Orgasm Fun – The Finish Line

I went to the doctor this morning and changed my anti-depressants. I will be interested to see how I get on with the new ones. I know I am not the only person who has suffered from anti-depressant libido suppression and not even the only one taking part in 30 Date Orgasm Fun. But it was a massive disappointment to me that  I didn’t come yesterday as a club, with my male lover, watched by two gorgeous dominant women who cropped and flogged him into greater efforts and kissed me in between. It was a gloriously sexy scenario I dreamt up for Day 29, a mix of rough sex, BDSM and exhibitionism. But my libido wouldn’t play ball.

Tonight, I will round the month off with a solo sex session. I may even fantasise about yesterday as I play with myself, for often the fantasy is better than the reality. But I will not try too hard ( maybe the problem yesterday) and be kind to myself. I haven’t had a lot of orgasms but those I have had have been mind-blowingly good. So fingers crossed.

So what have I learnt?

I have learnt that my body is beautiful, just as it is although It could be made more beautiful ( and will be!)

Sexual partners (and prospective sexual partners) find my body beautiful.

Sex toys designed for cisgendered women can work for me with a little imagination. More on this to follow in future blogs.

Sexuality is much more in the head than in the genitals.

Following on from that my sexuality is a driving force in much that I do, including in inter personal relationships Sexuality in fact is at the very core of my being (which is why I am here!)

I am loved and have a lot of love to give that those who love me (whether sexually or otherwise) .

Orgasms are therapeutic.

And finally:

However dark the place I am in at any particular moment, there is always a way out.

Tabitha, thank you so much for coming up with this awesome idea. This was my first year and I have learnt so much about myself.  And that, at 56, is a wonderful thing to be able to say.

Eight More days of Orgasm Fun

With just eight days to go I am wearying of this but I will carry on.  Even on the days when I fall into bed at 11, set the alarm for 5, too tired to read for a few minutes, I will keep going. I have actually missed a couple of days but drag myself back. The problem has been my inability to orgasm. But when I should maybe take a step back I keep forcing myself. And keep feeling a failure.

I know I should practise self-care and be kind to myself but this is difficult. I said at the outset that I would not judge myself harshly and set myself impossible standards. But I have. The force to drive myself is often stronger than the wish to care for myself. I just can’t stop driving myself at times. the And there are so many times when I can feel the orgasm rise up and begun to surge to its conclusion only to stop  and resist any attempts, with fingers, with toys,  with a partner’s willing mouth, to coax it back into life. And I am left with a feeling of pleasant frustration. But occasionally the orgasm is too powerful to brook resistance and explodes through me. This makes it all worthwhile.

The best times have been when I was completely relaxed, at home in bed after a scented bath, in a curry house loo between courses, times when I felt beautiful and loved, times when I was just so comfortable in my skin, that the enjoyment of my body as a natural extension of my positive state of mind.

Yet April has been tough for me mental health wise and the demons always seem to lurk. I have had a number of panic attacks, and anxiety episodes. On occasions all the behaviours I learnt from CBT therapists to counteract the onset of attacks flies out of the window. I end up a weeping exhausted mess and my body is not something to enjoy but rather something to loathe..

But I am always able to remember that the following day is another, hopefully better, day and though I sometimes wake up late, still exhausted, I reach for my toys , and when I do come I wallow in the loveliness of it all and experience joy. And when, sated, I put down the toys, I experience waves of love, love to give to my friends, my partners past and present,to the people that “get” me.  Because you give me the strength to go on.

For the final week I will do my best to revert to the positive frame of mind I had in the first week. Not push myself but know that if I do come them someone somewhere, maybe someone I know and love is coming too. And that creates the sweetest bonds. And that is a wonderful thing I have discovered about sex: that it can bring us close to people with whom we will probably never have a sexual relationship.

I am finishing on a positive note and writing this has been unexpectedly therapeutic. And yes I am looking forward 8 more days of orgasm fun.

TW3

Well not quite. I am not Millicent Martin, or for that matter David Frost and I have never been punched on live television as Bernard Levin once was .  But I am on a post Eroticon blogging roll so I thought it was about time I joined in with Share Our Shit Saturday and had a look at the week that was and some of the things I read that I enjoyed.

30 Days of Orgasm Fun has been a great source of inspiration and my Touch of Velvet  vibrator has been a constant companion. It is really good and I could say loads about it but really have nothing to add to the review by Aurora Glory here.

