Archive for August, 2009
Microfantasy Monday, week 43 : sounds
This week’s Microfantasy Monday theme is brought to us by the incomparable Ang, the Sweltering Celt…. Sound.

I hold the phone close, pressing it against my perspiring ear, not
wanting to miss a single sound…

That gasp… I imagine my hand touching her, sliding across her
belly, pausing just between her legs

A sharp intake of breath…my fingers finding slippery wet folds

A groan that comes from her navel.. no, below that, farther inside,
from somewhere in her past, the place where her deepest fantasies
live …

Her voice rises now.. from that guttural growl to a keening wail…
a sound that reaches into me, pulls at me, turns my dampness into a steady flow..

She pants, grunts and growls in a way that is her own.. bringing to
mind moonlit ruts and animal passions that don’t answer to mundane human concerns for safety or propriety…

I squirm in my seat, loosen my belt and force a hand into my briefs..

My harsh, gasping breaths match hers,

my groans, a counterpoint to hers,

our final, drawn out moans intertwined as we climaxed together,

together,

but hundreds of miles apart

Thinking about Butch Space

Roxy attended Butch Voices this past weekend, and I was very excited for her as well as very, very envious. I crave the company and support and camaraderie of my butch brethren. This desire to hang and swap stories and be social with other masculine-identified-female-born folk isn’t a new thing, but the need is building. And I think it’s time I did something about it.

I’m going to try to start a butch social group. My idea is to invite others who identify as butch to hang out with me.  I’m interested in trading war stories, talking about how we express our masculinity and how it’s being received in our lives.  The topic of FTM transitioning is also one worth opening the floor  to.   Whether we’re interested in transitioning ourselves or not, there’s a lot we can relate to with transguys — we’re all trying to figure out how to express masculinity in a way that works for us.

Lots of practical things come to mind, too, like sharing information on where to shop for men’s clothing that fits our bodies and where we feel supported in our shopping efforts. Or helping other butches learn practical skills like tie tying and find resources on where to shop for packing cocks and other butch-cessories. And, of course, it would be a space where we could talk about relationships, friendships, families, and anything else that comes up.

I know this kind of thing needs to start small, manageable and not too time consuming. So maybe a monthly gathering of some kind, at a bar, or somewhere for butch brunch, or in someone’s backyard for a butch barbeque. Eventually, maybe we could organize to have speakers, go to events, or organize for gender and queer issues. But in the beginning, just having a group of guys I can socialize with would be nice.  I’m going to post to some community websites and create flyers for some local haunts once I get it figured out.

I don’t know how many of my readers who are butch identified live nearby, but if you are somewhere in the South Sound area of Washington State and this kind of social group is of interest to you, please leave a comment or send me email at kyle_style5000@live.com.  And, if you’ve done something like this and want to share information and experiences, please consider emailing me as well.

For more info on Butch Voices, visit ButchVoices.com.  There’s also a Facebook group, a Twitter account, a Myspace page and a LiveJournal presence.

Half-Nekkid Thursday : tired

This is how I look most of the time lately:  very very tired


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Being tired is a way of life at the House of Kyle these days.  Baby V is growing like crazy, fueled by seemingly constant feeding.  My wife looks like a zombie much of the time, so when I get home from work, I do my best to get lots of housework done and take the baby off her hands.  I’m usually up until midnight or so, Mrs. Kyle even later, and then there’s the feeding that happens sometime after last call, but we’re never sure when.  Then I’m up at 6 a.m.

At the same time, Spawn1 has needs as well and so we’re doing our best to give her focused attention.  School is fast approaching, and along with it, an increased number of events crowding our family calendar.  Soccer, art class, Girl Scouts and PTA meetings…. so when are we gonna catch up on this sleep thing?  I’m sure V will settle into a predictable eating and sleeping pattern at some point, I just hope it’s soon.

I do have moments of lucidity and energy and motivation.  Unfortunately, they usually strike at work, and the things I’m motivated to do are at home. 

But enough of that bitchin, let’s talk about the good stuff.  The baby’s growing a lot, she’s at around 11 pounds now, keeping up with her pound a week growth pattern.  And judging by how her footie pajamas fit, she’s probably grown another inch, too.    Overall, even with sleep deprivation, life is good.

 

Happy HNT everyone :-)

To see all the other HNT posts for the day, go to Views from the Back Row, from whence the HNT goodness has come.

Microfantasy Monday, week 42 : Questions & Answers

Miss Ang, the Sweltering Celt, is the beautiful woman behind Microfantasy Monday.  This week she gives us “Questions & Answers” as our theme.  My approach to this theme is inspired by the lovely, and sadistic, Roxy.

