Play or Pass

[…continued from Punctured Charm…]

I was getting on just fine with this guy I met at my fave bar.

Physical attraction? Check.  Personal connection? Check.  Mutual desire? Check.

We were doing pretty well.

“C’mon, let’s go,” he said.

In the course of our conversation, he had described some of the things he wanted to do to me and the way he would treat me, and what he would have me do to him, and it was exactly as if he was reading my fantasies to me.  (Perhaps not the classiest things in the world to say to me at our first meeting, but I was in a forgiving mood. :P)

I tossed around the possibilities in my mind.  Should I? …

(Conclusion, next week.)

The Guy Inside

I have often wondered whether I am being unduly generous with myself in allowing that I might be two spirits in one body.

But then, I have an experience that reinforces the truth of that assertion.

I was out and about yesterday, doing my thing in a pretty patterned skirt, pink tights and a white top – and yet I felt every bit a man. It was a bizarre feeling of being trapped inside these feminine clothes, and having to force every girly action. I was totally pretending.

I was feeling strong and somewhat aggressive and practical; not the slightest bit soft.

I remember saying to myself, “These stupid shoes – how am I supposed to get anywhere in these!?”  And, “Why am I doing this?”

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No Longer a Virgin

Yesterday, it finally happened.

I don’t normally kiss and tell, but as there really wasn’t any kissing involved, I feel somewhat free to tell all.

Yes, I met a man.  We talked for a while, and I found him intelligent and forthright.  Long story short, he gave the impression that I could count on seeing him in the future pretty much whenever I wanted.

Having built a rapport based on trust, I allowed him to get me inebriated.  Pretty soon, he got me out of my clothes, and then took out his enormous um… equipment… and, slowly but surely, penetrated me.

By the time he was all the way in, I had actually fallen asleep.  It seems he had drugged me…

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Punctured Charm

[continued from My Tall Drink of Water…]

I have found that online interactions are very helpful in breaking the ice for an ultimate in-person meeting.  It mitigates the awkwardness of approaching someone or being approached by a stranger, and gives you some context in terms of conversation.

I had just met this guy in a bar – but then again, we already kinda knew each other a bit from our online interaction.

As I sat there in the bar talking with him, I was enjoying myself even though I really had no idea what I was getting myself into.

I continue to be fascinated by the things that strike me so differently as a woman as opposed to my other self.  For example, I could literally feel my attraction to him grow stronger when I realized from a story he was telling that he was a smart and sensible man – or at least capable of being one at times.

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mirror mirror

Looking in the Mirror

It is an inevitable challenge of being a heterosexual t-girl to decipher why it is that you like what you see in the mirror, to distinguish between your internal self and your external self.

As a non-T guy, you can look in the mirror and think that you look good, and that’s as far as it goes.

But, as a trans-woman, your impression is clouded by the simple fact that your guy side will be attracted to your female presentation.

So, when you look in the mirror, are you a woman admiring herself just as any single-gendered person might?

Or, are you a guy, being turned on by that woman in the mirror, whom you know you can have, who you know will do the things you want…

Tuesday Starts with a T

Tuesdays are now T-Girl Tuesdays at a bar I have been frequenting for the past few years.

They have always been accepting of me, even when I was the only one of my kind in the bar, but now they have gone further and dedicated a night to us gurls – with a great response from the community.

Did it have anything to do with my presence there for the past few years?  I don’t know.  But, it is true that the crowd there has also been more than receptive of me, so maybe they realized it was a possibility.

Still, I suspect rather that the main driver was the fact that there were some “sympathetic” souls in management, if you know what I mean. 

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TGirl Redhead in the Red Velvet Clad VIP Room at Piranha Club in Las Vegas

My Tall Drink of Water

I was having a pretty ordinary night out and was about to start making my way home when someone gently touched my arm.  I turned around to see who it was, and there he was… yum!

The handsome guy standing before me was dressed smartly in all-black.  I knew him from several online chats we had months earlier. He was kind of an alluring rascal: a sex-obsessed scallywag with an impish grin and a wry sense of humor.

But, standing there in front of me, dressed up nice, my oh my, he was a real cutie!

“You have no idea who I am,” he said.

“Oh, but I do,” I smiled, willing my eyes to sparkle, if that’s possible.

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There But For the Grace Go I

Yeah, so I left God out of the title – but this is not about her, this is about grace.

I haven’t really felt all that girly the past few days as work has bogged me down.  I scarcely had time for any exercise.

But, today, I demanded from myself that I step away from the computer and do some yoga.

And what do you know, ten minutes into the practice of this graceful, spiritual form of exercise, my feminine spirit was soaring.

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Vani-T

I am grateful for the comments on my recent post The Irresistible Lure of the Lens, and I think that your explanations for our obsession with taking pictures of ourselves were intelligent and thought-provoking.

Here’s my two-cents’…

I have found that t-girls obsession with the lens is matched by our inability to walk past a mirror without looking at ourselves.

Both are momentary reflections of us that teach us what we may be doing wrong and impress us with what we are doing right.  And we are ever eager to learn about both.

For my money, the mirror is the better learning tool, as it is interactive.  Sometimes, it’s “Goll darn, I am doing pretty good!” but more often than not, there is some flaw that bears improving, and I can look away, take a deep breath and try to change my posture, my expression or whatever, to improve my result.

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Watchin’ Em Work It

Well, after the brouhaha that preceded ABC’s Work It, we finally got to see what all the fuss was about.

Of course the CD community is not going to appreciate some of the innuendo and outright specific comments indicating that crossdressing is nothing but a last resort for desperate people and not something any normal person would ever actually want to do.

I suspect the trans community will object to the trifling with their issues and with the whole concept of changing genders.

But, my opinion is that neither CDs nor TSs are really the true victims here.

In my view the real victims are men. 

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