Together, Right Now, Over Me.

It apparently comes as a surprise to many people when I tell them that I haven’t actually had much sex.

Maybe it’s because I’m open and comfortable with my sexuality, that I carry no shame for my desires and never apologize for being a sexual creature.  Maybe it’s something to do with people seeing me as “used to be a guy” and equate “being a guy” with “automatically gets laid anytime.”  Whatever the reason, people seem quite shocked when my answer to “what’s your favorite position” or “do you like [insert sex activity here] more than [insert other sex activity here]” is something along the lines of “Well, I can’t tell you for sure, since I haven’t ever tried much of anything…”

So, I haven’t had much sex (with other people, that is — as Woody Allen quipped, “It’s sex with someone I love!”) Here’s the other bit, the thing that’s frustrating, the point of this post: I’m the only person who has ever made me come.  Just me and Miss Right Hand, my steady girl most of the time.  Sure, there have been other people present while I bring myself to orgasm; I spent nearly 6 months with my psycho ex (see this post for more about her) and there were plenty of times when, after servicing her, she held me as I jacked myself off… hell, even when she was trying to get pregnant she’d scoop up my semen and finger-fuck herself (yes, it was totally hot — I won’t lie) but I was the one who got myself off.

The grand total of two times that I’ve had any sort of sexual encounter with a cis woman, I still took care of my own orgasm; the first one at least, she was interested — eager, even — to see that I was cared for, but I was nervous and tense and had a hard time communicating what worked and what didn’t.  That was the closest I’ve come (pun intended) to having someone else involved, and with her hand over mine as I worked myself, it was certainly beautiful… but it was certainly still me doing it.  The second time, several months ago, neither of us were really prepared.  Nobody had any lube, and I need plenty because otherwise it’s painful for me… we finally figured out something, but again it was me laying back and fap-fap-fap.

It still seems weird when I get the startled look from people, even good friends, when they hear me repeat that my actual experience having sex has been very limited, that most of my likes and dislikes are hypothetical rather than practical.  I would think it no stranger than saying that I love all kinds of food, but my actual experience in eating a variety of world cuisine has been limited… I don’t know.

Regardless — if there are any ladies out there, anyone who’d like to have some fun… let’s sing with the Beatles, and “Come Together!”  Yeah? Maybe? ~sigh~… Someday.

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I hear the doorbell ring and suddenly the panic takes me

I need to write.
I want to write.

But I’m balancing that need
That desire
Against my physical exhaustion
Against my minimal food intake today
Against the enormous effort that it takes
To remain outwardly calm
While the sounds from the next room
Fill me with
Irrational
Insistent
Immense

PANIC.

No, it’s not a “logical” connection.
No, I can’t explain why those sounds affect me as they do.
No, it’s not just me finding something to complain about.

I have worked over many years
Learned very carefully
Through practice
Mistakes
Refinement of technique
To appear relaxed
And pleasant
And friendly

Instead of screaming as loudly as my lungs allow
Smashing any solid object within reach
Against any other object in my swing
Stomping and smashing
Making noise and breaking things
All in a feeble and ever-failed attempt
To demonstrate to others —
But no, not a demonstration —
It’s an attempt to harm others
In a fashion that they can comprehend
To a degree equivalent
To the harm they inflict on me.

I have learned to be mute
I have learned to accept harm
I have learned to do nothing in retaliation
I have learned to turn inward and die

And I am praised for my “success” far too often
Told that I am “strong”
That I am “brave”
That I have “accomplished so much”

How is it
That so many seem to envy
This so-called “skill”
Of saying nothing
Doing nothing
Lying on the ground after being driven there again
And most of all for my friendly smile
And calm, even voice
As I am kicked again and again and again?

You value self-restraint
You value compliance
You value non-violence and avoiding confrontation
And I have learned these things you so value

But you never taught me when to stop holding back
You never taught me how to say, “Fuck no, and fuck you!”
You never taught me how to knock a motherfucker out when they come at me wrong
Or to do anything but whimper, turn, and run or better yet, stay and take it with a smile

So I have learned nothing of value at all

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