—–

He’s bent over a small ottoman in the center of the room, wrists bound behind his back. The dim lighting creates ominous shadows as I stride quickly from the doorway to stand directly in front of him.   I reach out to touch his hair and he winces.  I chuckle at him and grab a handful, pulling his head back painfully.

I smile at his grimace and he growls at me, still my beautiful, defiant one. “When I left the room, you had such beautiful marks.. they have faded so much in such a short amount of time. We’re going to have to do something about that, aren’t we?” He glares at me and I slap his face. “Answer me, boy!”

He hesitates a moment before forcing “Yes, ma’am” out of his gritted teeth.

“Oh, now, that won’t do at all” I say, in a voice both sweet and menacing. “Time to refresh these marks, boy.”

“I have some questions for you… you’re some kind of geek, right?  So these should be simple… ” I stroke his ass with the heavy paddle I’ve chosen and he groans, muscles flinching away slightly. “Listen closely.. *whack* which is bigger *whack* a petabyte or a *whack, WHACK* terabyte? *whack… whack… ” He knows the answer, but is panting and groaning from each strike, which he knows will continue until he answers. Finally he shouts the answer.

“Petabyte!”

“Oh.. smart boy.. but *whack* that’s not *whack* how I’ve instructed you *WHACK whack* to answer me *whack* is it.”

“Ohgodd!! … Ma’am, a petabye is ..
*whack*
” mmmfff! … is bigger than a …
*whack*
“.. nnngggg.. than a terabyte, MA’AM!”

“See? That’s not so hard is it?  What a good boy you are.. here.. drink some water.. ” I hold a small ceramic pet bowl of water up under his face. He knows well enough to lap as much up as he can quickly. I put the bowl down after a few moments, and watch him struggle to regain his breath and composure. I pet his head, then run my fingers down his back, across welts gained earlier and then to his muscular ass, where I probe and massage the mass of red marks gathered there. “Oh, what beautiful color you have now, boy.” I delight in his moans and in the way he flinches. I run a finger up the crack of his ass, pausing at his puckered hole. His moans take on a different quality, as he pushes against my finger.

“hmmmm.. well, I’ll be back in a little while with something I think you’ll really like” slipping my fingertip into him, drawing a loud gasp and a hard backward thrust that I pull away from.

And with a final open-handed smack to his ass — eliciting another loud moan and whimper — I leave him to recover and ponder what comes next.

Pleasurists #43

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via sexy_photo

Pleasurists is a round-up of the adult product and sex toy reviews that came out in the last seven days from bloggers all around the sex blogosphere. Did you miss Pleasurists #42? Read it all here. Do you have a review for Pleasurists #44? Submit it here before Sunday August 30th at 11:59pm PDT. Please re-post this list on your own blog if listed.
Note: No Editor’s Pick again this week, instead enter one of the many many contests that are going on!

Want to win some free swag? All you’ve got to do is enter.

Madame Editrix
Scarlet Lotus St. Syr

On to the reviews…

Vibrators

Dildos

Anal Toys

Toys for Cocks

Lube, Massage Oil, Bath Stuff, & etc.

BDSM/Fetish

Adult Books

Adult Movies/Porn

Sex Furniture

Miscellaneous

Pleasurists adult product review round-up banner

Honestly? Crap….

Girlfriend Amber (Divergent Dance) has taken it upon herself to tag me again on the Honest Scrap meme.  Since I already did it once by the rules, I’ll do it once without. So here it is.. more honest crap from me…

I still believe in the aphrodisiatic properties of green M&Ms.

I like to drink really good tequila, sip it really, no lemon or salt needed, accompanied by a good amber microbrew

I am really ticklish #@*&% and on my @#$@@.

I’ve been pregnant twice, one ended in a miscarriage.

I am a pain slut (completely unrelated to the previous fact).

I lost my virginity to an upturned chair leg, by accident.

I’ve been to the Kennedy Space Center twice.. totally love that place.. it’s geek Disneyland.

It is a rare 2 minute span that a sexual thought doesn’t cross my mind.

I’m not afraid to dance with myself if there’s no one to dance with.

I’ve only broken one bone in my body, my right pinky, playing volleyball, first joint capsule.

I have my own nail polish, Manic Panic, all dark colors.. i used to paint my toenails all the time.

Ok, that’s it.. not tagging anyone else, the chain letter ends here people.. and there’s another one.. I don’t believe that terminating chain letters causes bad luck.. that’s just stupid.. who in they’re .. right.. OH NOOOOO.. NOT THAT!!!… ;alskjdf;laksjd;lkajs….

