Beyond Bisexual

I love the word queer, on many levels. From the fact that it encompasses more than just my sexuality, into my gender, and certain aspects of politics and community, to that it means odd. I’m more than a little odd, and I’m more than a little queer. I say queer, and people ask me what I mean.

Except in so many instances I dislike the word queer. It’s incredibly frustrating that those not familiar with queer communities don’t ask. It’s unfamiliar, confusing, and not helpful in connecting with different groups of people. More than that, I have huge issues with many parts of various queer communities. They can be self-isolating, unrealistic, judgemental, and occasionally vicious. That is true of most communities at one point or another. But as I’ve heard from strangers and friends recently, so often it is those in the queer (or kink, or other such) community that judges and turn in on each other. No one has come up with a way to keep out the assholes and douchebag.

Carol Queen used a term that I am coming to really enjoy. “Beyond Bisexual.” I don’t identify as bisexual, because I am interested in so many more people than just two of the variety of sexes or genders out there. Except, that is a word that a lot of people understand. There is a lot of meaning there, of biphobia from within straight and GL communities alike. Hell, even I’ve gotten the “so you’re greedy” comments many bisexuals get, and that was without even mentioning being poly.

I’m not exempt from the biphobia found within queer communities. In high school, I was very angry at this one group of girls who would get drunk and make out with other girls and call themselves bi. I dealt with so much shit. I was the school dyke, and anyone could take one look at me and tell. I got asked “are you a boy or a girl” walking down the halls. They got attention, positive attention. They got boyfriends from  those makeouts. It pissed me off. I had gone through confusion, harassment, etc., and they got none of it… and they weren’t “really” even bi! Yeah. I judged. I was one of those policing douchebags. I also grew up and got over myself. A lot about the situation in high school was fucked up, but getting angry because I thought of them as “supposedly bi” only contributed.

Once out of that situation, I chilled a lot. Many friends of mine in college did similar things, making out with their female friends while drunk… while having boyfriends. I didn’t get angry, hell I probably encouraged. A good number of them don’t identify as straight either. I didn’t even think about the connection until recently, at the 5 College Queer Sexuality and Gender Conference during the wonderful keynote by Michelle Tea. She brought up the drunken make-outs, how so many queers police those who partake in them, and that she herself started out that way. Between that, and something I do not recall that my friend next to me said, I started thinking about my role of policing queer identities in high school.

I’ve been on multiple sides of biphobia. I don’t want to discount it, but I also don’t want to discount my much broader sexuality, or risk obfuscating my own non-binary, non-spectrum, and very fluid gender identity. Beyond bisexual takes a word with a history, uses it as a launch pad, so I can go soaring towards the stars. Mainstream people can understand it enough to ask “what?” because it is grounded in a term they understand (whether or not they believe it exists.) Moreover, it’s a term that is specifically sexuality focused. I can use it, expand on it, without having to deal with my explaining my gender. Which is something that degenerates into fluid dynamics and 4 dimensional images of the universe.

Beyond is part of the title of this blog for a reason. It is an expansive word. Beyond bisexual can mean anything from attraction to more than two sexes/genders to going beyond attraction based on gender and into sexualities based more around specific kinks, personalities, etc.

One of the great things I learned about the word (prefix really) trans is that it doesn’t just mean across or on the opposite side… it means beyond. Trans lunar means beyond the orbit of the moon around the earth. Transcendent, transhumanism…

Yes, I’m a word nerd.

Do As I Say Not As I Do

I’m probably going to get a bit of shit from various people in my life over some of the things in this post. Probably deservedly.

Tale from a while ago- me and my (at the time) housemate were talking about gynecologist appointments, and specifically that she had never had a pap smear. We shall call her Housemate 1. Another housemate came in, and we shall call her housemate 2. Housemate 2 started giving 1 shit about being as old as we all were, and not ever getting a pap smear or any gynecologist appointments. She was talking about how even if 2 wasn’t sexually active yet, it is important to know health levels before getting involved with someone. 2 kept getting me and my sexual health knowledge on her side. Except 1 knew very well I have never had a pap smear.

I have never had a pap smear or seen a gynecologist.

Consider the quantity I talk about sexual health, many people are surprised by this.

This past week I went to my annual appointment to check in about testosterone and how my body is reacting. It was difficult enough for me to sit down and talk to an entirely new nurse practitioner about a bunch of stuff, and I do mean new NP as she was a student NP and working under people at my clinic. She brought up the pap smear, and later, when my doc walked in, he did to. Actually, when I emailed him about my most recent refill he said he wanted me in both for my annual check up and to talk to me about a pap smear.

I got an ultimatum. He said he would refill my T for the following year, to the day, with no problems. But no further. Push came to shove, if I don’t go through with it in the next year I either have to 1-find a new doc or 2- go off T.

Neither of these are really options for me. So, I’m going to suck it up and deal. Considering that I get STI testing on an annual basis, that I blog about sexuality all the time, that I talk about sexual health all the time, that I’ve been a peer sex educator, and everything else I do, it is rather surprising that this rather basic aspect of my health I neglect. Apparently, I come by it naturally. My mom’s gynecologist has to threaten her with no longer prescribing birth control to get my mom in for an appointment (as my mom has gone through menopause, to her this means getting cut off from hormones. We bonded over this.)

