Caramel: My "Blue Balls" Story

We were supposed to have coffee, but opted for beers instead. It was a crowded bar and I wanted privacy; I had some questions to ask. Questions about the mechanics of what we were maybe going to do if this first "meeting" went well. See, I think it's important to clarify just how you're going to fuck before the actual event takes place. This is crucial.

Homeboy and I, after we were seated, started talking about the trivial shit we could care less about. He's a student, math major. Okay, that's kinda hot. As a proud, card-carrying nerd, I'm quite into fucking other nerds. Eventually, I just blurted out "so what do you think?" His hazel colored eyes traveled down my face, lingered for a second on my beard, moved down to my chest. "You're a dude" He looked at me then like I was supposed to feel complimented by his assessment.
"I know this. I mean, what are you into sexually?"
"Not dudes," he said and took another swig of his corona.
I grinned then. I don't know why, but there are certain nontrans guys I just love fucking with. The type who'll flirt yet still insist that I'm a girl. The type who'll message me incessantly, anxiously wanting to meet, yet when they encounter the realness of me, and the reality of their attraction to masculine bodies, will throw up some front. Alright. I decided to play along.
"Cool," I responded noncommittally, "then we're just 2 dudes having a beer." That's when he started sharing his "women troubles" with me. Women just don't get him. He was married for 10 years and she did him dirty. He's really into trans women, but responded to my ad out of curiosity.

"Tell me," he segued, "how can you be living as a guy and still be attracted to dudes?"
"I like dick," I responded, making sure to over-enunciate the K. My lightweight ass was beginning to feel the effects of the beer and I'm raunchy as hell when buzzed. "Do you like to perform oral?" he asked without missing a beat. Obviously, the beer was working on him too. "Do you?" I asked back. "Very much so. I'd like to see you without your clothes." I asked him if he was more interested in proving or disproving something else about my gender. "Maybe, but I also just want to see you." He flashed the same seductive smile he'd sported in his pic. The same pic where he'd been shirtless, a doo rag on, and his smooth, caramel-toned torso inspiring thoughts of the X-rated variety.

"Are you into rough stuff?" he continued. The negotiation had started and I was trying my damnest not to let my excitement show; negotiating sex acts is one of my favorite types of conversation. I wanted him to clarify what he meant by "rough". "I'm an aggressive top," he added with a sly grin. Oh yeah, I'm familiar with the type. For nontrans men it may mean they have to make the first move. They have to flip you around, contort you into various positions. They may talk dirty in your ear, pinning you down as they plunge into you. In other words, power - expressing it - turns them on. (I know this may sound scary to some, but power play during sex can be hot. You just have to talk honestly about what you will and won't do.) I'm not into pain and I mentioned this to him. Neither was he.

"You realize that you'll be doing all of this with a dude, right?" I reminded him, after we'd spent a few more minutes listing a few other activities we wanted to try together. He shook his head. "I can't see you that way while we're doing this." What the fuck?! "I see a dude in front of me now, but when we're fucking, in my head you'll be a..." He trailed off then and I knew what he was afraid to say. Shit. That caramel hue, smooth skin, and "fuck me" smile really had me wanting things to go down. But could I do it with a dude who refuses to see me for who and what I am?

I tried to tune out the rest of his rambling and quickly finished my beer. Snatches of his monologue, like "I can host" and "my place isn't far", inadvertently caught my attention. I had to get the hell out of there before my libido continued making decisions for me. I caught the waiter's attention and asked for the bill. "You're ready to go?" He asked. "Yeah, I'm going home, but this has been...nice." He looked surprised then. I said I couldn't sleep with someone who pretended I was someone else. I got up to go and he asked if I was sure about wanting to leave. I looked at him and, god, the lookist in me wanted to sit my ass back down. But I just couldn't let myself go there, so with that I wished him a good night and left.

My Boyfriend Hates My Genitalia

I dated this nontrans guy for several months. We met online and were really only meant to fuck a couple times and call it a night. Him: white doctor's kid from Oklahoma. I was his first almost everything. First black person he'd dated. First trans man he'd fucked. First leftist he'd engaged with on the daily. To say the relationship was froth with problems and misalignment would be a gross understatement. Our first fight was over whether or not racism still existed. Before hooking up with him, I'd totally forgotten how race, gender and class privilege can totally distort your idea of reality. I kept asking him what the hell a rich white kid from Oklahoma could know about the black experience in America.

Perhaps the most stymying thing of all was his dislike, no, aversion for my genitalia. We first met as he, newly out of the closet, was embarking on his then new life as a gay man. I was about to go back on hormones but felt unsure if the life of a gay trans man was in the cards for me. We met somewhere at the beginning of these new journeys and, granted, this wasn't exactly the ideal circumstance under which to build anything of consequence. The first night I went to his place, I was bugging out over whether or not I passed enough. As he cooked dinner and talked about his love for all things masculine, he kept sneaking peeks at my chest. This was before my work-out obsession, so the pecs were more tit-like.

