Scintillectually Yours

I have had the honor (and sometimes trying experience during bouts of writer’s block) of writing for Our Big Gayborhood for the better part of this past year and hopefully for a long time to come. My essays publish on the 22nd of each month and are centered around parenting, relationships, family, and the realities of moving back to the deep South after living in the relative freedom and anonymity of big Northeastern cities for almost 30 years. Today, my essay is a recounting of my first meeting with DPR and our reuniting 26 years later. It is also a telling of the best Christmas gift I’ve ever received. In this case, the gift that keeps on giving, preferably forever. While I won’t link directly to the article, you can get thee to www.ourbiggayborhood.com and read it for yourself (this is more to protect those that don’t want to stumble unawares onto THIS site!). It is called “The Christmas Cairn.” Enjoy!

It has been said (and quite often to me lately) that less-than-perfect relationships can sometimes help you prepare for the one you are meant to be in. This is most certainly the case with me and with the relationship I had with former HTB. If you are a long-time reader (and have not yet abandoned me as I have slighted this site for such a long time) then you might remember that my former fiance was FTM (that’s female-to-male transsexual for anyone not in the know). During his transition, which began about six months after we started dating, there were aspects of his physical form that changed as soon as he started his hormone therapy. Along with the change in bone structure, deepening voice, and receding hairline, his “little man” grew…er…quite large. The physical changes brought about a new level of comfort with his body and eventually those former “no-fly” zones became hands-on and mouth-on again–but necessitated a very different technique than that which I had always been accustomed to when participating in erotic encounters with women.

Now let me digress a moment to my late teen’s when DPR and I first got together. She was what most would refer to as “stone butch.” While she did let me go down on her (because I wasn’t going to take no for an answer after having fantasized about just such a moment for most of my life), she was not used to being on the receiving end and most of our sexual encounters led me into more of a pillow-princess mode along with a fair amount of tribadism. When we reunited 26 years later, I realized that I had come back to her prepared with some new oral skills that I thought she may react more favorably to. You see, DPR identifies as transmasculine (and at this point, referring to DPR as “she” and “her” is not exactly true to her ever-increasing masculine nature…but I find the alternative pronouns cumbersome so bear with me), and has never been keen on having direct clitoral stimulation. While I want, nee NEED it (power, more power!), she finds it downright annoying. So much so that she had long given up on being on the receiving end of any sexual activity. Knowing this, and armed with some knowledge about how to treat a “micropenis” as it were, I set about approaching her nether parts as more masculine. The results…well…let’s just say she’s pleased. Very pleased.

While I am not in the habit of giving up trade secrets, I do think that there are a vast number of folk who are still biologically female-bodied but who don’t relate to their genitals in the same way as those of us who are extremely comfortable with our very girly girl parts. So, I impart this little piece of knowledge on “how to treat the boi-clit.” I don’t mean to imply that I am the only femme on earth who comes equipped with this little skill, but I do believe there are women out there in similar situations who have partners who have given up in frustration or feel, as DPR did, that something must be physically wrong with them because their parts don’t respond in a “typical” fashion. And to that end, DPR would like you to know that her parts are working just fine, thank you. You can try it or not…but if you do and it works as well as it has for us? Consider it my little Christmas gift to you and yours. *wink*

I begin by using my hands and lips. All over. Foreplay is essential for everyone and heightens the senses for the main event. A soft caress here, a trail of nails there. A kiss, a nibble, a bite. If your boi’s chest is a no-fly zone? Run your hand down the middle of hir chest–rest it there and let hir feel the sensation of what it might be like the day zhe won’t have to bind or be hyperaware of hard nipples poking through a beater on a hot summer day. Let your fingers trail downward and trace lazy circles in the manscaping (and please, bois, do tend to the bushes…no matter how you identify, no one should need a machete to reach the promised land). I then focus on the shaft. It’s all about the shaft. Grasp hir boi-clit between your thumb and forefinger (trust me, it should be nice and thick and hard by now, T or no T), and stroke. Stay away from the head of the clitoris, it is likely to be supersensitive to the point of painful. If natural lubrication is not a no-fly zone then that’s a plus, but not necessary, it’s all in the pulling motion.

