Microfantasy Monday - Sound

Thanks as always to Ang the Sweltering Celt for the weekly micro-inspiration!


It’s a rumble in the ear, or perhaps a soft hiss punctuating the silence. A guttural growl piercing through the darkness or a low moan reverberating through the bones.

It’s the rustling of cotton sheets being twisted and tangled underneath the slap and whisper of skin, and the creak of bemused bedsprings, the thunk of bone against wall and the accompanying chuckle being swallowed by groaning lips.

It’s floating, floundering, drowning and the discovery of being able to breathe underneath the waves, of finding a second home in that which once was unknown and uncharted.

It’s you. And it’s me. A symphony.

HNT: Beating the System? Not So Much.

More like the system is beating me. Or at least, my faulty BC pills are. And so, a little well-earned sentiment aimed at the pills that are not doing ANYTHING they're supposed to be doing.



Happy HNT? More like frustrated HNT. But, as so many bumps in the road have done before, this too shall pass.

This PSA Brought to You by a Happy Cunt

As well educated women, most of us know at least the fundamentals about our own genital health. Watch out for abnormal discharge, don’t douche, do pee after sex, don’t overwash because the vagina is a self-cleaning organ, so on and so forth. I knew and (I thought) observed all of these things. So it was discouraging to me why I kept having issues with my *lady health* when I was doing nothing to warrant it.

And then I found out a little more about vaginal pH and its contribution to female gynecological health. See, the female vagina maintains a slightly acidic state (between 3.8 and 4.5 whereas 7 is neutral and a highly alkaline or basic product, bleach, is around 12.5) which helps the good bacteria flourish and keep things functioning in there. When that pH balance is disturbed, the vagina loses its first defense—the good bacteria—against things like candidiasis and bacterial vaginosis. And most women know what a pain in the ass at least one if not both of those conditions are.

It was my gynecologist who turned me on to this whole vaginal pH thing, and she also turned me on to a product which is supposed to help balance vaginal pH. Unfortunately that product is loaded with glycerin and parabens, so it actually made my issues worse, being highly sensitive to glycerin especially. In any case, being newly introduced to this idea of vaginal pH, I decided to do a little research. I especially wanted to know ways I could keep my vaginal health without having to use any storebought products, especially since such products are apparently fraught with ingredients that were only worsening my problems.

And of course my research told me the usual. Don’t douche, don’t wear a lot of synthetic fabrics, don’t wear tight clothing. The vulva and vagina do not need washed, only rinsed, for the vagina is a self cleansing organ. Okay. Same old same old. But then I found out WHY the vagina and vulva not only do not need washing, but why washing is harmful. The naughty little secret regarding most soaps is that they are actually pretty highly alkaline, with an average pH of 9-10. And therein was my problem.

See, I thought I would be okay giving my vulva—external labia only, not delving into the more internal regions at all—a light wash with very gentle baby soap during my daily shower. (I use baby soap for all of me, not just my vulva, since the rest my of skin is also very sensitive.) I wasn’t washing the sensitive mucous membranes, only the actual skin. I wasn’t scrubbing with a washcloth, only my sudsed up hand. I was rinsing thoroughly. And yet, I was still very wrong because even that little bit was upsetting the balanced environment of my vagina.

So I cut out soap down there entirely. I also managed to find a laundry detergent that advertised being pH neutral. And what do you know… my issues are gone. My vulva and vagina are happy as—dare I say it?—clams.

And when my lady parts are happy, I am happy.

Playing Catchup

Wow, do I ever have a lot to catch up on (that doesn’t have to do with random facts or microfantasies). So let’s start with what’s been taking up the majority of my life lately. And that, actually, revolves largely around Em’s life. Or more specifically, his transitioning.

If you follow his blog then you know that last Thursday the 13th he had his first T shot, and from there it feels like his transitioning has finally merged into the fast lane. We are already starting to notice changes which we found out from another transguy isn’t surprising considering Em’s dose (200mg q 2 wks) is at the high end of a normal trans dose. So far his voice has started to crack and change, he has had increased hair growth on his arms and legs, and definitely an increased libido. (Which I certainly don’t mind because a few things have happened lately to amp up my libido as well!) What I have noticed in ministering to his increased libido is that his clitoris/cock has already started to grow in size just a little bit, and also that it feels harder. It also reacts differently during orgasm, swelling and then pulsing much like the male penis. I noticed this to a certain extent with the female clitoris (both mine and his pre-T) but it’s much more pronounced now.

