Trannies UNITE!

Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?
At age 47 (gulp) I had my first lesbian experience -- not with a lesbian, mind you, but as a "woman" (transgendered) with another "woman" (transgendered).

Of course it helped that "Tia" was a lean 20 year old Dominican "girl" -- young enough to be my granddaughter with a penis proportioned more for breeding horses. (As with Firecrotch two weeks earlier, don't these people realize I'm an "Ass Man?") Still, I gave it the old college try!

Tia attended the newly formed party for Trannies and their admirers on Friday night. And once again I got all gussied up. My first outfit had me in a white flip wig (think "That Girl" from the 70's) and large circular sunglasses -- tinted purple and yellow, not that anyone could tell in the red lighting of the club. I wore black lipstick (actually liquid eye liner), to make my lips look thin. And I wore the same outfit I wore last time: a black bra with a white tutu and thigh high black patent leather high healed platform boots. Tia was transfixed! How could she not be? I was dressed like clown! A clown old enough to be her grandmother. And yet somehow she was attracted to me. Maybe it was my body, maybe it was my smile, or maybe the fact that before I changed into drag, I had complimented her as being the most beautiful girl there, so she knew I was attracted and intrigued by her.

And really, Tia didn't have to do a lot to look good. She had on some faint silver eye shadow above her charismatic brown eyes, full brows and something clear on her lips to give them luster, but not gloss. She had a simple layered black wig that went well with her caramel skin tone. She wore a short sleeved black blouse cut low with ruffles in the cleavage and shiny black leggings on the verge of rock and roll. The shoes? I think they were black short boots with thick high heels. Naughty. And the skin tight pants/leggings couldn't hide the monster that lie beneath!

After a brief chat, we were kissing on a bench in the main lounge area. She suggested I take off my black (liquid eye liner) "lipstick" so it wouldn't get messy. Thank god I did, because when I returned, our kissing was so passionate and deep that the black lipstick would've easily covered the entirety of both our faces.
Ok, that's a stretch. Suffice it to say we got into it enough that it seemed proper to move to a bed in the back room that's backlit by a television set. And it was there that we sucked each others' dicks and put on a show for all to see. Aggressive kissing and biting and groping. Girl on girl action! Or maybe grandmother/granddaughter incest! And boy did a crowd assemble. But we didn't care -- we were focused on each other, trying to manage with snaring fishnets and wigs askew!

I suppose the highlight of the evening came when a "freaky sex contest" was announced and I had changed from my white flip wig to a giant brunette piece that's actually five wigs sewn together. (It was left over from a movie I produced.) I was also wearing a Pucci-inspired baby doll dress with long silver beads knotted around my belly. And as usual, the standard thigh high black patent leather high healed platform boots with black fishnets.
Since no one was brave enough to enter the contest, I insisted that Tia join me to win the prize being offered: a $180 Mac cosmetics gift bag and dinner for two at a drag themed restaurant in Manhattan! She complied. And we essentially did what everyone already seen us do earlier in the other room, only it was on a stage. I sucked her horse cock (so all could see how big it truly was) and then I pushed her to the floor and ate her ass as she crouched on all fours. Finally, I had the meal I wanted, after having choked on the main course!
The hostess of the party (and announcer for the contest) even pulled my wig back so people could see what I was doing, because as she said "that's what sisters do for each other -- they hold each others' hair back!"
So we won the prize, got a faint round of applause (One fellow trannie was repulsed.) and I ran to the bathroom to clean off a face smeared with black liquid eye liner!
We gave the Mac cosmetics bag to another young friend of mine who's just starting with drag and could use the products. (I think I needed them more!) She was quite grateful.
Geez, the things I'll do to win a gift bag: sucking horse cock and eating ass.
It's shameful.

