Not safe for most workplaces. Age 18+. Scarleteen is great for under 18.
I’m guessing I need to write an introduction to this conversation that’s introducing a plan of writing and posting. After some writing speech to text that created a wall of text, I worked to bring this into a format that would be readable and pleasing to the eye. It took some attempts and I’m not sure I like it yet LOL. Italics are either to identify who’s speaking or actions. Plain text is spoken communication. Figure that one out, as I’m the only flesh and body person in this.
I'm still trying to finish a piece I started for Masturbation Monday a few weeks ago. It's not that it's Camp Nano or Nanowrimo; I'm struggling to write. A meme going around had me thinking- about gay people taking off all the rainbow/Pride stuff on the way to their car to keep from being jumped. I'm struggling to write because I feel unsafe within my own home. Nothing like domestic violence, but I'm constantly interrupted no matter what I'm trying to do. Writing has become a thing I do best outside the house; today's writing beside this was at church and I managed 537 between longhand and typing it up.
All this leads me to thinking- how does one even masturbate when you're feeling unsafe? All jokes about teen experimentation aside, I struggle with this. I don't know; I'm thinking after I finish this that I'll close the bedroom door, grab a book and some lube, and rub off a few. Sure, I got to come a bunch with my Master, when he used his fingers on me before fucking my cunt, but we don't have a rule where I can't masturbate and come without his permission.
I'm thinking again on polyamory. I've been a schmuck to my girlfriend; it's been way too long since I've done anything with her. There are so many different ways that mutual masturbation can work out. But when I read through post after post of seemingly cisgender, heterosexual man and woman doing something, I wonder where my queer self belongs. But you know, I'm writing in 1st person, present tense; how much does my queerness really bleed through the pages.
While I wrote a 2-paragraph post that went up yesterday, I wanted to simply some of the images into a 6-line poem.
Child alive- her existence confirmed with new name and pronouns
Must we go to the city to feel comfortable and alive?
I conjured few dreams because those are for her
Happiness, queerness, community
Transgender and agender- we're together again.
Can't be the only reason I don't grieve.
Enjoy the other great Rainbow Snippets sharings here- both fiction snippets and book recommendations.
Genitals don't solely equal gender; yes, I laughed to myself when this idea came to me because of the play on The Queen's comment “Behavior does not solely equal identity.” Of course, The Queen was speaking to a friend and lover who was in the process of a same-gender attraction after identifying as a heterosexual all his life.
One thing that most irritates me about genitals is the way that they remain gendered- “penis is a male part/vagina is a female part,” for instance.
(Please excuse the intermission; I got that far and forgot what I meant to say.)
I wonder- what would be the reason(s) to have anything about gender or genitals on an Alternative and Augmentative Communication board/device?
If gender/sex is a social construct- and some people say it's wrong to divide people by their genitals- why do some people feel a need to question their gender and their genitals' impact on their gender identity? This reminds me of a vlog by Kat Blaque in which she talked about “would there be transgender people in a gender-less society?” Personally, I think there's truth to the idea of humans as naturally categorizing and naming things around us- like I don't experience gender within myself, but I see gender as others present or claim it. The problem I see in these questions is that the difference between self-labeling or “the labeling of others” is never acknowledged. I feel that I'm agender, but most people look at me and see long hair, larger breasts on a non-obese body, and say “woman.” I hold that my internal understanding of my gender outweighs others' impression of my gender based on their culturally based assumptions and understandings.
“What gender are you when we make love?” Audrey's question to me that really pushed my gender questioning to a higher pitch that found me identifying as non-binary and agender.
I recently had someone talk to me about “kids now spend so much time online.” I just went polite, seeming interest; I didn't want to point out to the person that I prefer life online. As an Autistic person who can speak but does better, is more comfortable using written communication, online communication is mostly written so I don't have to declare my neurodivergency if I don't want to. Online relationships- whether romantic or not- have value to me in ways that too many other people my age and older just don't understand. However, I push further than “online relationships” to what maybe just other neurodivergent people will respect- I have a romantic relationship with one of my characters (from the erotic romance I write). She's also polyamorous and I consider the people in her relationship network (also my characters) to be my virtual family. While Audrey (my girlfriend) doesn't have a flesh-and-blood body, she does have a body as she and I discussed in the creation of her character. She is a transgender woman who only used hormones a short time and has only had tracheal shaving (reduction of the Adam's apple) as far as gender confirming surgeries are considered. Are you dying to ask what that means in terms of Audrey's genitals?