It isn’t actually a pressing issue in that I’m not what most people in the medical professions define as very “sexually active.” In medical terms, I don’t have penis-in-vagina sex. Of the types of sex I do have and enjoy, they haven’t happened all that often recently. For someone a sex blogger, I’ve had remarkably little sex recently. Then again, I’ve also blogged very little recently. One did not cause the other, more like they are two effects of similar causes, but I digress. I was talking about gynecological appointments and pap smears. Right.

I know the importance. I watched Buck Angel’s awesome “Public Cervix Announcement” last year when it popped up on YouTube. But it is damn hard to get me to set up an appointment for T, which I adore, let alone for shit I really REALLY don’t want to deal with. I’ve been without glasses for a year and a half because I’d need to set up an appointment to get a new prescription. How the hell am I supposed to deal with a pap smear?

My doctor is essentially blackmailing me. And he’s right.

It isn’t just things like body and gender dysphoria that keep me from dealing. That just makes it awkward. Beyond that, as much as I’ve dealt with shit regarding my past and sexual assault, a person I’m not involved with examining me triggers my anxiety. Thinking about it, gets me fidgeting. Talking about it, with my doctor, in a doctor’s office? I was twitchy, anxious, and unable to look at my doctor while talking in an attempt to keep my breathing regular and not deal with an anxiety attack.

In a bit over two months, I’m going to confront and deal. Maybe I’ll manage to stay calm. Maybe after I’ll need to go curl up in a small dark room, shaking, crying, and getting a migraine.

If he didn’t tell me he’d stop refilling my T I probably wouldn’t be dealing with having to get a pap. Even though the deadline is a year off the reality of the deadline spurs me to action. So, I’m dealing. And I have about two months to decide if I want him to get me a one or two pill script for anxiety meds. It says a lot that I am seriously considering it.

Yeah. For the first time ever I am seriously considering taking medication for what is technically a mental health issue (anxiety.) Time to deal with that thought as well.

A Lack of Words

I came across a poem recently, “How to Make Love to a Trans Person” and holy shit I decided to blog.

Because here’s the thing, from the first lines I got stuck on something I realized very deeply last summer at Floating World, and have not been able to get my head around since. I am incredibly disassociated from words describing my body.

I’m doing good at not dissociating from my body in general. Considering that it was my specialty in high school, that for years the main reason I self-injured was to simply be present, not dissociating is damn impressive. Going on T got me to be able to be present in my body in whole new ways. There are still plenty of things I hate about my body, there are still plenty of things that aren’t mine, but as I wrote before that this is my body is a huge step. But there are few words surrounding my body that I feel connect to my body.

Mostly, it is that I don’t think in words. Very few things relate directly to words in my head. The more complex, the more intricate, the more emotionally difficult the thought process is the more likely I am to think outside words. Needless to say, thoughts about my body fall into all three categories. When they are thoughts about the societally gendered parts of my body, it becomes a tangled mess leaving my throat to close up.

Last year at Floating World, I went to a class on FtM cock and ball torture. Suddenly, I was mentally thrust into a world completely disconnected from my thought process– the language of queer bodies. I was unprepared for being unprepared because hell, I spend my of my time in queer spaces. In high school, I went to a queer youth group, a gender youth group, and ran my school’s GSA. In college, I got even more involved. By the time floating world hit, I was a queer sex blogger. Suddenly facing my complete lack of connection to the words other people with similar identities was really difficult for me. To them, the words dick and cock was their own. In my head, it was just as separate from me as clit.

There is only one word I have ever really connected with a gendered part of my body: chest. Not breasts, tits, boobs, or man-boobs, none of them have ever felt like they were actually describing me. Certain expartners of mine might find this surprising because I never corrected their use of that language. No reason why they should know when I never told them. Except whenever referring to myself, it’s just my chest.

Cock is a specific term in my head, and it usually refers to a delightful strapped-on cock with colors ranging from flesh tones to violet. Ideally, green, but green cocks are annoyingly hard to find. Dick, not something related to my body. Clit, a semi-useful term in that technically accurate and not actually connected to me sort of way. And for that reason one I’ve used in this blog more than a few times. Describing other people’s bodies is fine. Describing my own… there aren’t words in my head.

My body is on my mind more these days than it used to be. Particularly, my hesitance to show my body to others. While I have various groups of my friends that have been in more than one orgy (you know who you are) and while I’ve now been involved in some manner with the public kink scene for over a year, in the last year I’ve had a total of one person outside of a relationship see me naked. Two counting relationships (which is actually rather amusing considering my history.) Romping around in my binder and boxers at play parties is pushing my limits, and some parties I don’t even do that much.

One on one, I can deal. I can deal with my own body, the juxtaposition created from spending a decade with estrogen coursing through my veins, and a bit over a year on testosterone. I can not think about it, just think about whatever activity I am so inclined to do. One on one, I can deal. Getting my mind to adapt to one new person at a time being allowed to see my body…

I’ve never really had the opportunity to play with multiple people I’m with whom already comfortable. Adjusting to someone new is entertaining, and rather scary when that idea is multiplied from person to people. It was hard enough pre-T, when someone would first touch my hip and they’d stiffen. They didn’t have to say anything for me to know, they were readjusting how they thought of me. Guys don’t have hips like I do. I’ve seen many incarnations, from nervous hesitation, to afraid, to simple curiosity about what makes me most comfortable. One on one, I can engage with whatever reaction happens. Confusion, nervousness, attraction, amusement… if it’s just one other person, there isn’t a problem. I can have that conversation. I don’t know if I could manage it with two people, and definitely not without fear.

