Swirl

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

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.     

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'.

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?

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)