My Whole Sex Life

I’ve been playing out little videos in my mind for weeks, imagining what might happen when my girlfriend, Blyss, has her boi, Holt, come to visit from out of town. I’ve never met him before, but I hear about him all the time. Blyss even shows me sexy pictures of him. We’ve said hi to each other over Skype. I think I’ll like him. I certainly am enjoying the fantasies of Harold and I having sex with them – maybe even Joel too.

I know the new boi likes cock-and-ball torture as much as Harold, so I’m drooling over the idea of having a cock in each hand and two sets of balls to squeeze. I’m visualizing the positions I will put them in, where I will place myself and Blyss. There is a heck of a lot you can do with four people who are all willing to be intimate together! It’s like a very grown up version of playing with dolls. I hope I get a chance to teach Blyss what I know about CBT. I hope I get to make the bois fuck each other in the ass. I want to dress them up in lingerie. I want to Top them all!

I have amused myself with these thoughts while I have driven the children around or while I did the laundry. It’s these kinds of happy thoughts that make life worth living. It doesn’t matter that it might never happen. That’s not the point of a fantasy. My fantasies prime my sexual pump, get me going. I think that there is power in imagining what you would like to have happen in a sexual context, but you have to be careful to stay flexible.

The map is not the territory. What I mean to say is, a fantasy is a good representation of sex potential, but actually being there having the experience is very different. There are things that will happen that you can’t anticipate. Chiefly, if you are having sex with other people, they will also have their own boundaries and expectations. I also find that sex works much better if I have a set of fantasy ideas, rather than a set script. That allows me to follow the energy of what feels right in the moment. My fantasies are mostly a good jumping off place to talk about what I might want t have happen.

I don’t even know if we will have an opportunity to get naked together. I hope so, but I know how things go sometimes. It’s important to me to develop something of a relationship with someone before I jump into fucking. Holt may be my girlfriend’s boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean that we will necessarily hit it off. Either way, I have some great wanking material happening in my head. And that may be the best use of a fantasy.

I’ve always been pretty happy with my vagina. In the last few years though, I’ve been wondering what it would feel like to have a penis. I’ve had a chance to play with dildos that gave me an idea of what it would be like to have an erect penis, but what about the rest of the time? How would it feel to have a bulge in my pants? What if I need to shift my package? What would I do if some cute person felt me up? I finally got a chance to find out when Babeland sent me a Soft Pack recently.

Soft Pack is a very lifelike artificial cock and balls. There are even veins just under the surface of the “skin.” It’s made out of Real-feel Superskin – I’m not sure what that is, but if feels amazing! It is a bit sticky, but everything I read said to dust it with a bit of cornstarch and that seems to help. Just be aware that it will pick up everything it comes in contact with. Which, of course, might be your goal. The magnetic properties of Soft Pack could totally help you find the right person.

This packer comes in two skin tones: Vanilla and Mocha. I went with Vanilla, which is paler than even my skin color. You also get four sizes to choose from. Despite being a size queen, I went with small, which is 5.75 inches from base to tip. This is a perfect size for me. It’s somewhat larger than most men would be while soft, big enough to leave a bulge in pants, yet not unwieldy. I don’t want to try to manage too much length, like the 7.75 inch length of the large! Who is that big when flaccid?

The squeeze test is the real indicator – can this cock pass as real when someone feels you up? I think so. It feels amazing through underwear. The size and materials make Soft Pack feel more semi-erect than soft, but totally authentic (and I am qualified to judge). I love playing with my new penis. I like letting it hang out of my pants. I’m pretty much insufferable with a cock. The balls are not really right. They are too small and I want testicles that slide around, but in pants they work just fine. I touch myself constantly.

Soft Pack sits just right in my boxer briefs – no need for straps, harnesses, or glue. It’s very comfortable. The base of the penis is hollowed out to create a mild suction cup. I haven’t tried strenuous exercise or dancing around, so it may require more for those kinds of activities. I haven’t figured out yet if I hang more to the right or the left. And for some reason, it’s much harder to fish my own dick out of underwear than someone else’s. Soft Pack is more rubbery.