A number of 30 Day participants have been blogging about their experiences and I really enjoyed this by Wriggly Kitty.  In my kink life edging male submissives is something I find endlessly enjoyable (and if you think it’s easier to take than, say, a hard caning think again!) . Interesting to read about it from a reversed perspective.

And now for an old post that has become topical again with prominent media feminists railing against the fictitious trans lobby. This is Brooke Magnanti on Bindel, Burchill etc in a guest post on Maggie McNeill’s blog.

I used to write a lot about sex work but don’t anymore for reasons I explained a while ago. Maggie McNeill, for those who haven’t come across her, is a US based unretired call girl (her words) blogger and campaigner. Check out her weekly news review here with links to stuff everyone needs to read about new anti-trafficking legislation in the US and the threat it poses to the safety and wellbeing of sex workers.

I like a hot fantasy as much as the next girl and really enjoyed this by Girl on the Net.

And finally for this week….I started with wanking and I am going to finish the same way before going off to play with myself. This from Coffee and Kink is hot!

I will be back next week with more shit to share. But for now I am going to leave you with a song.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Beautiful Asymmetry or How No Can Affirm

First there was Stephanie, a lover long before I began my gender journey. We had amazing sex in cheap hotels, seedy hotels, cars , fields, a gay cruising spot  in the woods where the sight of her moving up and down on my rock hard cock attracted more than passing interest. We even managed it on a platform at Birmingham New Street railway station. Then the passion died and we began a long and loving friendship, spiced up with occasional sex. When I began my transition, she walked with me every step of the way, always ready with advice, support, a shoulder to cry on. I struggle to think how he could have been more loving. And I will love her to the end of my days.

But sex with Steph is now a thing of the past. She engages with me as a woman, relates tom me in every way as a woman, and this means, for her, no sex.  She is straight and women just don’t do it for her in that way.  So I had to take a knock back from a woman who has never really said no to me , who loves me so much, and yet. This was hard but I know I have to respect her decision, not do the hurt and wounded pride thing ( not so easy when you grew up in  male paradigms of sexual entitlement) and then……learn to love her more. And I do and I am finding the most incredible buzz from friendship. I have sublimated my desire for her (which will never go away) into a deeper emotional investment in our friendship. I am turning physical desire into love and love is paying me back unexpectedly, with the most wonderful physical sensations. I don’t know if I could call these orgasms but I feel that I am engaging sexually with her without her needing to engage with me. This is a kind of asymmetrical relationship and it is quite beautiful.

Then there is Zoe, a friend with whom I quickly found a connection. We expressed our feelings very physically too, we hugged, kissed, held hands, declared our love for each other. Then the time came when I had to broach the subject. In a bar after a couple of beers when the conversation had naturally turned to sex and she was telling me about an interesting proposition she had.

“I could seriously do things to him” she said.

“Could you do things to me?” I ventured.

“Sorry Eve. I love you but not that way.” She took my hand in hers, raised it to her mouth and kissed it tenderly.

“You’re not hurt?” she asked.

“No” I said “and I know I will keep on loving you. I will always love you whatever.”

“And I will always love you.”

I kissed her on the lips, kissed her hands, stood up to hug her. I began to cry big warm tears, tears of joy.

Zoe remains one of my closest, most loving friends. We still kiss, we hold hands, once we even sat on her sofa chatting and drinking wine with our legs intertwined. This physical closeness I found difficult at one point but then I decided that the agony of restraint implied by respecting her decision in an adult and loving way , was a gift I could offer up to her. Like Stephanie, her saying no has led to an emotional intensification of our relationship, to the point where I get off on the friendship itself.

I had never really considered the possibility of such asymmetrical, yet loving and nurturing relationships before. And I no longer see them as second best. I began to understood too how the asexual can be located firmly in the middle of the sexual, or how chastity can give sexual kicks. I understand too how my sexuality  is so deeply rooted in the core of my being that I can express it ways that don’t actually require the engagement of genitals, either mine or that of other people.

Having said that, there are nights when I take out my vibrator and hold Steph or Zoe before me them before me as I pleasure myself. Some might call this objectification; I call it an act of love. More than that, it is an act of worship. For that is sometimes part of friendship too.

A Treat Between Courses

Day nine was the best orgasm so far. and the first one that wasn’t solo.

We sat in a secluded corner of our favourite Indian restaurant, my lover and I. The poppadums were served hot and crisp, the chutneys tangy and the Chardonnay was dry and oaky just as I like it.  A sensual feast for the mouth. The onion bhajis were, well,divine.