This, in itself, could lead to orgasm, but I really love my lips wrapped around hir little cock. I come in from the side–always. Either on my knees so zhe can have access to either my breasts or cunt, or lying flat on my belly. Being on my knees tends to give me a greater range of motion and less of a pain in the neck (literally). If you come in from the top or from between hir legs, you will get too much head and you want to pull the length of hir shaft into your mouth and as far down your throat as possible. Unless zhe has had surgery to release the tendon underneath the clitoral hood, you are better off coming in from the side. Trust me.

This is when I use my lips to draw hir boi-clit up into my mouth. Slowly…achingly slowly at first. I suck hir in until my mouth is filled from the base of hir shaft to the head and then I slowly…achingly slowly, let it go again. I tend to repeat this process a few times before I really start sucking. I love the feeling of hir in my mouth, hir fat flesh against the inside of my lips, my tongue caressing the side of hir shaft, my mouth watering and my pussy wet, dripping. If you have ever had any experience giving a blowjob to a cisgendered male then you can truly appreciate the finer points. Treat hir boi-clit as a penis. That same up-and-down motion on hir hard shaft is going to generate the same results. Stop and lick the underside as you would the frenulum. Eventually you will find a rhythm that suits hir. You may also find hands tangled in your hair and pushing your head down while lovely nasty things are said about what zhe is feeling. It may take a while. Don’t give up in frustration. A little stiff neck is worth the reward. Just before zhe cums, you will literally feel hir harden in your mouth. Zhe will swell and when zhe cums I slow down and suck. Hard. I suck every drop of cum I can possibly get out of hir.

And then, sometimes, if I don’t get pushed away, I start all over again.

I’m a horrible blogger. I have neglected this site for so long that just coming around to muse the fact that people still actually stop by here every single day (and not just a few…more like…50) even though I haven’t posted in a coon’s age (yes, I am picking up southern colloquialisms) makes me cough and sputter through the dust and cobwebs in the corners. So, I thought that, while I don’t have anything remotely sex-related to write about today, I’d at least let my faithful readers know I’m still alive and well.

DPR and I have settled into somewhat of a routine since I moved down here in July. Although we don’t live in the same house, we do spend most of our nights together. Some are hot and steamy, others are lovely, quiet times when we lie next to each other with books and reading glasses, holding hands, and then drifting off to sleep with hir hand on my breast (it’s by far my favorite way to fall asleep). Our life has become fairly domesticated and we no longer need to cram all that we can into a too-short week’s visit once a month or so. We are both busy with our respective jobs, our extended families, entertaining friends for dinner, and co-parenting my son (DPR is rock solid in that department and I thrill to watch my son wait at the window for hir arrival and wrap himself around hir like a monkey).

Additionally, I have finally had the chance to pursue a lifelong dream of being on the stage (no, not as a pole dancer, although the fantasy is a good one). Since July I have auditioned for three shows, gotten three callbacks, and landed a small role in To Kill a Mockingbird. Through 5 weeks of grueling rehearsals and 10 performances, DPR would work all day and then shuffle my son off to Scouts or help with homework or play games and then put him to bed so that I could get my first experience in live theatre. Needless to say, I loved every minute of it. The set was unbelievable, the cast and crew were amazing, and I learned so much in the process. I am forever grateful to finally have a partner that actually encourages my interests rather than laughing them off. For 10 years after my son was born, I put aside all of my own wants and needs in favor of his because my partners weren’t willing to step up and share responsibility. DPR does all that and then some…and it doesn’t hurt that I’m marrying into a theatre family. Zhe gets it. Zhe really does. (Oh, the pronouns? Yeah…I’ll explain that some other time.)

Wait, you caught the marrying part, too? Yes, on top of all that we have on our plates, we are planning our wedding. We set a date and we will be married in front of approximately 100 of our closest friends and family October 1, 2011. Afterward, we are jetting off to Hawaii to stay at a friend’s B&B in South Kona. While I sometimes feel the chill in my toes—having been divorced once and left at the altar a second time—I really am quite content to know that I’ll be spending the rest of my life with my best friend, my lover, my anam cara.

So, you see, we’re here…we’re just busy living life together. I am keeping up with some other writing projects—my letter writing challenge is taking far longer than 30 days, but I do get my article in for Our Big Gayborhood on time every month. In fact, yesterday my article posted about gender issues and the lines we draw for our children. Check it out here.

