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We Need to Talk About Joanne - Discussion Monday

Content Warning for Transphobia, Violence and Suicide

We need to talk about Joanne do we?

Well, actually, we don't. She gets talked about enough I think. Her and her friends who think that the existence of transness undermines women. Erases a woman's identity. Puts her at risk of assault in public toilets, and in shelters for abused women. Women's spaces in general. Apparently, according to Joanne and her twisted faced, hate filled, bullshit peddler friends, everywhere that women gather will be infiltrated by men who pretend to be women to gain access to 'real' women. 

Ugh.

We have heard so much about Joanne and her ilk, I am bored of giving them oxygen if I am honest, so let's not. Let us instead talk about the people they have targeted. 

Trans people are people. Human beings who are entitled to safety, respect and to be left the fuck alone. Do you know what they are not? 

Predators. They are not hanging around women's spaces waiting to pounce. That would be men. Men who have never ever had to pretend to be women to gain access to women's spaces for nefarious means. Also, though there are men who do like to abuse women, they generally have a specific woman to groom and abuse so don't need to go trawling women's shelters for them. 

Pretending to be women. They are women. How do we know? They told us. And that, my pedigree chums, should be enough. For if we don't believe that trans women are women, then how are we to believe that Assigned Female at Birth (AFAB) women are women? Or men? Or non binary? Honestly, there is no point to putting yourself up for this amount of shit unless you are sure of who you are. And even if you are not. 

I went by the name Dennis for three years when I was a teenager. Teachers, everyone called me Dennis. It was on all my school books and then, aged 15, I decided that actually, whereas I didn't feel like a girl, I didn't feel like a boy either so went back to my birth name. Years later, I changed all my names. I chose ones I liked and that I felt suited who I was and who I wanted to be. Only my horrible blood relatives still dead name me. People who have known me since I was a wee enby got it right straight away. No one was harmed, I expect few people remember. Everyone just went about their lives. As it should be. 

Oh, trans people are not trying to indoctrinate your kids either. We might be making sure they feel less alone and have the language to either describe their own situation with gender or support someone else who might be struggling but that is because trans people are obviously the Big Bad who want your children to feel valued. If you think talking to a drag queen is going to turn the frogs gay (and your children) then you are an idiot and it says more about your idiocy than it does their danger.

There is so much stupidity that occurs in the discourse around trans people that I wonder how they find their own asses with two hands and a map, and that would be fine if they weren't hurting anyone. But they are. They are hurting lots of people. 

The rise of people thinking Gay Panic (which is not a legal defence by the way) is ok if the trans person has not disclosed. Regardless of the videos of beaten people who did and got the shit kicked out of them.

The forcing people back into the closet. Which is harmful for mental and physical health and is actually just a really shitty thing to so to people.

The hounding from social media. Again, Shitty behaviour. 

Actual murder of 375 trans people in 2021. A number which keeps rising even though we are told things are getting better. And so many of us are lost to suicide. So many. Too many.

In the interim since writing this, two 15 year olds murdered a 16 year old girl called Brianna Ghey. She was marked for death for being trans.  She had her whole life ahead of her and because of shitty people like Joanne, will be laid to rest misgendered and mis named. It will literally be her dead name. 

So we are afraid, and despite that fear, we still walk the streets. I have a pronoun badge because even though I could 'pass' (ugh) as a woman, I bloody well am not one. Not completely. And that matters. 

So Joanne and her crew of hateful harpies can think what they want and say what they like, but if you don't mind, could you do it over... there somewhere. Where children can't hear you. Because, unlike trans people, the danger is real. The danger is you. 

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Am I a Top or Do I Just Have ADHD? - Discussion Monday

Serious question this. 

I like cumming, who doesn't, but I am not a big fan of getting oral sex. 

When I masturbate, I tend to just watch lots of porn. Either in my head or on my phone, depending on what I am in the mood for. I watch lots of little clips, because they have the most action (I really don't care about the 'storyline', most of them give me the ick) or compilations because they are nothing but action. 

I might do this for ten or fifteen minutes and then get the wand out. And put it on my clit. When I get to the point where I might cum, I edge myself and pull back, still watching the porn. Since I hit menopause I have had to relearn where my pleasure comes from and what makes it truly rock so edging is how I get to have those rolling orgasms that just don't seem to want to stop. 

