Evoë’s Blog

Feb 242014
 
Evoë Thorne

Evoë Thorne, Sex Maven

This is my personal blog, with all of my kinks and silliness. Just my whole sex life, open and honest. Other people enjoy other things, and any sex act practiced by consenting adult is a-okay.

I’m here because I love sex. I really LOVE sex. I love to do it and I love to talk about it! I find it fascinating how different and how the same people’s sex lives are. What I adore is the beautiful intensity of connection between people, however they get there.

As a writer, artist, educator, activist, parent, partner, and friend, my goal is to open people up to feeling empowered in (and by) their sexuality. I dream of eliminating the fear that seems to permeate sexual culture.

I want to change the world. One orgasm at a time if I have to. Can I count on yours?

Evoë Thorne

Aug 082015
 

A cloudy summer afternoon in the tree house…

Naked in the tree house

…feeling the air on my skin…

Leaf

…talking about serious things while the leaves drift down…

Foot play

…he begins to stir under my foot…

From behind

“What does it look like from up there?”

Intensity

…the sweetest release…

Satisfaction

…relaxed, smug, and connected to the universe…

Blood offering

…a single drop of blood left in thanks.”

 

 

See what other people have been doing for this Sinful Sunday!

Sinful Sunday
Jul 282015
 
Photo credit: David Steinberg

Photo credit: David Steinberg

In the stillness of early morning, I watch him sleep. It might be the first time in all the years we’ve been together that I am up before him. I contemplate getting up to make coffee, but I know he will wake up as soon as I do. I want him to sleep. He looks so peaceful and I overflow with love drinking in the details of him. He looks both strong and vulnerable. My eyes go where I want to touch him – tracing the muscles of his arms, shoulders, and back. His soft lips are slightly parted. I am filled with longing remembering kissing him last night.

Yesterday was fun. We made love all day long, my orgasms getting more intense each time. He never came, although I gave him exquisite sensations. I enjoy instant gratification but there is something to be said for drawing pleasure out for as long as possible. Watching him sleep, bits and pieces of the day before drift through my mind: snuggling in bed, the warm steady weight of his body on mine, relaxing in the hot tub, his teeth teasing my nipple, showering together, long slow lingering kisses, shocking him by licking his asshole, painting each others’ nails, tormenting him with my feet and a lot of lube, watching the sun set in brilliant color along the beach, the just-right scent of his skin, feeding each other deliciously squishy bits of mango, and what have been hours of him going down on me. All capped off by seeing a shooting star just as he told how wonderful he thinks I am.

Photo credit: David Steinberg

Photo credit: David Steinberg

Now, I can’t help myself. I have to touch him. I kiss and caress my way down his chest and belly. By the time I make it to his cock, he is groaning and mostly hard. Filled with need and desire, I am not in any mood to be slow or gentle. Gripping the base firmly, I take the entire length of him into my mouth. He communicates the intensity of his experience with his hands against my back, pressing and scratching.

I am so immersed in the moment – warm tangle of blankets and limbs, his scent and taste, the texture of his hair and skin, the hard and soft of his cock on my lips and tongue – that it takes me a bit to realize that he is begging for me to share my cunt with him. I oblige, shifting my body to straddle his face.

What had been warm desire becomes fiery passion. I am not sure whether to focus on his impending orgasm or mine. I love the rhythmic pounding of his cock against the roof of my mouth, the tightness of my lips around him, the twist of my tongue at the tip, and the quick plunge down again. But his clever tongue is doing something to my clit that I can’t ignore. I am gasping and moaning so hard I start to forget to suck.

Photo credit: David Steinberg

Photo credit: David Steinberg

I climb off of him, face down, ass up, and tell him to fuck me. He pushes my knees further apart and slowly slides into me. His hands curl around my hips, pulling me to him as he thrusts. I feel completely possessed. I’m not sure where he ends and I begin, but I am grateful that we fit together so nicely. He is pounding into me hard and fast. I am rocking back to meet him with all the force I can muster. This is the most turned on I can ever remember feeling. The sensations are fierce, the quest for fulfillment urgent, yet the pleasure feels infinite.

