Tuesday, February 09, 2016

Lane/Kari: The Last Person to Know

I use this blog partly as a way to tell my story and get feedback from others in a similar situation, and partly to organize my thoughts regarding being in someone else's body and life in a place where they won't seem like gobbledygook to anyone who reads it. (Although I'm sure all of you unaffected by the curse think of this as some sort of very well written work of fiction). Anyway looking back at my writing and the comments it seems most of you were able to put together what I wasn't willing to admit to myself, that I was attracted to Darius.

My last post was a few hours before going out with him, I literally hit "publish" and then went to take a shower. My thoughts from that entry were swimming in my mind, especially the last part. Being in this body is literally a curse, but it's also an opportunity in some ways. In the last 6 months I haven't just learned what it's like to be a woman but also a mother, Latina, and a high school dropout. Sometimes, on VERY rare occasions, I'm a little grateful for the perspective I've gained from the unique situation I've been in. Most people only get one lens to view the world from in their life time, now I've got two. It was this appreciation for experiences that could only be had as Kari that took the evening where it went.

It was an unseasonably warm day, with a high in the 50s, something I was really grateful for after what can be a bitter cold Michigan winter (which has since continued) so that evening I wasn't all bundled up in Kari's faux-fur lined parka but rather a cute little black jacket that paired well with a skirt and a set of leggings. (I am going to miss leggings, there is no male equivalent and they are so much warmer than slacks.) We had driven out to Royal Oak, which is one of the larger suburbs to this cool little bar that had just opened up. This was the weekend before the Super Bowl and I think it might have been the first time in awhile that we were together for non-sports-related reasons.

We sat across from each other, while he drank beers that I suggested while I drank soda. My decision not to drink was probably a clear sign that I was going to go through with this, that I wanted to make the decision sober. We talked about politics, and he was surprised at some of mine since I appear to be a single mother but am in reality an investment banker (We won't go full into details, to avoid alienating the audience). We talked about our childhoods, or rather we talked about his and I made stuff up based on what I pieced together from photos and stories Pilar tells. We talked about work and the weather and anything else, but we just talked. No awkward pauses in the conversation and definite chemistry.

After his third beer I suggested we take a walk, not only because I didn't want HIM to be too drunk but also because the bar was on this nice little main street that Royal Oak has. The snow had partially melted during the day before freezing again when the sun went down. This created a partially dangerous driving condition but it also made for a very pretty sight on all the trees with the streetlights twinkling off the ice. We held our gloved hands together as we looked at all the store windows shut for the night.

He complimented my hair, which was a good move. If I could give you men one piece of advice on how to talk to women that I've learned from my time as one it would be to compliment their hair. Half a dozen guys every day compliment me on my ass, which is amazing but it's a bit crass and very off putting. The ones who try to seem not creepy but are actually still creepy will always compliment my eyes, even when I'm not wearing any makeup and have bags under them, because they read on some pick up artist website that it works like a charm.

I was born with....I mean Kari was born with pretty eyes and a big butt, but the hair takes effort. I had to wash and tease and style for 30 minutes that afternoon to get it to have just the right amount of curls in just the right places. Darius complimenting my hair was basically saying "Your effort paid off". That got me feeling confident enough that when we got to where his car was parked I pulled him down to eye level at kissed him.

"Took you long enough" He said with this confident smirk that is just maddening

"Would you rather I wait a little longer?" I asked coyly with a twirl of the hair that looks equally maddening

"I was just letting you make the first move"

"My car is parked all the way at the other end of the street"

"I could give you a ride down to it"

"Or we could just go back to your place"

Car rides after lines like that are always a bit weird. Like, we both knew there was going to be some physicality but talking about it would break the mood and seatbelts were preventing us from getting an early start. I guess I could have rubbed his thigh or something, but I didn't think of that in the moment. I still don't know all the right things to do as a girl.

We got back to his apartment, which was just as nice as I remembered and he offered a drink but I headed straight to the bedroom with him following eagerly. I took off my skirt, blouse, and parka and climbed on top of his bed in my bra and ran into the one major drawback of leggings, and that's that there is no way to look sexy taking them off, especially if you have thick thighs. I wiggled out of them as gracefully as I could and looked up to see him standing there in just his boxer briefs. I've seen him in a tank top before and I knew he had nice abs and arms, and even when I was a man I knew what a nice looking male aesthetic was, but now it was sending all sorts of signals all over my body. I stared up at him with my legs half open and a look on my face that said "Get inside me now."

Darius had other ideas, initially. The few dozen times I've had sex with Latherman over the last three months it's basically been "lay back and let him do what he wants as quick as possible". Darius, he started with kissing. Not slobbering like a horny animal but kissing me in just the right spots to make my arousal slowly build. I was so wrapped up in it all that I didn't notice when he had gotten my bra and panties off, just that I was soaking wet and the air felt cool between my legs. Darius did a sort of cocky laugh as he moved his head there and went to work. He was right to be confident because in seconds had me squirming and moaning. He somehow could tell when I was close because he stopped with me right on the edge and took his underwear off.

It's taken me awhile to come to terms with how I feel about the male anatomy. Years of kind of looking past them in porn and not paying attention to Latherman's if I could help it gave way to noticing bulges and eventually appreciation. I audibly appreciated Darius' when I let out a little whimper at the sight of it. That was his cue to climb on top of me.

This wasn't my first time having sex as a woman, but it was my first time having sex with a man face to face, or rather face to chest, stomach, or whatever part of his body was at eye level since he moved around a lot. This was a whole new level of intimacy that enhanced the physical feeling. At least we started out in missionary, before I somehow wound up on my hands and knees with my ass in the air. I was too blissed out to complain though, and there is a lot more friction and a good angle in that position. He was getting good and deep when my whole body tensed up and squeezed him tight in waves of pleasure, causing me to hear a "Oh Shit" from behind me as I felt him twitch inside me. He had put on a condom, which was thoughtful of him even though I've been taking Kari's birth control since August.

We both started laughing as we cuddled close. I said something to him, I think, but it was probably unintelligible. There's something about a really good female orgasm that makes you almost drunk for a few minutes afterwards. Darius seemed to tired to care, and fell asleep withing too minutes, but I wont' hold that against him since I knew what a workout it could be for a guy.


I wrote most of that post on Saturday, and stopped in the middle of it because of how much of a slut it made me sound. This afternoon I was reflecting on that word and how it's used. It literally means a woman who has too much sex, as if there is some arbitrary limit on how much sex a woman is allowed to have before it reflects poorly on her.

I also had some sort of internal hangup about just how much sex a man changed into a woman is allowed to have before it reflects poorly on him. Most of the former men on this blog didn't begin having sex regularly or enjoy having sex until it was clear to them that they weren't going to be men ever again. I'm going to be a man again in a few months and I'm going to have to deal with all the weird baggage that memories of those feelings and sensations for the rest of my life, and I knew that going in.

The best part out of all this was re-claiming some sort of sexual independence. It's not that I've been coerced into having sex with Latherman, but I wouldn't do it if there was another way to keep a roof over Ashley's head. Everything about Darius, from the moment I met him, was something I chose. Whatever memories I have of female sexuality won't be from something I don't fully enjoy, but also something that I REALLY enjoyed.

And will probably do again.

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