A Birthday Present

The Suggestion

Recently I went on a date with a married couple. Well, date might be an exaggeration. I was a birthday gift for the husband.

Being treated like a sex object is a fetish of mine. So I was intrigued when the wife messaged me about being a gift. And by intrigued I mean turned on.

This was not the first time I've been a present (I know, you are all shocked). But it was my first time with this couple, so I figured I should do it right. A couple weeks before the date my Miss and I had lunch with the wife to negotiate the scene. My Miss wanted to make sure I was safe and didn't agree to anything too crazy. Sometimes I get excited and need someone to rein me in.

The Negotiation

The lunch was odd; sitting in a restaurant discussing things like oral sex and getting peed on. I'm pretty sure the guy behind me heard a lot; no idea what he thought. Maybe it was his best lunch ever.

The wife told me what to wear and that I should give her hubby a birthday card that listed my boundaries. The idea was that I'd be a surprise present.
At work the day of the date I had a hard time focusing. I bought a card and my hands shook as I wrote out the message. It felt so dirty.

Before leaving I realized we hadn't discussed dinner. Which made sense. I wasn't invited for dinner and conversation. I was invited to be a sex toy. I ate a breakfast bar and drove over.

The Arrival

They both met me at the door and showed me into the living room. They gave me some water and had me look over the toys they planned to use on me. I have no allergies, like latex or glycerin, so I had no concerns. But I felt a bit intimidated looking at a table full of sex toys that would be used on me.

After a couple minutes of small talk she told me to strip. Right there in the living room. No dinner, no drinks, no tour of the house. Just strip. I was there to be used.

This threw me. At parties I sneak off to change into my girl clothes. And then I feel sexy and flirty. Being told to strip out of my work clothes and be sexy about it felt weird. And humiliating. Which made it hot.

I didn't do a very good strip show; they were boy clothes after all. But I tired to put on my girl clothes in a fun way. And as I got dressed I felt myself change. I became more relaxed, more flirty, and more comfortable with my role as a sex toy. I guess the clothes really do make the (wo)man.

Per her request, I was wearing black leather ankle boots with a 3 inch heel, lace thigh highs, a garter belt, black satin panties with bows, a red satin can-can skirt, a black and white striped satin corset, black lace gloves, and kitten ears. I also put on a kitten tail. Because I'm a kitty!

I meowed at them a few times; they seemed to like it.

Part of the idea behind me being a gift was the wife getting the husband to express his top side. (I was happy to be a practice sub; I'm easy.) So throughout the evening she would tell him what to do and then he'd tell me. After I finished getting dressed she told him to inspect me. 
He ran his hands over me, checking my outfit. Then she told him to sniff me and tell her how I smelled. And once again I felt humiliated. And once again it was unexpected and exciting. I'd been driving in 100 degree heat for about an hour. Yes I had the A/C on, but still, I had no idea how I smelled or if he'd like it.

He sniffed the back of my head, the small of my back, my ass, my cock. He said he really liked how my cock smelled. Wow. I felt like a real piece of meat. Delicious!

She told him to blindfold me and then told me to undress him, with just one hand and my mouth. Being blindfolded really focuses your attention. I got his shirt off easily but struggled with his pants and boxers.

After he was undressed they pulled up my skirt, pulled down my panties, and vajazzled me. Or I guess pejazzled me. I was smooth all over, so it was easy for them. I couldn't see what they were putting on me. They kept teasing me about the different jewels and patterns. He said he was making an arrow that pointed to my girlcock. And then they were joking and laughing about how it looked on me. I had no say on what they were doing; I was just there to amuse them.

And Then The Oral Sex

With no warning she pushed me backward onto the sofa. That was a bit freaky as I didn't know there was a sofa there. Trust.

He straddled me and had me smell him. He rubbed his cock on my face and then his balls. He also shoved his fingers into my mouth and had me stick my tongue out and leave it out.

They both kept commenting on what a whore I was and how easy I was, showing up at a house where I barely know the people and letting them use me.

He had me lick and suck his balls while he put on a condom. She was down by my legs and started working my girlcock. As he slid his cock into my mouth she flicked my balls, slapped my girlcock, rubbed ice on my ass, tickled my feet. It was all I could do to stay under him.

He really liked my deep throating, even though it was a difficult angle. Eventually I had to safeword on the ball slapping as I'm not into CBT and it was quite painful. Some might say I have a low threshold for pain. I prefer to say I'm highly reactive; a little goes a long way.

