#sometimes i feel vegas just gets so overwhelmed by this numbing pain of feeling so useless and powerless

[taikanyohou]

“Would you stop saying that you’ve got nothing left?” VEGAS + PETE + MACAU | KinnPorsche (2022).

[polyputthekettleon]

How's the heterosexual part of my sexuality doing? And other transition/brain stuff.

One of the hardest parts about being married to someone I'm not fucking while also being the parent of a six-year-old while also living in a very small house is that the options are limited when it comes to masturbating.

When I wake up, I'm usually thinking of cock and boys. I always think of K first, even though K is now D and isn't a boy. Still, old habits die hard, and when she was living as K, ohhhh my god did fucking that boy when I woke up become a habit. The feel of rising into wakefulness with his body wrapped around me and the dependable warmth of his hard cock pressing up against me... While it didn't happen every single morning we spent together, more often than not he would wake too and the two of us would shift and wriggle around until he could slide his cock into my wet, hungry cunt... and oh god, the bliss.

To be snuggled and warm and full of the most glorious cock I have ever encountered in my life... god, what a way to wake up.

I miss it, but today I'm holding that grief at bay, trying to just enjoy the memories as they come, the feeling of absolute utter acceptance and love when he would moan and sigh to feel my cunt already wet, how good it felt for him to not bother with asking or foreplay (because he already had my blanket consent), and just start fucking me, sometimes right as I was waking. GOD I love waking up to sex.

And then the other morning when J rolled over and his hand rested on my butt as he slept, I thought about how good it would feel for him to keep going with his fingers and slide them inside my aching cunt, which then gave way to a memory/fantasy of the night when I slept between two men in Vegas because my friend was sleeping with the boy she'd been fucking and I wasn't going to leave her alone. One of the boys really did feel me up as we were drifting off, and I loved it but couldn't pursue more, because I was married and monogamous (okay, ish), but they were otherwise respectful of my stated (rather shakey) boundaries (this was an awfully long time ago). But in my fantasy, they both kept touching me, pulling my clothes back off and touching and teasing and fucking me. I wonder if that was the closest I ever came to being in an actual threesome with two men. (God, I hope not.)

So in answer to my title question, I'm honestly not sure. I'm giving myself permission to feel desire for cock, for someone who's a man, for the feel of stubble on my skin, for the gender dynamic I had with K and J as my lovers. I know I do desire it, and I know that one of the things that is making stuff easier right now is that D's sex drive has come back (for now anyway). She's felt interested in and willing, as well as been able to fuck me with her clit (her preferred word for her penis these days). It's been fucking wonderful, because I missed that part of our relationship so much. I am really enjoying getting to know her new body, which continues to change, and honestly there are so many things about relearning her and discovering what's changing that is just the best thing in the world. This weekend, I realized how soft her skin was feeling to my touch, and I was overwhelmed with joy and wonder, happiness for her because of how she's getting to become more like how she wants to be in the world, and how cool it is that 4mg of estrogen can do that. Mind absolutely blown. She also genuinely has some more fat in her breasts, and her nipples are so very, very sensitive, and it's just all so amazing.

She's also been sharing more with me about her plans for surgery, including her contemplation of SRS. If I'm honest, it's painful to listen to her talk about cutting on her body, but I'm working hard to remind myself that how she experiences and pursues a positive relationship with her body can be different from how I do it, and it be okay and not mean than she's rejecting me. That was a super helpful takeaway from my last therapy session; that my tendency is to interpret social difference as a form of rejection, which is not true. I suspect that that reframe, combined with the medicine, is helping this feel better. Additionally, I found some good YouTube videos of women talking about sex after their own surgeries, and I gained a ton of additional understanding from reading a shit ton more about vaginoplasty. Having the surgery and its results demystified, as well as hearing people talk about it still being good and fun, definitely helped me wrap my head around the possibility of D maybe one day choosing that. Plus, it's not like I haven't fantasized about fucking her while she has a cunt like mine... There are things I *love* doing with Y that I would fucking **love** to do with D, and can't. Plus seeing her feeling happy and affirmed in her gender is AMAZING, and really whatever helps that happen more often is what I want for her.

That said, I really really really really like her clit. As it is right now. And I would like for our parts to always be able to fit together, and I would really like for us to be like the trans and cis women in the amazing porn she and I watched together -- they were both gorgeously femme and beautiful and sexy, and one of them just had a cock the she used for penetration, and that didn't detract from her feminine-ness (at least for me) *at all*. To me, that feels like a more accessible strap on, plus one where both partners get pleasure at once. What's not to love??

Ultimately, I know she's the only person who will be able to decide what is right for her. I wish her parts felt 100% comfortable for her, and that she was as comfortable with our current genital combination as I am. I also wish that that surgery didn't sound like it would put a 6 month or longer haitus on sex. I also also wish I didn't feel mildly cut off from my feelings right now, and that has nothing to do with her transition except for that it is likely making it easier for me to not obsess and panic about her surgeries.

But to get back to my question... How's my heterosexual side doing? I think she's okay... I think she's numb, along with the rest of me. I did say I wanted a break, right? Here's my break. I'm trying to figure out how to feel about it.

[brievangeline]

The past year.

I’d like to start by saying that I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I have this past year been toxic in anybody’s life. I’m sorry if I haven’t reached out, or completely isolated myself and in return chose to ignore people, my priorities, my family, and close friends. I’m sorry for falling off and giving up, not being what I’ve preached, not properly saying goodbye and most of all, not properly saying goodbye to myself.

You see, this past year I lost a lot. And I know many lose a lot every day. But I guess I hadn’t lost this much since I was 7 years old and I didn’t quite know how to handle it all. For starters, as most might know, I started spiraling after a break-up. And I get it, break ups happen. People change. Feelings fade. And sometimes things are better off. I couldn’t seem to better myself back then when I had felt like I lost the better half of me. This was what sparked how I lost touch with who I was. I focused too much on giving someone my world that I forgot to give back that focus towards myself. I did give up for a while. So much so, that I would aimlessly walk in the dark, blast music in my ears having not a single care on what could possibly happen to me. My depression threw me to the ground and I felt uneasy anytime I got up. On one of my darkest days, I remember walking near a creek behind my apartment I had just moved into. It was around 2am and I couldn’t stop crying. I cried so hard that I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t speak. I just fell to my knees and cried to the skies. Praying to every God I had ever heard, or learned about, to help me. Then I laid there in the cold numb. Waiting for a sign. Wondering why I wasn’t enough. Wondering why I was so weak. And wondering why I didn’t care anymore. I left my job in an improper way after weeks of not going. I was so severely depressed and suicidal that everything that meant something once, was nothing. I was too afraid to admit how sick I was. I’d get overwhelmed when I was out. I’d get blacked out to erase my pain even though I knew the affects of alcohol were temporary. I was hurt and in such a pain, that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. I ended up leaving Santa Barbara by force due to how unhealthy it was for me to be in what once was, my dream place. My mum drove from Vegas When I admitted to her that I was recently in the hospital due to an attempt of suicide. She drove 5-6 hours at midnight. Arriving around 6:30 in the morning. That’s what I meant by, I was forced to leave. I stayed with my family for a little bit but still wasn’t myself. And everybody knew it. I felt angry almost all the time. And the moment that I did feel like I was okay, or good enough, or more alive, a certain someone from my past would call to remind me that I was nothing all over again. And I’d relapse. I broke my mum’s heart by allowing her to see me so down. I broke my own heart becoming so weak when I knew deep inside of me that I was stronger than that. I’ve now realized that nobody can hurt me any worse than I’ve hurt myself.