At the price Babeland sells Soft Pack for ($16-$22) it’s worth getting one to play around with, regardless of your gender. Even people who already have penises might want to try out a more dramatic profile. Imagine the glances you’ll get!

Bottom line: Come on, you know you want a Soft Pack.

Grade: A

Other posts you might enjoy:

• Review: Fun Factory’s Amor
• My inner boy
• Rock star haircut
• Cross-section of a sex life

I consider myself pansexual and genderqueer, but over the past few years I’ve presented more like a straight woman. I have two male partners and a passel of kids. Sure, I have a crew cut, but I can be pretty femme. I’m polyamorous, but I haven’t really dated at all in the past 4 years. I was busy helping to forge our family. Then I’ve been doing all of my intense emotional work. And WholeSexLife takes up a lot of my time. But I’ve had a few people on my radar, just waiting for the right moment.

Blyss is a good friend who I’ve been flirting heavily with for a couple of years. We’ve had a chance to get to know each other and build some basic trust, with some sexual teasing mixed in for interest. When she moved out of state recently I figured that I’d missed my chance. But then she wrote me a letter and kept sending me messages online. I was touched – and interested. I saw Blyss around Christmas time and invited her to have sex with Harold and I and to take pictures for the website. She was totally interested, but then had to cancel.

I saw her last week and all of my boi stuff kicked into high gear. In a fit of bravado and sexual interest, I asked Blyss to come and spend the night with me. I even asked in front of one of her other partners and one of mine. I didn’t even think about it – I wanted her.

Later, I freaked out a bit – What was I thinking? (That I wanted to spend time with her.) I don’t know how to make love to a woman! (Not true. I’ve done it before.) What if she canceled again? (Always possible, but not the end of the world.) I spent all week thinking about the upcoming date. I went to trim my nails to lesbian standards and couldn’t find any clippers. I ran out and purchased 3 sets of clippers. I cleaned my bedroom. I bought sexy new panties. I put clean sheets on the bed. I arranged roses and candles. I went through my sex toys trying to think of using them on a female. In short, I was anxious and obsessive. Thankfully, Harold didn’t mind that I talked a lot about Blyss.

Just before Blyss was supposed to arrive I gave up. I decided I couldn’t do it. Then she came through the door and everything was okay. She has such a beautiful way of making everything good. It helped soothe much of my awkwardness. We did normal homey things like eating dinner and reading a bedtime story to the kids.

Then we talked and talk and talked. Blyss is brilliant and sensitive. We giggled. And the boi kicked in again. I wanted to make love to this woman. Enough talking, I pounced. We rolled around, kissing, exploring each other with mouths and hands. She left hickeys on my neck. She has amazing breasts. I loved doing things to her nipples that make her squirm and squeal. I was reminded of how much I adore cunts. She likes to be stretched, so I worked up to four fingers, curling and pressing. I added clit rubbing and nipple stim until she came. SO amazing!

Strangely, sex with a woman really isn’t any different than sex with a man. People are people. It has me thinking about how passive I have traditionally been in my relationships – I have let men take the lead and then decided whether or not to follow. It is a cultural gender paradigm that I was following without thought. With women, I have often felt awkward, waiting to see who would make a move. I’m proud to say that this time, I made a move.

After that, I had to fuck her! I found my two-way and buried my cock in her cunt. The brilliant thing about the two-way is that I get both g-spot and clitoral stimulation with it. I actually orgasmed fucking her, only MY cock stayed hard. I felt like such a boi, needing to bone the beautiful girl. The energy was fantastic.

Sadly, at that point I was getting really tired. Probably all of the oxytocin being released into my system from the orgasms. I had to ask Blyss if she would be offended if we went to sleep. We cuddled up. I woke much the same way in the morning. I worked from bed, holding her hand, and watching her sleep, marveling at my good fortune to have such an amazing person in my bed.