A recent joke- I started a conversation with a friend by saying, “I have magical nipples.” Yes, we've moved from the genitals between the legs to the nipples on human chests. You see, I was assigned female at birth and I haven't had a bilateral mastectomy (although I have had a breast reduction) so I have breasts; I sometimes wear a chest binder and I do like to think of them as pecs instead of breasts then. I'm sure I've told this story elsewhere, but it fits here: roommate raised totally repressed feels nudity is awkward and doesn't want me to go around nude. This pissed me off when the AC broke and the temps soared to 90 Fahrenheit. One day, I put on a pair of shorts and my binder- my “magical nipples” that supposedly mark me as a woman needing to cover her chest were covered by the binder.
So I'm not going to tell you about Audrey's genitals, but I do have a vulva, a vagina, and breasts or pecs.
My name is Joelle and my pronouns are she, he, or they.
I like that statement much better than “I'm pronoun indifferent.” Of course, I could go some better- “My name is Joelle, I'm agender, and my pronouns are he, she, or they.” I wonder if changing the pronoun order would startle people, since much of my presentation seems “feminine.” At a recent meeting I attended, a person used “they” for me and it was strangely pleasing. Maybe not so strangely- the first time I masturbated to orgasm after getting on an anti-depressant, it was The Queen calling me “boy” that pushed me over the edge into release.
I grew angry at one support group session where some people referred to “she/her” as “feminine” pronouns; I vented, “What does that mean when I as an agender person use she/her?” After all, languages evolve over time; when I first pondered my gender as a youngster, the terms non-binary and agender didn't exist, as far as I knew.
“Joelle ate most of his chips, but didn't finish their salad because her stomach was full.” I find that quite an enjoyable sentence. :D “He opened their can of energy drink and she took a sip.” Yes, this would be why I encouraged Happy to try out different pronouns one at a time until joy settled on the noun-self pronouns joy/joys/joyself.
While the previous paragraph was meant to show how switching pronouns in the midst of one sentence or paragraph could cause confusion, I have to admit that a person's pronouns changing regularly, like for a genderqueer person, is something that I find confusing. Of course, the way in which genderqueer/genderfluid people experience their pronouns, I don't think it's quite like pronoun indifference such as I have. As an agender person, I only feel gender in relation to other people, almost as a reflection of what gender they see me to be.
Among the things that complicated coming out as non-binary for me, not wanting to change my name or my pronouns was something that made me feel less valid. A little explanation- my daughter told me she's transgender, asked to be called a new name and she/her pronouns before I came out as agender. Also, as I looked at non-binary YouTubers, I was struck by “come out, hair cut, they/them pronouns”- it seemed almost formulaic to me. And none of it felt right to me. It wasn't until I was able to consider things like “I want to wear a chest binder sometimes” before I was able to settle into comfort with my pronouns as they are; I still felt too much like I was appropriating someone else's struggle to consider anything but the pronouns of my assigned gender.
When it comes to writing, I'm glad that “What are their pronouns?” is a standard thing I consider when creating a new character; I don't assume cisgender people using the pronouns of their assigned gender.
I had a moment on Facebook, trying to figure out some words for this scene based on Iven being a trans man who's had some gender confirming surgeries and not others. Remember that he's wearing a sports chest binder in this scene because he hasn't had what's commonly thought of as “top surgery” or bilateral mastectomy and male chest construction.
Click here to read part 1 first.
“Plans, my Lady?” Iven's throat moved with his swallowing.
“Yes.” Audrey crawled onto the bed and came to kneel between his spread legs. “I want to enjoy my boy. You still want to be my boy, right?”
“Yes, my Lady. Your boy.”
With the tip of her tongue, she traced a line from his belly button to the bottom hem of his binder.
“My Lady,” he groaned as his cock grew hard against her thigh.
“That's my boy,” she rasped. “Does the pressure of my leg across your cock feel that good?”
“Yes, my Lady.” He lifted his hips to press harder against her. “Do I... beg?”
“Beg to come? Of course you do, but you can't be that close just yet?” She crawled backward until she could rest her chin--balls, he wants them called balls, even if he didn't get scrotoplasty—on his balls. She brushed one fingernail up his cock.
