First Article Published - Male Bisexuality

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Deep Throat Fucking

Was at a birthday play party a few weeks ago for my boyfriend. He had party games, as one does. And one was a deep-throating contest. What would you do at a kinky birthday party?

We started with a police night-stick. I do not recommend this as it is rather wide and not easy to get down. So it was really a competition of who had the deepest mouth. Not very satisfying. I clocked in at just 4 inches. Yes, I know, it's not the size that counts, but still, I knew I could do better.

Eventually someone got out a jelly double-ended dildo and things really heated up. I was going to demand a second chance, but the winner clocked in at 9.5 inches so I didn't bother.

Later, however, several of us were still wondering and I saw a hot girl in the main play area laying on her back and really jamming it down her throat. When she finished she went and washed it off. I grabbed a fresh condom and, when she returned, said I wanted another go as well.

I pushed it down my throat with her watching close by. I hadn't deep-throated in a while, so it didn't go very far. The girl smiled and then reached out and jammed it down further. "Come on," she said, "you can do better." I leaned back and took even more, feeling it push the back of my mouth open and enter my throat.

Now, I'm a perverted kitty and I really get off on the gag reflex. As in, it feels almost like an orgasm when it gets going. So I started gagging and drooling and begging for more.

My friend smiled and obliged. She jammed it down even more. We didn't measure, but I took almost the whole thing, feeling it sliding deep into my throat.

I had to time my breathing, taking extra deep breaths in rhythm to the fucking she was giving me. She kept jamming it down, causing my whole body to start shaking as my throat gagged and drool dripped from my lips.

Finally she pulled it from my throat and allowed me to catch my breath. She reached out and rubbed the spit and drool all over my face, calling me a dirty bitch. All I could do was agree, and beg for more. "Oh, you want more?" she asked. "Yes, yes," I gasped, still out of breath.

Back down the dildo went, deep into my throat. Several people were watching; several people had to turn away.

I gagged as she called me dirty, filthy names. A friend twittered about it.

I was trembling all over, my whole body on the edge of an orgasm. Or maybe I had gone over. Maybe I was having orgasm after orgasm as she jammed it in and out of my throat. All I could do was beg for more. I really didn't know what would cause me to stop. I didn't know if I could stop.

There comes a time when you're bottoming when you wonder if you can take any more. Will one more thrust be too much? Will I be able to keep going? But at the same time you know you can't possibly stop.

With all the gagging I even threw up a little, in the back of my throat, and swallowed it back down. As disgusting as that was, I wanted more. I wanted to throw up for her. She pulled out the dildo and I told her, "I want to throw up for you."

She smiled even more and called me dirty and sick.

"You want to throw up for me?" she asked.

"Yes," I panted.

"Really? You really do?"

"God yes."

She dropped the dildo and pushed her hand into my mouth, telling me she'd make me vomit.

"Do it, do it, throw up for me," her fingers pushing deep into the back of my mouth, down into my throat, my mouth open for her.

I had to grab her to stay standing. I was shaking and drooling and gagging. I thought I might faint.

Finally I couldn't take any more and we had to stop. She just smiled.

We went to clean up; my face covered in my drool. I washed my face, seeing a bit of blood in my saliva. Well, I guess that was to be expected.

We talked about what a hot scene it had been and then parted. I went and found my Mistress and Miss. They were sitting on a couch and I fell between them and just laid there, floating. I'm so lucky to have them. They'd watched the whole thing and were more than happy to snuggle me now that it was over, and I had cleaned up.

I had so much adrenaline and other drugs floating through me (all released by my brain; nothing artificial) that I was still shaking all over. When we finally got home I could barely sleep. I don't think I came down for about 24 hours.

And now I want more . . .

Why I Don't Like Non-Fetish Parties

This kitty loves to go to parties, but I'm finding that, more and more, I prefer attending fetish parties. It's not that I need to be a full-on pervert all the time (though I do enjoy that), it's just hard to be myself at a non-fetish (vanilla) party.

First off, I'm genderqueer and identify more on the female end of the gender spectrum (if there is such a thing, which I don't always believe). When I go to a fetish party I can dress up in a way that better expresses my true gender. I can wear cute skirts or a naughty or flirty dress. At a vanilla party I have to dress as a boy.