When she woke, we made breakfast for the children. We sat and talked. She left for work. It all felt so smooth and natural. Seamless in a way that I always long for. It was my girlfriend experience. It’s early yet, but I can see possibilities in this relationship. I’ve invited Blyss back again.

Other posts that might interest you:

• Book tour: Say Please, edited by Sinclair Sexsmith
• I kissed a girl
• Blood, Sweat, and Queers
• Gender fluidity

Fucking Harold in the ass is awesome. I loosen him up with a lot of lube and my fingers, then I fit just the head of my cock into his asshole. I love that moment when I’m poised above (or behind, or below) him, ready to slowly fill him – take him with my cock. It’s a moment full of desire and expectation. I like to look into his eyes so he knows how much I love him as I slide my cock into him.

Of course, I don’t have a cock of my own. I have to strap on. At first, I used a red leather harness and a silicone dildo. I adore the feel of the leather straps and the buckles, but I kept forgetting to put the harness on before I got lube all over my hands. (Slippery fun trying to fasten the buckles!) Sometimes, the harness felt awkward between us while we were fucking. I couldn’t feel Harold very well. And cleaning the leather took a lot of time. So we tried a two-way – basically, a strapless strap-on with one part that goes inside me to keep the cock in place. I love it. It’s easy to insert, easy to use, and easy to clean. I can feel more of what is going on between us. It even makes me orgasm. But if I get too excited, it falls out. Some positions don’t work very well. And sometimes I don’t want to have anything inside me. Moving around with the two-way inside me is uncomfortable. But what’s a grrrl to do?

Enter RodeoH. It’s a brilliant little harness brief with strength and style. Seriously, RodeoH looks like stylish brief-style underwear, with a built-in flexible ring in the front to slip your dildo into. It’s a fabulous idea! I’ve worn mine a few times and I’m very happy with RodeoH. Here are some of my high points…

Looks: Ok, it’s shallow, but I want to look good when I’m boning someone. RodeoH looks hot. I love the colors and the style. I think it’s the perfect blend of butch and femme for me. I feel hot wearing them.

Cost: At $45 RodeoH is the least expensive harness I’ve seen.

Accessories: My RodeoH’s came with a cute RodeoH dog-tag necklace (which I wore for three days then lost). How perfect is that? I’m totally imagining a culture in which these dog-tags are code for, “Why yes, I am ready to fuck you at a moment’s notice!” They also came in a little carrying bag. It’s a nice touch.

Comfort: I’ve worn these all day without any problems – just under my clothes like regular underwear. The fabric is soft and the leg openings are roomy. I usually wear thong underwear and I don’t tend to like briefs, but these are comfortable. I even slept all night in them without a problem. RodeoH’s are comfortable when in use with a dildo as well.

Ease: I can’t believe how fantastically easy RodeoH is to use. Just pull out the waistband and insert a 5″ to 6″ dildo through the hole. Settle the base of the dildo against the pubic bone. Really easy. Clean up is easy too. I wash mine on delicate and hang them to dry.

Flexibility: Now I know how RodeoH gets its name. The design allows for a lot of flexibility. I feel like I could have rodeo sex, riding Harold around in any number of positions, while wearing these babies. Really, our creativity is the limit.

Preparedness: Like some super hero, I can wear this harness under my clothes and be prepared for any fucking emergency. This makes me happy.

Closeness: Perhaps the best thing about RodeoH’s are how close I feel to my partner. There is so little seperating us. I love that!

Of course, like anything, I did experience a few things that were less positive…

Bruising: Maybe it was the rodeo sex, but my pubic bone hurt for days after using RodeoH with a soft silicone dildo. There’s not really any way to adjust where the dildo sits.

Fit: My RodeoH’s are totally comfortable and fit properly, which is to say that they are a bit snug in order to have proper support for a dildo. My objection is a matter of aesthetics. They fit so snuggly that my fat bulges over the waistband. I hate to muffin-top. It made me feel less hot.