After dinner, he jumped me on his couch. I felt awkward, like I was going through the motions and he was doing what was expected of him. That's when I noticed I was angling my crotch away from his. I didn't want the reality of my body to dawn on him. I wanted to keep the illusion going as long as possible. Yeah, he knew about me being trans. And yeah, I knew about his preference for cock. But somehow here we were, trying out something that neither of us knew shit about.

This moment marked our relationship. Every time we fucked and he touched my clit, oftentimes half-heartedly, I knew. Every time he'd rather I sucked his cock than do anything else, I felt it. Every time he gave some reason we couldn't have sex, it was obvious. He wanted nothing to do with my pussy. He was turned on by the physical changes brought on by T. The muscles. The deepening voice. "I'm a gay man," was his stock answer whenever I asked him why he didn't like touching me down there. "So am I," I'd respond. Is that all sexual orientation is about? Whether you prefer cock to pussy or the other way around? This question nagged at me throughout our time together. I wanted to respect his coming out process and his identity as a gay man. But what did this identity have to do with my genitalia?

Thankfully, I gained some perspective (too much) later and ended it. But I still think about this question of genitalia and sexual orientation. Through my experiences I've learned that for some gay nontrans men, my pussy is kinda like "trying a new dish" and for others it's no mans land - they may get turned on by the rest of me, but can't quite reconcile themselves to the juxtaposition of a masculine body and a vagina.

unsafe sex

So I hooked up with one of my regulars tonite, I don’t like to write about my regulars too much, but it was very hot, there is a category of regulars I like where I just feel very comfortable, no surprises, just good fucking. Basically I hadn’t fucked anyone in over two weeks due to travel and illness so I was majorly in need…. Now I’m home and I’m surfing the web. Not looking to play anymore tonite, just looking around…

So my co blogger and I are strong believers in Safer Sex. Though I will admit that there are times that I’ve been unsafe…

the time the condom slipped, my regular or two who I let fuck me without a condom, that I never use a condom for oral sex.... I say this because I think its important to be real and honest, while I would like to say that I practice safer sex 100% of the time, that’s not my reality.

I value my life and my health and I love and respect all my hiv positive family, most of the time I won’t fuck without a condom, at the same time I think its important to be real and I believe shame has never improved anyone’s health or life.

I believe in being safe, I believe in harm reduction, I believe in getting tested regularly, I believe no one should make you do something you don’t want to do, nor should you do something cuz you feel like no one else will want to fuck you, trans people are beautiful and sexy and there are lots of people who want to fuck us – this I know without a doubt.

Yet its complicated, when i let my regular fuck me without a condom, why do i do it? Sometimes shit happens, sometimes our beliefs and our actions don't align and i could lie and say that i'm always safe but I guess i'm looking for a sexual reality that's real - which at least for me means a little messy....

That said here is a really good resource about safer sex and ftm’s best one I’ve found. be safe : )

http://www.queertransmen.org/

Beaded Penis

He'd had beads inserted into his penis. When he showed it to me later, I was struck by the ordinariness of it. His penis was short and stump with these tiny sperical objects sticking out at odd intervals. Immediately, I could tell why he needed to adorn his dick with jewelry. Obviously he wanted something more than it could offer. "It enhances the sensation" he said with a smile and I smiled back, more out of politeness than anything. The color of his dick was pretty though. Reddish brown. Slightly darker than the rest of him. It brought to mind ovaltine and for that reason I wanted to taste it. I decided to call him "bumpy" and no, the beads didn't enhance a thing. Bumpy was alright in the sack, though "doggy-style" was certainly his piece de resistance.

Let me say a thing or two about doggy-style. One: rarely do I say "doggy-style" out loud without dissolving into a fit of giggles. It's just such a silly name and belies the seriousness of the act. Two: In my former life, I hated this position. It just seemed too vulnerable of a state to be in. Getting down on all fours, and allowing someone else to see all into your asscrack. My middle-class demure upbringing just wouldn't let me get into it! This was of course back when I set way too many boundaries around my sexuality, or rather when I allowed social norms to dictate how and when I should fuck. Well, here I am years later and I have to say "doggy" or "down on all fours" has become one of my faves. Not only does it make it easier for my g-spot to be stimulated, it also is just erotic as hell when a guy hangs onto my waist or my ass for leverage and pounds my ass. There's something so primal about the position which also adds to the appeal of it. And whatever Bumpy lacked in dick girth, he certainly made up in motion. Yeah, there may be a thing or two to that "motion in the ocean" adage.

