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About this blog

And so it begins. This represents a kind of tre-fold of firsts. One, I've never blogged. And, I'd never done the two topics about which I'll blog. Fun, right?

I'm a shiny minted transvestite (yikes! typing that makes it realer than...well. Acceptance is the key, acceptance is the key, breath, breath.). I'd spend the whole of many blogs going backerdz, so, suffice to say that till exactly yestitty, I was more or less a life long, very sometimey, closeted cd, and I dildoed my ass silly in heels and occasionally lingerie. There! 40 yrs of salacious history in 23 words. 

Poof! Temptation Tuesday happened. Now I sound like I'm selling weight loss drugs. Ok, lots happened, but I got word of TT, came once as a boy, played top with two very nice girls, spent the rest of the time wishing I could be one of them and deciding I would be. 

My second visit was months later which was yesterday. Took that time to get it together and get the old heels off and the dildos out my ass.

Impossible for me to begin this part without big love to Renee. Though we only just met irl yesterday, her help in the lead up was indispensable. Not overlooking the obvious, that without her, NO blog, for NO site, or TT either for that matter, but I really had no one to turn for some very basic questions. Remember friends, I wasn't just embarking on going to a play party dressed for the first time. I was leaving home dressed for the first time. There was a part of me that hadn't, in it's loopiest mental ravings, ever actually accepted this as a reality, ever, EVER, YA DIG!!! OMG MAKEUP!!! So Renee, for example, was and is, the first person ever to have seen the first makeup and outfit I put together to brave the outside. I'd no idea if it worked or looked absolutely zany mc crazy pants. I had not another soul to turn to. She took a little time to comment, encourage, and even suggest (which I took). I don't wish to set her up for this kind of work with all the balls she's juggling for us as it is. It's just a shout bout what I needed at that time. Thanks so kindly dear.  

Further Impossible for me to continue without more big love to Renee and Gigi for this and these events. Perfect? no. Lets get it out of the way now so we don't have to bother with it anymore. It was hot. Very hot. No AC in the place and what can we do about the climate without turning it into politics? Nothing in this blog. Suck it bitches. We all lived...sweaty.

I fully anticipated being a wreck in the dressing hour before doors officially open. I didn't disappoint myself. My accoutre routine I had practiced down to somewhere between 4 hrs and 4 days so I felt a bit rushed. I cannot overstate the wonderfulness that was meeting Renee and Gigi almost immediately and their soothing calming encouraging manner. It pervaded the dressing room as more girls entered. They greeted each one by name that they knew or introduced themselves immediately if they didn't. Warm spirit flowed from them through all. And they had gifts for us; how cool is that? There was at least another newbie and very welcome clucking came from many more corners than just the hosts. There were makeshift falsie tutorials jumping (I could of really used that), quickie makeup clinics and the like. Just terrific. I got to see it all as I was certain I'd be last to leave; I was. But before I get out of there, thx so much Kimmy for squeezing, tying, encouraging, pecking, hand holding and being gorgeous and awesome. Thx miss M. Monroe for your loveliness, bravery, honesty, and encouragement, and the other sisters who's names got away but not the faces or kindness' in the dressing room. We'll meet again.

OMG!!! Up them stairs dammit.

I'm meAN anD thE STRUT IS ON. I'M COMIN UP....arTY STARTED. GOT DAMN, THIS IS IT. And ROY (name protected) SAID, "HELLO GORGEOUS. HOW ARE YOU?" AND I SAID,

"I need to sit down."

OMG!!! Back down stairs. Water. Towel. Dry face. Breath. Overheated from this long run up to this. I can't believe I've gotten all the way to this point, all the girls have said I did a good job and look sexy as hell. Weeks of prep, wigs, OMG MAKEUP!!!, my top lip hasn't been seen in 25 yrs. Now, I'm all finished. I'm even wearing some of my wife's finer perfume, which I pilfered. And where am I? SITTING BACK IN THE DRESSING ROOM ALL ALONE ON THE COUCH TRYING TO CATCH MY BREATH and....thinking of Roy.

Gigi was shepherding this Roy around by his dick and just past the stairs as I went up. Oh my god, Roy! She asked if I'd trade my skirt for his very nice cock, which she held in her hand (she was on about my skirt she liked all day trying to make off with it). That's when I took flight. 

Never fear friends. I pulled it together straight quick and went and found me some Roy. And some Bill, and some Andre (jesus Andre), and well, no more dildo's in heels........at least not exclusively.

I had over an hour to get home which was good. I simply never had time to think of the implications. The man in Angie has been a relative alpha most of his life. Angie has always ALWAYS been there since younger than sex even. For the first time ever, as I shared with my wife last night, Angie no longer has to hide. She represented the last bit of what mental health calls 'cognitive dissonance' in me. It's just awful inner conflict of the worst kind. With her out and the GOOD part of me that she is, I am whole, as genuine as I can ever hope to be in this life. It is not you or my wife or the Pope I need worry about lying too. If I can lie to myself, none of them matter a whit. And so I cried driving home, wracking, sobbing, tears. Tears of sadness? Hardly baby. These are tears of cleansing. As I shared with my new dear friend Kimmy yesterday sometime in the afternoon, it occurred to me that this thing we were all there doing, that so many think of as evil, yadda yadda yadda, is something that for me is completely flipped. I've been yearning for, needing, ready for this self actualizing moment my entire life. Any clown for the entirety of time that I draw breath, who would try to tell me that this was other than that, can fuck right off, and when they get there, they can just fuck right off again.