Of course I could wear girl clothes to vanilla parties. Many transsexual, transgender, and genderqueer people do that. I really admire them. I think they have a fierceness and determination that I really respect and admire, and that I lack. I mean, they still kill trans people, don't they. I've experienced enough violence so I probably err on the safe side to avoid it.

But I'm not always comfortable being a boy. Being a boy at a party brings certain expectations. You're supposed to make the first move, and behave in certain ways. And people make certain assumptions about who you are. It's harder to overcome all of that and push out who I really am when I'm dressed as a boy. It is possible, it just takes a lot more effort. I'm usually able to achieve it with people I know, like coworkers. But it's much harder with strangers in a five minute conversation.

I was at a vanilla party around Christmas that included some people I didn't know. Talking with them and interacting I felt like a bit of a phony. Like I was presenting a false view of who I am. One of my partners even commented to some of them, saying something about how they had no idea what I was really like at a fetish party. All I could do was blush and say that I'm a bit different there.

In addition, I know I'm still self-conscious about being polyamorous. I'm much more out about being genderqueer and pansexual than I am about being poly. I'm sure it's partly that my family is the least accepting of my being poly.

All parties are about flirting. But trying to explain poly at a vanilla party can be a bit difficult. Especially being the perceived male in a FFM triad, many people look at it like I "have" two women and am casting about to increase my harem. Really I just like connecting with people on an emotional and physical level. And then making out with them.

And my partners enjoy playing with others too. We all operate under the same rules.

So I feel awkward flirting at a vanilla party. I feel a bit like a creepy guy.

Most of the people at fetish parties get poly. Or they know people in similar situations. At most vanilla parties it's pretty rare to run into other poly people. So we are met either with fascination, like we are an oddity, or derision. And I'm not always sure which it is.

So, while the BDSM scene is certainly not paradise, I find it much more open and accepting than the vanilla world. A place where I can express who I really am and how I prefer to love.

Trying to do that at a vanilla party is just too difficult most of the time. And I end up hiding by the dessert table eating pie.

Another Amazing Pee Scene

It's amazing how getting peed on affects me. It's a bit bizarre. And by bizarre I mean wonderful.

This kitty went to a play party last night at a private home. The woman has an amazing dungeon, with a suspension pit, medical scene room that looks just like a doctor's exam room, and marble wet room.

It's a great space and great people were there, but just way too many. The dungeon was hot and humid and packed. I felt a bit overwhelmed and way too overheated, in a bad way. So my mood started to fall. A lot of people were bailing and I even considered taking off. I did find an empty place to hide for a while and try and rally.

Then, as I was walking through the dungeon one of the presenters for the evening mentioned how much she loves peeing on dirty little sluts. I was like ohhhhh. Then she said that people kept telling her about this citi kittie that likes to be peed on, and who is this citi kittie? It's good to have friends!

I almost fell over before I could say that I was this citi kittie. She smiled and began to tell me how much she enjoys watching her pee hit a little slut's skin and land in his mouth.

Immediately I felt a jolt go through me. My mood changed, I was excited, turned on, focused. It was amazing to me how I went from feeling down and thinking about leaving or at least hiding in a corner to feeling so good.

She told me she'd find me later, when she needed to pee.

I spent the next few hours flirting and kissing, riding my improved mood.

Then she found me and said she had to pee. My heart started racing. We did a quick negotiation of where she would pee; really anywhere except in my mouth. Also, she wanted me to beg for her pee. She said it turned her on more for the person to beg for it. I was willing to oblige ; )

She suggested I strip and I did, in the middle of the dungeon. We went into the wet room and she stripped. She was fairly thin with small boobies and an infectious smile that lit up when she talked about peeing on me. She wore a black Hermes dress that came off quickly. God she was hot. And she was going to pee on me!

She was telling me how excited she was to pee on a naughty slut girl and how she wanted to wash me off when she was done.

I laid down on the bench and asked her to squat over me. She was smiling and calling me a naughty girl, telling me what a hard, throbbing clit I had. I had shaved before the party (of course) and she said she was excited to pee all over my smooth skin.

She was writhing and swinging her hips while I laid under her. I was shaking all over now, begging for her pee. I used to think I shook all while getting peed on because I was in a cold tub, or a cold bathroom. The dungeon, while cooler, was still very warm, and the marble bench was warm as well. No, this was my body shaking in excitement.

Then she let go and peed all over my chest and stomach. She had a landing strip and her pussy opened just a bit as her stream of yellow pee shot out. It flared about, splashing on me, and a bit on her thighs.