I must say, I find all these changes fascinating, even above and beyond the normal interest I take in anything to do with my partner. And even more so than the physical changes I am noticing how much happier he is. Every time he notices a new change he gets giddy, and in general he is much less dysphoric. He came out at work recently and that has actually gone quite well, better than either of us expected given that he works with a bunch of very conservative, fundamental types.

So things are on the right track for him. Next up, aside from staying on T and keeping things going smoothly there and with his peers, is saving for top surgery. That’s going to be a bit of a bigger hurdle, but we’ll make it over when the time comes. We always do.

Honesty Scrap

Tag, I’m it! Roxy at Uncommon Curiosity has passed the baton to me, along with nine others, to complete this meme.

There are three rules for this award:

First, link back to the person who gave you the award: Miss Roxy the Uncommonly Curious.

Next, give the award to ten other bloggers:

(I’m gonna cheat here a little bit because I don’t know very many bloggers, so if I’m tagging you after someone else already has… just deal with it! It doesn’t mean you have to do the damn thing twice. It just means you’re extra-loved.)

Emmett, my partner, for honestly putting up with me.

Kyle, my boyfriend, for honestly teaching me about myself.

Ashleybird for honestly being one of the sweetest and funniest girls on Twitter.

Scarlet the Femme Fagette for honestly introducing me to new gender ideas.

Mollena the Perverted Negress for honestly being unashamedly true to herself.

Niki, one of my oldest friends and Strawbry Kiwi blogger, for honestly being one of the few people with whom I can be completely myself without judgment.

Arron of X-Ray Introductions for honestly being a VERY cool guy to hang with and for getting me into reviewing!

Nadia the Kinky Librarian for honestly bringing the brains into kink and being damn sexy whilst doing it.

Saintchick for honestly being one of my Twitter gurls and someone who helps keep me in touch with my femme side.

Ang the Sweltering Celt for honestly being an amazingly supportive friend and for making me feel understood about being poly.

(Whew! I managed it!)

Finally, list ten honest things about myself:

1) I barely remember what my natural hair color looks like. I know what color it is, but I’m so hooked on trying different hair colors that it hasn’t been natural for a very long time.

2) I’m really bad at coming up with quirky, unique but still honest facts about myself because every interesting insight I’ve ever had into myself goes flying out the window in situations like this.

3) I have, in the past, won awards for my poetry. (And no, that in no way means I’m ever going to post any on this blog.)

4) I absolutely despise talking on the phone. I will text ‘til my fingers are blue but if an actual verbal phone conversation is proposed, I balk like someone asked me to chop off my own right hand. There is only one exception to that rule and he knows very well who he is.

5) My toenails are always painted, but my fingernails have been naked since middle school. Originally this was because I started working with animals and there was just no point to having nice nails, but even now that I’m just working a desk job, my fingernails stay bare. I prefer the way my fingernails look unpainted. Oh, and my favorite color to paint my toenails is gold.

6) Speaking of gold… I hate yellow gold. All of my jewelry is either white gold, silver, copper, or not metal at all. And even then I so rarely wear jewelry except for the stuff worn in piercings (which is either titanium or glass).

7) I have an almost unholy interest in sharps. I love knives, swords, daggers, needle play, piercings—anything to do with very, very sharp objects. They just look and feel so gooooood.

8) I have unusually large gaps between all of my toes. Probably because I have insanely wide feet. And yes, this makes it a larger than normal pain in the ass to shop for shoes, especially cute/sexy ones. It does, however, make it VERY easy to shop for Chucks, which are the Ultimate Shoe. Currently I have more pairs of Chucks than days in the week: dark blue, embroidered green high top, lime green laceless, black and pink, pink, orange, black and red high top and Christmasy candy-striped.

9) Why yes, I DO have a very stream-of-consciousness type of mind that leads me on all sorts of interesting side tracks and yes, it does come out in my writing!

10) (This last fact is always the hardest.) My favorite color in general is green, but my favorite color (or shade, technically) to wear is black. I feel sexiest in all black and if I could I’d wear all black, all the time. The only reason I haven’t done so yet is because I haven’t amassed enough black clothing to get rid of everything else. Someday.

Microfantasy Monday - Hands

Thanks to Ang the Sweltering Celt as always for the weekly themes! (And sorry, yes, I'm late. Ten lashes for the bad blogger.)

I know exactly where I like hands to be on me. Taking a firm grip on the back of my neck, a few fingers through my hair, a palm gliding up my leg, seeking fingertips thrumming in deliciously sensitive areas… yeah, I know where I like to be touched.