I'll close by being explicit by what I mean about self actualizing (such a mamby pamby, selfy helply good god, term, but it is the right one for this occasion, so don't hate the player, hate the game, or i'll tell you to refer back to the previous sentence, mmmk? With all the wonderful sex and kissing (I was kissed by a man who'd never kissed a non GG before. He really wanted to kiss me.) and touching that took place yesterday, some of the most rewarding moments were simply the comments. They began in the dressing room with the sisters, whom I could easily dismiss as being sisterly, encouraging and kind. Look, I put in a lot of effort, but on another score, I must admit Angie emerged kind of on her own and absolutely blew ME away. I wondered If I was crazy. I had no idea. When I hit the top of those stairs and Roy... And shortly after other gentleman were actually calling ME, ME, my god, beautiful and hot and sexy. There is no part haughty in this validation. I feel so humble, grateful and whole that I'm in tears again.

Thx again Renee, see you soon. Thank you for reading. It ain't what ain't. 

       

 

Entries in this blog

Asha

What a DaZe!!!

What's on my mind is bliss bliSs BLISS!!! I sort of dreamily remember Renee getting a kick out of passing by me at Temptation Tuesday yesterday and laughing because I was all giggles and goofy (maybe even drooling) from just having the idiot, dreamy, stupids fucked into me from increasingly larger and more whopping cocks, for, ohhh, the 3rd or 8th time, I honestly don't know (unapologetic slut). I have no expectations, but this was a day for the books, in my, er, book. The day didn't begin this way either. Quite the opposite, in fact. My good friend Victoria pointed out that the day did pick up later, but I was just out of sorts early, and feeling low because of some family issues. My first thirty minutes I tried to play and just wasn't into it at all, figured this was just not going to be a good day for me. Was in the gang bang room with guys approaching and touching, and for the first time since I've started doing this, I rejected even the touch, the approach. I'm personally generally against being that way towards the guys [I'll blog on this topic some day]. When I found myself being snippy for the first time in my 6 months of doing this, the problem was me. I got up and left, went to my room to decide whether to go home or not.

Nah! I just needed to chill. Catch my breath from the hour long morning traffix. The whole dressing and makeup fun??? Argghh!!! Fun:(9_9

Then it began. A whirlwind. The breath I caught earlier was lost....again and again. Friend after friend met me walking right out of my room and walked me right back in it again. Or just after i'd readjusted my hair and (you remember when women used to powder their faces in the powder room?) when I did that thing, BOOM, another friend would grab me and fuck it all up again. As I mentioned, a few of these friends are right at the largest cowboys I've ever had pleasure.....     What do they say? The difference between oooh! and aaaah! is what?

Bout 3 inches.

I could not be more thankful and truly astonished to have come to a point like this on this journey. These were lifestyle friends that I've accrued in the short time since Renee welcomed me and helped me up to speed in this wonderful way of life. As I said, I have no expectations, but may the stars align for you, as they did for me this day, sister, to have one of these daZe, or of that particular something(s) that blows YOUR heels off. Visualize it.

So, should you happen to see Asha hanging her head or grumbling about an event in the future, I hereby give permission for all who've kindly taken time to read "What a DaZe", to remind her of it.     

Asha

That's Not Sexy

That's Not Sexy

 

I've never had an STD of any kind. Am I bragging? Hmph! Instead, I'm walking in the AIDS walk next month again this year because my incredible good fortune has humbled me so. The degree of separation between myself and some I knew who are gone, you could slip chiffon through. It was that close and I don't know why they are gone and I am here; some questions one simply does not get to ask -who doesn't know someone(s)? Myself, like near countless others, knew not what we were up against nor how incautious we were being. What I do know is, taking care of myself NOW the very best I can, is DAMNED SEXY. It means I'm serious about this lifestyle and mean fucking business (see what I did there?). I do so for me AND for them.

It is not perfect. I'm an adult. There is risk, I weight it, I take it. Riding a motorcycle, flying a Cessna C172, working as a commercial fisherman – these are all more risky (the last one about 10x as much). I do educate myself, practice what I learn and I accept the risk with gusto and life. The sacrifices of those who've gone before and those who've gone have made what was unthinkable only a few short years ago possible. The debt of gratitude is not lost on this one. I count as an acquaintance the oldest and longest HIV survivor in Los Angeles. He was at Stonewall, and has been a long time advocate for not just gay men, but the other letters as well, particularly bi, and trans folk. He understood long ago, when even the likes of D. Savage didn't, how much more bravery it took the further down the letters you went. I was speaking with a new friend the other night and don't think she'd mind me sharing my commenting on just how many minorities she was actually holding up: black, trans, and woman. And she's gorgeous. BAD. ASS. Baby Girl, you could whoop John Wayne's ass proper while tidying up your blush. Why, then, would we not be brave enough to face what the risks are of STD's on life's terms? Sometimes we are still allowing the fear of dealing with it straight up, rule us. It's been a big ass monster for a long time. We have by no means kicked it's ass, but we've taken some serious bites outta that ass, let me tell you. Props again to people who've made great sacrifices on this front. There's some meds most powerful out there peeps.