Cost: $45 is a great price for a harness but an expensive pair of underwear. I guess it depends on how you use it. If you are going to be wearing RodeoH fairly frequently, you probably want more than one pair. It would suck to be ready to get it on and then realize that your harness was in the wash.

Sensation: While I loved the flexibility in positioning that Rodeo allowed, I disliked not having as much sensation as I have with my two-way. I couldn’t feel Harold as well and I didn’t come.

Hygiene: What I totally failed to think about ahead of time was hygiene. I wore my RodeoH’s to my rendezvous with Harold, had wild butt sex, and then realized that I needed to remove the used dildo from my underwear. There’s really no way to do that without contamination and I didn’t want to keep wearing them after that. Just good to note.

Overall, I think that RodeoH rocks. I’m so happy that more women are designing awesome sex products. I can whole heartedly recommend RodeoH. It is available on their website or at Babeland!

Bottom line: I’m adding RodeoH to my toolbox, but I’m not giving up my two-way just yet.

Grade: A-

An element of danger can be a powerful aphrodisiac.

Yesterday Harold and I wanted to test out some products for review. When we got to his house, there were firemen wanting to go out to the edge of his lookout to see if they could spot smoke from a reported fire. They weren’t able to see anything. Harold and I went down to his cabin with all of our gear. Helicopters started circling overhead, presumably also looking for the fire (or were they after us?). We walked naked through the woods, trying to figure out what the helicopters were doing and hoping to catch sight of smoke ourselves.

We couldn’t see anything or even smell smoke, so we went back to the cabin. The thrumming helicopter noise ceased after a bit. For some reason, I felt incredibly turned on. I really wanted to throw myself into fucking – I wanted all of my holes filled, my body handled roughly, my senses overwhelmed. I wanted to consume Harold – take him all in, cover him in me, hurt him in all the ways he likes, dominate him with my kiss. Outside the cabin was the potential for danger. Inside the cabin was a pure, raw need to confirm that we were alive. Sex is a confirmation of the joy of being embodied. This is why so many babies are conceived during disasters.

I started using a vibrator on myself. Harold soon came to help, slipping his fingers inside my cunt and twisting my nipples. I was right on the edge of coming, but not quite there. I asked him to fill me with chain, which he did with the help of a lot of lube. It’s an amazing feeling, the weight of all that chain, the way it slides around. I came before he quite got to the end, Harold’s finger in my ass. We left the chain in place for a while. I focused on Harold’s cock and balls. As part of some research I’m doing for a potential feature for the blog, I filled a toilet paper tube with lube and slid it over Harold’s erection. It was obvious that he liked it, but it was not entirely satisfactory.

I tossed the cardboard tube on the floor and used my hand instead, sliding my hand up and down in the lube, paying special attention to the head and frenulum. He had me go very, very slowly when I really wanted to pump like mad. From there I moved to ass play. I stuck one finger in his asshole, then two. I rubbed his prostate and his cock at the same time. He moaned and panted, making me feel powerful. I got my strap-on and slid into him, his knees hooked over my shoulders. I love this moment in our play, when I am buried deep in his ass and I’m looking into his eyes and I gather him to me and we kiss. I felt so incredibly close to him. There is so much love between us.

Sometimes I physically orgasm from fucking Harold anally. Yesterday was not one of those times, but I did come energetically, twice. The energy built up as we were fucking and I reached a point where I could totally feel myself shooting a load into him. I felt completely the boy. It’s lovely.

We cleaned up a bit from the anal play. Sad to say, I used Windex on my hands. It’s great with lube. I wanted to make love at this point, but it didn’t feel quite right. We snuggled and talked for a while. We went back out into the forest to see what was going on because the helicopters had started up again. We talked more. We decided to go back and make love.

Harold started off with an amazing oral sex session, licking and sucking and pressing against my g-spot with his fingers until I came hard. Then we traded places and I applied my mouth to his cock and my hands to squeezing his balls. When I knew that he was close to orgasm, I moved up to kiss him and guide his cock into me. It felt incredible. I could tell that we were both moments away from orgasm. I made Harold change positions so that he was behind me, doggy-style. I like being fucked like this because it’s so rough and primal. I like to feel him thrust inside me so deeply. I came and he followed, bellowing and grunting. I totally love it.

