Shiver. Writhe. Moan.

Tumblr "feminists": yuri is for men

Now that I'm home from work I actually want to go into a bit more detail!

Today I'm edging myself and really hoping for a hands-free orgasm: stroking my favourite toy as a stand-in phallus - the first time in quite a long time I've give in to the temptation - usually I'm satisfied with my tiny situation and the particular joys it can bring. Today I need a shaft I can wrap my hand around. I need to cradle the head in my fingers, stroke and shiver and grip and shake until I come apart, all willing. There's a different sense of vulnerability that comes with externalizing/extending that pleasurable sensation, which enriches the experience on its own in kind.

I started testosterone about a month and a half ago. The past two days I've been awash in a lustful fugue - all of a sudden, passing bodies hold appeals they've never offered before... which only exacerbates the constant throbbing, leaking mess I'm managing. I swear everyone in the train car can smell how desperate I am, see the burning flush across my cheeks as I try to move my mind onto anything apart from my throbbing little erection and how I'd be just about desperate enough to take someone then and there... It sends me even harder and I cycle into a delicious, delirious, tortuous hell until the doors open and I can throw myself onto something battery-powered and silicon at home.

Yeah. Honestly, attraction to any person who isn't white, thin, cishet, the opposite gender, and conventionally attractive is treated as some kind of bizarre fetish and how fucked up is that?

one of my favorite pieces about being a femme was by this one dyke who regularly enjoyed the company of a rough tough butch who had some sort of complex about having sex anywhere other than in their bedroom with all the lights off. and there was always this whole long ritual of stuff that had to take place before they could move to the bedroom— they had to eat dinner, they had to watch tv, they had to do the dishes— and it wasn’t so much about drawing out the moment as, we were dealing with someone who felt stigmatized about the appropriateness of having sex in the first place and therefore had to make sure that they had the most appropriate version of it every time they did. Which meant not rushing towards it like something you were really looking forward to, not skipping any of the steps, never turning on the lights, and to not under any circumstances allow yourself to be seduced into doing something inappropriate in an undesignated space like the living room couch. And our narrator saw that and understood that and immediately set about doing her best to make herself so incredibly and mindblowingly appealing that the butch would have no choice other than to break every single one of her self-imposed rules and jump her right then and there, lights on and living room couch and everything.

got enough requests for the author and since the Perisistent Desire is so hard to get a hold of and the essay is all of four pages I figured I’d put the whole thing up here.

Common misconceptions: