past weekend, she eventually found a way to get me to hit her, or rather he did.  Sitting in her car after spending most of the weekend together, we kissed hard, not wanting to let go. I reached between her legs to stoke her fire.  Then my boy asked me to get rough with him, “Papa, don’t you think I’m tough enough?”  To say his words lit my fire is an understatement.

I pulled back and hit him in the chest, he gasped and I could see the heat in his eyes.  My boy, yes, he is tough.  I hit him again on the other side.  The world outside the car fell away, it was just the two of us, Papa and his handsome, sexy boy.

“Show me how strong and tough you are boy… I want you to beat off while I hit you.” My voice was a dark, husky whisper.  My cock was so hard for him.  Loosening his belt and fly, watching his hand slide between his legs… his moan was almost enough to make me come.

I hit him over and over.  Chest, shoulders, arms, inner thighs.  All the while he stroked his slick little cock, face growing flushed, eyes at half mast.  I looked intently at his face.

“Do you want to come, boy?”

He moaned and nodded his head frantically, “Please, Papa, please…”

I started pounding him again, “Yes, boy, yes, come for your Papa.  Come for me, my good boy!”

Afterward, I kissed his sweet face, tasted the come on his fingers.  ”Good boy” I purred, “My good, sweet boy, such a good strong boy for Papa.  I love you so much, my sweet strong boy.”

He positively glowed.  I was proud of him, and proud of myself.  I’d gotten through another barrier, with his help.

I held her and kissed her and didn’t want to let go. My home was beckoning, and my life and responsibilities.  I knew I had to go, we both had to go, but neither of us wanted to let go of that moment.

“You know, your girl is tough, too.”  She said quietly, “I’m strong enough to take all of that and more.  He has the same body I do, we can both take everything you give us.”

I know she’s strong, I know this is what we both want — to have the full range of our desires available within the beautiful, fiery amazing love we are building together.  I told her that she had done the right thing, going to Papa this time.  She had accessed that part of me in a way I could relate to and be enthusiastic about and which sidestepped the issues I have about using anger and violence to top.  She would love to see me to be less controlled, she wants me to react, to hit her in reaction to what she’s doing to provoke me, but I don’t know that I can do it as an anger reaction.  Even with her asking me to.

And why is that?  What is that barrier about?  Well, first, I don’t know that I want to get to a point where losing control is the way I top.  But I do want to make use of my power, my strength in a way that my lover finds sexy and which serves both of our kinks.  I can do that without losing control, the Papa/boy scene in the car gave me some insight into a path I can take to make that happen.

In examining my internal barrier and my need to control violent aggressive impulses, I followed another familiar path.  The one that leads back to my childhood and examples of violence and aggression that I did not want to emulate.  My mom didn’t manage her anger well, neither did my brother.  My dad, in contrast, got more calm in a crisis, quieter, more patient.  I’ve always been a lot like my dad and he’s been my role model in a lot of things.  And that childhood experience in different ways to deal with anger is the foundation of the way I deal with it now.  I am very afraid of the potential for hurting people non-consensually out of anger.  So I clamp down on it, I breathe through it, walk it off, talk it off until I can speak and act calmly.

And that is why when she was biting the back of my arm, and pinching me until I howled, I got more controlled rather than less.  This is how I’ve dealt with flares of anger since I was a kid.  There’s a story about anger and violence I’ve been telling myself since I was very young and that story has a lot of power over me.  Not a bad thing, my pattern for dealing with anger, it’s certainly kept me out of trouble over the years, however, now I find myself wanting to tell a new story in some circumstances.

I think another obstacle that I need to overcome is rooted in sexism, sadly.  I think I’ve  internalized the message that I wasn’t to hit girls, that I was to hold back from delivering the full measure of my strength when playing with girls and women.  Which is interesting considering that on the soccer field or the basketball court, I had no such self-enforced limitations.  Maybe I need to see my D/s partners as fellow athletes, maybe that is something I can use to turn my attitude around.  So apparently the script I’ve been following splits physical activities into sexual and non-sexual.  When engaging in non-sexual activities, I am ‘allowed’ the full expression of my strength and competitiveness, but sex is another category.  I know I’m rambling a bit here, but let me finish this train of thought.  What is it about sex that causes me to hold back my strength?  Is it my old way of connecting sex with romanticism?  Can’t hit someone I’m in love with?  Can’t be aggressive and dominate my romantic partner?  Hmmm…much to crunch on.

What I do know is she and I will continue to explore our edges together, and so will he and I.  There are so many fabulous ways for us to connect, the possibilities are nearly infinite.

 

 

 

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Trans*date 01-10-2015: the Evolution of my Singing Voice

I recorded myself singing a couple of days ago, singing a song that I’ve been learning over the last month, Ball and Chain by Max Gomez.  After I posted that recording to YouTube, I listened to the recording I did before my voice started changing due to testosterone… oh yeah, my voice has dropped a lot.. check it out

Now:

Then:

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Trans*date 01.07.2015: Noticeable

{left a voice message inviting Neighbor Femme to a pie date, we haven’t seen each other in a few months}
{she texted back} Omg, your voice!
{me} Did you have to do a double-take?
{she} I didn’t believe it was you until you said pie date
{me} I should have said, ‘this is Kyle’
{she} my phone said it was, I am amazed!

I am grinning so big today, I love reconnecting with people like that, people who aren’t seeing me everyday.  The people who see me all the time have that same sense of changes blurring together that parents do watching their kids grow.  It’s not noticeable until we see that their pants have inexplicably gotten too short.

Other things happening related to transition… I’m using men’s rooms in public now, where ever possible.  The other night, at a bar in town, I used the men’s room with it’s non flushing toilet once, and used the women’s both times after that.  On my way to Portland last weekend, I stopped at a rest area and after some internal debate, decided to use the women’s.  Getting stared at as I walked to a stall had me second guessing the decision.  It was full daylight, I should have just used the men’s.  So with few exceptions, I’ve switched.  I haven’t gotten any grief in men’s rooms so far.  I still get a little anxious but it’s getting less stressful with practice.

Hair on my chest and belly.  The chest hairs increase little by little and my belly hairs are getting denser and darker.  Also, my belly shape has changed.  It’s not spread across my middle like it used to be, it’s concentrated in the front more now.  It’s really noticeable when I bind (which is most of the time when I leave the house) because my belly is more visible to me when I look down.

I am at 6 months and now taking what will likely be the dose I will stay with.  I am super happy I decided to do this.

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Suburban Butch Dad Report: Hug With Caution

I returned home from an overnight date with WitchyWoman yesterday and received a lovely and enthusiastic greeting from my Spawn2.  Now, I love an enthusiastic hug, and my children are very good at delivering them, the only complaint I had was .. OUCH!

My sweet loving date had bit me all up and I have some bruises developing.. all in the hugging area, apparently.  My daughter didn’t just hug me that evening, she climbed all over me and managed… though some wee witchy magic powers .. to directly connect with each and every bruise.

On the one hand, OUCH!  On the other… constant reminders of a really good date.

 

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