The one time someone tried to make up a new word I rather violently reacted in a negative manner. Admittedly, the discussion was humiliation play, so it wasn’t supposed to be something I liked. The problem was it would have been a total turn off if the person had ever actually used it in play. As in, if they had said it, I would have ended the scene there. No aftercare, complete seperation from whatever happened. They didn’t take my lack of interest in this very well, which was their perogative but had me rolling my eyes. My body is not someone else’s to name. I have granted no one that power over me, and thus any naming of my body, my parts, is entirely mine.

So, things are named without words for the moment. It works for me, and until there are words that suit the names, people can continue using words that don’t offend me. I just have to stop expecting a connection to any word that isn’t a name I’ve granted to that part myself.

 

1 Year In

One year in, and I’m amazed at the difference T has made. My wrists are still small, but my neck has grown into a size that makes nice shirts more easy to find. My facial structure has changed dramatically, and my legs are a whole lot hairier… well all of me is. I’m growing a decent amount of facial hair, even if it isn’t enough to grow anything fun, it’s still enough that I really do need to shave more than once a week. I revel in the newfound fuzziness of my chest, the furriness of my stomach, and the muscle definition in my legs. I’m ecstatic, and without regrets.

It’s also obvious that there is a long way to go.

I want to be able to be comfortable in my body. A year ago, there was a degree to which no matter how I phrased it out loud, this body was not mine. That is the main thing T did, my situation went from dealing with “this body” to dealing with “my body” in my own head. Except, it is still really uncomfortable.

Sure, there are some things I could do fairly easily to help myself be more comfortable. Lifting weights would probably be the first thing on that list. I’m always more comfortable when I’m stronger, when I’ve got more muscle. But that doesn’t change that when I look in the mirror, my eyes are immediately drawn to the shadow on my shirt showing that I have a chest. A shadow that is difficult to detect for anyone else, looks massive to me. Everyone else thinks I bind so well, enough that I’ve had people be surprised to find out I have not yet had top surgery (though anyone who has seen me with my shirt off would definitely notice.) I see breasts. I see between them, to my new chest hair and I smile a nice big smile. Then I look again at my chest, and so long smile. These are mine, in that they are attached to me, in that I can feel them, but they aren’t mine in that they don’t feel like they belong, they don’t feel like they have anything to do with me.

It isn’t surprising, my biggest body issue that I could easily put a finger on has long been my chest. Especially since senior year of high school when they just grew so much more.

Broader shoulders helps in some ways, but they still are there, still staring at me, and anyone else who sees me shirtless (or rarely, binderless.) Surgery is a thought for the future, not even something being planned yet, let alone something to count on. So, I work on figuring out how to be more comfortable in this body I’ve got. Part of me really wants to try to grow to be okay with my chest. The rest of me responds in a fashion of “Fuck no.” Or points out the irony that would be, seeing as way back when C and I were dating, when I first explicitly told her that I’d ideally prefer to switch name and pronouns (this was definitely not a high point in our relationship, on either of our parts) and she reacted poorly, but had suggested I get top surgery earlier in the conversation. Hopefully that sentence makes enough sense. I want to be able to be comfortable enough to do things like go to The Floating World next summer, and be shirtless in the dungeon. I’d love to go to CampOut and go swimming completely topless. The first, possible. The second, technically possible but highly improbable.

Yes, going on testosterone has done awesome things. The acne is even getting more manageable. But I’ve got so much more still to think on, to process, and to learn to tolerate about my body. In the meanwhile, I’ll go back to squee-ing over my rough cheeks.

Under the Jungle Gym

For some reason I’m not succeeding in writing about current things in my life, little though there may be, so I shall write a memory. Sure, it may be filled in here or there, but I never claimed to have a good memory. But it is rather ingrained in my mind…

It was one of those nights where it was cold-though-not-exactly-winter. Maybe it was a February thaw, maybe it was a cold night in march. We walked, hand in hand, except when our hands broke for a grope, a kiss, a shove, a scratch… anything really. Our hands were all over each other. We walked to the playground, just to be outside, without parents. To not fuck in the car, again. We walked to the plastic playground, lit by the moon and a yellow street lamp casting shadows of trees.

Under the jungle gym, she shoved me up against the plastic tic-tac-toe, and quickly reached under my shirt. She kissed me, hard, as she twisted my nipple, hard. She didn’t do things by halves. She leaned in again, this time going for my neck, biting down and adding to my bruises there. My hands found their way under her jacket and shirt, my nails leaving red trails across her back.

But mostly I remember the moon, and her hand unzipping my jeans and without pulling them down, finding their way under my underwear and sliding inside me. I mostly remember the moon, and the feel as her other hand slid around my neck and began to squeeze.

I stopped breathing. I stopped trying to breathe. I could have still, I think, but I didn’t even try to find out.

She let go for a moment, and I took a few breaths, nodding to her to put her hand back. She squeezed harder that second time, and longer. I closed my eyes, closed myself off from the world. No sight, no breath, and everything began to fade to white as I got off.

I don’t remember the feel of her fingers inside me that night. I don’t remember how she sucked and bit my neck, or how she twisted my nipple, just that she did. I remember how her hand felt, that first time someone took my breath out of the equation.