I like this position because it feels amazing, but I rarely come. He slows down again and I ask for the vibrator. Without pulling out, he leans over the side of the bed to grab it for me. When I turn it on and put it against my clit, we both jump. For a minute we both just let ourselves be overwhelmed. Then he starts to slowly pull out and in again. I know the vibrations are translating to his cock as well. It feels so good it’s like pain. I think I can’t stand it, but I make myself keep going…

Jun 272015
 

I have new breasts.

Evoe in a bikiniI’m coming out of a two month haze of post-surgery recovery to discover a new me. I didn’t hate my breasts before. I liked my body, but I just never felt RIGHT. It’s difficult to articulate the unhappiness I felt living with the vague dis-ease of shame/discomfort/awkwardness while embodied. I didn’t fully recognize the weight of living with those feelings until I changed my body to fit my inner self-image. All of the wrong stories I’ve told myself about my body are simply falling away, leaving…me.

I carry myself differently after breast reduction surgery. I feel lighter, more confident. I am totally distracted by my new shape, running my fingers over my curves and scars, marveling at the wide gap between my compact breasts, loving my smaller areolas. I am absorbed in relearning myself, discovering that one of my nipples is so sensitive I almost orgasm with a light touch and the other hardly feels anything at all. It’s all new.

My self image has totally shifted. I am seeing myself as more athletic. I’m working on getting the rest of my body in line with this vision. Contrary to what I expected, having smaller breasts is making me feel more feminine. I am filled with a new reverence for my body. This experience is liberating. Anything is possible.

It’s been a challenge to get to this place of joy. Reduction surgery has been a bit of an ordeal for me. I wasn’t 100% signed up for it, but I did it anyway. It’s very weird to wake up knowing that a visible part of your body has been removed or reduced. It’s been uncomfortable dealing with pain and physical limitations. I have found this process to be as much emotional and spiritual as physical. The journey has been unexpected, perhaps a sort of coming-of-age, like puberty.

Making love in this place is sweet, all urgency and explorations. I was relieved to still feel desire. At first we were scared to fuck, imagining my breasts like a molded Jell-O desert that’s been shaken too much. Mutual masturbation helped us to find our connection. I received reassurance that my body was still beautiful even with 40 inches of stitches. My longing for intimate touch took us deep. We remembered how to make out, gazing into each others eyes while sharing breath. Finding myself anew means that our love is also transformed.

newer smaller breastsIt’s not all that woo-woo though. Sometimes I am totally shallow. I spend more time in front of the mirror. I change my clothes ten times every morning. I dream about the clothes I will be able to wear now. I bought a bikini off the rack for the first time since high school and I plan to wear it!

I cannot describe my joy at starting to feel right in my body. Yes, this has cost me money and time and pain for an outcome I was unsure of. For a long time I was afraid to take the risk or put the energy into it. But if you’ve ever wished that you could change something about your body because it’s keeping you from being who you see yourself to be, then you will understand when I say that it’s worth it. I am not yet where I want to be, but this ability to reimagine myself is one of the most powerful forces in my life. And I have new breasts!

Apr 242015
 

Bra marksI’m getting nervous about breast reduction surgery. It’s coming up soon. This feels major – a decision bigger than getting married but less momentous than having a child. I had my tonsils removed when I was a kid, but this is my breasts. I am excited and a bit uncertain.

I’ve wanted breast reduction since I was 16. For years I’ve struggled with back and shoulder pain, seeking out a wide variety of healing modalities. I can’t sleep on my stomach or stretch fully without putting my back out. It hurts to run, even with great support. The worst thing is that I just keep getting bigger, even without gaining weight.

Breasts are awesome – all kinds of breasts. I think my breasts are beautiful, and yet when I imagine them smaller I feel incredibly happy. I could go braless. The permanent divots on my shoulders could smooth out. No more rashes under my boobs every summer, no getting stabbed in the armpit by out of control underwires. I could buy sexy little lace bras at Victoria Secret instead of them looking me up and down and sniffing, “We don’t carry anything your size.” (Which is currently 34I, in case you were wondering.)

FlattenedMy reasons for surgery are emotional as well. There is something about being fuller figured that makes some men feel like they can treat you like an object. I would like to choose the times that I present as sexy rather than being objectified over anatomy I can’t control. Imagine if penises were hard and protruding all the time and people you didn’t like saw that as in invitation.

