Boys And Bits

Am having much fun being 'not girl' of late, and the joy of having other people recognise me as such. Some examples... went to Hard On, a big queer f%$^party in London, where I got absolutely no interest really from the girls but snogged plenty of skin and leather boys, and when chatting to a random lad outside about nothing filthy or identity-based at all he suddenly turned around and said 'yeah, but you're really a gayboy anyway, huh?'. Then the night before I had made plans with a horny fag tboy who didn't treat me at all like I was female, ever. When we finally hooked up a couple of days later it was really something new for me- boy/boy sex without any incongruence between body bits and gender identity being registered, a place where bouncing tits and damp knickers didn't have anything to do with being a girl. There is something magical for me about being able to play with all the bits and pieces provided by nature without being bound by a notion of what I should be feeling like, at long last. I mean, I am used to it being the case with my lovers that they have boy-c^&*s or bound breasts, silicon tits or silicon bits or holes where no holes used to be and that is always fine, totally, but the point is that somehow now it seems okay for ME, not just as a theoretical position or semantic play-with-words, but as an actual lived practice. Even when the tboy in question met me whilst I was wearing a long blonde wig, frilly knickers and metallic stockings. and no top..

And then there is my Litchi of Lyon, queering gender with abandon and calling me 'boy' in the bath. Whimper. Nowt more to say about this round of playing about for the moment except: thanks for keeping my every nook and cranny clean, thanks for that lovely 'sleep' at the party, thanks for having such a perve-worthy roommate and do come Down Under soon. Oh, and about that pony...

Of course, I am up to no-good as we speak, but can't really comment whilst I'm still here. Would probably make both of us blush, and I'm running out of puff to keep typing anyway.

More soon, I promise. Food, sex, still art, performances, wanderings and touristing to catch up on.