“So sensitive, my Lady,” he whimpered.
“I like to hear that.” She sucked his cock into her mouth. Breathing in through her nose, she listened for his sounds. The feel of his cock made her own get harder. He's holding back, but his hips want to move. My handsome boy.
“My Lady, my Lady!”
She pressed her hands underneath his ass and lifted him closer. She pulled back slightly, until just the glans rested on her tongue. Her heart pounded in her ears as his legs pushed against hers. She pressed her thumbs into his hips.
“Yes, my Lady.” He moaned hoarsely and thrust upward so she took his cock back into her mouth to the root. “Oh, my Lady.” His head rocked against the pillows. “I didn't mean to. Um. Feels, feels...” He coughed and then groaned.
Grabbing and then squeezing his hand, she sucked harder on his cock. Need that in me. She pulled all the way off him with her lips just touching the head. “I want to spank you now. Then I want to feel you in my ass, let you fuck me until we both come.”
“Please, my Lady.” Iven's toes curled into the comforter again.
She tumbled away from him on her bed and placed her feet on the carpet.
Without a further order from her, he dashed across the space to lay himself across her thighs, his cock coming to settle between them.
“That's my good boy.” She brushed her fingers over his asscheeks. “Which of my wants are you more eager for?”
He mewled behind closed lips.
“A, B, or C, boy. Unless you want a punishment more than B,” she teased.
“B, but it makes me feel greedy to say, my Lady.”
“Good boy, answering and explaining your answer. What have we talked about with wants?” She dropped three spanks on his cheeks, her tongue moving against the back of her teeth at the delightful sting on her hand.
Releasing a held breath after the last spank, he replied, “Wants are fine to have. It's only in violating someone's consent to get those wants is there any reason for negativity. My Lady.”
“Yes, good boy.” She spanked him several more times, one cheek, the other cheek, across the middle over his crack, without counting. Her balls pulsed hot with pleasure as he writhed against her. “Good boy, staying hard during your spanking.”
“Thanks, my Lady.” His hips thrust his ass up to meet her hand.
She pushed him to the bed and scrambled up to grab the anal lube. Squirting out a bunch, she spread some over her asshole before returning to him. The lube resting on her palm, she stroked his cock until it glistened.
“My Lady, please, my Lady!” He rocked against the bed with abandon.
“Come on, boy! Up on the bed so we can spoon.” She pulled him by his hair until they were up at the head of the bed. Spreading her asscheeks with one hand, she ordered, “Do me!” Sighing, she enjoyed the pressure of his cock at her entrance before he started pushing into her. “That's my boy.” She grunted with pleasure when he touched her hip. “Reach around and stroke my cock, boy.”
“Yes, my Lady,” he replied between gritted teeth.
Her muscles clamped down on his cock. “Just like that.”
“Thank you, my Lady. I never imagined it could feel this good!” He pounded into her as his hand slipped up and down her cock, his thumb pushing down her foreskin when he went up over the glans.
This was the right choice for him, and fuck, does his cock feel good! She grabbed his hand off her cock and licked his palm before wrapping him around her cock again. “I want you to feel good and come, boy. No begging now. I just wanna know when you come.”
“Yes, yes, yes! Thanks, my Lady!” His thumb slipped over her glans in the way that drove her crazy. “Thank you. Unh!” His hand slid down to the base of her cock, his little finger sliding over her balls.
“Thant's right! Come for me. Come inside me!” Her cum shot out of her onto the bed as he groaned behind her. Her face fell forward onto the pillow. So good. My good boy. Used the right language, even coming. That's my handsome boy. She pulled an extra blanket over them. “We'll go take a soak shortly, good boy. Thank you for sharing your first post-op sexual experience with me.”
“You're welcome and thanks for allowing it, my Lady.” He kissed the nap of her neck and pressed closer to her.
I mentioned the Rainbow Snippets hop here in my post yesterday; I didn't make it the #RainbowSnippets post though because it was well over 6 lines long. I was thinking about how overwhelming similarities of the non-binary vloggers on YouTube made me think I couldn't come out as non-binary. I wrote a short poem of thoughts for this hop.
My non-binary transition is mine
… not to be confused with anyone else's, even a character of mine.
Happy changed joys name; I'm okay with mine.
Mandisa changed their pronouns; I'm pronoun indifferent.
