I know it's been a while since I've updated my blog. As usual, the reasons for the silence are various. My initial reason was the fact that for a long time nothing happened in my life that seemed worth updating about. Then something happened and suddenly I had so much to tell about I was uncertain how I could fit it all into one post.
After the ruined orgasm I had in June and which I told you about in my previous blog post, my life was for a long time rather busy, somewhat lonely and not very sexy. Neither did I afford getting any new anal toys to tell you about. I also had some rather bad, even life-altering news having to do with my health.
I did get one toy, and I even considered making an update about it. The toy in question was a very affordable, and extra-extra-small cock cage I immediately fell in love with. It was a perfect fit for my tiny nub and I was amazed how comfortable, safe and secure I felt as I had it on.
But other than that, there was not much to tell about. I continued my chastity because I didn't want to return to the days of reckless cumming I had in January and February. After all, during two short months I was responsible of twenty ejaculations in total, which I still regret, even though I had permission to them.
By the beginning of the fall I was in fact was so miserable I started experimenting on myself and developed an interesting technique. Some mornings when I woke up with full bladder and extremely horny, I started edging right away, and after a short period of tugging my limp penis and watching porn, I pushed my lower abdomen sharply while at the same pulling the skin of my penis tightly back.
Like a clockwork, that did the trick every time. No matter what I would have done at that point, even though I didn't move my fingers the slightest bit, the technique triggered a nice little ruined orgasm, usually with one little spurt of sperm a few seconds later.
For some reason the spurt even didn't take away my horniness, at least not immediately. Often I was so horny it felt very sexy for me to slurp up my own cum, which I usually have great difficulties to do, if I've had the a full, relaxing orgasm and a cooling period afterwards. One could even say I got used to the taste of my own cum.
This all took place sometime in August. However, after a few of those instances I stopped my experiments, because I felt I was doing something wrong. Also, I had stared to become very good at it and the ruined orgasms had begun giving me way too much pleasure.
One of the reasons for me stopping was also a person who entered my life in the latter part of the summer. The person in question lives abroad, but in a very short period of time, especially the last two months, we have become rather close.
My new very special friend, as I like to call her, is dominant by nature, and had told me how much she liked the idea of me not cumming. Therefore, after I told her about my "experiments" she expressed her dissatisfaction about the fact, and said I should have reach out to her if I felt too lonely, or miserable.
I must admit I hadn't understood how serious she had been about me. However, since I had desperately looked for a person who would care enough whether I ejaculated or not, to forbid it from me, it didn't take much for me to give her the control of my orgasms, which she gladly took. I have been very happy ever since.
So far she has allowed me only one orgasm, in the beginning of October. It also looks like it was the last orgasm for me this year. This is however, what I wanted. I need my orgasms to be controlled by someone else's whims, even if it means my testicles will be denied of the releases they would "normally" get.
My new friend quickly became a very integral part of my erotic life. She took great erotic enjoyment of keeping me denied, and I was more than happy to become her sex toy. The sessions of us masturbating together on-line have been incredibly steamy. Many times she manages to have several orgasms per session, without me having a single one
I have been eager offering her information of all the things I have described on this blog in the past. They include nipple torture, clothespins, bladder torture, anal play and feminization, a thing I got to experience a little with my most recent girlfriend. In fact being a genderqueer herself, my new special friend was very interested about the latter from the very beginning, and encouraged me to explore it.
That led to a several of incredible hot sessions, in which I wore my full feminine gear, and filled my tummy and bladder with water, so that I looked like a pregnant woman. That idea turned of her on immensely, and I was happy to describe it to her in detail
Then, one time, as I was doing this, wearing nothing but black panties and a bra, black high-heeled boots, my black wig and make-up, and looking myself from a full length mirror, sitting in my chair legs spread and pulling my limp little member, something just... clicked inside my head.
I looked at myself, and realized how hot, and sexy I was. Something I hadn't ever felt, never in my life. It felt incredibly good, and natural.
Then I understood it.
I am not a man.
I have never been one.
I am a woman.
That moment an incredible amount of joy filled me. Suddenly everything made sense. What I was seeing in the mirror was something I was quite happy to be. What I wanted to be. What I was.
That experience had a monumental effect on me. It changed everything within me. One could say it may have been the most important experience in my whole adult life, at least when my erotic one in concerned.
You may say it was only being horny, that I may just found a new kink I like, and you're correct, being turned on had a huge role in it. As you may remember, I had dressed up a bit with my girlfriend previously, but something vital had been missing.
I tried to explain this all to my special friend, all the things that made sense now. How the social role of a man had never felt right for me. My interests, my personality, none of it fit with the male role. In fact I had always hated it, and anything that came with it.
On the other hand I had known I wasn't gay either. I knew I liked girls, but I had never felt the need to penetrate one. That may have been one reasons for me for not pursuing a sex life. Or reason for not being that upset when my diabetes started to make me impotent.
Never in my life, when I'd had been in the situation I was supposed to do the act of penetration I had felt it was something I should be doing. Let alone it being something I liked. The thing is, I have never in my life "had sex", penetrative sex that is, and actually enjoyed it.
Watching porn involving intercourse had always been somewhat problematic for me, as well. It included beautiful women so it was nice to watch, but truth to tell, I had never been able to identify with the male performers. I knew I was supposed to do so, to want to fuck, and penetrate a woman, but I didn't have the slightest desire to do so. Something vital seemed to be missing from me.