After, we lay in each other’s arms, gasping for breath and full of love. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat, shit, jism, and faint traces of smoke. It wasn’t at all unpleasant. There’s a particular satisfaction to having been well and thoroughly fucked. But our time was up. We packed up our things to go back up the hill. I debated walking naked, but ultimately decided to wear clothes. Which was good, because when we got back to the house, more firefighters were waiting, wanting to cut through to the fire – evidently an abandoned structure that had caught fire. At this point we could taste the smoke on the air.

They did take care of the fire. It would have been disastrous for us if they hadn’t been able to track down the fire and put it out. So I’m thankful to the Fire Department and the Sheriff’s helicopter for doing such a great job. I wouldn’t wish for fires so near, but I will say that the threat of danger did amazing things for my sex yesterday.

After interviewing so many fabulous people about gender, I’m wanted to see for myself what it felt like to put on another gender. For me, that meant letting my inner boy out to play. My interviewees gave me lots of ideas about how I might go about as a male and the internet filled in more gaps, but I was still obviously a newbie boy.

I went to Value Village to shop for clothes. After much searching, I found a pair of men’s shoes that I could live with, some black and white Vans. Shirts were problematic. I wanted a button-down shirt to help disguise my rather large breasts, but shirts fell into 4 categories: western, stuffy, hawaiian, or lounge. I went with lounge, hoping that I could pull off a hipster look. On a whim, I grabbed a baseball cap on the way out. Harold shook his head and told me I was trying too hard for a boy. Joel scolded me for buying a shirt that wasn’t all natural fibers. He asked me to think about what kind of man I really wanted to be. I felt silly being scolded, but he kind of had a point about putting together a persona deliberately.

What does it mean to be a man? I’m not sure. I’m not sure that I’ve gotten past the part where I have a cock, but then again, I know a few guys who’ve never gotten past that part either. Maybe that’s just the kind of guy I am because Harold and I spent a lot of time working with socks, condoms, nylons, rice, and such to make me a reasonably realistic packer. I gotta have a cock.

It got to be time to get ready. I showered, slicked back my hair with men’s gel, and took off all of my girlie jewelry. The hardest thing for me to do was to cut off my fingernails. It’s body modification. I like my long tapered nails. But I squared them all off for this experiment. I put on black Calvin Klein boxer-briefs. I wound a wide ace bandage tightly around my chest, trying to flatten my tits. I put a snug athletic top over that, then a plain black tank top. My outer layer consisted of button-down shirt, Harold’s black jeans, Vans, and baseball cap. Ultimately, after all of our scheming, I didn’t pack at first. It was uncomfortable and not noticeable.

Harold took a bunch of pictures – probably the most fun I had. I really hammed it up and played around with the gender stereotypes. Fantastically fun! Then we went to dinner. On the way in the car, Harold and I role-played. It was silly stuff, guy talk. He started calling me Joey. Once we were at the restaurant, I got nervous. What would people think?

I’m not sure if people perceived me as a male, but it was definitely different. Until now, I have been unaware at how deferential people are to me as an attractive female. I didn’t get any of that as a man. Gender biases seem to be very subtle. No one was rude or anything, they just weren’t as…nice. We were just two guys out for some grub. I do believe, however, that the waiter’s demeanor changed ever-so-slightly when Harold ordered something for me. I don’t know if he thought we were gay or looked again and saw that I was female, or if I’m just imagining the reaction.

After that, we went to the Center for Sex Positive Culture. I figured it was a safe place to play with gender. Once there, I took off my shoes, pants, and shirt. And I hard packed, meaning that I put my two-way in, with the testicles that Harold had created just for that purpose. I looked like I had an impressive hard on, however, it was hard to walk like a guy and impossible to bend over. At the Center, people either assumed that I was male, or really didn’t care. It was awesome. I got to scene with Harold as a gay male couple. It kind of blows my mind.