This went on for quite some time, the wife working my cock and balls and hubby fucking my mouth and throat.

I didn't get hard, or even close, during all of her attention. I got hard from the humiliation when I changed in front of them. And when he sniffed me. But giving the blow job was pretty distracting. And my girlcock can be shy with new people. I didn't expect to get hard but forgot to mention it during negotiation. I hoped she wasn't insulted by my soft cock.

(Yes, I was sitting half-naked, with hubby fucking my mouth and the wife slapping and abusing my cock and balls and I was worried my lack of erection might hurt her feelings. That's just how my brain works.)
She used the situation as an opportunity to insult my girlcock. Calling it small, referring to is a clit, remarking how I couldn't get hard. This had all been negotiated, but it was still damn hot. I agreed, telling them how soft and little my girlcock was. Between gagging.

After a while hubby laid down and I got between his legs. She was spanking me and calling me names as I sucked him to orgasm. I felt a thrill as he throbbed in my mouth, knowing I'd been a good slut and gotten him off.

She asked if he wanted another but he said he was done, so they took off my blindfold and I laid back on the sofa and asked for a tissue. You know you gave a good blow job when you have to blow your nose!

And I needed some water. They also gave me some chocolate to eat and we made small talk for a few minutes. But it was clear it was time for me to go. They were done using me. Which, again, was really hot.

I put on my boy clothes, stuffed my girl clothes in a duffle, and headed out.

The Aftermath

Driving home I felt like a whore; used and sent on her way. It was such a wild, exhilarating feeling.

And my throat was sore for three days after that. A nice reminder, each time I swallowed.

Is it weird that I found that kind of date very easy? I didn't have to worry about small talk. I didn't have to think about what to do. I just had to do as I was told. Maybe it's a sign that I have intimacy issues.
Or maybe I'm just a slut.

Dysphoria to Euphoria: A Summer Camp Odyssey

My Cunning Camp Plan

This year at Kinky Sex Camp I had a plan. Over the summer I'd been exploring my gender and a lot of issues had come. So at camp I wanted to try different gender presentations and see how they felt.

Camp is amazing because you can pretty much do anything you want (as long as it's consensual). And people are very accepting of whatever you do. Or they ignore you. Either way, it's a great place to experiment.

Facing My Issues

I really enjoy being sexual with my friends. That's one of the main reasons I'm polyamorous. And I really enjoy meeting someone new, flirting with them, feeling some chemistry, and then running off and getting naughty.

So you'd think I'd be in kitty heaven at play parties and conventions. However, there is another truth about me. The less I know someone, the less comfortable I am using my penis.

I always thought this was performance anxiety, or phobias about getting a disease. And while I think those are pieces of the puzzle, I now realize that gender dysphoria is a bigger part.

In the past I've dealt with this by trying to get to know people before I play with them. And explaining that I don't involve my penis much until I have more of a relationship going.

My friends have been fine with this. Everyone has boundaries and rules and limits. And there are plenty of fun, naughty things that don't involve my penis.

But it often leaves me frustrated because I want to connect in a more sexual way. Yet, when I do involve my penis it's left me feeling bad. It's sort of hard to describe. Being unable to describe it better than "feels bad" I just avoided it.

Then I got to camp and decided to face it.

Being a Girl at Camp

Thursday night I had a play date with a guy in the Sex O Rama. He wanted to fuck me in the ass and I thought that was a yummy idea.

He suggested we use a swing, which I'd never tried. So I laid on my back as he fingered me and then fucked me with his strapon. It was, indeed, yummy.

However, laying on my back in the swing, with him standing, meant I was staring down at my own body. Which meant I was staring at my own cock.

And that felt really weird, which was unexpected. Because, honestly, I see a lot of my cock. But I was dressed like a cute girl, getting fucked by a hot guy, and here I was, with a penis!

In the last couple of years I've done enough reading to know the name for this feeling, gender dysphoria. The feeling that my body's genital configuration wasn't matching up with the gender configuration that feels right in my brain.

Laying there in the swing, I didn't freak out. I mean, it's camp! Every couple of hours I expect to experience something that causes me to feel weird or strange or some other, unexpected emotion.