DPR has given me a few choice assignments for Wicked Wednesday that I need to work on and I am about a dozen products behind in my sex toy reviews. Rest assured, I’ll have some time over the holidays to do some writing and I promise not to neglect you all for long. My thanks for your loyal readership and willingness to be patient.

vi.sualize.us

Anyone who knows my darling DPR and/or reads her blog, knows that she is extremely androgynous. Actually, she doesn’t look as confusing as she does downright male. Hell, just the other day while in line at the dollar store, the woman in front of her referred to her as “just another caucasian male.” Really? She could pass 100% of the time as a man if she never opened her mouth. When she speaks however, out drips this warm, soft southern syrup. A decidedly feminine voice if there ever was one.

DPR deals with gender confusion issues every day of her life and has done so since she was old enough to recognize that people were looking at her funny. This isn’t a “look” she chose to go after. She was simply born this way. If she tries to “femme-it-up” to make her identity easier for others, she looks very much like a bad drag queen. She is often mistaken for a gay man (which has had its amusing moments) but more often than not, folks just gawk openly. Sometimes the more ignorant of them assume that since she is gender-fluid, she must also be deaf—as was the case of the two women sitting across from her at the doctor’s office recently. She tells of one of the women very loudly  “stage-whispering” to her companion, “Is that a man or a woman?” Her friend looked at her, “What?” “Right there in front of you, dummy!” the woman replied. The entire waiting room was watching this exchange while DPR contemplated running for the exit. Instead she said simply, “Woman.” “WHAT???” came the incredulous response  (because she spoke, not because she identified her gender). “You seem confused,” DPR said, “I’m female.” This is but one example of what she endures every single day. I’ve seen it in action and I get extraordinarily angry at the ignorance that provokes such public humiliation.

Those who know me, know that I try to live my life based on my favorite quote by Emile Zola: “You ask me what I came here to do. I will tell you. I came to live out loud.” So it isn’t like me to sit idly by and let anyone I love be bashed in any way. While this may cause further embarrassment at times, it’s hard for me to hold back. So it was the other evening at dinner.

We were out at our favorite restaurant with her mother and my son. We frequent this place at least once a week and DPR has been a regular for more than a decade. Needless to say, she knows everyone and everyone knows her. Well, everyone save the three elderly folks who were seated three tables away from our booth. DPR had come in late and they must have watched her walking across the parking lot. Slim of hip and flat of chest, she has close-cropped hair and a bit of a cowboy swagger. Dressed for work in khaki pants and a button-down shirt over a polo, she sat down and placed her order. The minute she opened her mouth I watched all three blue-tinted heads swivel in their chairs. I let it pass. When she started relating her day, they turned again. And again. And again. Finally I mentioned it to DPR, who had her back to them. She rolled her eyes and sighed. The woman seated behind her excused herself for eavesdropping but said she had noticed it too and found it horribly rude. “Welcome to my world,” DPR said.

I let a few minutes pass by and then I asked my son to let me out of the booth. “I’ll be back,” I said. Really, I was fed up and this was OUR turf and there was no way I was going to let these people off the hook. I didn’t care how old they were or how entitled they felt in making their disgust and bewilderment so painfully obvious. I walked up to the table with a big smile on my face and was immediately greeted by three of the most shocked looks I’ve ever encountered.

“Hi! I couldn’t help but notice you staring and I figured you must know me! Since I couldn’t place your faces, I thought I’d get up and introduce myself.” I stuck my hand out to the woman across the table and said “I’m Diana…and you are…?” The woman mumbled something incoherent and shook my hand. I repeated the process with her friend who was peering at me owlishly out of a very red face. Then I turned to the man who seemed to be trying to crawl under the table, “And you sir? You are…?” Of course I don’t recall any of their names. They were insignificant to me. I was there to make a point. “That’s fabulous!” I said,”Well now! I just want you all to enjoy the rest of your meal and,” at this point, I leaned in closely and confidentially, all eyes upon me, and said, “why don’t you take the rest of the evening to,” I gestured in a small circle around the table, “talk amongst yourselves now. Take care!” I flashed another huge smile and walked back to our booth and sat down. Needless to say, I never saw them turn around again.

DPR looked at her mom, “This is why I love this woman.”