The next day at school, no one noticed the bruises from her hand mixed in among the hickies. And that was the way I wanted it.

Review: Blue Riding Crop

The new year brings in a new post! And a determination to not disappear again.

At 26 inches, this pretty blue riding crop is quite a bit longer than the one I already had (which was more like 13.) I really enjoy riding crops, and had got S to appreciate them as well, so I was quite happy when Fascinations sent me this one.

It has a nicely textured rubber handle that helps keep a good grip, and the shaft is a really beautiful blue, which makes it easier to find admidst my black clothing, floggers, and other such things. The tip is leather, and soft enough that it won’t cause any unexpected, or unintended, damage. Also as it was longer and the shaft seemed thinner than my old crop, I figured it would be swishier (I was right.) All in all, I was ready to enjoy it, and it met my expectations exactly.

What made this crop particularly different from my previous one, is that this crop is very swishy. That swishy translated to more stingy. Now, I don’t usually like stingy toys to be used on me, but I very much enjoy using this crop on others, and have even enjoyed it on myself. It is fairly intense, though that depends in part on the way it is wielded. Also, due to the narrow head, can be used to hit very specific body parts, like a person’s nipples. This application is where I feel the crop excels. Targeting specific spots, like nipples (clamped for the sadists out there) or the clit, creates a delightful sting. I don’t usually like stingy pain but targeted on my nipples this crop caused lots of fun squirming. I couldn’t even pull of pretending to not like it for the sake of protesting, it was fun.

Like any impact toy, please practice on an object like a pillow before taking it to someone’s body. It is important to know how and where it will hit, as well as have some sense of how hard you’re hitting. Also, it’s nice to know how it will feel in your hand. Remember: broken bottom = bad top.

Roles and Growth

In high school, I was damn sure I was submissive. I remember wandering around with a friend, just hanging out, talking about how she actually had confidence, but failed at seeming confident, whereas I was good at seeming confident without actually having any. I didn’t want to have to be confident, I wanted to submit.

In college, I realized I was a switch. Pretty early on in fact, because by the end of my freshman year I was identifying as a switch, though usually with bottom tendencies. Somewhere along the way I started getting more comfortable being dominant, being toppy.

There are times when I think maybe I’m just one or the other. I’m pretty sure life enjoys reminding me exactly why that is completely false just at those moments. Any time I’m starting to wonder if I’m just one or the other, something happens. For instance, cuddling on a couch with a very scary top, who pulls my hair, controlling my head, and for those moments at last I’m finally out of my head. The relief washes over me of not deciding, not being responsible, not being careful, of not having to pay that kind of attention. Instead, I get to push through pain, through challenge, and show my strength in giving up that control… and it is a relief to let go and submit. Because I’m not any one thing and I need breaks from whichever roles I chose to take on.

But until more recently I really hadn’t much bottomed (with regards to pain) in a long while. T has dramatically altered not just how I process pain, but the physical sensations. Pain feels different. It is really hard to describe. I’m more jumpy, though less sensitive technically. I don’t know my physical limits as well, I want to push those boundaries more and more because I like not liking the sensations. The first real time I pushed past the pain I liked into the pain I seemed to not like in a consensual, trusting manner got me incredibly turned on… and left me with wonderful bite marks all across my skin for quite some time. In a way, I really hated those bites. Because, dammit, they hurt. I told her more, not to inflict harm but to feel that hurt. I was nowhere near harm, and the pain wasn’t bad for me, it got me wetter than I had been in a long time. But that was before T. So, now bites send me writhing, whining, and twitching far more than before. I don’t know how to process this new sensation, but damn am I enjoying learning.

Also, stingy pain got a lot different, and a lot more intense.

Yet, even while I’m relearning my reactions to pain, even while part of me is seeking out chances to bottom, I pull out The New Topping Book to read. I seek out new opportunities to top, to dom, to control. After years of relationships trying to throw off the politics of owning another person, I’ve come to find how much I want someone else to be “mine” (which, me being me, has absolutely nothing to do with monogamy. Just because something would be “mine” does not mean exclusive rights…) Unless I actually feel my more submissive side reacting to someone, another person’s attempts to dominate me lead to entertaining times of wrestling and me biting them a lot. Probably biting them very hard. A certain puppy learned this the hard way. Or maybe I should say the fun way.

Hmmm… One of these days I should get a picture of someone’s bruises from my bite. They can be really pretty.

My First Floating World

Sorry for the lack of updates, been recovering/getting life in order so that I don’t accidentally end up having such large gaps in entries. But, the other weekend I attended the Floating World 2010, and had a blast. So here is my entry on it!

I don’t quite know when I started thinking about myself as a kinkster, as someone in the BDSM scene. I mean yeah, the first physical relationship I had included the obvious BDSM characteristics like a safeword, and there was definitely kinky play, like knives, choking/breath play, hitting, scratching, biting, and intentionally drawing blood. But as of FW, I had only been “in” the more public BDSM scene, the community, for like six months. I had been to one major event (the winter Fetish Flea) one play party (in NYC) and sure I talked about things at KinkForAlls, and yeah I did go to the summer Flea, I still feel very like a new comer.I know the words, the gestures, anything I could have read about the community… but being a part of that community is a new thing. So, I pushed myself. I felt uncomfortable, and pushed myself. And I’m really glad I went.