So after acknowledging my feelings, I stared at my partner, I stared at the ceiling, I closed my eyes. I took my focus off my cock (which was just lying there not doing anything) and focused on the strapon in my ass (which was doing quite a bit).

Later I asked him to take me outside, bend me over the railing, and fuck me. He was happy to oblige. And sure enough, I enjoyed that position much more because I couldn't see my cock. (The strangers walking by staring, or ignoring us, only added to the fun.)

After the fucking, we talked and I told him about my feelings. Being trans person himself he suggested it was dysphoria, which confirmed and affirmed my feelings.

Time to explore this further.

Being a Boy At Camp

Friday evening I presented as a boy. There were several events that seemed like good opportunities for this. One was cruising in the woods, which was specificily for male-identified people, or people presenting as male, or in male head-space.

My Mistress was presenting as a boy as well. So off we headed, into the woods. My Mistress with her strapon, me with my factory-issued cock.

It wasn't the best experience for us. I couldn't see anyone or much of what was going on because it was so dark. I have nothing against anonymous sex, but not seeing the person, or seeing what you are doing? I guess I'm a lot more visual than I thought.

And I was feeling pretty unsure about the whole presenting-as-a-boy thing. Which was unexpected, since I have a lot of experience presenting as a boy. But it made me feel off my game, or strange, or out of sorts. 

And did I mention the part about not being able to see anyone? It wasn't working for my Mistress either, so we headed back to main camp to see what other trouble a couple of boys could get up to.

We made our way to the Times Square Cinema event. It was set up to approximate the grindhouses of Manhattan back when you went to watch porn, and grope each other.

I sat next to a dirty lady and we groped each other. And she fed me Junior Mints. Being that it was a dirty movie theater, I unzipped my pants. She commented that it was cute, and then molested me. I liked the comment, "cute", but also sensed it's not what most men would want to hear.

All in all, my night of being a boy resulted in not much play. I'm not sure being a boy is really for me.

I was ready to continue experimenting.

Making My Strapon My Own

My plan for Saturday was to present as a girl with a strapon. I was invited to a non-bio cock gang bang, a mythical creature orgy, and I'd be a "working" in the brothel as a whore (no actual money is involved).

Part of me wanted to involve my penis in some of the action, but this was research, for science! (or self-discovery), so I tucked my penis away in my panties (pointing it backward between my legs, giving me a smooth profile).

I had to cancel on the gang bang because my Mistress had a migraine and needed me to help her. But by the evening she was feeling better so I headed to the orgy, harness on and strapon ready. Using my strapon felt, amazing. I had people sucking on it and then fucked a girl. I could feel her opening on my shaft, could feel her wetness dripping on me, could feel her squeezing on it as I fucked her.

And I could feel pleasure from it that had nothing to do with my penis. (She was tucked away and soft the whole time.) Call it my psychic cock, my astral cock, energy orgasms, whatever, it was amazing. Like a girl, I was riding the orgasm wave up and down as it flowed from her pussy down my strapon and into my body. 

I left the orgy feeling energized and excited, and wanting to fuck everyone with my strapon.

At the brothel I laid out two dildos on the bed, like a merchant showing her wares. I had no idea what people would think, but the reaction was great. During my two-hour shift I fucked two women, one a friend, the other a stranger.

And it felt great!

And I felt great about myself!

No "bad" feelings. No dysphoria, just wild elation. And more orgasms.

The experience of being a girl with a strapon left me feeling liberated, energized, euphoric. It was like suddenly, after years of misfires, everything clicked into place and instead of stumbling in the dark I was flying.

After Camp

I feel like I've had a major break through and I'm further along the road of self discovery, which is great. But it's also a bit scary because I don't where my journey may be going.

For years I've been fine with identifying as GenderQueer, but I"m feeling a lot more transgendered, transgirl, than I did before. And I'm not sure what to do with that.

The journey continues.

My Second Time as a Girl

Second Verse Same as the First-What to Wear

I had another date and presented as a girl. This time it was with a girl who was presenting as a girl.

In telling people about it, everyone asked what I’d wear. I found it a bit annoying. As if that was the defining characteristic of being a girl. And it wasn’t a fetish event; it was just a date. But somehow saying, “jeans and a T shirt” didn't feel like the right answer. I was going out to present as a girl! Do girls go out wearing just jeans and a T shirt?

Apparently not, based on the suggestions I received. OK, so many of the suggestions were from men on the site where I cam. I can’t really count those. Except that those men represent a certain heteronormative expectation of what a girl should be. (Or they are just a bunch of freaks.)