Never, ever let it be said that chivalry is either dead or marked “butch only.” Next time, I may take names AND kick some ass.

I kissed a girl, her lips were sweet

She was just like kissin’ me,

Kissed a girl won’t change the world

But I’m so glad I kissed a girl

~Jill Sobule

*Wicked Pink Ruffled Hot Pants courtesy of Tabu Toys—review pending

*CLICK*

Don’t forget to visit Osbasso’s site for more HNT goodness!

Clearly, I’ve not done a very good job of keeping up with the posts on this site. Scintillectually Yours is suffering from a lack of attention from the author, who happens to be a full-time mom with a full-time job and a small part in an upcoming production of To Kill a Mockingbird that requires late night rehearsals. While I fully intend to do  what I can here when the mood strikes, you can find me tackling the 30-day letter writing challenge over at my other site. I hope you’ll check out my work there and keep checking back here often as you never know when I’ll turn up, half-nekkid and turned on.

My darling DPR nominated me as one of Rhett’s Queens of the Rodeo over on his site, Musings from the High Speed Rodeo. I got up this morning to find pics of myself plastered all over his page along with some truly blush-worthy text written by my sweetie. So get on over there and check it out. Don’t forget to browse around and see the Queens that came before me and if you have a beautiful femme Queen you’d like to nominate, step up to the bar and do so!

Oh, and if you were ever curious about what I look like from the neck up? You won’t be anymore! *grin*

Devil with the blue dress on
Wearin’ her perfume, Chanel No. 5
Got to be the finest girl alive
She walks real cool, catches everybody’s eye
She’s got such good lovin’ that they can’t say goodbye
Not too skinny, she’s not too fat
She’s a real humdinger and I like it like that
She’s the devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress,
Devil with the blue dress on

*Click*

And be sure to visit Osbasso for more HNT goodness!

A cold fear immobilizes me at the sight of the finely honed blade. Knives, nee sharp objects of any kind, have been a long-standing phobia of mine—surpassing even my rampant arachnophobia perhaps. The steel throws off a golden sheen, reflecting the candlelight that surrounds the bed. I have trusted you, as I have trusted no other, to bring this instrument of utmost torture into my sanctuary. My safety zone. My womb.

You have a penchant for all things sharp and cutting. Your walls adorned with ceremonial swords, your drawers hiding secret weapons. This, the one you brought along tonight, is a favorite of yours. A switchblade with a pearl handle. Long. Dangerous.

I have trusted you with much. I trust you with my life. I trust you not to hurt me beyond that which I can stand. I enter into this dark night with trepidation. You stroke my face silently, run your thumb across my trembling bottom lip. My hands are tightly bound above my head, my feet splayed out wide and anchored to each bedpost. I am utterly helpless. Completely at your mercy. I am scared.

You ask if I am ready. I pause. A fleeting moment passes as I waver, unsure. I muster up the courage of my convictions and nod, licking my lips, swallowing hard.

You raise the blade so that it is directly in front of my face and then you pull my blindfold down. Trust. trust. trust. trust. I repeat my mantra over and over and over again. I know you dare not hurt me. My body shivers and I feel the first touch of the ice cold steel as you run the back of the blade along my cheek, replacing the warmth of your hand. I tense. I have no idea where you intend to go next.

And then I feel the back side of the blade slide up along my torso and you pull my camisole taught against it. The flimsy silk falls away (like a knife through butter) and I gasp. My back arches and I feel my own wetness pour forth in a thoroughly unexpected rush.

I buck up against you, my bravery in the face of my fear turning instantly to eager anticipation. The feel of the steel against my soft flesh, the complete knowledge that although you would never cross the line and draw blood, accidents do happen. In an instant you slice through the sides of my panties and leave me completely exposed to you and that razor sharp blade tracing the contours of my body.

Oh, how I never knew I wanted this.

I have entered Anthony Bourdain’s challenge to answer the question “Why Cook Well?” in 500 words or less. The winner will received $10,000 and be published in the paperback edition of his latest book, Medium Raw. I’m a big foodie and a huge fan of Bourdain’s. My essay, should you care to hunt it down is under the name Diana C., and is titled “Becoming a Food Snob.” Go vote! You have until the 30th of September and the winner will be announced November 1st.