She called me a naughty, dirty girl and said I needed her pee to clean me. I just said yes, yes, yes. She peed and peed while I begged for me.

After, I was so hard and turned on, I had to jerk off. She watched, telling me my clit was hard and my pussy was throbbing. I told her what a naughty girl I was and rubbed her pee all over myself. I also smelled it on my fingers, strong, her fluids so close to my face. I came as she smiled down at me.

Then she showered off and showered me off.

And I was flying. Totally high. In a completely different head space than I had been earlier.

And I was just talking away. Even as I was chatting part of my brain was thinking that I was talking too much, but I couldn't stop myself. I was just blah, blah, blah. Like a little kid that gets excited and starts telling the new person all about, well, anything!

We finished showering and kissed. I thanked her probably a million times.

Back in the dungeon my Mistress, my Miss, and my boyfriend were all sitting on the floor chatting with friends. They all stared at me and I did a little happy dance. Literally dancing and wiggling in excitement. As the climax to the 1812 Overture played. Yeah, it was an odd mix for a dungeon, but strangely fitting for that moment in my life. My partners just smiled at me, understanding that this is just one of those things that really get me going.

I flew the rest of the night and had a difficult time sleeping.

Now it's about 12 hours later and I'm still flying. It's really amazing how mood-altering getting peed on is for me.

I need to do this more often!

Thoughts on Gender and Halloween

Over the years my relationship with Halloween has become a lot more complicated. As a genderqueer and transgender identified person, it is an odd holiday and can be difficult.

From what I have read, and experienced, for a lot of GQ and trans people, at first Halloween is your favorite holiday. Because it's the one day a year you can dress as your preferred gender and feel safe going out.

And as you get older, it becomes your least favorite holiday. Because it's the only day of the year you can dress as your preferred gender and feel safe going out.

As I have for the last few years, I attended a BDSM/swingers/fetish play party this year. There were a number of people that appeared to be cross dressing. (And even that term is suspect. You aren't cross dressing if you are dressing as your preferred gender. So it's a difficult topic to even discuss.) But several people appeared to be bio males dressed as women. And probably for a variety of reasons.

People dress in the clothes of a different gender for a variety of reasons.

• It's the clothing of their preferred gender.
• It gives them an erotic thrill.
• It's humiliating.
• It's taboo.
• It's funny.

And it's hard to know the reasons someone is dressing the way they are.

The DSM makes the distinction between cross dressers and trans people. Cross dressers are the ones who get an erotic thrill from it. But I reject this distinction.

I get an erotic thrill from putting on a corset and miniskirt. But I'm pretty sure most cisgendered women get a thrill from putting on a corset and mini skirt too. It's part of what those clothes are designed to do. Emphasize your sexuality.

But I also prefer to wear women's clothes around the house. And I don't get much of a thrill from wearing women's jeans and a woman's polo shirt.

So I think it's a lot more complicated than pop culture or the DSM will have you believe.

I find it curious that I've never discussed gender with anyone at a play party. Not that play parties are a place where deep issues get delved into, but still, you'd think it'd come up at some point.

Once someone asked me which pronouns I prefer (which was awesome, and I was unsure what to say), but that's about as close as it's come.

This is not an accusation against anyone. I find that I have no idea how to bring it up. I get totally tongue-tied. And I'm usually pretty comfortable talking about any subject. But I have yet to discuss gender with anyone at a party.

I'd like to learn more about some of the folks that seem to be cross dressing, or are GQ, or trans, or, well, I don't actually know. Because I've never talked with them.

Maybe it's because it's still all so new for me.

I've always known I had gender issues, but chose to ignore it for years. Which we all know doesn't work.

But for years the only images of trans people I saw were people who were either the butt of a joke or the victim of a crime. And often in places you wouldn't expect. I loved the movie A Mighty Wind. But Harry Shearer's character ended up being a transexual. Really? Just for a cheap joke at the end of the film. Was that even necassary? No. But it's always good for a laugh. Put a guy in a dress.

And I've avoided the serious movies about trans issues, like Boys Don't Cry. I really have no desire to see a movie where a transperson is killed. The whole idea that this is almost a sub genre sickens me. I know it serves a purpose to educate people about how awful transphobia is and that it should be stopped. But really, it's not something I want to be exposed to. I have enough fear of hatred and violence. I don't need to see it in full color on the big screen.