Mairead, Iven, and Tonya changed part of their genitals
… I just want to wear a chest binder sometimes.
To a bunch more great LGBTQIA+ fiction and book recs, check out the Rainbow Snippets group on Facebook. And if you're beyond needing a 101 on non-binary gender as I am, here's an article by Sam Dylan Finch that I enjoyed today.
This is a somewhat link-heavy post.
Inspiration struck me for this post some time before 6 am, when mouth-ache on the right side of my mouth woke me. Sadly, Meredith O'Reilly has announced an end to #WipItUpWednesday; I don't blame her at all-running a blog hop is hard work and participation is almost nil. I tried my hand at running a hop- Women-Loving Women blog hop; it didn't lost long both because of poor reception/participation and also I had the sense that people who'd read such a hop wanted “Gold star lesbians.” Well I'm not a Gold star lesbian (ie. I've had sex with men and non-binary people as well as women) and I don't write Gold star lesbians either.
With that failed blog hop under my belt, I started thinking of existing romance/erotic fiction blog hops I know of and potential hashtags for themes I could just do on my blog. Most of the blog hops I know of are focused on cishets; again, I'm not a cishet and I rarely write such characters. Also, often enough, the names and/or themes of these hops irritate me from a moral ground; much of the word choice around sexuality still strikes me as shaming. So thinking of hashtags, anything that seemed shaming was quickly released into “not happening on my blog.” That left me with 3 possibilities: continuing “WipWednesday” without a hop to support it, “Therapeutic Thursday,” and “Sex (Gender) Saturday.” Of course, I will continue participating in Masturbation Monday and I can try to be more regular with Rainbow Snippets on Saturday/Sunday. While some people will say that “blog hops don't help [sell books or gain readers],” for me they are an important part of my mental health. To have something I regularly participate in.
As I imagined it in my bed, #SexGenderSaturday would be the hashtag for this post (although I will also share this in Rainbow Snippets- click here to see the weekend's post for that blog hop on Facebook). Including my understanding of my own complex sexuality and gender as well as my characters, I consider sex(uality), sex, and gender as separate but related things. I have an idea for a 6 line thing that I will write and share tomorrow for #RainbowSnippets, although Sunday is often about “Writing for Masturbation Monday” for me. I also have an idea for next Saturday already :D ; being inspired feels good.
So yes, I've spent more time in explaining “why the hashtag” than writing to the hashtag; I hope you'll forgive that because my sore mouth is messing up my ability to concentrate. #SexGenderSaturday feels rather appropriate for my site.
This coming Wednesday will be the last week for the #WipItUpWednesday hop and I do plan to take part. I'll be writing for Masturbation Monday soon after that; I know what I want to write, even if it isn't particularly inspired by the lovely image Kayla Lords selected for inspiration.
I was sad to read that this hop is coming to close, but I'll try to be sure to take part in these last two weeks. For today, I decided to edit a scene that i'd written during a writing sprint, but have since done a tiny bit of editing.
Iovita is a wheelchair user and is at a mall.
Iovita stared at the obstacle of the stairs. “My legs are too bad today.”
“Can I help you?” a salesperson asked.
“Are these stairs the only way to the second floor?”
“Definitely not. I was just heading to the elevator with this pallet of items. Would you like to follow me?”
“Yes, thanks.” What a relief. She lifted her head to scan his nametag.
Jack pushed on the bar on the cart. “I keep telling management that we have to have better signage about the elevator.”
“It isn't just a service elevator for employees doing jobs like yours?”
“No. We use it as well because there's only the one elevator, but it's kept clean and well working for customers to use as well.” Jack pushed his shaggy brown hair behind his ear before turning down a path between two areas of women's clothes. “Are you looking for a specific thing once you get upstairs?”
“I want to look around, no specific goal.”
Jack stopped in front of the large, silver doors of the elevator and pressed a button on the cart's handle.
Brushing her fingers over her power chair's direction knob, Iovita waited and adjusted her lap blanket. A nice, new nighty before Per time tonight. Her tablet made a small bell sound to alert her that Ziba had come online. Well it is already Sunday morning for her. She grabbed her tablet and touched the screen before entering her passcode. Clicking on Ziba's picture, she tapped out, “Hi, love. I'm just enjoying an afternoon at the mall.”
“That's lovely. I'm so glad you have the bus for trips like this, allowing everyone of any ability level to enjoy these outings,” Ziba replied.