When the party ended I brought Tia to the apartment I sometimes use on the second floor above the party space. We removed our clothes and makeup. Wow -- he was good looking as a guy, too (I figured he would be)!
I remembered seeing him come in to the party (sporting a short dark fauxhawk with wickedly twinkling eyes) and wondered what had happened to him! He had transformed himself so convincingly once he got downstairs that I never made the connection. Interestingly, it seemed Tia was more into girls (she even said she was!) and not the chasers that were fanatically chasing her. I was the lucky girl caught in the middle.
Thankfully I was versatile enough to score the hottest chick in the club (by my standards) by becoming a "woman." Hopefully we'll meet again and see where our heels take us.

I met this really hot guy online...

Reason #435 to meet someone in real life first, before getting overly involved on the internet!

I thought it would be fun to try the internet again as a way to meet guys. I had done it about 15 years ago when I got my first computer and access to an AOL M4M chat room. Well, it seems times have not changed. People are often not what they purport to be and as I've said a million times (as a photographer, I know): people don't look like their profile picture.

So I found this guy on a website, who said said he was European, but has been living in the U.S. for 10 years. However, he asked that there not be any questions about his home country -- he's not a travel agent! (Or does he really just not know anything about the country he "pretends" to be from?)
His photo looked great: youthful, smiling, average body, but acceptable. He said he was 37, but he looked younger, maybe early thirties. So I sent an email just saying "You're very good looking!" He responded the same. Great! A sexy guy who thinks I'm sexy too!

We ended up chatting on a message site that allows you to have immediate text exchange, but no video. (I've talked to my family on Skype, but have never used it for sex.)
He mentioned that he was from a well known European family (I could Google them!) but that he's not in touch with any of them anymore, and really as far as he knows, they're dead!
Ok, that's Red Flag #1 "All my family is dead; they're a well known family, but I'm estranged from them anyway." It just doesn't add up. Or is so far beyond my relationship with my family that's it's hard to comprehend.
He also asked if I "like to party (code word for doing drugs)." No I didn't. And him? "Yeah, I do cocaine about twice a week."
That's Red Flag #2. And when I made a joke about his "cocaine addiction" he really got offended -- typical addict behavior: immediate denial and subsequent place of blame on the other person! Addicts don't like being called out on their shit. And if you're doing cocaine twice a week, well, I think you have a problem. You're too old to be partying like that. I'm willing to question and investigate my behavior. Those who don't need help!
I asked him about "Coke Dick." What's that? "It's when you can't can't an erection because you're doing so much coke." "Oh, that's what Viagra is for!"
Great: one drug to curb the side effects of the other! Nice combination there.

But his photo was cute and the conversation was turning kinky and he's into my shit, so I boldly continued forward, in spite on his drug use and questionable family history.
Red Flag #3: I made it pretty clear that I use condoms for fucking, but when it came time to arrange a hook up, he wanted to know if the possibility existed that we could bareback! "Well, if we've known each other for a long time and trust is gained and we get tested together and are negative, it might be a possibility." I was grasping at straws to pacify him, because there was a lot of other kinky safe stuff we could do and I didn't want to lose our connection on those things.

So I was tired, it was 7:30am (!) and I wanted to sleep, but he "was still horny," so I did some dirty text chatting to get him off. Eventually after about five minutes of writing him dirty ideas (I assume he was masturbating and just reading my words) I realized he had signed off! Without even saying goodbye! That was a BIG Red Flag #4.
After hours of conversation, it ended abruptly after (I assume) he came. I re-checked the conversation to see if there was an orgasm in there I missed! Or maybe a quick goodbye -- there wasn't. Well maybe it was a bad connection. I went to my AOL to send him a message (where he had sent me a picture of his ass -- which was hairy and he said he had shaved it -- Red Flag #5!) But there was no response. No re-connect on our texting messenger service. He was gone.
Wow.
Had I just been used for sex? Was all that a hoax? Hours of intense shit to be left without a goodbye? Ok, let it go... Move on!
But then, was that even his photo? It all seemed legitimate -- he even gave me his name and phone number. But when I called (earlier at 5:00am) he said I woke up his "roommate" and that he couldn't talk. Couldn't talk. Hm... He said the arrangement in his apartment was weird. "Is he your boyfriend?" "No, he's my ex, we sleep on opposite corners of the room." Ok. Red Flag #6.