Reviewing Clover Clamps

When I saw Clover Clamps on the review list, I jumped at the chance to review them.  I have some adjustable nipple clamps, alligator style, but I had a hard time keeping them on my nipples.. and they weren’t nearly tight enough.

But clover clamps.. oh yeahhhhh.. these babies hold on tight, with a bite that’s sooo sooo right. They are going to have a place in my sexual toolkit without a doubt.  They make my alligator clamps look like toys, frankly (I realize the gators work for a lot of people, but they don’t bite hard enough for me).

clover_review

I did a little research on these clever devices and at least one source says they were originally used by Japanese fisherman as sail clamps.  They have small, nubby rubber pads on the contact surface and the tension increases as they are pulled on.  Mine have a chain connecting the two clamps, so pulling on the chain increased the pressure on my nipples.  If that gets boring, you can also start attaching small weights to the clamps where the chains connect.  Fishing line sinkers would work for this and there are small weights available at some sex toy stores and websites. 

I’m giving the Clover Clamps my highest rating, 5 boots because they are good looking and perform the way I expect them to and because I really love nipple play.  These aren’t terribly expensive, either, $24 at Babeland.

fullbootfullbootfullbootfullbootfullboot

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Half-Nekkid Thursday : challenge

Although there is plenty of seriousness in my relationship with Roxy, there is also a lot of play.  One of the games we like to play is one where she challenges me to do something, and then I go do it*.  These challenges have been increasing in difficulty and so we have the one she proposed for me a couple of days ago.

buzzycontroller_sm2

In case you can’t tell what this is a picture of, I’ll tell you.  It’s a controller for a buzzy toy tucked into the waist band of my shorts.  Specifically, it’s the BNaughty Bullet Vibe that I reviewed a while back.

Yesterday she asked me if I had a bullet vibe, something that could be controlled from a remote control.  Yes, I said.  Bring it tomorrow.  Ok, I said, feeling a bit of trepidation.  Make sure you bring your bluetooth phone headset, she said.  I will, I said, a picture beginning to form in my mind.   Then she confirmed my guess.  I was to insert the bullet vibe before my bike ride home, then call her and keep her on the line as I rode home.  There were a number of technical challenges, which I was able to meet after a couple of false starts.

I got her on the phone, got the bluetooth in place on my ear and started off down the road.

“So, is it on?” she asked, ever so sweetly.

“Not yet, I was waiting for your instructions” I responded a bit tersely, she told me later I sounded sexily annoyed.

“I want you to count down.. from 100 or 10 or whatever..”

I asked for clarification, it was one of those garbled bluetooth moments.

“I want you to countdown, you know, like at a shuttle launch?” Her tone of voice suggested that perhaps I lacked the mental aptitude to do such a simple task.

So I counted down, “5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.. On!” and the vibrator tucked inside me came to life, causing a small squeel (not from the device).

“So…? ” She asked, expectently.

“It’s … interesting… ” I was apparently not enthusiastic enough.

“Just ‘interesting’?” she asked.

“Well, it’s just at one so far.”

“What?  Well, then, turn it up a couple,” she gave the order with a bit of impatience, using her “talking with a slow child” voice.

As ordered, I clicked it up to position 3.  My “oohs” and “aahhhs” and “fuck fuck fucks” were transported through the miles to her ear, where they elicited appreciative chuckles and encouragement.  It was at first not entirely unpleasant, but not completely pleasant either.   I was plugged with this small egg shaped thing while sitting on a small platform while pedalling down the bike path.   Oh, joy.

Not long after, she had me increase the vibration to position 5, the maximum.

Ok, yeah, that made it much better, plus I figured out that when I was coasting, I could lean forward and get into an even more stimulating position.   Soon I was grunting and moaning and Roxy seemed very pleased, even ecstatic.  Eventually it became clear that I wouldn’t be able to ride all the way home without relieving some tension.  I made a comment about finding some place to ‘take care of business’ and Roxy enthusiastically agreed.  She encouraged me in the strongest terms to do just that.  She does love to listen to me come.

As I continued on down the road, I began to consider various candidate locations.  Finding a spot where I could duck behind some trees, I got down to the serious business of self-pleasure.

Roxy listened as I jerked off for her, encouraging me, cheering me on, praising me.   When I was done, a bit wobbly-kneed and messy-handed for my efforts, she let me in on a little secret:

She was shocked and surprised that I’d actually gone through with it.

“But I said I would.”

“I know but, well, it was a bit irresponsible of me to give you such an outrageous task.. what if  you’d fallen off your bike, or gotten so distracted you weren’t paying attention to traffic?”

