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I& #39;m pretty bad at not living my truth, and ridiculously privileged that it hasn& #39;t come back to bite me.
And one thing I& #39;m thinking about this morning as I have zero inclination to play with my penis is that every time my mind wanders into fantasy, I have a Freudian slip.
And one thing I& #39;m thinking about this morning as I have zero inclination to play with my penis is that every time my mind wanders into fantasy, I have a Freudian slip.
Whenever I think about penetration during this fantasy with a guy or a gal, I& #39;ll swap me, who has a penis, in as the person being penetrated. And now I& #39;m wondering if that& #39;s my subconscious letting me know that, hey buddy, we& #39;ve got the wrong configuration down here.
I& #39;ve been sexually aware nearly my entire life. I used to grind on toys and I remember being annoyed when my penis developed enough that I couldn& #39;t grind on them anymore, there was this stupid erection I had to figure out what to do with.
As I got older, definitely before finishing high school, I remember this feeling of wanting to be penetrated. It took me a while to figure out how to express that, but I started playing with my ass. It was ok, and every few months I& #39;d want to be penetrated.
But while anal can be fun, it& #39;s just never quite right. It feels like an And This thing. Masturbating my penis, yes I can have an orgasm, but they& #39;re almost never that satisfying. More like scratching an itch that feels good.
It is possible to have a knockout orgasm with a penis. One where, wow, now that& #39;s what an orgasm is supposed to be. But these are rare, and I& #39;m not entirely sure how to achieve them. They& #39;re definitely a slow build up, much like how I& #39;ve heard great sex for a woman can be.
And as I& #39;m laying here this morning thinking about how what I fantasized about to start getting aroused, was the idea of having a vagina, of being penetrated in something designed for that purpose. And it sounds right.
This has me wondering, despite having plenty of opportunities to sleep with folks, I& #39;ve never done so. Part of that is definitely being terrified of intimacy. Most people don& #39;t dive for cover when patted on the shoulder, or have a deep panic at a touch on the arm.
But another part of me wonders if it& #39;s because I can& #39;t have sex the way I want to. I crave penetration at times, but if anal doesn& #39;t satisfy that, is it because it& #39;s just a proxy for a hole I should have?
When I think about being with a guy, being able to ride his dick turns me on. To be able to feel his cock filling my emptiness as my body wraps around his. My arms around him holding his warmth close to me. My breasts and those sensitive nipples grinding on his chest.
Or when I think about being with a woman. There& #39;s penetration involved, but for both of us. I could use my penis, but it feels like a secondary part of the experience. Delighting in those curves, satisfying this oral fixation by delighting her. Fingering her or getting fingered.
When I think about the delightfully curvy and soft woman who propositioned me for a four way, I find myself thinking about being her as much as being one of the guys penetrating her. Or getting spitroasted while being inside of her.
But how do you know if that& #39;s truly what you want? Is it just an idle fantasy? Is crossdressing since you were 10, frequent slips of the tongue and a desire to be penetrated really enough to say I need major surgery to match what maybe I& #39;m missing?
Today I pass as a normal white male and good god is that easy mode in America. To be a woman, great, now I& #39;m viewed as less simply for existing. Which is fucking bullshit. I try to call that shit out if I see anyone saying it around me, but how much don& #39;t I see because I& #39;m a guy.
And then the stigma around being trans. Oh my god. It& #39;s never, yay, you& #39;re able to live your truth, it& #39;s always A Thing, unless you find the right people, but those are relatively small pockets. Not the privilege of a white guy who when he lives how he wants to is just being him.
On the other hand, how much of my life is hurt by not possibly expressing myself completely. I won& #39;t put up with silence for long in most other aspects of my life, what if I just don& #39;t fully appreciate that I& #39;ve accepted the only identity I& #39;ve been handed.
It& #39;s not like I& #39;ve exactly had a wide social circle. If I& #39;ve exchanged words with others for more than an hour in a day, that& #39;s abnormal. I already never go out and feel uncomfortable around everyone. Is that because deep down I know I& #39;m wearing camouflage?