It was all strange. I went to bed.
The following day I went back on the internet to figure out what had happened and he was on the website already! So I sent a note on the messenger service and texted his phone. "What happened last night?" "I used someone else's internet connection, so it's not reliable."
Ok, that sounds suspicious (Red Flag #7). And he's busy right now, but we can talk later.
Hm... later... was he blowing me off?
Was he even who he said he was?
And that's when I started to push, because I knew this was all a scam. The photo wasn't even of him! All I wanted was for him to call me so I could hear his voice and recognize a European accent. But no, he was busy. He was on an "important business call to Europe!" Then why are you writing me and checking your texts if you're on an important phone call? (Red Flag #8!) "Because I can multi-task." Ok.

I didn't believe him. If was all part of the charade and he had no intention of following through on anything. He wasn't from Europe. He had no accent. He wasn't from some famous family. And his family wasn't dead. He was just a poor sad middle aged coke addict typing away on his computer to get himself off.
I was not going to get my aural confirmation.

And so the investigation began.
He had given his name, but it wasn't in the online white pages. No address, no phone. I even did a reverse search on the phone number he had given me. Was his even his real name? Of course it wasn't! I did an online Google image search and the name did pop up, but the image was an older man, perhaps of the famous family he was pretending to be a part of. His "dead father" perhaps? Or maybe he was taking someone else's name instead! It's happened before in my life. It could happen again.

I alerted the website we met on about his lies! And all the "facts" that didn't add up. All the red flags.

And then it happened.
I did a Google Web search (not an Image search, but a scan of the whole internet) and three people with the same name he was using popped up on Facebook links. So I went to each of them.
And there it was -- him! -- looking much older and fatter -- with the same name! He had some younger pictures so I could see the resemblance, but the current pictures were awful. He hadn't aged well. He didn't look 38. And he was in a relationship, with a link to his boyfriend's Facebook page. We even had a common friend.

So I immediately contacted the website and admitted my error. But it was too late -- the damage had been done. They contacted the guy with my accusations and the subsequent drama made them drop me from their website!

In retrospect, I'm kind of glad everything happened as it did, because if that creepy man appeared at my door, instead of the young hottie in the picture, things would've been very very awkward. And all those naughty scenarios that we expected to recreate would never have happened.

If that same European guy is reading this email, I can only say, good luck in treating your cocaine addiction! And I feel sorry about how your barebacking with other men is gonna effect your boyfriend's health.
Ouch.
(Oh, and maybe I should aplogize, too. Sorry!)

Overview: wouldn't it just be easier (and safer) to meet someone in the flesh at a live sex party?!
Hell, yeah!

FUCKING ASSHOLE BAREBACKERS!

Is the above image of someone using a condom so repulsive? No! It's fucking HOT!

And I'm livid.

I have no interest in trying to find the right words. This is a rant.
And I'm writing this as the party is occurring. The promoters have joined in (after being at the door for two hours). So now I'm doing door security as people leave.

What's the problem?
BAREBACKING!
I caught TWO couples barebacking in the span of about 20 minutes and had to kick them out. One of them is even a guy I used to play with who loves to get fucked. When I asked where the condom was, the guy topping him reached for a condom on the bed.
EXCUSE ME -- YOU'RE ALREADY FUCKING HIM -- THE CONDOM SHOULD BE ON YOUR DICK!

Is it really so difficult to figure out?
This is a safe sex space. ONE RULE: NO BAREBACKING. And there are signs all over that say "Zero Tolerance." And we even make announcements over the sound system as the party is going on.
These barebackers are such fucking idiots. They're putting my livelihood at risk by doing what they're doing. You can bareback at other parties or you can do it at home, YOU JUST CAN'T DO IT HERE!