Overall I liked experimenting with gender, but I feel like I don’t have enough boy to go on. Sometimes I feel a lot of boy. I wanted to do this gender experimentation to let myself out of the box, but I ended up feeling like I was in a smaller box – from all of me to just boy. I don’t want to be smaller. I can’t see myself going out as a boy very often, maybe occasionally. I’ve been shopping for a packer. Ooooh, and I want side burns!

Blood, Sweat, and Queers is a recipe for a good time. Just sayin’. Harold and I finally made it out to the Center for Sex Positive Culture after a months’ long hiatus, so this was the first time I’d been to this particular play party. Let me tell you – Queer is where it’s at!

The promotional materials say this: “If you identify as Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Trans, Queer, Pansexual, Questioning, Asexual, Homo/Heteroflexible, Gender Fluid, Gender Queer and/or just Gender Fucked, come and join us, party and have fun!” That’s exactly why I identify as Queer. I like how inclusive the concept is. I also enjoy how you really can’t make any assumptions about gender identity or who an individual might be attracted to. Queer people are just people. The only assumption you could make at this party is that the people there are kinky. I love that they gave out glow bracelets at the door so you could pick people up – left wrists for tops, right wrists for bottoms, and something creative for switches. (I wore mine on my left wrist!)

From the minute we walked in the door I felt welcome. People were there to greet us, joke with us, make us feel at home, and to show us around. I grew up around lesbians and this had the feel of a lesbian potluck – but kinkier. I felt very comfortable the the vibe. Harold and I looked around and decided to play on the bondage bed.

I’ve been fantasizing about the bondage bed for years. Everywhere you could want a tie point, there’s a eye-hook, even up overhead. It’s a canopy bed for perverts! I was excited to see what kind of creative things we could get up to. Harold and I, being who we are, did a lot of CBT (cock and ball torture). I barely scratched the surface of what we could do in the bed, but my favorite position had Harold suspended from the canopy part of the bed by his ankles with only his head and shoulders on the bed. I put his balls in the humbler and put the whole thing behind his thighs. Then I could kneel over his face and slap his balls. It must have worked amazingly well because he licked my cunt faster and faster.

After some great play, I just had him tied spread-eagle on the bed. He was in that drifty place that I associate with good play. I haven’t gotten him there very often – I think it’s difficult for him to let go. I just start doing some light massage and lying on top of him. I got out some lube and rubbed his cock and balls. I thought I had him right up to (but not quite) coming and I climbed on top of him to see what he wanted to have happen. When I looked down again it appeared that he had already orgasmed. Bummer. I wasn’t ready yet.

But wait! He was still hard. Not being a grrrl to give up easily, I clamped a vice on his balls and started tightening. And pumping his cock. I just kept at it, slowly tightening and increasing the intensity on my hand job. It worked! He came again. I’ve never gotten him to come twice in a short space of time like that before! I’m not sure that’s ever happened to him. It was super cool! Harold says that the first time wasn’t an orgasm, just some ejaculation, but I think it totally counts. I made the boi come twice in a row!

We snuggled for a while, letting Harold drift after his awesome performance. When he started to seem more embodied, we switched. Harold put the cuffs on me and the wrestling match began. I like to struggle. I like being tied up, but I also like to get myself free again. Anyone who wants to tie me up has to earn it. And I still like to prove to us both that I can get free any time I desire.

I had a fabulous time tussling. I finally let Harold get a four-point tie down on me, under some threat. He then proceeded with some truly gifted cunnilingus. I did take the opportunity to free one hand while he was busy before coming like crazy myself. No one was staring at us or anything, but it does turn me on to be having sex in a room full of people. Exhibitionist, I guess.

We cuddled some more – aftercare for us both. Then thirst and fatigue motivated us to get up. I packed up our stuff (Harold makes the toys, I use them and organize them) and Harold fetched water. I looked around while I got dressed, marveling at the diverse crowd and the beauty of people involved in intense sex play. It’s a good reminder for me when I feel bad about my body that everyone looks gorgeous when they’re in ecstasy.