For that reason I love Ugly Betty. The transsexual character is not a victim and is not a joke. She's a person with a complicated story line. It may not always be the most flattering or accurate portrayal, but at least it's not just a cheap joke or a victim role.

And so it's for similar reasons I have a complicated relationship with the BDSM scene.

In the last few years I've finally started to embrace my gender and get more comfortable with who I am. And that is in large part thanks to the BDSM scene. It's one of the few places I can dress as my preferred gender and go out and feel safe.

Also, from going to play parties and conventions I've learned that there are a lot of people who are attracted to people who are gender variant. I had no idea. As I say, from only watching the mainstream media I assumed everyone hated transpeople. I don't think I've entirely internalized it, but at least I do know that a lot of people are attracted to other forms of gender expression. And that has been very liberating.

But as I say, I'm never quite sure why others are dressing the way they are at parties. Especially at Halloween, when many people dress as a different gender for a laugh or other dismissive reasons.

This year I felt it more than previous years. So I went as a cat. I dressed in leopard print, bell bottom women's pants, a leopard print bra, a lion's tail, lion-paw half-gloves, and a lion hood. So I was both gender queer and species queer : )

I might continue this for future Halloween's—dressing as a cat.

And then, in a couple years, maybe I'll have a post lamenting that no one in the mainstream culture accepts furries and how Halloween is the only time of year you can go out as your preferred anthropomorphic creature and feel safe.

What Is Citi Kittie's Gender?

I've never felt like the other boys. I've always felt different from them, from as far back as I can remember. But I've never had an overwhelming feeling of having the wrong body. I read about transsexuals and how many or most felt like they had the wrong body, but their stories didn't resonate for me. And for years I thought the only options were male or female and some people were transsexuals, meaning, in my mind, that they transitioned physically from one to the other.

Because of my limited view on the topic of gender I tried to ignore it. I identified my sexuality as bisexual and let it go at that.

Then, in the last couple of years, I started learning about transgender and that transgender could mean more than just feeling like a girl in a boy's body, or vice versa. It could mean you're a boy who's a boy in a different way from most of the other boys. Or a girl but in a way that's different from most of the other girls. Or it could be a boy in a girls body, or vice versa.

So I started exploring my gender more.

Sometimes I see gender very biologically. And I think that I'm a guy because I have a penis. And just because my personality traits are different from most men in my culture doesn't detract from the fact that I'm a guy. Because I have a penis, by definition, guys also have the personality traits that I have. From this perspective, I'm a guy, just not like most of the other guys in my culture.

But other times I see it more culturally. That there are a set of traits that define male and female and I have more traits like a female than a male, so therefore, I'm female. I know I feel more at home with most women. From this perspective I feel like a girl with penis.

I know I still don't want to transition. I really salute the people who have done that. I'm not sure I could handle it. And I'm not sure I still wouldn't feel different. I think I'd be a pretty queer girl.

Then I learned about GenderQueer, which Wikipedia defines as, "a catchall term for gender identities other than man or woman. People who identify as genderqueer may think of themselves as being both a man and a woman, as being neither a man nor a woman, or as falling completely outside the gender binary."

I was like AH HA! I'm GenderQueer. I really enjoy playing with gender, gender bending, and exploring various other genders. One thing I really like about the Dark Odyssey group is that it's a safe place to not only explore my sexuality, but also my gender.

And I generally say that I'm 'out' as being GenderQueer because I see it as such an integral part of my personality. Most people who get to know me learn pretty quickly that I'm not like most other guys. And even at work, I'll make jokes or what not that let people know I'm different.

Like one of my female coworkers was trying to open a beer bottle and couldn't get it. I said, "Do you need a man to help you with that? Because I can call Alex, I think he's here today." Hee hee. It really amuses me.

And there have been times where I've been basically accepted as a woman. I worked at a Girl Scout camp and was one of just two guys on staff. The other counselors, and the campers, all accepted me as a girl. The campers even called me "she" and "her" and sometimes even "mom." I wasn't trying to present as a woman, and sometimes didn't shave and had a bit of a beard. And I know some of the campers were just used to calling everyone "she" since there were so few guys. But I know some of them say me as a woman.

So I say I'm GenderQueer and Transgender and sometimes I'll say I'm a girl with a penis. Sometimes I appropriate the term BOI, which more usually refers to a queer woman presenting more as a man. And lately I've been reading about MTFTM. A man who is really a woman, who presents more as a man. It's all really fascinating.