There were massive number of classes, some of which I attended, many of which I did not simply because it was not possible. Classes began at 9:30am and went until 12:30am with breaks for lunch and dinner… but still, that is a ton of classes. Needless to say, I want to many of them.

Classes

The first class I made it to was run be the fabulous Lee Harrington, and was called “Inner Monster: Tops.” Basically, it was a chance to sit down in a room full of tops/doms/dommes/masters/etc. (and switches speaking from that perspective) and talk about all the things that we in the BDSM and kink community don’t talk about. We talked about the taboos of our little world, from not giving aftercare to nonconsensual situations. In many ways, it dramatically altered how I looked at the rest of my time at FW. I began thinking a lot more about what was being said and what was not, looking at how certain assumptions about “how things should work” existed in our quaint little isolated culture. It also began my semi-stalking of Lee Harrington for the con.

The next class I went to was by Cleo Dubois, which I went to because it seemed like it would help me with topping/doming. Instead it was a kind of bleh presentation with a power point… and then a fairly cool scene. The things I got out of it were eye contact can be a great tool, and making people reenter a space if you don’t think they are in the right mindset can also help a lot. Oh yeah, and zippers rock.

Then, after dinner and meet & greets, I went to Dov’s class on mindfucks. It was fun, though I was a bit sad that S went to that class with me simply because the whole point was mindfucks made easy… which really aren’t as easy when the person I’d be mindfucking is sitting next to me. After that, we went to the super cool class on FtM CBT. Yes, there was a class on cock and ball torture for people like me. And it was awesome. It was run by Lee Harrington and Bo Blaze, and they talked about everything from how for some people this could mean putting needles through their packer, while for some it could mean putting needles through their actual bits. S got a lot of evil ideas from this class. Apparently she got a whole list of ideas, though I have yet to see/hear/feel them. We’ll probably go over it soon.

The next day I woke up early, just to go to the “Making Leather” class. It was good. Little to say about it other than that it was exactly what I expected and wanted- an intro class on making stuff out of leather and talking a bit about the tools and leather and places to get both without paying too much money. That day also had me attending a class by Barbara Carrellas on breathing. Yes, breathing. It was a cool class, but I think to really get a lot out of it I’d need to spend a lot more time working with her on my breathing. Though I did learn that orgasms from breathing alone are actually possible, as in, Barbara has sat in an MRI machine which showed her brain registering an orgasm without stimulation besides breath. That, I thought, was awesome.

Later, I went to a fabulous class run by Mollena, who wore her “International Ms. Leather 2010″ and began the class by walking around and personally introducing herself/saying hello and shaking the hand of everyone in the room. That alone kicked ass. And then she started talking, and engaging with the ‘audience.’ It was about boundaries, about what those words mean, how people mean different things by words like “limit” or especially “hard limit.” She was fabulous. People were bringing up cool things. And again, Mollena was awesome, had great stories, and told them hilariously. Needless to say, after such a great presentation, I stayed in the room, and enjoyed another Lee Harrington class (he had been in Mo’s class as well… oops?) about energy exchange and how we focus so much on safe sex, but not on safer magickal sex. It was awesome, and I got up the nerve to actually ask a question relevent to my life. Someone had asked about how to stop attracting toxic people, and my question was what about being attracted to toxic people? Lee’s response boiled down to that’s a class (at least) by itself, here are some things to go read.

That night I played with puppies. Go read about it below.

The next day I slept in because I was a very tired xMech… and then went to a fabulous class called “Creative Disobedience: the Art of Being A Wiseass.” I liked Zac’s comment to me about this, “You needed this class why exactly?” It was so much fun, and the presenter, Laura Antoniou, was truly entertaining. There were delightful stories, there was frank honesty, and there was fabulous movie references. “I’m shocked, shocked to find cocksucking going on in here.” (props to whoever knows that movie.) Kept making me think about how often I used to quote movies in a wiseass manner, and how I really should start doing so again. Then I went to another fun workshop, this time by Scot, on Liquid Latex. It was a lot of fun. Scot is a lot of fun. And, as it turns out, is friends with my friends. But we got to watch a hot girl get covered in liquid latex, and then as it was peeled/torn off. It was fun. By that night, I was again exhausted. So, I went to low key classes, like Wendy Blackheart’s Buttsex, which I went to because Wendy is awesome, and buttsex is always fun, and I didn’t need to pay attention to the basics, just keep an ear open for things I didn’t already know. Same goes for the final class I attended, which was Dov’s class on knives. He had pretty knives. Also, I want a straight razor. Maybe I’ll even start shaving with it.

So that was the classes I went to. The abbreviated edition. There will be entries to come inspired by thoughts from those classes. If you have any probing questions, feel free to comment/email and ask :D.

Dungeon

I was not big on the dungeon. Part of this was simply that I am uncomfortable with my own body and having my shirt and binder off in such a public space, which severely limits the ability for S to top me. The bigger issue for me was the lights and sound. The lights were really contrasty between the darkened ceiling, the bright lights, and the reflective tendencies of the floor. Also, lots of loud music. There wasn’t a quiet corner, or at least, quiet enough for my overly sensitive head. Needless to say, after the first night, I took some Excedrin from Tylerpup, and had a much better time.