She explained that she’d figured I’d try but that it would be technically undoable for one reason or another, or that I’d find riding a bike with a bullet vibe inside my cunt too painful, or uncomfortable, or whatever.  I rode for about 2 miles like that.

“Oh, wow, really?  You didn’t think it was doable?  I thought it’d be challenging but you asked me to do it, so of course I was going to do it if it was at all possible,”  I paused, “Wow, you have a scary amount of suggestive power over me, don’t you?” I could hear her toothy, wolfish grin through the miles that separated us.

She responded with a dark chuckle of agreement and told me that she’d have to give some serious thought to my next challenge.  Oh, damn, poor, poor Kyle (very big grin).

(*and yes I do know that often these kinds of games and relationships often go by a special name that has a couple of letters with a slash between them… but we just call it “Roxy tells Kyle to do something hard/challenging/humiliating and he goes and does it as best he can cuz he loves his Roxy so so much” .. which is a lot longer than the term with the two letters and the slash between it, so it must be better)

Happy HNT everyone :-)

To see all the other HNT posts for the day, go to Views from the Back Row, from whence the HNT goodness has come.

A Touch of Envy

I have three close friends who are at various stages of FTM transition, one is in his early stages, the other a few years in and yet another has been transitioned for many years.  Then there are the friends I know through blogs and discussions online who are going through or have gone through transition.  I have a pretty good outsider’s understanding of the challenges they’ve faced and worked through, and the steps they’ve taken to make this very big change in their lives a reality.  I know it’s not an easy thing to do, but I do feel a touch of envy nonetheless. 

I love my female body.  I love what I can do with it and what others love to do to it.  I am mostly very comfortable living within its confines.  But I am not exclusively female.  My male side has become more important to me in the last couple of years — to celebrate, express and have recognized.  I was reading earlier today about Jess’ progress, 64 days into his transition, and that feeling of envy hit me square in the chest.  Now, don’t misunderstand me, I am aware that gender transition has huge emotional as well as physical impacts and effects a person’s interpersonal and professional relationships, not to mention the legal and financial challenges.  But in reading about the changes Jess has gone through, and the recognizable male characteristics he is gaining, I felt a bit pulled.  No, I don’t want to lose my female body, yes, I’d love to have my maleness recognized more widely. 

Most of the time, my feeling of being “some of each” sits pretty easily on my shoulders.  Sometimes, like today, my male self aches to be seen — working just as hard at life and love as my female side, being just as responsible and talented, but not getting as much recognition.  There are those who greet me as Kyle, with male pronouns and all the fixings, but in most of my life I’m Casey, a very butch woman, Mommy to my two daughters, butch wife to my partner.  Sometimes the Daddy in me aches to be seen, recognized, congratulated, too.

I want to thank the people in my life who recognize “Kyle” and have welcomed him into their lives and hearts.  It means more to me than I can say.

Taking Roxy

He walked her up to her hotel room, having flashed a charming grin and offering safe travel and a goodnight kiss.  Once her card opened the door, however, he showed a different side.  Pushing her through the door, so that she stumbled into the bed, he quickly closed the door behind him and closed on her.  Pushing her face down into the hotel bedspread before she could recover, he lifted her skirt and delivered six solid blows to her plush ass.  She cried out, once, before he reached up and clamped his free hand over her mouth, squeezing her jaw shut.  She tried to strike him, scratch him but he seemed impervious.

He pulled her off the bed and threw her against the wall, surely startling the neighbors who would nevertheless probably  not complain.  She was stunned for a moment and then opened her mouth as if to scream.  He raised his hand quickly, as if to strike her across the face and when she flinched, his knuckles struck her breast instead.  She cried out, more softly this time and he raised his hand again, and bared his teeth at her, with a growl.  With dark, narrowed eyes, he stared her down, then laid the back of his hand gently against her cheek.

“Next time, I’ll  hit you right here, and it’d be a shame to mark that pretty face.”

She didn’t answer, just stared at him with huge, dark eyes.  He gripped her wrists, squeezing them tighter and tighter until she began to raise up on her toes and wince with pain.   Only then did he lighten his grip, pulling both hands above her head, and holding them with his left.

His right hand reached down to his belt, unbluckling it with a quick, practiced motion.  He pulled his fly apart one button at a time, staring into her eyes, seeing the way they flickered downward, then back up at his.  The corner of his mouth quirked into a slight grin, he was enjoying this, enjoying her.  Her breathing was still a bit fast, he was sure her heart was pounding.  He pulled his stiffened cock from his briefs and gave a small sigh of relief.    Reaching up, he took one of her hands and lowered it, placing her palm on his cock, then wrapping her fingers around it.

“Tell me you want me.  Tell me you want my cock.  Feels good, doesn’t it?”