I haven’t been feeling comfortable in my body for a long time. My clothes don’t fit right. As a genderqueer individual I don’t feel a strong pull toward either gender pole, except for the times when I want to play around with stereotypes. I often feel incredibly dysphoric over my breasts. Even when I bind myself severely, they show. I long to feel more neutral in my body.

FloatingThis is a step in my transition to being more fully myself. Everyone has the right to have their appearance reflect how they see themselves, but the road can be rough. Although my process is not as dramatic as full gender transitioning, I am still discovering that the emotional journey of reshaping my body and identity is just as intense. Who will I be after this? How will I be perceived?

I have no idea what size I will end up after surgery. I’ll be happy with anything smaller. I hope a B or C-cup. I’ve been fantasizing about my new shape, breasts that will disappear under a button-down shirt or look great in a push-up bra.

SacrificeI will have scars. That part bothers me. I like scars on other people because they tell a story of where they have been. I like my stretch marks for the same reason, but I am scared of what these scars will look like on me. Will I look in the mirror and feel mutilated? Will I still be comfortable being naked? I am losing part of my body. That feels strange. The idea of a doctor under my skin feels strange, but I will do it anyway.

I’m a bit sad to say goodbye to who I am right now. I took out my nipple piercings. I gave away all of my bras except the one I’m wearing right now. It gave me pause and I shed a couple of tears, but I am embracing this change. It made me think of a line from Hedwig and the Angry Inch, which we just saw in New York, “…to be free, one must give up a little part of oneself.”

Mar 292015
 

“There’s a park coming up on the left, just before the bridge. Let’s go check it out.” Just in time, he sees the turn I mean and swings the car around. We bump down the gravel drive toward the water. The parking lot is empty except for a park ranger’s truck. I groan inwardly. I guess we aren’t going to fuck in the car.

In the dirtWe get out and casually walk down the beach, arm in arm. There are maybe a dozen small boats at anchor along this stretch, but I don’t see anyone on board. My feet shift and slide on the rocks. The air smells of sea and rain. We’ve just missed a spring downpour. As we continue down the shore, around a bend to a place where trees grow out over the water, the sounds of traffic on the bridge fade into the background.

Now out of sight of the parking lot, we stop and kiss. A warm tingly feeling starts at the soles of my feet and rises up, filling my body with golden desire. We pull each other closer. I am deeply rooted in the moment, no longer aware of the cold or our surroundings. Love fills me until I feel that my chest can no longer contain the heat of my desire. I open to him, send my energy to flow into him with my breath. He gasps with the pleasure of it and I know that he feels me.

Cool treeFor a moment I transcend my body, this beach, everything. My consciousness soars and I am a part of all things. He brings me back with his passionate hands roaming my body. I pull away to see his eyes. I want to make love with him. Immediately.

“Let’s go check out that cool tree!” I say, imagining how awesome it would be to have sex on the broad trunk that slopes out 10 feet over the beach. The tree is amazing, but I suddenly feel too exposed. I scan the area for just the right place. There, up the hill a bit.

We climb an impromptu creek bed, rain water running back to the Sound. The fresh scent of the soil squishing under our feet turns me on even more. Part of me feels primal. Part of me is giggling over being transgressive.

We reach the spot I’d picked. We have a great view of the Hood Canal Bridge in it’s entirety, but no one will spot us. Anyone on the boats could see us, but probably won’t. Ditto for park goers. It has just the right balance of public and private to get my juices flowing.

Going down by the SoundWe aren’t sure what to do next. We kiss and feel each other up with growing intensity. I straddle a mossy log and lay back, letting him undo my pants and pull them down to below my knees. He presses his face between my thighs while I contort and hang on with all I’m worth. The colloquial saying about something being as easy as falling off a log runs through my head, but it feels fantastic.

I really want to fuck! I convince him to stop and let me suck his cock. We usually take more time than this, but I am excited. I want him to fuck me from behind. We try it one way while straddling the log, pants pulled down. Then the other, hoping that the angle would be better. Finally I order him to lie on the forest floor and I squat over him.

I easily return to that sensation of being both extremely present and one with everything. I open myself to the world all around us, yet we are alone together in a bubble of our love. Every time I slide up and down the length of his cock, waves of pleasure ripple through my body. The sensations build. I feel my orgasm approaching and I move faster. His face contorts and I can tell he is also near. I draw the moment out, savoring that blissful anticipation, before giving myself over.