However, there was a lot of really cool stuff in the dungeon. There was suspension frames, there was essentially a jungle gym looking thing, there was a play area, there was a pony area, there was a medical area, st. andrews crosses scattered about, and at one point, a ten person suspension on Zac’s 2 ton frame. That was an impressive moment. Also, I had fun walking around and seeing the little things I had done/the things I had helped build. Even though I didn’t play particularly much in the dungeon, there was an energy to the room, a feeling just from walking around, and it made me happy to be there, surrounded by fellow kinksters, perverts, and deviants.

That first night though, found me and S in the back area, where it was a bit darker, cuddling, and talking a bit. She’d have to jog my memory for me to know what we were talking about (as my memory is like swiss cheese) but I remember the mood I was in then. It was pensive, vaguely depressive, dark, relaxed, tired, pained, and analytical. Not really the best mood for public play, though common enough for my head.

The second night, however, was a blast. I had leashed S, and we went off to wander the dungeon, perhaps for inspiration. We ended up near where friends were their puppy selves, romping around on a mat, watched over by two owners. S went into kitty mode (if she wasn’t already) when it was decided we’d stay and play. After a bit, I asked her if she wanted Creature to come out, and she replied with a strong affirmative. So, I took off my shirt, and thought a moment, and started romping with puppies as Creature, in my binder. We all got a lot of “Aws” and a lot of cute responses. It was a lot of fun to play with the puppies and the kitty. There was lots of biting, some scratching. And a ton of scritches. So many scritches. And I was a happy Creature who kept getting scritches, and had adorable (and hot) puppies and a kitty to play with. And they all seemed to like my creature noises.

After that, thought it wasn’t in the dungeon, we briefly went to the pool party. As I hate being submerged in water, i just sat with my feet in the water. Lots of nudity. It was fun, and then bed.

Oh, I also got hypnotized at one point.

People

I met a lot of fabulous people. Made friends, got closer to people I had met before, things like that. Amusing moments included when a friend apparently realized/found out that I’m trans, on Saturday. So the second day of the conference, and we had hung out over the summer, and every mutual friend we have knows… somehow he didn’t actually know. Apparently he guessed, but only because I look so young for my age (I’m lucky if people think I’m 18 or 19… which is a problem when I’m buying alcohol.)

When I first checked in, we were all told to sign the release with our vanilla name, our “real” name, our legal name. For some in the BDSM scene, their real name is their scene name not their legal name. And for those like me? I mean, my “real name” is one thing, which is different from my “legal” name (as I have not yet gotten a legal name change), which is completely different from my scene and blog name (xMech.) They did not do well at specifying what name initially. Then when I got up to deal with registration, the person behind the table checking me in starting talking at me about how I could get my gender marker changed on my passport, as some family member of theirs did. I walked away thinking, “Well, you’re trying at least? But really, wtf- my legal gender marker is none of your damn business.” Also, there are complications, and yes, I did know they had recently made it easier to change on passports. Wasn’t the best impression I got at FW. On the upside, I definitely had many better.

I got lots of scritches, and some bites. I got to give quite a few bites as well.

At one point, over some meal or other, I was sitting down with some of my more newly made friends and a person I didn’t really know, and the topic ended up on anti-war activism. It was interesting, because I’m pretty sure I’d actually met the person I didn’t know before, but wasn’t up for the whole “So I was in DC at this time, at this event, where I think we met through this organization” and instead went with “So you know my friend so-and-so?” Which she did. Trust me to go to a kink convention and end up in a really engaging discussion about anti-war and peace activism and the military industrial complex. Also, we talked about food. My kind of conversation. My kind of people.

Sadly, one of the people I was sharing a hotel with got sick right before FW. Turns out, it was whooping-cough. So we were down a person in the hotel room, but even worse, Zac lost his vender’s assistant. I stepped in at one point, and held down the fort with Tylerpup to give him a break. Met some fun new people that way, also got to play around a bit with some of his stuff, which is always fun.

~~

Lots of fun things happened. I’m really glad I went. Even though there were moments, like of me being exhausted, or feeling uncomfortable, where I wasn’t having a blast, I learned a lot, and pushed on my boundaries. I got a sense of where many more of my boundaries were. So that is my long overdue write up on floating world! I should be back on track to writing a lot more frequently again. Hopefully I won’t have another giant down month like August was anytime soon!

Answers with an Agenda 11- Toys!

So, you have some ideas about what to do with that lovely other cunt-owning new partner, you’ve played around, but… to quote the fabulous movie Better Than Chocolate, “What’s with all those toys?” Actually, this is still a continuation from the last two weeks’ question:

How do two girls have sex? (Or… two people with cunts)

Because “lesbian sex” is very associated with toys, I figured I’d go into a bit about said toys. The reason there are so many toys great for cunt owners could be because of our society’s obsession with dicks, and so not having one requires “more” effort, ingenuity, or something. I’d like to think it is because we’ve gotten really inventive and are having a blast making toys.

Maybe your partner really enjoys you rubbing their clit, but after an hour your hand is tired. This is why vibrators were invented (well, sorta.) There are a wide range of vibrators great for getting them off, from the super-intense hitachi to the cute caterpillar.

Yeah, I’m amused by it. Anyways, a very important issue with vibrators is the intensity. Too light, and you can’t feel anything. Too much, and it can be painful or distracting. A recommendation I’ve heard is turn on the vibratory and touch it to the tip of your nose. If you sneeze, it is too intense. I don’t find this particularly useful myself, finding that I prefer something stronger than that, though usually less intense than the hitachi, so a variable speed vibe is often a great investment. That way, you can pick up the intensity or lighten up depending on the day and what you and your partner feel like.

