I've been away for a while, dealing with some transition issues.
But
black sissy's recent comments got me thinking about an experience I had with a guy several years ago, the last time I was on hormones. Let's take the Wayback Machine to 2003, shall we?...
The setting: a quasi-illegal warehouse party in a semi-run down part of town. I say quasi-illegal because I'm sure they didn't have a liquor license. The bartendresses were drunker than the patrons. The party space was a crazy maze of garishly decorated rooms filled with costumed revelers falling over each other. The whole thing was a playful riotous confusion of sights, sounds, colors, textures, and bodies.. or maybe I was just high. I went up to the rooftop bar, illuminated with string lights, looking out onto the sparkling lights of the city.
I ran into a man I knew. He was an ex-boyfriend of a friend of a friend - you know how it goes. He had a reputation - a dominant daddy, very possessive, into the S&M scene. He worked out, always wore black, usually in leather pants, salt and pepper hair. As far as I knew, he was straight as an arrow, with a thing for younger women - hence his entry into my extended friend circle. He was there alone that night. To my surprise, he started chatting me up. Then his arm was around my waist. Somehow he smooth talked me into going with him behind the boundary fence, set up by the hosts to separate the party area from the rest of the empty rooftop.
The next thing I knew, I was on all fours, skirt hiked up, panties yanked forcefully down, being fingered from behind. First one finger.. then in slid a second one... just as he was going for a third, another voice cut in: "Is that real!?"
A very drunken reveler had wandered over, and was standing over us. He was obviously confused to see Zorro fingering Frida Kahlo, who had a dick. He wasn't sure if what he was seeing was real.
"Yes. Now go away." I hissed. The drunk stumbled off, dazed.
Zorro whisked me off in his convertible, over the bridge, to his modernist condo.
He played games with me all night on the couch, while his new girlfriend slept at the other end of the house. She knew I was there.
He was nearly crazed - spankings, blowjobs, fingering, toys. No kissing though. For a straight guy, he had no problems working around the fact I had a penis. He even suggested fucking me while I fucked his girlfriend. I wasn't sure it was such a good idea. Besides, I had set my boundaries for this scene at penetration.
Dawn's early light. We'd been at it for hours, and I was fading. I pulled myself together as best I could, and he drove me back over the bridge.
He held my hand, Frida's hand. He was attracted to me as Frida.
Then came the moment when I realized he didn't understand me at all.
"Why do you like pretending to be a girl?"
"Well... hormonally, I AM a girl now."
Reflexively he pulled his hand away, as if he suddenly realized he'd been holding a snake or fire.
"Why are you taking female hormones?"
"I'm experimenting. I want to see how it feels. Find out if it's right for me."
Was he freaked out by my body modification? By the medical details? Did he like me better when he thought I was a boy dressed as a girl for kicks or kink, rather than a girl in a boy's body?
We rode the rest of the way back in silence.
He dropped me off at home, and I never heard from him again.
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