Harold and I looked around a bit to see what other people were doing and to find the kitchen. Some fabulous person whose job it was to provide snacks had included hummus sandwiches and chocolate. Do you know how rare it is to be given a vegetarian option with protein? Many blessings upon you fabulous hummus sandwich person! The snacks really helped me to get grounded and have the energy to drive back home.

It was still a long drowsy trip home, but I’m so glad that we went. I really enjoy playing in public and this was a very nice energy for how we like to play. People were very friendly and I felt well taken care of. Blood, Sweat, and Queers happens the first Saturday night of each month at the CSPC in Seattle. You can find out more on their FetLife group. Hope to see you there!

Yesterday was the first of May, also known as Mayday, or Beltaine – a Celtic Pagan fertility festival. It was an incredibly full day as I celebrated in my own ways, both public and private. There are lots of symbols that represent this holiday and many of them are overtly sexual - bonfires, maypoles, and flowers to name a few. Yes, this is a celebration of sex, the freshness of life, and the coming of Spring. I’ve been needing a bit of that Beltaine energy.

It started early. I was rushing out of the shower so I could go run errands with Harold. I enlisted Joel’s help with slathering on my bath oil. I can’t get oil on my back by myself. He started rubbing his naked front on my back and reaching round to my breasts. Before I knew it, his face was buried between my thighs and I was coming. No time to even worry about being late.

Of course I had to reciprocate! I had Joel right on the edge of coming but I stopped to see if maybe he wanted to wait – save his orgasm for the night’s festivities – but I guess an orgasm in the mouth is better than two in the bush, or somesuch saying. He opted to come now rather than take chances on an uncertain future. I can’t really argue, being an instant gratification girl myself.

By afternoon I had cooked and primped and we were on our way to a potluck Mayday party. Any time I can wear red lingerie and 4 inch red heels is happy for me. (I wore a red dress and sweater as well!) It was a gorgeous day, full of Summer promise. We barbecued. We sat in the sunlight. We talked and laughed with old friends. We ate all kinds of yummy treats. And, we danced the maypole!

For obvious reasons, maypoles are rather phallic. Ours is explicitly phallic because Joel carved a penis head on each end. One end has ribbons attached and the other goes into a hole in the earth. Often this hole is considered the female counterpoint, but not for us this year! Our opening was decorated by a couple of gay men who insisted that it was an opening of another sort. So it became a gender-fluid hole, to be imagined by each participant as they desired.

Harold then felt inspired to suggest that rather than split into boys (holding the maypole) and girls (welcoming the maypole), we should decide whether we felt more like thrusting or receiving, pitching or catching, topping or bottoming. I’m a thruster, Baby. Out of the four of us in our little poly family, only Harold felt like receiving. It explains a lot, really.

So I found myself jogging barefoot across a field, at the steering end of a swiftly moving 13 foot long cock. We overshot our hole by a little, but I’m not surprised. That was a pretty hot hole. We pounded the pole into the hole and filled it with dirt, panting yet satisfied.

Dancing a maypole seems complicated at first, but isn’t really. Each person has a ribbon and weaves in and out of the other people’s ribbons. We sang and danced and wove our way ever faster round the pole. As we got closer to the ends of our ribbons, we got faster and closer together, kind of like a mosh pit. Joel ended up getting bound to the pole as everyone ran around with their ribbons. I think it means he’s bound himself to a sexy and fertile year.

Then we were on to phase two of our Mayday plans – the sex party! We took the children home to the nanny and prepared for a sexy evening. I wore black and silver heels, black stockings, pink garter belt, short silver swing dress, and long black gloves. I felt very, very sexy.

In my experience, it’s difficult to get a group of people together for sex, because if you do it right, people will have emotional stuff come up. Last night was no exception and we took some time to stop and let everyone check in on their feelings. It helps a lot, even though I was impatient to get it on. We worked through everybody’s stuff and got kinky.