Then there are the dildos. They come in all shapes and sizes and colors, but I would say the most important thing is the material (see below.) Dildos can be realistic, in color, hardness, etc, or they can be delightfully non realistic. You can pick your prefered size, color, texture… so if realistic dildos sketch you out (I was on the border of being squicked by them for years) you can get something that only has a superficial resemblance to a bio-cock. As far as sizing goes, there are two considerations, (insertable) length and width. It is better to er on the side of too long than too short, because you can always not slide it in all the way, but it is not fun to have too little length. Width depends, some people are “size queens” and love something very thick. Personally, I’m set with the small end of the pure wand, so I prefer the narrower range of toys. It just depends on the person. Shape matters a lot. If your partner enjoys g-spot or c-spot stimulation, something with a nice curve is probably up your alley (like said aforementioned pure wand.) Some people like their dildos textured, others smooth. That is also where material is a good thing. Some can even be worn strapped on.

Strap on harnesses have two main styles. They either come in G-string style, which look a lot like thong underwear, or two-strap style, which look like a jock strap. They range in materials, leather, fake leather, rubber, latex, etc. I’d recommend something that feels comfortable to you. Though a lot of people seem to love the g-string style, I like the two string because it enables a lot more access to the wearer’s cunt while they are wearing the harness. You can also tie a rope harness, if you happen to have rope around but no harness (great for those of us who like bondage.) The other advantage to rope is that you can make it according to your size, whereas bought harnesses do not fit all body sizes and types, so pay attention when buying.

There are also ‘harnesses’ for other areas of the body, from hand harnesses, so you don’t have to grip the dildo, to thigh harnesses, making grinding against a person’s leg even more delightfully fun. Keep an open mind is all, as some people can be rather taken aback the first time they encounter a chin harness.

In addition to dildos, there are anal specific toys. The most important, basic rule of ass toys is that they need a flange on the end. Something to stop the toy from continuing to get pulled up into your ass. The ER doctors have probably seen it before, but do you really want to be that person who went to the ER for shoving something up their ass and getting it stuck? Not to mention, such things can tear the lining of your intestine. So, make sure it has a flange! Also, see below on material safety. Butt plugs come in a variety of materials and sizes, go for what sounds good to you and your partner. If the person being penetrated hasn’t done much or any ass play before, start small, go slow, and use lots of lube. As in, go overboard. Better than too little, really. Anyways, in addition to butt plugs and dildos, there are also anal beads, which when pulled out can simulate orgasm sensations, thus a large part of their appeal. Make sure however, that the beads are connected by silicone or other safe material. Beads strung together on actual string is a terrible plan, as all kinds of nasty bugs can lodge in the string.

With all toys, however, you need to pay attention to the material that it is made out of. Sex toys are best when made from non-porous, non-toxic, and phthalate free. Such materials include medical grade silicone, metal, and glass. Now, sex toys shouldn’t be porous because then they are not able to be disinfected, which means you can pick up not only STIs, but also yeast infections, or even a cold. Non-toxic toys ought to be used for the very simple reason that toxic materials should not be in contact with your body, let alone genitals, and soft mucous membranes such as the inside of a cunt. Phthalates are a specific type of toxic material that has been banned from children’s toys in the US, so making sure a toy is specifically phthalate free goes a long way for the toxicity problems.

Metal and glass both have the advantage of being incredibly smooth, meaning that much less lube goes a long way. They are often very pretty as well. However, they have zero yield, and though it is often a boon to some people, the hardness can be both too intense and no as much fun for others. Also, it can be easy to bruise with them. Silicone ranges in hardness, from traditionally very hard silicone toys, to the delightfully giving Vixskin. One other quick thing about material is that it is a bad plan to use silicone lube with silicone toys. The lube will alter the toy in bad ways, creating a ‘melting’ sort of effect. Just something to watch out for.

Material is not the only place to be extra careful about safety. There are a few very important things to keep in mind. First of all, never take a toy directly out of someone’s ass and shove it in their cunt. The toy needs to be cleaned off first! If you don’t want to have to clean toys? Use condoms. It is a great, effective, and easy way to share toys between holes, and between partners in a quick manner without having to boil or bleach said toys each time.

Maybe though you prefer sensation play. A feather can be a great sex toy, as can soft fur, or a nice flogger. The limit on what can be a sex toy is mostly limited by your imagination and preferences. Open mindedness and creativity really pay off.

So, that is a brief overview of sex toys. There is so much to say, I’m going to leave it at that, but if you want to know more, try finding a good, sex positive store in your location. You can not just browse, but ask questions, get help, and even fondle the toys you’re looking at! There are great stores in Seattle, San Fransisco, Denver, New York, Chicago, Madison (WI), Baltimore, and plenty others! Definitely worth investigating.

Answers with an Agenda 10- Don’t Be Afraid

Okay, so this is in part a continuation of last week, as it is off of the same question. But it very much deserves its own entry. Actually, it deserves many, many entries, but this is more of a 101 level than the advance class.

How do two girls have sex? (Or… two people with cunts)

So many ways, so many ideas, so many body types. Again, for ease of typing, I’m going to call it a cunt and a clit, rather than each time going through the range of words people who happen to own such body parts prefer. It isn’t just girls and women who have cunts, there are a range of other people with them as well. Whereas last week was focused on using your hands, this week, it is time to focus on your mouth!

