Just to clarify I did have a conversation with Daddy Skeeter at IMSL and she likes what I'm doing
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@beatmebitemewhipme
Just to clarify I did have a conversation with Daddy Skeeter at IMSL and she likes what I'm doing
Most desperate for strap Ive been in months and months not sure if it has something to do with the fact Ive been neglecting to take my testosterone over the last couple weeks or if it's about the boiling over need to relive and complete the experiences I had at the conference or the preoccupation Ive had realizing how sexually compelled I am by stone butches and have been all my life and despite how internally conflicted I am over who I truly am, butch fag, testosteronized femme? the only thing that remains consistent and reliable is the mutual attraction, stone boys and myself, and I think that finding a good dungeon and a local leather-daddy to beatmebitemewhipme etc would at the very least distract my sexdrive and satisfy some of that urge for aggressive explicit sensation and it's true that my back is itching to take a lot of pain but maybe the desire there is just to be caressed and praised afterwards for how well I tolerate it by a paternal masculinity and either way it still wouldnt be the same as just being fucked to tears and exhaustion by a guy with his harness worn under his boxers and cock pulled through the fly
I gave my body up to International Ms Leather
In my fantasy those two big old butches are wearing leather military hats and tall black boots and opaque police-glasses and my complete nakedness is made even more disgusting and provocative in contrast to their heavy biker jackets which leave no skin exposed and no vulnerability whatsoever when I look up at them standing in front of me grinning completely secure in their dominance all I see is impenetrable leather and the only flesh-coloured part of them left exposed which is their strapons hard through the flies of their leather pants tapping cruelly against my lips my teeth my tongue. But how can I face my mentor and tell her that I want her and her ex to restrain my wrists behind my back and take advantage of how reverent I am for them and how anxious I am to please them. Get me to show them I know how to behave and humiliate me for those times when I haven't
Is it so wrong that the only job that's ever made me happy has been selling sex toys. The gay guys think I'm one of them and keep coming in spotting me and whisper asking whether I've got poppers for sale in the back and I am barely three months on infrequent testosterone dosage and already shaving away strong and full dark facial hair all down my chin and sides of my face and my lover can feel it against his soft skin when thrusting slowly into him in an embrace from behind I press my face to the hard muscle of his shoulders his silky and glowing muscles against my rough and coarse stubble, and if I don't shave it I develop a pubescent beard up to my cheeks. My dreams are shifting to full time employment at the mens lingerie and fetish shop in the gay village across the street from the cafe I like to go waste time at and watch the old bears congregate and gossip. The only problem I'm finding is that outside the queer womens' parties I'm not visible enough in public to be read as a dyke even though it's not really as if I care about attracting them necessarily, because I'm not even really into them anymore if they identify as women and so the average lesbian seems too far removed from my current reality and even at the parties the dykes are cautious about identifying me as one of them because I am so obviously attracted to complete masculinity and they all know me as a daddy's boy and a cocksucker which obviously reads as dykism to no one but me and it just sums up to this feeling that I'm culturally unidentifiable. I keep thinking about how Gayle Rubin and Patrick Califia used to write for men's leather magazines. Regardless the last moment of the most hot striking spontaneous lust I've felt recently with no prior emotional connection or erotism was two weeks ago in the store when a group of obvious and handsome dykes with early traces of T came in and my body broke out in a cold sweat and I was suddenly so senselessly horny just from their presence alone I tried to act cool but was feverish and awkward and couldn't help but wonder when they looked at me if they knew I was one of them - my involuntary physiological response shocked and confused me but maybe it's just because I didnt get the sexual satisfaction of their acknowledgement, like time before that which was after the screening of rebel dykes and the sight of this beautiful tboy-dyke from across the bar made my heart race cruised him shamelessly outside later borrowing a cigarette and did it so well and with such driven singleminded lust that when I took him out a week later he made me suck his cock kneeling on the piss covered floor of the bar bathroom stall
Recently masturbating to just the thought of mine and my friend's intimate kinship and the similarities between us and how being in his presence give me a feeling of swelling erotism and I can come from these thoughts alone stroking off with just two pictures in my mind him in leather and that look on his face when he realized that I was coming up at the party and also dreaming of my boyfriends recovery the first time after his surgery in a couple of weeks from now when he can touch me again and I think about running my hands over his new flat chest as he presses me down into the sheets and mounts me between my open legs and it fills me with such a strange sexual satisfaction to encounter a transitioned chest I just cant help it and more innocently spurs a passion and love for the life that he lives to the point where I barely want to let anyone else strapfuck me anymore except for the one other person who I should text back and whose boot I really want to grind on before I have to go give my body up to the international ms leather conference
Reliving the feeling of swaying in the rave dungeon on molly with my friend both of us in twin leather pants and euphoric and high meeting the eyes of the butch daddy sitting in the corner once, twice, three times and finally hold the gaze she can tell I'm staring at her getting her boots worshipped and licked by a girl on the floor and she looks so cocky and so completely in charge that when she beckons me over I drop my leather jacket to the floor and go over like she's called me with a whistle ready to do anything just anything at all
Experiencing significant and living breathing feelings of love and desire towards my two closest friends who are both going through celibate phases which to me is a gift from God because otherwise I would be tantalized constantly with thoughts of what could perhaps be, even just a drunk kiss at a party or on my couch I can fantasize but know its out of the question because things are so good without the mess, regardless I am moved to acts of selflessness and long stares at their faces and an awkward gratefulness of their time and friendship
FOURTH DAY WEED SOBER
There is never a love ill ever have without it eventually expiring there is always a time when Ill become obsolete and I can never exist in a relationship without looking at the person across from me and thinking one day youll move on from me forever and Ill continue to linger in this lonely and craving half-state
Why is it that being in love with me never includes a genuine desire for me but rather a love for me as an object ...
No matter what i know ill never be able to coax a lover into responding to me properly or giving me any of what i need to be sustained
I need to get fucked so badly just thinking about all the leatherdykes together in that room tomorrow, God the stink of leather and press of butches, Fuck i want them to gangbang me in the alley
constantly and debilitatingly horny
I want a butch daddy so bad it makes me so horny and frustrated and when i think about him hitting my ass hard and laughing at my growing pitiful hardness my cunt aches and demands neglect, and my masturbation just devolves into desperate motion without his hard hand and cock to guide it, more often than not it feels more intense to lie with my face pressed in my pillows and with my ass up with and my thighs twitching like a dog just fantasizing rather than touching myself, imagining anticipation, the red heat and shining pain as his hand strikes which I know thinking about the frenzied way i would twist and cry when he spat into my ass before sliding inside
I need to fuck his face right now