But there was more in store for him. He moved aside to let me out from behind the table so that I could go to the loo. I turned and beckoned to him to follow me. I pulled him into the cramped cubicle. I lifted my dress, pulled down my knickers and said

“Kneel.”

He did as he was told.

I sat down on the toilet, bursting for a wee after the wine and beer earlier at the pub. I had been saving it all for him. I took his head, pulled it in close to my crotch and pushed my cock into his eager mouth. I felt myself stiffen slightly but not enough to stop the strong hot flow down my urethra. He sucked and drank and struggled at the quick insistent flow that filled his mouth faster than he could swallow until he started to gag  and I withdrew to let the rest flow into the toilet bowl..

He looked up, smiling with happiness, and wiped a drop off his chin. Now I was getting hard.

“After wine, lassi” I said.

He didn’t need to be told what to do.  My lover gives me divine pleasure with his mouth. It is soft and warm, and he works me just right,  always enough to make me come, never too vigorous on my most sensitive parts. I  sat back, leant against the newly tiled wall and moaned louder and louder until I heard the door open.

“Keep going” I ordered in a fierce whisper.

I was hard but not quite ready to come. I took my cock out, quickly masturbated to completion before coming in his lovely  mouth in glugs of ecstasy. Whoever had been in, waiting impatiently, had gone so I let out a scream as the orgasm hit  me in waves.

Most days I would return the favour. But not today. There was no more time. The main courses were surely about to be served. He had his reward though, tucked greedily into nan breads that were liberally smeared with what the casual observer might have thought was butter.

And I am back there tomorrow with my lady lover, for a spicy dish with lady’s fingers

Body Love

In the first five days of #30DayOrgasmFun I have only managed two orgasms. This was not unexpected and does not make me the West Bromwich Albion of wanking.    As I wrote earlier, Citalopram is doing its thing on me, and , I know, a couple of other participants. Failing to come is, however, not failure. For each time, I have pleasured myself with the vibrator, wallowed in my fantasies, helped myself along with the odd visual aid, I have enjoyed my body and reconnected with it. And this is massively important.

There is a thing called body dysmorphia which many transgender people suffer from, or are diagnosed with (not quite the same thing)  and  the man/woman born in the wrong body is a common trope as much as that of little boys who knew at the age of 3 they were really girls and longed for pink dresses and dolls rather than the toy cars they were actually given. If this is the experience of some trans people it is not the experience of everyone. It is certainly not mine.

I really enjoyed being a boy, I loved the rough and tumble of the games I played. I loved climbing trees, I loved playing football at the recreation ground using jumpers as goal posts and I can bore for England about rush back goalkeepers. Oh and I had a pair of  ball of white Alan Ball football boots which were THE thing to have in 1971/ Neither do I believe I am trapped in the wrong body. I have a body. It is the one I was born with, it has performed reliably enough to get me to the age of 56 in good health, it responds well to my mad urge to run half marathons. It is the body with which I have had great sex with some lovely men and women, it is the body from which my lovers have derived great pleasure. It is not the wrong body. If I believed that I would either have to deny myself or embrace mind-body dualism and make more than a nod in the direction of gender essentialism. Emotionally and intellectually I cannot do any of these things.

It is true that I have a complex relationship with my body and there have been times when I have hated it more than I have loved it. But this is not an exclusively trans experience. I guess most people are unhappy with their bodies at various times in their lives and negative body image is particularly an issue for many women . We all need to learn to love our bodies. And masturbation, particularly slow extended session of self love are a great way to do this. I remember a few years ago BUPA ran a series on ads on television, focusing on a remarkable fact about the human body with the slogan “You are amazing”. Solo sex leads to the same conclusion and, unlike BUPA, it’s free.

I had planned to be a bit adventurous but all my sessions this week have actually been in bed. No matter. I began on Sunday with the scented bath and the lingerie and came to a filthy fantasy I will write about in a future post, suffice it to say it involved me being used as a sexual plaything.  On Monday even Marlene couldn’t’ help me and I fell asleep, vibrator in hand. Come Tuesday it was an old sex issue of DIVA that came to the rescue (why do they no longer do them?). Since then I have not come but have explored my body in new and enjoyable ways.

Of course I am looking to change my body. My tattoos are part of the feminisation .as is laser hair removal. Further changes lie ahead. But these are not a rejection of my body. For it is my body. The right body. The body I am learning to love.