Using Your Mouth

Your mouth has a few important parts: lips, teeth, and tongue. There are all kinds of delightful things you can do with these three parts.

If you can guess (in a comment) whose lips and teeth those are, you win a prize. Prize will probably be some kind of lube (yes, actual prize.) Behind those teeth is a tongue, and with those three parts there are all kinds of delightfully delicious things you can do to a partner. Kissing, nibbling on the person’s neck, sucking on their fingers… there are all kinds of things to do. If you are going to bite, start light and slowly build unless you already know their pain tolerance, in which case go for it! Bite marks leave delightful bruises, occasionally turning a very pretty blue-ish purple color. Sucking can leave nicely colored marks as well, but tend to be more on the red scale than the blue.

But the thrust of this entry is more about using your mouth on someone’s cunt, because that is considered a “typical” way for two people with cunts to have sex.

Your faced with a cunt, and suddenly you are going, “now what?” My first time was aided a lot by reading; I knew what I was getting into. First of all, it is important to know what you are looking at.

Now, most of these tissues are soft, some are mucous membranes, so until you have a better idea what you’re doing, do not use your teeth. If you are not fluid bond with your partner, remember to practice safe sex. Get a dental dam before sucking on their cunt, or saran wrap (does not have to be non-microwaveable) and put some lube on the cunt side of the dam. Also, you may want to put flavored lube on the side of the dam your mouth will be on as well. remember, no oil lube near the cunt, no oil lube on latex, and no silicone lube on silicone. Safe sex is hot. So is consent, but I’m going to assume that you obtained explicit consent before going down on your partner.

To start off, some great places to lick: the crease where the thigh meets the genitals, the labia, the slit, and the clit. Licking is good to build up anticipation or to use in combination with other things.

Now, when you lean in, cover your teeth with you lips and keep them that way. Biting in this region is something some people like, but if the person doesn’t they probably will be very turned off by it, so keep your teeth covered. Just the presence of your mouth surrounding your partners clit can be an incredibly intense feeling for them. Surround the clit with your lips and suck gently. Also, run your tongue back and forth across their clit. Explore their reactions to what you do. Back and forth, in circles, flick their clit with your tongue, there are all sorts of things to do while gently sucking. Not everyone enjoys direct clit stimulation, if that is the case for your partner, suck gently on their clit but don’t play with the tip. If they say “harder” suck harder, though they may not say anything and grab your head and push you into them to increase the pressure.

Regardless, don’t just do the same thing over and over. Continuing to do what they enjoy is a great idea, but just sucking and moving your tongue back and forth the same way at the same intensity can get boring. Doing something else can increase the sensations already present. So another delightful thing you can do with your tongue is sliding your tongue in between their inner lips (labia minora,) right along their slit. Some people really enjoy this, and are sensitive there. You can even slide your tongue into their cunt, and do a bit of an “in and out” motion. Sucking on their inner lips can also sometimes bring wonderful reactions from your partner.

But the biggest thing to remember is that unlike what is shown in most porn, and unlike this bear:

Just sticking out your tongue is not enough. You need to get your face into your partner’s cunt. Lips feel fabulous, trust me! Sticking your tongue out and daintily attempting to lick your partner/flick their clit a little is not enough for most people. Also, some people just have short tongues. So, don’t be afraid of the cunt. It doesn’t have teeth, you do. Lick it, suck on the lips, the clit, slide your tongue inside it, taste it, savour it, enjoy it.

I’m someone who personally enjoys a lot of teasing for a build up, either giving or receiving. I like to kiss along someone’s thighs, sucking on their inner thigh, and even nibbling them before actually sucking on them. While going down on your partner you’re partner you may notice your hands are free. Use them in all kinds of delightful ways, like reaching up and playing with their nipples (yes, even cismales can enjoy having their nipples played with, so regardless this can be a good technique for anyone.) If you are into kinky things, you can use them to scratch your partner’s back (depending on position,) grab their thighs, hit their ass or thighs, etc.

You can also slide inside of them, combining using your hands and your mouth.  This can really ratchet up the intensity, and can be a lot of fun. I have had someone ask me “How the hell do you do that?” after combining the two. It was just one finger, slid inside, and gently hitting their g spot whenever I wasn’t too distracted swirling my tongue around their clit. Combining doing things with your hands and mouth is a really great way to fuck.

So remember everyone:

• No teeth
• Get in there, don’t be afraid to make your face messy
• Careful about having something being “too much”
• Dental dams are your friend
• So is lube. Which can come in wonderful, glycerine free flavors!
• Enjoy yourself :D

Now, a lot of these things are 101 tips. If you are fluid bonded with your partner, maybe you’re not using dental dams, but lube can still be awesome. If you know what you’re doing, or your partner asks for it, teeth can be wonderful. S uses her teeth very well, I avoid using mine at all costs, and the first time someone accidently used their teeth on me it was the biggest turn off possible at that moment.

Now, I know I didn’t cover positioning. There is a lot of advice out there on what position is best, should you shove a pillow under someone’s hips, etc. But really, it depends on the build and body of each person involved. So practice, and find out what works for you. Best way to do it, and you have the delightful “side effect” of having to go down on them more. Whatever will you do?

That concludes part II of this series, next week look forward to a similar AwaA except this time on using sex toys with partners!