Bumpy and I rendezvous-ed twice, which is my limit with most men I sleep with. I rarely ever cross over into thrice or we may as well be dating. I don't do "regular fucks". I figure if I've reached that level with a dude, then there had better be more than just fucking going on. In other words, I tend to get attached. It's the way I'm made up. Anyway, Bumpy and I did our thing twice and the 2nd time was even hotter. He hosted this time and his roommate, the ex-girlfriend (or so I was told), was out doing god knows what. He invited me into his giant soft bed and proceeded to lick the hell out of my pussy. That-is-what-I-am-talking-about. I may have said that out loud, in between bellows of "yes" and "god" and "I'm gonna cum". Yeah, it was good that 2nd time.

And there would have been a 3rd time if he hadn't gone and freaked out over the trans bit. By fuck session number 2 I'd started experiencing all the usual changes trans dudes experience. I don't know who he thought he was screwing. He must have blocked out the "I'm a trans dude" portion of our introduction. For some reason he'd look at the hair growing on my chin and chest, hear my deep voice, and still refer to me as "ma". After the umpteenth time of this I had to remind him. Well, lets just say, my usual "I'm a dude with a vag" shpiel is a bit of a mind fuck for people who aren't in the know. I understand that. After all, we all grow up hearing and believing so many untruths about gender. Hell, I hardly know what it is any more. I'm a patient dude. I can wait for you to have your epiphany and realize that actually there isn't a lot about gender that's set in stone or genetically predetermined. I do draw the line at pretending though. If you're turned on by this here trans boy and we're going to fuck, you'd better face up to what you're desiring. Bumpy couldn't, or rather, he wouldn't. Goodbye Bumpy!

motels...

I had been messaging with this guy for a bit and we decided to make it happen. He'd been with a trans guy before. We met at a bar near his place. My type, more attractive than I had expected based on the pics. Cute, brown skin, latino, medium build, beard. We chat some, or more so he talks non stop and he buys me a drink. He says so you wanna do this. I’m game.

So we leave the bar and he calls a cab, he says his place is a mess and he doesn’t want to go there tonite that he has another place to go. Cabbing it somewhere with a hookup is not something I normally do, but the vibe felt safe though I was definitely nervous. We chatted during the cab ride, ok guy. We pull up at a cheap motel in some random part of town. He pays for the cab. I’m still feeling a little nervous but decide to go with it. He pays for a room. Of course, the guy at the counter asks me to show ID (i look pretty young...).

We go up to the room, its your typical cheap pay by the hour motel room, everything is that slightly dirty color of beige, along with a flashing neon sign outside the window.

he kisses me, I unbutton his pants and begin sucking him off, he smokes while i suck his dick which i actually find really hot, we strip, this is when I realize he is less my type without clothes on, a total bear (no offense to bears just not my thing usually), but at this point, whatever, he sucks me off, grabs a condom and fucks me for a long time in a couple different positions, he’s a pretty good fuck, big guy which I like…

Afterwards we lie in bed and chat some about our lives, backgrounds, etc. He starts kissing me again, I feel him getting hard, I suck him off some more, he grabs another condom and we fuck again. Afterwards I tell him i need to get going so we head out.

He’s a total daddy type, insists on paying for my cab ride home, wants to see me again…… I have a taste for daddy types every once in a while.

Tall, dark, n' lovely.

He fucked me hard and deep. 6 feet 5. Locks down his back, formed into pretty long braids that he kept having to flip out of his face as he bent over me and entered me gently. He hadn't had pussy in 3 years and some change. The ideas of a guy with a vag confused and turned him on simultaneously. That's the reason he hit me up on adam4adam. That and the picture where I'm flexing my arms - one of my best features, by the way. He flipped my legs up in the air. Placed my feet on his chest. I could feel his heart hammering away. His big dick plunged into me and I gasped. He was gentle at first. "You're so tight," he whispered as he withdrew and entered faster this time. I closed my eyes and moaned. God he could fuck. God he was big. And I could no longer stop the sounds spewing out of my mouth. This is why I love Black men - the connection formed as skin comes upon skin.

"Hold onto my arms like that, baby boi. I got you," he said as he plunged in deeper. I grabbed his shoulders, now thinly layered by a film of sweat. It was almost too much. A sweet, delicious pain. I dared to look down to where the action was happening. "You see that dick?" he grunted as he fucked me faster. I did. I got wetter at the sight if his dick going in and out of me. This 6 foot 5 giant now cradling my ass with a gentleness challenged only by the ferocity with which he pounded my pussy. His eyes boring into mine. My mouth agape. Sounds I could barely recognize as mine escaping them. I thought, as he leaned down to wrap his tongue around mine, I am never fucking white men again.