For example, one guy asked if I’d be wearing pantyhose. The date was on August 20, in Washington DC. It was 101 degrees in the shade. I don’t think any woman in the District was wearing pantyhose that day. So no, I would not be wearing pantyhose.

I bought a new pink tank top that was mesh in the back, in a floral pattern. With a new pink bra with white polka dots. And jeans.

Jeans? Really? On a day when you could smoke fish on the side walk? So I went through my skirts. Many of them aren’t street legal; they don’t cover my butt.

But before the date I started noticing skirt lengths a lot more. Women’s skirts are really short. Like, really short. Good lord. So I went back through my skirts and decided that many of them were acceptable.

But still I resisted the idea. As if wearing a skirt was the final step in presenting as a girl, but wearing jeans meant I could still claim a bit of my boyness. As if I might be pulled over by the gender police and I needed plausible denialability. “Officer, what do you mean I’m trying to present as a girl? I’m wearing jeans!”

Which I realized was ridiculous. If I was presenting as a girl, I was crossing that line whether I was wearing jeans or a skirt.

In the end I was just like everyone else. What would I wear? How short would my skirt be? How revealing my top? Apparently that’s what defines a girl; how much of her body she reveals.

I wore a skirt. Black, just about an inch above the knee. And pink high tops. (And no pantyhose.)

I wore make up, this time with eye shadow and some better concealer. I felt a bit better about my appearance. Did I pass “better”? I don’t know. I felt a bit better about it.

Stepping Back Outside

Once again I was terrified the moment I stepped outside. Like I’d entered an alien landscape and had to get to my car as fast as possible. But as soon as I was out of my neighborhood I relaxed.

A friend told me that most people don’t really care what other people wear; most people just want to be left alone. And another said that most people only notice things right in their face.

And sure enough, on the drive over no one even looked at me. I hit several stop lights as the lead car, with large numbers of people crossing the street. (Summer in DC brings lots of tourists.) But none of them even looked at my car. They were all consumed with their own lives.

I parked at my date’s house and stepped out of the car. No one on the street noticed me. It was completely uneventful. My date and I sat in her kitchen catching up. When one of her roommates came home my date leaned in and asked how I wanted to be introduced.

Yikes. I gave her my girl name and that was that. Her roommate smiled and said hi to me as a girl.

It felt really nice to meet someone as a girl. Or have them meet me as a girl. Like they were seeing the real me. Or a more authentic version of me. Or my presentation was more authentic.

When I meet people, especially girls, I spend a lot of time and energy to let them know I’m not like other guys. I have always felt it very important to get that across. It was nice to let my presentation speak for itself this one time.

And when I’ve spent time with guys, especially extremely heteronormative guys, it always makes me uncomfortable. Because it seems like there is always a moment when they look around the room and realize there are only “guys” in the room, so they can suddenly start saying their “guy bullshit” or start acting all “guy”. And it’s OK because everyone there is in on it, because we are all “guys”.

And I’m never sure exactly how to respond. I’d prefer them to know that I’m not one of them. Often, I’d prefer to just leave.

Getting Undressed

Anyway, that was about it for my girlness that day. We went up to her room and had sexynaughtyfuntimes. Which was wonderful. My wig didn’t last very long and my make up came off fairly quickly.

I didn’t feel like I had switched back to a boy. I just felt like I wasn’t wearing a wig or make up anymore.

After that we went out to dinner. I wore girl jeans and a boy T shirt. Was I a boy again? Was I still a girl?

I’ve heard some trans people say they have a male persona and a female persona. I’ve always maintained that I’m just me. But the last couple weeks I’ve been feeling more split. Like maybe I do have a male persona and a female persona and I want to be that female persona more. Not that I want to present as a girl more, but I want to inhabit that persona more.

Which smacked up against my older conception of myself. Was I changing? Was I wrong and now right? Or was something else going on?

Something Else May Be Going On

As I thought about it more I kept going back to meeting the roommate and her seeing me as a girl (or a transgirl at least). And it wasn’t that I was a different person (or persona) than if I had been wearing jeans and a T shirt. It was that she was seeing me as a different person.

People treat men and women differently. We have a different set of expectations, assumptions, preconceived notions. We even have different titles and colors.We all know that a man can say something and it means one thing and when a woman can say the same thing it can mean something different. We are all aware of these double standards.