Almost thereHis cries ring out over the water as he finds release. I laugh until the muscles in my cunt push him out. I love him so much. I love him like this, on his back in the moss and ferns, by the water, his pants down around his knees. I feel happy and alive. We have so much fun together.

We dust off the dirt and leaves. We find a safer way down the hill to the rocky beach. We kiss and hold hands and look for interesting rocks. Back at the car we notice that the ranger’s truck is gone. We gaze into each other’s eyes, reliving that moment in the woods. We didn’t even get caught this time.

Mar 222015
 

girlIMG_1846

An older man in high heels and jeans stood before me in line at the grocery store. His dangly earrings flashed against his greying beard in the harsh light as he fished around in his purse for his wallet. He wasn’t trying to be a woman, but he very obviously was comfortable blurring gender presentation in this small rural town. Attitudes are changing. People are starting to accept that gender is a spectrum, not a binary.

I grew up among lesbians when there were only two ways to be: femme or butch. I embraced femme presentation for a long time because I hated the way that butch lesbians just didn’t seem to care about themselves at all. It would be years before I saw the “dapper” style. I wanted to accessorize, wear clothes I felt sexy in, but then I started feeling uncomfortable in my femme gender role. I looked at being butch, but I wasn’t a lesbian and I just wasn’t a masculine woman. I have come to realize that I am both masculine and feminine and I don’t have to choose between them.

When my grandmother and her sisters were growing up people had fewer choices about who they could be and it was hard to change. They were mothers and wives, a secretary, a model, a sex worker. All of them were trapped in lives dictated by those choices and the society they lived in.

My grandma was always some of my best support, but also kind of judgmental too. she wanted me to do the right things, look the right way, know the things I needed to know to be a good woman. I feel that my grandmother found safety by following convention. I believe that I can only feel secure if I follow my own heart and let myself be as big as I can be. I refuse to be trapped in my life in any way. I am choosing my own happiness.

I do not feel like a boy OR a girl most of the time. I consider myself gender queer or gender fluid. Androgynous may be the word that makes the most sense to some people, but that implies a lack of gender. I am encompassing all genders! My gender is wherever I happen to be at the time. My gender is Evoë. My gender is pirate.

I know many people who have transitioned – gone from one gender polarity to another. Right now I do not feel a strong pull toward male or female, but if I do in the future I would consider making that transition. Right now I am becoming more me. Making choices based on what will truly bring happiness and satisfaction to my life strips away the irrelevant, leaving me living my truth. I am becoming more me every day.

I am not rejecting my body (because I love it!), but I am doing what I need to do to feel right in my body. I am exercising and lifting weights. I will have breast reduction surgery in a few weeks. This feels like a big step. I’ve always hated having huge breasts. It hasn’t ever felt right. My cup size is the only thing that makes me feel dysphoric on a regular basis. I feel burdened by my breasts. I don’t want to give up having breasts altogether, but I want small breasts that I can hide or put in sexy little bras depending on my mood. I need my body to reflect how I see myself.

Mostly, I don’t present as any particular gender. I pick clothes that make me happy, a huge mix of things. I hardly wear jewelry at all any more. My hair is buzzed except for a long curly bit in front. I always wanted to be bleached blonde, and I love it! I paint my toenails because I think my toes are ugly. When I feel a lot like a guy, I wear eyeliner and a jock strap. I adore bow ties. Big stompy boots go with everything. I have a lot of fun with presentation because the only person I’m trying to please is me.

Slowly, I am becoming. I am shaping my life to reflect my inner world.

That thought makes me cry because it feels so powerful. And then I laugh because it is simply marvelous. It is freeing to live according to my own compass. I do not care what anyone thinks of me, although judging by the fabulous gentleman in heels at the grocery store, people don’t really care the way my grandmother would have. I like to think that she would still support me. Her love meant the world to me, but ultimately, loving myself means more.

Mar 152015
 

I should finishing up my final work for my college course, but in the time honored tradition of students everywhere, I am distracting myself. Have you ever seen the way that testicles move around while at rest? No really, it’s mesmerizing. I made you a little video…

 

Testicles move constantly to regulate temperature or react to arousal. I think it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen! Is this not totally awesome?!? Okay, fine…I’ll go write my paper now.