The best thing about masturbating though is that it is something that I do. I can break off and type a post if I think about it and get back to it, or I can hyperfixate on one aspect or one video. I can take my time, because my pleasure is in my hands and it is not responsible for someone else's sexual self worth. Or mine. I don't have to worry that I am taking too long or that my brain wandered off and got distracted by something shiny. (To demonstrate this point, I took a break from writing this post about here to go and masturbate. Then I had food. Then I answered emails. Now I am back.)

When someone is going down on me, I mean, when a man is going down on me, it can be really good and nothing to do with his technique, but it will generally take me ages to cum. We have been sold oral as a prelude to the act, not something to enjoy for itself. It has been sold to men as something that they do to 'earn' getting their dick wet. And that puts pressure on me. Because I have been socialised to please men. I grew up with images of women making sure there is a hot meal on the table when he gets home from work. I have been socialised to not be demanding, to see asking for what I want as demanding. I have been socialised to think that men are doing me a favour by going down on me and the best thing I can do is not be too much of a bother and cum quickly so he doesn't have to do very much. I have been socialised to feel GRATEFUL when he does do it. 

By fuck the bar is low and yet they still seem to find a way to pole vault under it.

Then there are the men I have been with who say that it is their "favourite thing to do". They are insistent that you just "lie back baby, let me take care of this". Gives me the fucking ick. Because they are not responding to your body, your wants, your needs. They are responding to their own egos so they can show off. "Yeah, I always do it, she doesn't even have to ask, do you?"

I am no longer throwing those men a parade. It wouldn't help anyway because they would be down there, licking away, in the wrong spot (I once told a man to go a bit higher to be told that it was ok, he got this. Sir, you did not got this. You were not even close) and I would be wondering where to get cheap crepe paper for the floats.

You see, it is likely that I have ADHD. This means that I can focus on things for a Very Long Time, but also that I can be distracted by OOH SHINY WHAT IS THIS?? Or if I don't concentrate, I find my mind wondering and have to stop myself answering the question, "How does that feel?" with something like "Did you know that the plural of moose is moosog as it is originally an Algonquin word?"

And I have a feeling that this is the main reason I am a top with women. I will eat that kitty like it is my favourite meal. Savouring it, making sure that the woman it is attached to is having a good time. Listening to her breathing, the movement of her body, the position she is trying to get into to make things feel better. I will ask her how that feels, without her being under any pressure to say good if it doesn't, I will tell her how beautiful her vulva is, I will make her feel like I am doing this because we both want it. We will communicate and I will hyperfixate on making sure we are both having a good time.

If she wants to take a turn (notice I did not say repay - this isn't a fucking transaction, it is sex) I will allow it but she will be told that it is unlikely that I will cum like this. I am more likely to cum from scissoring with her, looking her in the eye as we both cum. 

When we are having a cwtch, I will be fine (more than fine) with her instigating things, but I will be the one who takes over and takes the lead. I love it, but also it will stop me thinking about what we were just watching. 

I am a top. But is that because I have ADHD? I would love to know if my experience resonates with you or if you are neurodivergent and have a different take on things. Either way, the comments are open so we can talk about it. All are welcome here.

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Organising Threesomes - the honest truth - Discussion Monday

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The Nightclub Quickie - Filthy Friday

I'm 23 years old and in a nightclub with my lover. He is older than me and married but I don't care, he looks after me.  He takes me to nice restaurants, and shopping and has me sit in on his business meetings. The people he meets with take no notice of me, thinking I am a dumb woman and that is exactly why he takes me. Plus, I distract them.

I don't want to say that my lover was a gangster, but he did once cut a man's face for calling me a whore. I am a whore. But I am his whore. 

One thing I am not is stupid. So I knew when he cheated on me on that business trip to Scarborough. It was all over his face and the diamond tennis bracelet he came back with. I was a bit annoyed, but I intended to get my own back. I was not about to give up a good thing, but it was a matter of respect. And I knew he kind of expected it. 

So we were in the club and I was dancing. He loved to watch me dance and I made and kept eye contact with him while I did. He gave me the look. The one that meant I was going to get all four inches of him later. Not without me getting some first I wasn't. 