 

So, I study. I've attended a panel of all female, super sexy, sex positive, doctors at UCLA, discussing various elements of STD's, their transmission, and impact; wonderful, empowering. I take PrEP, I'm Hep vaccinated as high as possible, I still practice safe sex, and I practice a few of the tips they shared. I test every three months. When I feel the need, I take a moment in the heat of battle to ASK ABOUT STATUS, and don't  mind being asked. Again, if this is thought to not be sexy, I call bullshit. It means I or my partner takes the best care they can of themselves, and take the lifestyle seriously. Dunno about anyone else s motives, but let me be thunderously clear if I haven't been thus far: I do all this precisely because I WANT TO FUCK. If my unbroken record changes even next week, I'm the same adult. I took the risk, I manage the consequences same as if my life is permanently changed on the bike or I'm killed flying the plane (thankfully, our consequences are very rarely remotely anything so dire these days). The point is that I refuse to let fear run the show. Today is the day I'm promised, yesterday is gone, tomorrow is NOT promised. I will suit up, show up, and LIVE today, signified by my rechristening: I am "Asha" Swahili for 'to live'.

 

 

Asha

Bedrock of Society

I'm so grateful to have found the sisterhood, brotherhood and otherhood in this cd/tgirl etc. community as well as the lgbtq community overall. I'm especially grateful for those who've gone before and are well on their paths of awareness. We are not all the same, but there's so much cross over as to make identification easier when you're seeking it. I'm seeking it. The paths are broader because of those who've gone before.

I'm constantly amazed at what the trailblazers endured when you consider how easily we are still being manipulated; the sheer arbitrary nature of the gender norm paradigms. Some have, at long last, been toppled, but at least we can stand firm and agree on those which the bedrock of society have always stood, like:

BLUE for BOYS, PINK for GIRLS. AM I RIGHT??? Wait, what?!? In only the year 1900 (just over 100 years ago) it was pink for boys because pink was thought to be the bold color, and for hundreds of years blue was associated with the Virgin Mary and considered the weaker feminine color, so blue for girls. It was only in 1940 that it became blue for boys and pink for girls. What great event of moment brought this decision about? The fashion industry simply decided it for reasons known only to them, not unlike today, thus insuring that your son would soundly get his ass kicked for wearing pink to school for the next 70 years. Ain't that something?

Asha

What on earth am I doing here?

Now I can go backerds a bit if you're interested. I suppose the only point in doing it at all is identification. In my several decades of life bumbling about the surface of this blue ball, among the most important bits of wisdom I've gained is how little I know. There are 7+ Billion of us, and, in my view, each and every one of those life stories are valid and likely caught hell in the making (life is problems - living is solving problems). What, then, can I possibly know? My own experience is all I have of value. If anyone else identifies with it and finds value, I'm more than honored and gratified to share it. 

 

 

It's just sex.

That someone could have told me that when Miss Thomas yanked me out of 2nd grade class for absentmindedly fondling my dick inside my pants, and shaking me like a rag dog in the hall screaming at me asking what I was doing. I had no idea. But I'd had have said anything to get those raging, bulging, maniacal eyes out of my face and her to let go.

It's just sex.

That someone could have told me that when much later I began fantasizing about being a girl, but not just a girl; a submissive girl who liked having degrading, nasty things being done to her -things pored on her, being dunked, lots of liquid, etc. This was attached to some early masturbation. I still didn't know the first thing about sex, but something was feeling damned good. And I clearly am not the only one to have had at least something like these thoughts. Famously, or infamously, Mr. Hitchcock used ideas as such, albeit well developed, to clear effect in well known scenes. 

It's just sex.

That someone could have told me that the first time I gave a blowjob as a relative alpha male, ghetto surviving, running back, in the bible belt. 

Are these things potentially and most likely more than just sex? Of course. But for purposes of this blog, they manifested as nothing but; nothing more serious. None of them made the least bit of sense to me at the time, and I had ZERO help. Miss Thomas was cruel to me in a society that taught me to also be cruel to myself for the same rather spurious reasons. It's taken years, but.... In some dynamics, despite, all the nonsense I've been shoveled all my life, nothing I shall ever discuss here rises beyond just sex. Let me be clear that I speak only of a so called 'moral' or 'character' assessment and not a personal definition of ones own inner being as it applies to sex and relationships. I was simply saddled with a great deal of crap that I'm having a wonderful time pissing on in lingerie. 

(I most assuredly do not wish to bother anyone's belief system, and apologize if I've done so inadvertently) 

   

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