Happy Birthday to the rest of me
The massage was quite exquisite. I'm glad I insisted on a male masseur, for I wanted to feel the energies of a man, and not have my body "othered". He knelt on my hip/thigh sockets, so he knew the sex of my skeleton. And through my crown I could feel the heat from his groin as he stood at the head of the massage table, and I felt blissfully connected.
He told me that I have a beautiful body, and I'm sure he meant that, for all that he touched, for he moved and touched everything but the naughty bits.
Which are not so beautiful to a gay man, as a rule.
I went to 357 (the sauna in Chinatown) after the massage on Wednesday, and a handsome Asian man approached me in the dry sauna. I enjoyed the taste of him, until he asked me to come to a room to get fucked. His English did not seem very fluent, and there also seemed to be a lot of pressure to minimise verbal communication, so I didn't know how to check if he was going to be okay with what was under my towel.
His turgidity was fluctuating even when I was fellating him in the sauna room, and didn't improve remarkably in the more private room. I bent forward with him behind me to avoid having to explain myself, but his dick wasn't erect enough for me to just slip it into my cunt, and he then tried to direct it to the other orifice. Anal penetration generally takes more preparation for me, which hadn't happened, but I gave it a shot anyway.. and it felt like a shot! Ow! I had to stay with my body for a moment while it recovered from the sharp intrusion, and when I had recovered, he said " I can't fuck you," and left the room.
So, gay men think I have a beautiful body to look at and feel, but I am fundamentally unfuckable to them. Or most of them, anyway, who are into anal sex if they are into fucking, and pretty much not into vagina.
How do I avoid such mid-coital let downs? I've thought of asking in a husky voice, as soon as I had any potential partner in a discreet situation, " If I had a pussy, would you fuck it?" Yeah, I'll give that a go.
Anyway, I go home and unwrap the cyclonic vibrator. I didn't manage the mental trick that seems necessary for me to orgasm (that is, imagining that someone is with me), but it took the edge off . And destroyed the rotation function. I don't know if I should ever admit that outside of this blog, and even here I'm hiding this in light colour so only the really curious will read it, because men might be scared to put their fragile flesh into something so strong it destroys machinery!
I wondered for a little while last night if I was fucked up by my life, if being a eunuch was an imperialist creation ultimately not healthy or attractive to healthy people, but when I asked my vagina for its opinion, I realised I was meant to be in this body as it is, that my body was a good thing to live in, and I was personally very happy to have a vagina to feel with and touch with. Whatever biology I was born with, this is the body my brain is happiest being housed in, and this powerful pulsing vagina is an appropriate incarnation of my sexuality. I want to embrace, I want to lovingly take in, and I want to be penetrated to the core.
My life is not about the stories mainstream society tells. It's not even just about the stories I tell myself. But it is very much about the stories I tell myself, and a little about the stories other people tell themselves. But mostly it's about the stories I am telling myself.
Look out, here comes the weekend! Horny human with beautiful body and manducating muff on the move!