My favorite moment was fucking Harold in the ass with my two-way while he sucked Joel’s cock. I’m going to hold on to that image for a while. I’m also going to remember watching the sensuous ways people danced and the sound of floggers on flesh and the moans of pleasure around me and slick feel of lube on my thighs. Joel was particularly sweet and funny. I loved seeing both of my boys naked together. Pretty, pretty!

It’s odd to think about all of this fabulous fertility energy when I’ve just today scheduled surgery to have my tubes tied in a couple weeks. I’ve had my babies, I’m done being pregnant, and I’ve signed several documents agreeing that the surgery will end my fertility… but what does it mean to be fertile? I’ve decided that ending my reproductive fertility only frees up my creative energy to be fertile in other areas (not to mention being able to have sex with less worry)! So whether you’re trying to have a baby or not, let your fertility burst into flower with the season. Best of the May!

I have a new haircut and it’s rocking my world. It’s strange how altering my hair style can totally change everything from the way I think about myself to the way I present myself to the world. It’s a great haircut – shorter than it’s been since I was 14 and I think it suits me. I feel more queer.

Gender is such a complicated thing. I love to dress up and wear make-up, but I’m also really tough and I have a big dick. Femme and butch all at once. I want a look that says all of those things – yes I’m glamorous and I can kick your ass. Wait, maybe that’s the definition of a Domme. I don’t know, but it’s how I feel. And now it’s how I look.

My hair is short in back and comes down over one eye in front. There’s still a red streak in front. I love the red. As I’ve been losing weight I am more in my body. I’m exercising more and being more physical. I’m not yet to the place where I look the way I feel in my body. Feeling it is the first step and the body will follow. I’m crafting the self I want to be.

Evidently, based on my haircut, I want to be David Bowie, a lipstick lesbian, or 80′s punk. That’s it, I’m a fucking rock star, Baby! It’s sexy. My men can now kiss the back of neck and press the front of my hip-bones, making me weak in the knees and damp in the panties. And my hair won’t get everywhere when I fuck. I hate it when my hair gets in my mouth when giving head or sticks to everything when I’m sweaty. I’m streamlined now.

Look out, hold on to your bois and grrrls! I’m almost down to hunting weight…

One of the many things I love about my relationship with Joel is the way we banter with each other. It’s like a running comedy routine when we’re feeling good. He’s so outrageous. And he loves to play up my reputation as a sex maven. It’s fun. And silly.

But the other night he was giving me shit for calling myself a grrrl. He says it’s pretentious. Yeah, I kinda get that, but it’s how I tend to identify – either as a grrrl or as a boi. “What’s wrong with just being a girl or a boy?” he says, “Why do you have to make it complicated? I’m a traditionalist, you are either a girl or a boy. That’s it.” Again, I see where he’s coming from, but I disagree.

And isn’t this the same man who used to cross-dress? Oh yes, still either a boy or a girl, no in-between, right?

I try to explain to him about finding myself between genders, outside of society’s gender conventions. I’m a grrrl most of the time. I love my femme aspects, my female body parts, but I don’t buy into the “rules” about how a girl should behave or who she can be. For me grrrl is like girl, but minus the guilt and add some kick-ass. It makes me happy. Then sometimes, I am a boi. I don’t give up my femme attributes, but I take on masculine mannerisms, energy, and thought processes. I’m gender queer.

I am very clearly physically female, but I get to define my gender. Other people may use the same terms to mean something else or different terms to describe the same thing. I’m not trying to be pretentious. I am claiming my right to express my identity in just the right way for me.

So Joel says, “What, I can just make up a word for when I’m a boy that feels more like a girl? Fine. Then I’m a birl!” Yes, exactly. He starts to laugh, “Then I can be burly! That adds new meaning.” I tell him to spell it B-I-R-L-Y. It’s a great new word for me, although I’m sure people already use it.

I’m highly amused. I’m a grrrl and my partners are a boi and a birl. I get the absurdity even while feeling strongly about gender identity. I don’t expect other people to use my terms, they are just for me. But I think everyone should shape language to help them define themselves. Who are you?