So when I present as a girl, the set of assumptions people bring to me are different. And I have to react to them and play off them in a different manner than I would if I were presenting as a boy.

So it’s not that my personality is different when I present as a girl, it’s that I have to adjust my behavior as well as what I say and how I say it to effectively communicate my meaning.

I make it sound like I was off giving speeches as a girl. I think all I said to her was, “yes,” and maybe, “uh huh,” and possibly, “oh.”

But I was aware of those differences, that set of assumptions, and maybe feeling a bit paralyzed by them. But they feel like a better set of assumptions than the set of assumptions used for guys.

I’m still not sure I was meant to be a girl. Or want to present as one more often. Maybe I want to be something more in-between. The main thing is, I want to be me. And I’ve always found that a challenge in our society. But I don’t plan on moving, so I guess I need to figure this out.

My First Time as a Girl

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Throat Fucking

I seem to be getting dirtier and dirtier. I recently realized I really like sex when it gets messy. Very messy. Like, the kind of messy you get from throat fucking.

A couple weeks back I was at a play party, for the first time in months. Unfortunately, there wasn't much play going on.

It was a going away party for one of the honorary members of our triad. He's moving out to the west coast in a couple weeks. He was a real integral member of the local BDSM community. He will be sorely missed.

He rented a BDSM club for the party so we had the run of the place. The first time I'd been there was a year earlier when he rented it for his birthday. At that party he had had several party games, one of which was a contest to see who could deep throat the deepest.

I love taking things deep in my throat, and kind of get off on the gag reflex. So I thought I'd be a contender. But he used a night club and really, that's way to fat for me, and most of us.

I lost to a girl who could take over 10 inches. Which is quite impressive.

Later, another girl was using a dildo on her own throat, to see how deep she could take it. She was using a double-ended dildo and asked if I wanted to try it. Of course I said yes. She started fucking my face with the dildo. First just to the back of my mouth, but then deeper. I started gagging a lot, and shaking all over from it. Pretty soon I had to time my breathing to her thrusts.

We were sitting on a spanking bench in the middle of the club and soon everyone was watching. I didn't notice because I was staring at the ceiling, my mouth wide open, her dildo deep in me. She was calling me names and telling me to take it even deeper for her. I was gagging and groaning and begging for more.

Each time she pulled the dildo out more of my own spit dripped on my chin. After a while spit was dripping off me. She scooped it up and slapped my face with it, rubbing it on my cheeks. She called me a dirty girl as she rubbed it on my neck. I was still shaking and trembling, not quite believing what was happening. I knew I liked to gag, but I'd never produced so much spit, never shaken so much, never wanted so much more.

Once more she plunged the dildo down my throat and once more I gagged and choked. Then I felt a bit of my stomach come up. Wow. That was really disgusting and dirty and kind of hot. When she pulled the dildo out again I whispered, "I want to puke for you." Her eyes lit up and she rammed her hand to the back of my throat.

Her fingers rubbed around at the base of my tongue. I was jerking and straining, gagging very time her fingers moved in me. The feeling was overwhelming; it was all I could think of, all I was aware of. The world was her fingers and my throat.

Though a part of me was thinking, "Am I really doing this? Am I really opening my mouth in a room full of people so a girl can push her fingers into my throat? Am I really begging to puke for her? What does that even mean, to puke 'for her'? Is that something she wants me to beg for? And why would I even want such a thing? How disgusting am I?"

She kept this up for a while, but I never came close to puking again. I guess I'm just too good at gagging.

Eventually she stopped and I noticed all the people, sitting in a circle around us. Humiliating and hot! We went into the bathroom to clean up, where she told me how much she enjoyed it, but she wouldn't kiss me because my face was so messy and dirty.

I still find it kind of disgusting and disturbing, but I'm also watching a lot of spitting videos now. It's too much of a turn on to avoid.

Online Slavery Article

Eden Fantasys just posted another article of mine. This one is about my experiences as an online slave.

"I ended up the collared pet of a woman I never met, never talked to on the phone, saw on webcam only a handful of times, but communicated with almost daily. It’s not easy turning your life over to another person, and maybe not all that healthy. But its allure was as strong as any drug and I just couldn’t resist."

Read the rest here:

http://www.edenfantasys.com/sexis/sex/online-bdsm-0113101/