Not Safe for Work: discission of sexual actions
There it was. Fucking finally. The slow moving footsteps coming up the staircase to my apartment. Took him long enough. He had said I'll be there in fifteen, thirty minutes ago. I can hear the hesitation. Everything soft, gental, and measured. My directions had been clear. Well honed after having been distributed so many times. Second floor in the corner, with the AC unit out the window, and the porch light on in the middle of the day. Park on the street and text me when you arrive so I can unlock the door and wait on my knees.
Old hat really. Men come from all over. Driving upwards of fifty miles, just for a twenty minute blow and go. My makeup, fine, but as a lesbian friend of put it, "very ~my first visit to the Clinique counter~ energy." Maybe I liked playing the innocent one. My dress, tasteful, nothing too short, something that could be worn out in public without any slut bells ringing....well, not by me. And a collar around my throat. To signify to me as much as to the idiot climbing the stairs what my roll was in this arrangement.
He paused at the top landing. I could imagine his perplexed look as he tried to remember what a corner is. Then finally the foot steps start again. This time with more purpose, more swagger.
You married? I'm really not conferrable with that. One of my only deal breakers and always something I lead with when messaging. No I don't mind that your short, old, and fat. No I don't mind that you're a ""straight"" frat bro on the dl who just needs relief. No I don't care that you only want me as a sexual object, or that the second you leave here your going to think of me using only slurs. Please for the love of god objectify me.
Money? Nope. To cum? I wont even touch myself. Validation? Maybe. Attention? Probably. To have one fucking moment where I don't have to think, where I can express exactly what and how I want without any consequences, where my first impression is already guaranteed to be greeted by a biological affirmation? That's better then any orgasm I ever had.
A pause at my door. One last once over check maybe? Like as if the outcome isn't predetermined. The nob turns and the door slowly swings. Still with hesitation. Not for much longer.
There I am, in all my fucking glory, mouth open, collar on, looking up at this random jack-ass from the internet as if they where the second coming of Christ. The swing shut is always much quicker then the temped open.
The walk from the door to my hulking figure is brisk and the rate at which he whips out his cock even faster. He's the third rando I've sucked off that day. My average in the past few weeks. I will make him cum with my ever improving abilities. With any luck he'll zip up and walk out without saying a word. I hate it when they try and chat. As soon as they open their mouths the illusion is ruined. I realize how dumb they are, and what a fool I have been.
I mean I always realize what a fool I've been. They never give me what I want. No tender touch, no lingering eyes, no banter or warmth or kindness. Only primalism, subjugation. I know that in the end, they will leave and I will be alone. Like I always am. Only now I don't even know who or what I am. And I am left to stew in my confused disposition
At the beginning of this summer I started doing some gender explorations I had been meaning to for a while. A few months into this I started having copious amounts of anonymous sex while presenting female. I had a lot of experiences in a very short amount of time. Some good, some bad, some awful. Haven't had em lately. Hopefully the need is over.
I was in a bad place.
I think I am better.
I think I am ok.
More stories to come
I was actually in the worst period of my adult life. I was drinking alot and having sex alot alot. I ended up having the riskiest kind of unprotected contact a person can have that could've altered my life forever.
Someone brought a gun to my apartment during one hookup and pointed at me. I think I slept with a neo-nazi. I had a monkey-pox scare. I let men into my life who used, abused, and ultimately objectified me in a way that made the pain of coming to terms with being trans a little easier. Silenced the voices and allowed me to focus on actions and pain. I've never self harmed traditionally but from what I can understand from friends of mine who have this is the same concept. It was alot like behavior that I did when I was a teen to stay on the rails in other parts of my life but just ended up hurting me more.
I can actually say that I am significantly better one year on from those events. Starting the transitioning process has helped me feel at home in my own skin more then I could've ever comprehended. I can look in the mirror and like what I see! I can see a future for myself. I can be the person I always saw in the few dreams I could have in my life.