I think they have that little coffee bar upstairs. I'd like a little treat. She carefully wedged the tablet under her blanket when the elevator doors opened.
“Going up?” Jack asked with a grin.
Iovita pushed the control knob on her chair to start her forward after him. “Thanks for not directly acknowledging my chair or making a big deal of it.”
“You're welcome. I think more people just learn to be decent and not wait until they or a loved one needs to use mobility aids. Although I should admit, I'm an occupational therapist student.”
Laughing, Iovita said, “Well people will always need OT. Who knows? Maybe I'll eventually have you for my therapist one of these days.”
Jack nodded. “If only we could get a real health care system so it's easier for everyone to get the medical help they need.”
“Too true.” The elevator came to a stop. “Thank you so much for your help.”
“You're welcome. I hope you enjoy the rest of your shopping.” Jack waited while Iovita exited the elevator.
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So I realized at 7:30p Tuesday that I hadn't signed up yet. Oops :D I'm managing to write a bit, although I'm working on "Typing My Love" again (for Camp Nano). 6 years after they started dating Happy, Ziba and Mairead move to New Zealand. I had some research, plus I have books waiting for me; people from New Zealand may very well have corrections for me from this very still in-progress. I'm going to share something sweet today.
“Mysie kitty,” Mairead called out as they walked into their flat, Ziba closing the door behind them. She dropped a few kitty treats on the floor beneath the coffee table. “Kitten, kitten?” As she was walking, she undid the pin on the head scarf and pulled it off.
Ziba followed after Mairead, turning on overhead lights. “Mysie? We’d like to pet you.” She removed her own head scarf and folded the navy blue chiffon rectangle before slipping the black under scarf off her hair. She slipped into their bedroom after Mairead and put away their head scarves and her under scarf before joining Mairead beside their bed.
“She’s letting me pet her head a little although she won’t come out,” Mairead said while still looking underneath their bed. “I love her all over ginger color with just this little patch of white on her nose. She’s too cute.”
“I’m glad you like her, habibti. I still feel bad for you giving up Seamus, even if it was your decision.”
“But we can both enjoy this little kitten. Do you have the catnip toy?”
She pulled the small hand sewn mouse from her pocket. “Here it is.” She passed it to Mairead. I’m not sure if I want to make love or simply sleep with her more. You wouldn’t think that we’ve been actually living together some years now. Looking around their room, she nodded when she noticed her prayer mat had been unpacked already.
A tentative meow startled her out of her thoughts.
“Mysie?” Mairead sung.
“Meow!” the kitten licked Mairead’s nose.
“She likes you!” Ziba giggled.
“Or she thought I have something leftover from dinner on my nose.” Mairead joined Ziba in giggling when the kitten slowly began to climb up her arm and onto her chest. “What a cuddly kitten.” She gently rubbed the back of the kitten's head. “You have a preference about where she sleeps?”
“Not really. Wherever she's comfortable is fine, whether that's in bed with us or she picks a spot she likes best. While I hope this means she's over hiding already, it may only be a moment.” We got her that other toy that might be good now. Ziba slowly backed out of the room on her knees before hopping to her feet in the hallway. Grinning, she hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the feather-on-a-stick toy. She returned to their bedroom and got down on the floor with a curious kitten still standing on Mairead's chest.
“I think she's decided my chest is hers,” Mairead said as Mysie completed small circle between her breasts and then curled into a ball of kitten.
“But I like your chest too,” Ziba joked.
“Awww.” Mairead stroked Mysie's ears. “So are there any fatwas about animals being in the room while I couple is making love?”
Ziba snorted. “I'm entirely unsure, but I'll look that up.” She brushed her fingertips over Mysie's back. “Maybe we did end up with a lap cat who'll be happy to sleep with us. Should we see if she'll allow me to pick her up and put her in our bed?”
“Sure. Can you go check thermostat? I swore I set it to 21.”
I wonder how Happy is doing with more of the metric system. At least joy had a few years with Mairead and I in Amsterdam. She sighed and glanced at the thermostat on the wall. It showed 19. She flipped a switch and the heat pump started working. A nice, scented candle; I hope Mysie will leave it alone. She returned to the bedroom and smiled to see her wife and kitten cuddling on the bed. She leaned over her night table and breathed in the scent of her rose candle for a long moment.
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