Other people’s spots, though, are usually more of a mystery—a delightfully tricky riddle to be solved. A meandering finger around the rim of an ear perhaps, or even a casual drape of the palm over a knee. Or, I was pleasantly surprised to discover, a gentle, unconsciously placed hand on the small of the back, sending the mind to a screeching halt and decadent shivers down the spine. Yeah, he knows where he likes to be touched.

And now, so do I.

Microfantasy Monday - Exhibitionism

Thanks as always to Ang over at Sweltering Celt for the MFM inspiration!

The sun shone merrily down on the group of people mingling among the clusters of brilliant flowers and verdant foliage, causing many to squint or use hands to shade eyes as they meandered their way through the garden party.

She had come prepared, settling her favorite pair of cat-eyed, tortoiseshell sunglasses on her nose before recrossing her ankles below the flowing hem of her silky skirt. Dispassionately she scanned the crowd before her eyes settled on just one, the only other one apart, slouching casually in faded jeans and a blazer under the shade of a mulberry tree. The corner of her mouth quirked minutely as she realized he was watching her. A single eyebrow arched above the rim of her sunglasses, widening his smirk to a full smile, one that hinted at mischief. As she watched him, his head cocked slightly to the left, his eyes flicking quickly in the same direction—behind the garden shed. An indication. Come with me.

Teasingly she pursed her lips, as though to give a moment of thought to the unspoken invitation. Then, slowly, she rose, brushing out her skirt and slinging her purse over one shoulder casually—just a woman heading to the ladies’ room, or to get another of the mimosas offered at the buffet table. Unhurried, she made her way to the shed just to the far side of the mulberry tree, her face not turning toward the loiterer under its leaves but the upturn of her lips as she passed giving all the answer that was needed. Nonchalant, he pushed himself off the trunk of the tree and followed her.

A muffled thump as her purse hit the ground. A much more audible thump as her back hit the side of the shed. Heads turned. Eyebrows raised. Voices murmured. But behind the shed, that shady, cool, damp patch of grass had transformed into its own universe.

All else be damned.

The New Man in Town

So if you’ve made it over to my little shadowed, cobwebbed corner of the Internet, likely you found it through the blog of another. Specifically, the blog of my new boyfriend, Kyle.

Yeah, I had to stop and read that again myself. Wow.

I mean… this is something I never expected would happen. I’m generally not one for online relationships, although to be fair the real meat of our relationship (versus our flirting) happened after we met in person, in Portland. Remember that series of posts? Oh yeah. That was the turning point.

So, most of you know Kyle on Twitter as the swaggering, wickedly grinning ladies’ man, complete with harem. And yeah, I gotta say that cocky confidence is what drew me in at first. But then I got to know the guy and he is so, so much more than that. And we have more in common than I have ever had with any other person, from life philosophy to favorite flower and drink of choice. And despite the attitude, when the situation calls for it Kyle is amazingly supportive and understanding—really a guy to have in your corner.

Of course, things aren’t always peaches and cream. We’re both polyamorous and both of us have other relationships, which always throws a few wrenches into the gears especially at first, before things get settled into an agreeable dynamic for all involved. But he’s worth the struggle; the love I have in me for him is worth all of it.

I don’t know what I did in this life or in past lives to deserve all this love, but between the love I have received from Emmett these past two-plus years and the newfound love of this tenacious-yet-tender cowboy… well, it promises to never be a dull ride. And roller coaster freak that I am, I am more than ready to get started.

Differentiation

At what point does flying become falling?

HNT: Inadvertent Marks

Oh look, I finally have an HNT pic to contribute! Legs seems to be a bit of an unofficial theme for this one, and coincidentally I happened to get this mark on my leg from my laptop - although it does look a little like the marks from someone's belt!



Click through to see the far end of my leg... and who makes an excellent footrest.

Ready

Is this how a skydiver feels, suited up and strapped with parachutes, poised on the edge of the open hatch, feeling the wind rush by as she waits for the okay to jump?

Please, please, tell me to jump. To fly.

I’ve never skydived (yet) but this is how I feel: poised on the edge of new and greater things, ready to jump in and test out the waters. Rarely do I dip my toe before just diving in. The real excitement lies in the danger of the unknown—exploring the depths with little other barriers than quick wits and quick reflexes, not knowing what hides beyond the next rise. The real excitement lies in testing how long I can hold my breath before my vision darkens and my ears ring.

The real excitement lies in not knowing fully what’s going to happen next, but being ready for it anyway.

I am ready.