In my triad we sometimes joke that my Mistress is the girl with the looks, my Miss is the girl with the smarts, and I'm the girl with the penis. Obviously my Miss is beautiful, and my Mistress is very smart, but it's amusing to us and makes us feel like super heroes.

Triggers and Safewords: A Tale of Two Blowjobs

There's a complex relationship between abuse and arousal. I think the first books I read on the subject were Nancy Friday's, where she talked about how some people who were abused will later want to play out those same roles as a way to take control of the situation. And get really turned on as well.

I'm still not so sure about my childhood, but I know I was in an emotionally abusive relationship as an adult. So it doesn't surprise me that humiliation scenes really turn me on.

The thing is, for a scene to be really hot it has to be fake. Because if it's real, then it's abuse. It's like when you go to a slasher movie. You'll feel a lot of fear. But if you know it's fake, then you can enjoy the fear. If someone pulls a real knife on you in an alley, then it's real. So you feel the fear, but it's not fun.

During camp I had two blowjob scenes that involved humiliation. I didn't negotiate before either. Which can be a bad thing. It means you aren't sure what you are getting yourself into. It means the other person doesn't know your boundaries. It means you aren't sure what the other person has in mind, or where they are coming from.

It means, you may not be sure if what is happening is fake, or real.

One of them was at the brothel, where I was hired to blow another whore. I wrote about this earlier. I went out on the lawn and begged to suck his cock. He called me names and I told him I was his naughty little girl.

He grabbed my head, shoved his cock down my throat, and called me a bitch. And a lot of other nasty words.

But a couple of times he leaned down and, in a sweet and caring voice, asked if I was doing OK. That helped me know that what was happening was fake. Which meant that I could enjoy it.

When a BDSM scene goes really well you end up in a place called sub space or top space or The Happy Place. When a scene goes bad, I end up in a place I call The Bad Place.

Things are not so good in The Bad Place. As the name might imply.

After this scene I was really flying in subspace. I was super-chatty. In fact, I couldn't shut up and had to go for a walk to calm myself down.

The second blowjob was on a different night. I'd just met the woman and we had chatted briefly in the dungeon. We were joking around and she seemed fun and a bit snarky.

We walked down to the sexorama for an orgy. At the orgy I suggested a friend suck off the woman. She did and it was pretty hot. The woman was sort of cooing to the girl who was sucking her off. She petted her head and seemed to really enjoy being blown.

It really turned me on to watch, and I really wanted to blow the woman too.

When they were done we went out on the porch and I asked if I could blow her. She sort of looked me up and down and said I could if I wanted to. So I got on my knees and started sucking her cock.

While I was working her she made a few humiliating comments. At one point she asked if I was enjoying it because it wasn't doing anything for her. She made a few other, similar comments, indicating I wasn't doing a very good job. And then she chatted with the people standing next to her on the porch, completing ignoring me and what I was doing.

And it got me wondering. Were we doing a humiliation scene? Or were her emotions genuine? Was she into it and wanted to humiliate me? Or was she trying to be deliberately mean and dismissive?

We hadn't negotiated. We hadn't discussed a safeword. So I had no way to know what was going on.

And really, I didn't need to safeword in that situation, I could have just stopped sucking her. I wasn't tied up. I wasn't physically restrained in any way. I could have stood up and walked off.

And part of me wanted to do that. But part of me wanted to get her to like it. To do a good job blowing her.

But that didn't happen. She never showed any sign that she was enjoying it. And progressively paid less attention to me, until there wasn't any connection between the two of us. Aside from my mouth on her cock. So eventually I just stopped.

After this scene I think I was in The Bad Place. I felt withdrawn and a bit ashamed of myself, though I wasn't sure why. Another feature of The Bad Place is that I am super critical of myself. Partly I was feeling like I had done something wrong. Like I shouldn't have done the scene, or I should have negotiated first.

And partly I was feeling like I was unattractive, undesirable, as in, why would she want me to suck her off? Who was I for thinking she'd want me to do that?

I went back in the sexorama and just sat by myself, listening to other people have orgasms.

I'm not saying she abused me, but I think the scene ended up being abusive. I now think that, if you are unsure if what you are doing is a scene or not, then it's not a scene.

I saw her the next day and she was chatty and pleasant to me. So I guess she didn't want to cause me harm the night before.

But I'm still unsure.