Dare I Eat A Peach: Trans Muffing Part 1

*Medium wanted to auto tag this as erotica :/ Anyhow, this post returns to my blog’s stated theme, sexual exploration.

We stood in the shower just exploring the muffs (inguinal canals, the place the lady jewels descend from and hide when it’s cold). These aren’t obvious orifices. Water ran down our bodies surrounded by our dark, but gayly coloured, Dutch bathroom. Garish heart tiles swarmed our efforts — the landlord said he let his daughters select the tiling, it showed. After we found the holes, covered in saggy testicle skin — a part of my body I’ve always hated — the sensation of someone else’s fingers probing into my fleshy nether regions robbed the experience of any romance. Purely pedagogical. Two queer teachers, wet, in the bathroom gloam, trying to teach each other alternative ars erotica. That was our first effort.

A week or two later, alone and feeling uncharacteristically autoerotic, I reentered the shower. For some reason — probably because I haven’t had a bathtub in seven years — I like to sit in the shower. I ran the water until it was blisteringly hot and then slumped down onto the wet floor. I sat there unsure of what to do. My lady bit was in my hand, small, soft, and unresponsive—this is why I don’t masturbate. How do I start? This never used to happen. Despite the myth of autogynephilia, I am apparently not into wanting myself. So I just started to play with my lady bit until I felt the beginning of a stirring. On hand, I had a We-Vibe, a medium sized dildo, a large dildo called the “Goliath” but that I renamed Jeezabell, and a small training dildo that I have no idea what it is meant for as it is so small, but it seemed muff sized. I wrapped the We-Vibe around my clit until I felt stimulated, massaging my breasts, which seems to be the quickest route to arousal. Once I felt stimulated I began to finger my muffs. They are strange holes, they feel like the inside of a tiny squishy culvert, corrugated and sensitive — like an alien esophagus. Though the feeling itself was not sexual, the act of having something thrust inside my front section was a good addition to my arousal.

I think it’s probably important to add that I am on SSRIs, so while I almost got myself to orgasm doing this, the feeling soon proved out of reach. (If you’ve ever been on SSRIs, you know what I am talking about.) I then added the medium sized dildo to my arsenal of attack. This new front felt fantastic. Why not open another I thought? Repeating a grave historical tactical error, I reached for the little purple dildo and used it in my muffs. The overall stimulation was sensational. The picture of me, upside down in the bottom of the shower must have proved exceedingly comical, if it had been viewed by anyone else. I approached orgasm without actually stroking my lady bit, the thrusting of the small dildo inside my muff — a surprisingly wide and accommodating hole — worked well with the vibration of the We-Vibe at the base of my lady bit. The ass stimulation was… amazing. If only my OCD didn’t make me overly concerned about the mess.

I hit that critical point again where I knew I missed the mark. Fucking SSRIs. I felt like I was going to do serious damage to my poor atrophied lady bit. As I had already expelled half a bottle of lube, I went for Jeezabell, leaving the other array of toys aside, strewn across the bathroom floor like a gay murder in purple — I’m not sure why all of our sex toys are purple. Jeezabell proved too big for my neglected ass and I had to abandon the whole affair.

Though unsuccessful, had I not been on SSRIs I probably would have reached my goal of orgasm without touching my lady bit in a typically male fashion, an elusive goal for me. I am not sure what this pageantry would have done for my partner, but that’s why I opted for a little self-discovery.

A week or two later I was asked at a queer support meetup the last time I felt queer, I chortled to myself and passed on the question. The image of me with three sex toys in and on my body hanging upside down against the shower wall, tiled in hearts, sprang to my mind.

I’m trans, a PhD candidate in Gender Studies, and a researcher.

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