Being penetrated was another thing entirely. Something about it, even if it was only symbolic, for example my girlfriend playing with my ear, simply made me go nuts. I wanted to be penetrated. I needed it, so badly. But didn't that make me gay? If did, why didn't I like men then? You see my dilemma?
And then there was the whole concept of social role. For a long time now my best friends have been women, and many times when I've been in a company of women I have had to remind myself that I am not myself one. Especially recently I had developed a strong distaste of an attitude men often take in social situations.
For years I had been childishly proud, as I've gotten "You are a 25 year-old woman" results from one internet test after another, but it has merely been play, or having fun with stereotypes. Or to put more accurately, my need to distance myself from the male stereotype I felt I was unable to fill, that was alien to me.
I poured all this to my friend, almost in tears, still in my wig and drag gear. My friend calmed me, and said she knew I wasn't a man. That she had known it from the very beginning. As she said that I felt like crying, but also felt extremely relieved.
The following week I felt like being high on something. I felt I had somehow given new information of the world no one else had. That I had in possession of a wonderful secret. I cannot describe or compare it to anything else than going out to oneself you're gay. Or finding God.
Suddenly there was this incredible... well, "inner peace" within me. There really isn't any other expression to describe it. I was much calmer, happier, at peace and in harmony with the world and the universe and everything, than ever before. Everything was the way it was supposed to be, now. I loved the world, and everything and everyone in it.
This all happened about two months ago. I have had time to digest the information, and to find out whether it was just a weird phase. I'm glad to say it was not. So many things now feel more natural, and comfortable, if I think myself in the role of a woman instead of man. I still feel the inner peace I described earlier.
What will all this mean to me? Truth to tell, I have no idea.
All I know that no matter what, deep inside me I know now what I am. What I have always been. That knowledge gives me an incredible amount of comfort, certainty and peace of mind. If nothing else, it means I can stop thinking myself as a man, or trying to live up to the measure of one, because I am not.
As far as concrete actions go, I have started taking baby steps, as they say. One of the first has been starting to re-invent my wardrobe. That has meant several visits to the local UFF store, a sort of Finnish version Oxfam, which is a great place for clothes shopping.
So far I don't have guts to go out in a skirt, but for over a month now I haven worn anything but panties, skirts and tops while I've been indoors. I have, however, started to add little pieces of female clothing to my everyday wardrobe. My plan is never to buy male clothes again, if it I can help it.
On numerous occasions during the past two months I have found it somewhat amusing to realize my story so far includes all the clichés a "from bad boy to good girl" type or erotic amateur fiction.
The fact I have had to make room in my wardrobe for all the new girly clothes I've gotten, by moving some of the ugly male clothes into storage. Realizing how dull, uninteresting and uncomfortable male clothing truly is. Or how skimpy and impractical the female clothing on the other hand is. Figuring out how different female garments I've never had to bother myself with actually work. Being amazed and annoyed by the fact female clothing seems to be made for pixies and hobbits.
I have also begun watching women I see on the streets quite differently. One could call it studying them, even. We both have same amount on limbs, so what is it exactly that makes woman a woman? The female clothing works quite differently than male, and emphasizes their sexuality more, something I had never realized.
Or, what makes a female hair look female? After all, the wig I have has a huge effect on making me look female. The best answer I have come up with is that female haircut often covers the ears, whereas the ears of men are almost always bare. The female haircut seems to aim making women look softer, but with men it's all about angles.
There has been incredible amount of things I have taken for granted, never bothering to think about them. Things built in the programming through which society tells us what it is to be female or male. How you are supposed to look based on your gender. Things most people never question.
My special friend has been with me on every step on the way, and even though distance separates us, she has been so far the only person in the world I have been able to talk about this, and who has rejoiced with me as I've shed bit by bit my male identity. Even though I haven't been very masculine to begin with, I admit.
I have also realized this all has something to do with my health related news I got in the summer. As I have realized the time I have in this world is limited, after all. That it doesn't serve any good to live your life trying to fulfil the expectations of others.
I also realize that whether I want it or not, I have become a cliché. A middle aged man who secretly would like to be a hot young woman. But quite frankly, it's a cliché I am very glad to be.
I still love women, perhaps more so than ever. For me they are the most beautiful thing in the world. But I understand now that as much as seeing them as objects of sexual desire my fascination and admiration of them is a need to be them. Most likely always has.
For some of you all this may not be any kind of news, especially if you follow me on social media, since I have been very vocal about it there. However, I do believe some of you may be interested how it all happened.
When it comes to fantasy life, which my sex life 99,99% is, I have found new freedom, and confidence. I feel extremely liberated. Suddenly the burden of being a male and everything that comes with it, the whole baggage of expectations, fears, and phobias are gone. They don't exist anymore.
Truth to tell, being "a white heterosexual male" has been something I have had trouble with a long time, something I have thought I am doomed to live with the rest of my life, something I cannot change within me, no matter how desperately I want to have nothing to do with it.
In fact one could say that even though the roots of the recent development are in sex, the biggest impact has been a psychological, not sexual one. Me learning to see the world, and my place in it differently. Learning to call myself genderqueer now, and being extremely proud to do so.
This blog post is dedicated to my very special friend who I have so much to thank for. Happy birthday.