I turned my back on him. And I spotted a man I knew from school. I hadn't seen him for about five years and the boy had glowed up in that time. Tall, broad, muscled in all the right places. Fucking hell I mouthed and he saw me, lifted his drink in salute and smiled. He'd always had a bit of a crush on me and I had always thought he was cute, but this was taking cute to superhuman, supermodel levels. 

I crossed the dancefloor to talk to him, not worrying about my lover. He trusted me not to look a gift horse in the mouth and he trusted everyone else to know who I belonged to. This guy didn't. 

We talked and caught up and things got more and more intense. You know when you are close to someone but not touching them, but everything in you is saying do it, grab him? I waited till I saw my lover head to the toilets and grabbed this guy's hand, leading him out of the front door.

The bouncers tried to bar my way. "You don't want to do this."

"Are you going to tell him? Thought not. Move." and we were out of the door and slipping into the darkness of the alley next to the club.

Then I was on my knees, freeing his gorgeous nine inch, fat cock and sighing happily as I sucked it. He groaned and held my hair, fucking my face, ruining my lipstick. As I stood up I lifted my skirt. My lover didn't like me to wear underwear so it didn't take long before the guy had me lifted by the ass and was fucking me hard and rough. 

I could feel my arse rubbing against the brickwork and knew there would be scratches on it. This turned me on even more, knowing that my lover was so big that I could only go on top and he would never know they were there and I orgasmed hard and loud while this guy kissed me to quiet me, near suffocating me with his tongue. Little did he know that I liked that and it made me cum again. 

I pushed him backwards and turned around. Parting my red raw cheeks, I offered him what I only gave my lover on his birthday. He sunk that big cock right into my asshole and fucked me hard and deep, gripping my ass while I crossed my arms in front of my face so it wouldn't get grazed by the brickwork. You're so tight he said while he came hard in my ass. I kissed him thank you and goodbye and wiped myself as best I could with some tissues from my bag. I sprayed some perfume. I couldn't remember what it was called. My lover had bought it for me. It would have been very expensive. I undid the top and poured the rest down the drain.  I still smelled of sex. Reeked of it. I dipped two fingers inside myself and dabbed my wetness behind my ears and on the inside of my wrists, I then sauntered back inside.

"He's been looking for you." One of his minders this time.

"I can handle him." 

And there he was, a face like thunder. All six foot five of him and as big as a brick shithouse. 

"Don't look at me like that babe. I went to the car to get a lipstick. Now get me a drink and tell me about Scarborough" I knew it was bullshit, he knew it was bullshit, but there was nothing he could say. I had invoked a get out of trouble free card. 

"Take one of the boys with you next time. It isn't safe."

I smiled. He looked at me, eyes full of lust.

"And put some fucking knickers on. You're dripping down your leg."

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Learning How My Disabled Body Loves - Discussion Monday

I love my body, I really do. I spent more years than I actually want to admit to abusing it, ignoring it and taking it for granted. 

My body used to run. Not far, not fast, but it did it and I felt good about it. My body used to kickbox. It would spin and kick and punch and spend all day in the gym toning and conditioning itself. 

My body used to walk ten kilometres because it was a nice day and who wants to spend that on a bus?

My body danced all night, and walked home afterwards. 

My body once walked from Birmingham to Stratford Upon Avon because I spent my train fare on beer.

My body used to fuck all night. It could get into any position you asked of it and would grin at you. It could wrestle with you, that glorious wrestling that led to primal, growling, biting fucking.

My body used to.

Now, it keeps me alive and that is about all it does. No, that is unfair to it. My body cannot run, but it can tell me when I need to rest some more. My body cannot walk far, but it can get me to the bathroom. My body cannot dance all night now but it can still feel music. 

My body cannot fuck all night, and when it fucks at all, it is going to feel it the next day. So does that mean that I no longer have sex? No, no it does not. It means that sex is different now that I am disabled and as such I am learning how my body loves again. 

And it is so much fun. For example. Before, I could jump on a cock and ride it for ages. It was one of my favourite things to do. Now, I can still get up there (just) but I have to take my time. I can't just push him onto his back and roll on, now I tell him, "get on your back" and I kiss all over his face, neck and torso while I position myself. Now, instead of sliding right down, while I adjust my hips to make them as comfortable as they can be, I hover, I take just the tip of him inside me. I order him to keep still and take my time sliding up and down. I might put some lube on before I do it telling him I'm getting ready for his cock. That anticipation and slower pace is proving to be quite the thing. 

