My Whole Sex Life

I have a strong masculine side that I’ve been exploring over the past couple of years. I don’t feel any less feminine, it’s just that sometimes I feel more like a boy. I’ve needed to pay attention to some pretty deep stuff. It’s confusing to acknowledge a piece of me that is so different.

At first I considered more of a butch persona. I appreciate butch women, but I don’t feel like one. At least part of the time I am a man. A gay man, who doesn’t want to be gay. I call him Jaxx.

There is a sexual component. I want to have sex as a man. Strap-on sex becomes more important, but not necessary. Jaxx is not as mature as I am – perhaps late teens or early adulthood. I have all of the sex drive, teen angst, and body image issues.

When I look in the mirror, I don’t look like I imagine myself to appear. I guess no one does, but it’s hard to figure out what kind of boy I am. How do I dress? What are my mannerisms? Who are my role models? How do I fit those things with my current limitations?

For example, I have large breasts – G cups. I have a compression vest to try to minimize my chest, but it still tends to be a problem. I need to layer shirts. I don’t have the chest I want to have as a boy. However, I can use a soft pack to give myself that all important bulge in my pants.

I’m still trying to figure out how I want to look, and I’ve only been brave enough to go out in public once, but I’m starting to own this part of me. I’m slowly feeling more confident as Jaxx. Ultimately I am who I am, regardless of gender. Here are a few photos we recently took of him…

Click below to see what other people are doing for Sinful Sunday!

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

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!

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?

I love lingerie, but I have very few chances to wear it. It tends to be impractical while chasing children, grocery shopping, or scrubbing the toilet. And it isn’t that my guys wouldn’t be appreciative if I dress up for sex, but they’re really more interested in me being naked. And also, we tend to just grab the opportunity to have sex when it arises – spontaneous like.

I do wear sexy bras and panties all of the time. The underwear is always a cotton thong or boy short, usually lacy, sparkly, or ruffly.  The bras generally come from Fredericks of Hollywood and push my breasts into odd, yet sexy positions. Everything has to be comfortable. The cool thing is, it doesn’t matter if anyone else ever sees my cute bras and panties. I wear them because it makes me feel sexy. I know that it’s there under my clothes – my secret.

One thing that I have taken out of the lingerie drawer and out into my everyday wardrobe is garters. I adore the feel of wearing a garter belt, but wearing stockings really isn’t practical in my everyday life. So about three years ago I starting wearing over-the-knee socks and made garters to hold them up. I attached garters to some boy shorts and started making my own garter clips to coordinate with the socks. I wear them often, layered with tights or fishnets, under short skirts. It’s still not always practical, but it lets me get that lingerie fetish in action.

But if I think it’s difficult to figure out when and how to wear lingerie, how much harder is it for men? Not drag queens, but men who just enjoy the feel of lingerie or the satisfaction of feeling feminine from time to time. Our culture doesn’t really have a place for that. I’ve dressed both Joel and Harold in lingerie. I think they look amazingly sexy. No, actually they look like hooker lumberjacks. But I can tell that they feel sexy and that turns me on.

Luckily, I have a male friend who looks pretty hot in lingerie who agreed to model for me. I think he rocks his garters.

Our group has a long tradition of holding a holiday gift exchange, presided over by Santa, as embodied by Harold. At first it was Naked Santa that passed out gifts with an uncanny ability to divine who needed each gift. And he was as sexy as he was wise. Then the group grew to include children and Santa became Nearly Naked. That is to say, Harold stripped down to his white Land’s End boxers while wearing the Santa hat. And he added a tarty scarf.

This year I hoped to respect the children’s comfort levels in regard to nudity and get Santa into something more festive than boxers. We settled on a cute red plaid skirt with matching scarf. Harold wore sheer black panties with ruffles underneath, just in case – I think his balls hang down lower than the skirt. He was leaning towards fishnets as well but I steered him away from that! We have to keep Santa classy.

Thus Nearly Naked, Gender-Fluid Santa was born. I think it worked because the skirt didn’t look too girlie. It looked more gender-fluid. It was short enough that Harold could wear it under his jeans. He performed a fabulous strip tease  while his frenzied fans chanted and cheered. And gifts were passed around to all with much posing and preening. Santa is a bit of a show-off but he rocks his job!

Lucky me, I got to make out with Nearly Naked Gender-Fluid Santa by the Christmas tree, while carols played and the fire crackled. And I counted my blessings, because they are many. I’m pretty sure my kids were singing “I saw Momma kissing Nearly Naked Gender-Fluid Santa…” It’s a new era.

You know it’s a good time when people are hanging from the rafters.

Which basically sums up my weekend. Harold and I got away for a couple of nights. I’m feeling much more relaxed, which is good because I was getting pretty wound up. Nothing relieves my tension more than a few days in bed.

One of the great things about being kinky is that it fosters a sense of creativity. While I was on my back, staring at the ceiling (I may have had a boy between my thighs), I realized it would work great to toss some rope over those rafters, attach some carabiners, put the boy (boi? He was wearing my lingerie at the time) in cuffs, and string him up. He looked beautiful against the tasteful decor. Bondage is so much fun!

We did all kinds of stuff. I adore the way we make love so seamlessly. It’s like we never really stop. Like we float in a river of desire. That warm rush can flow from oral sex to an hour of talking and kissing, to nipple clamps, to showering together, to anal sex, to sleeping all twined together, to talking some more, to 69, to feeding each other fruit, to ball whacking, to intense fucking, to staring into each others eyes, to using the vibrator, to reading aloud to each other, to fisting, to sitting on the porch naked, to making out… until I feel like I breathe love and sweat sex!

We’ve had a rare glimpse into someone else’s sex life recently. There is a trailer on our property that came with a renter when we purchased the place 2 years ago. The renter, Jess, died suddenly without any close family and it’s fallen to us to empty the trailer of his things. It’s a very strange process to examine a stranger’s life in such detail. It’s made me realize how vast the difference is, for most people, between what we project of our sexuality and what we hide.

Most interesting (to me anyway), is that Jess was secretly a cross-dresser. He had a whole room full of women’s clothes, wigs, shoes, makeup, and such. We never saw him in anything but jeans and cowboy boots. He didn’t go out at night, rarely had people over. So I imagine he dressed up for himself. There were a few pictures that he’d obviously taken of himself, sometimes while beating off.

It’s impossible to tell what Jess’s sexual orientation was. I think he was into girls. I know he had a son. There was some correspondence that indicated a relationship with a woman at some point. We haven’t viewed any of his video porn yet, but it looks to be the kind of stuff available at high prices in the 80′s and early 90′s. I think it’s pretty straight forward het based on the titles, but surprisingly, that doesn’t mean that he was straight. Maybe Jess identified as female.

We just don’t know! Even with all of his fetishes exposed to us, we still don’t know what went on in his head. So much of sexuality is internal. Even when you watch someone have sex it’s impossible to truly know what they are experiencing. So I end up hoping that Jess’s life (and sex life) were more satisfying than the evidence suggests.

I’ve been feeling kind of sad because of the way he lived. He had so much beautiful cross-dressing stuff! Lots of stuff from Fredericks, oh so many gorgeous high heels, and a whole wardrobe box full of breast forms. We’re donating all of it to Lambert House, an organization in Seattle that helps transgendered youth. But despite the fantasy engendered by the beautiful things, he lived alone in a dark and dingy home.

Rest in peace Jess. I hope wherever you are there are lots of pretty dresses…