We can still do missionary, but for not as long as we once did. I use a series of movements with my hands to show him what I want. If I put them on his shoulders or biceps, it means ease off a bit, if I grab his (very lovely) arse, it means go for it. When my hips or legs have had enough of this, I whisper "cum for me" in his ear. 

Doggy style is still doable, especially on the stairs as I can control what angle I am at and how I am most comfortable. If we get it right, my body and I, we can shout things like HARDER! FUCK ME! and of course, for us, it is close to the bathroom so if I have enough spoons to shower straight away I can sit on my stool and let him piss on me then cum on me, the shower taking care of the clean up and fresh bedding is put on the bed while I am in there as I am going to need to sleep.

I can still do group stuff, but I have to rest and save energy ahead of time and rest and replenish energy afterwards. Group stuff is easy as I am passed around like currency, but I get to stay pretty much in one position. 

Just stay away from my nipples unless I tell you to play with them. My new nervous system does not like them even being perceived 99% of the time.

I did, when I first lost mobility and embraced the chronic pain and fatigue that my impairments bring, mourn my new lack of spontaneity, but actually, I now masturbate in front of SH on the days that touch that isn't mine is too much, give him more blow jobs than ever before and watch him masturbate as I read to him from this blog. He especially likes the corset one.

So my sex life isn't bad, it is just different, and just as importantly, SH understands that and loves the changes that have had to happen. If you are with someone who says that they wish things could go back to the way they were rather than helping you relearn what your body likes and incorporating that into your sex life, bin them. I'm serious. They do not deserve you and you deserve better. 

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To Dick Pic Or Not To Dick Pic - Discussion Monday

 Ah, the age old question. Whether or not to send a photograph of your member.

The answer depends on one thing and one thing only. Is it unsolicited? If the answer to that question is yes then remove your sweaty thumbs from the send button boys, it is a massive (or not) no.

Does this mean that we never want to see a picture of your penis? Again, the answer is no. I like a dickture picture, but only when asked for or offered politely. There is something much better about waking to a text saying "may I interest madame in a full frontal before I shower" rather than an angry looking chorizo in your face so to speak. 

We know you are proud of them. We get it. You are happy, eager even,  to show the object of your desire what you have, like puppies who have learned to poo in the right place. "Look! Look! It is all hard! For you!" Then you run around in a circle chasing your tail, inordinately pleased with yourselves.

But this is the thing. When I think about your hard cock, and believe me, I do think about it, I am not salivating over the sight of it, more the idea of it sliding into me or someone else in front of me. When I watch big ones while wanking to a porno, it isn't because it is pretty, but because I know how that feels, to have a rigidly hard cock, stretching at my cunt or my ass or even my mouth. There are very few cocks out of the ones I have seen that have made me go "mmmm." Sorry. They are not that pretty.

More likely, a dick pic is likely to make me tip my head to the side, scrunch up my eyes and wonder why it looks so angry. 

Plus, we're not always in the mood for it. We could be in Tesco trying to find where they have moved the cornflour or having a tricky shit while we scroll Twitter. Believe it or not, just because you are horny this does not mean we have picked up on this through the ether. We have shit to be getting on with. 

So ask. And it doesn't have to be boring. Some examples...

"Christ, you are hot. Want to see how hard you make me?" 

"May I interest you in a preview of what you are going to be sucking later?"

even

"Are you in the mood for a quick pic of ma hard dick?"

All of those are things we can say no to. And we can say it like...

"I can imagine, I'll wait and see if you can match my imagination."

"I don't want a preview, I'm going to let the whole show be a surprise."

"Babe, I am in Tesco. Do you know where they moved the cornflour?"

Send me an unsolicited picture (and this goes for all genders by the way) you are going to get either

• Blocked
• Bollocked
• Blocked and bollocked.

So the answer to should I send the picture is: yes, if you know for sure it will be welcome in that moment. Just because they said yes once, this does not mean that you have carte blanche to send them when you want. It's tacky. And the very last thing a cock should be is tacky.

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