So I made the announcement: "Hey guys, I just wanted you to know that I am serious about not barebacking. I Just caught four people and had to kick them out. This is ZERO TOLERANCE. And once you leave you can't come back. I'm serious as a heart attack. The city will shut us down if you do that. Ya gotta be safe. Sorry to be a downer, but you have to respect the rules. Thanks."

One of the guys I kicked out SWORE he was using a condom -- it was on the floor. The thing is, as soon as he saw it was ME accusing him of barebacking, he got a condom package, tore it open and threw it on the floor. It was even flavored like the other one he had in his sock! It's as if he had it all planned out in case he was caught: throw a distinctly similar one on the floor and show that you WERE using one. ("There it is on the floor!") He supposedly just took it off as he pulled his dick out of the guy's ass. But I felt his dick as he was fucking AND as he pulled out -- there was never a condom. So he said the condom must be inside the guys' ass. I stuck my fingers in to check -- not there.
But had I missed something?
No. I was right all along and he was lying. How do I know? Because I pointed him out to two other promoters and they BOTH said they've seen him bareback at other events. And doing it at parties that he said he's never been to. Caught in yet another lie. Clearly this guy was delusional and arguing for his life -- to be able to come back.
As he left, he said how he doesn't like to fuck or get fucked. And yet he let me fuck him without even looking to see who I was or checking to see if I had a condom on. He pled his case for at least 15 minutes. But the deed was done.

He also said he's married and that he would never do that to his wife. I said "Good, so you're not barebacking and your wife won't get AIDS." (If he stays safe.)
The problem is, he DOES bareback and his poor wife is gonna have to suffer the consequences (if indeed he's even married -- I don't trust anything he says).
He was even crying as he left, feeling bad that I would not trust him.
What a performance.
I didn't buy any of it.

At least other people were congratulating me on being so assertive, so there ARE responsible gay men who appreciate my efforts.
And as one person said, the BEST thing you can do is escort someone out of the party in front of everyone else so they all know how serious you are about your policy.

And so goes another evening of sex.

And the Oscar goes to... Firecrotch!

Of all the awards presented last weekend, the only one that mattered to me was the one that should've been given to Firecrotch.
He's the red head I met on Friday night, who then came to my own party on Saturday. And yes, the carpet matched the drapes (as with most red heads, I would think).

On Friday night I went to a party at nearby bar that had turned into a Spring bacchANALia with naked gogo dancers, a required clothes check and the scent of manly musk in the air. The space had a large room in the back with only a curtain dividing it from the bar area. And there, in the haze of red light, Firecrotch was standing next to me, his underwear around his calves and his ample dick at full attention. It was so... there! How could I not grab it? It was so big! So I did.
We smiled. We kissed. And then, as is my way, I started playing with his ass. Because if it's not abundantly clear yet, I LOVE ASS!
As our playing progressed over the spam of 30 minutes, I ended up eating his ass (which he asked me to do when I said how much I love it). That's not something I'd normally do in the backroom of a bar with a stranger. That's saved for special people that I've watched throughout the night at a sex club where such behavior is to be expected or in the privacy of someone's home. Truthfully, I'd prefer not to shock people with my sexual predilections. But if I'm in the moment, and the ass is there, and it's clean and I'm being beckoned, I have no shame.

So Firecrotch and I had a lot of fun, although I could barely get my mouth around his dick. It was that big. Instead, I focused on his ass, as there seemed to be more than enough guys willing to make an attempt on the front side where my own efforts failed.
The sexual part of my evening with Firecrotch came to its conclusion when a sexy young Latin guy succeeded in putting out the Fire' as I played with the crack of his squatted body. (Firecrotch was sitting on a hard wooden bench against the wall with his legs spread, the young man was squatting on the floor between his legs praying at the altar of the giant candle stick). For some reason, whenever I see someone squatting down, it seems like the perfect invitation to slide my hand through the opened valley and let my finger graze across the hidden hole that lies beneath. Just writing that makes me feel warm inside.
The Fire' was also put out as my hands worked two holes at once -- the squatting boy and the seated Fire'. But the hand never penetrates, it only teases.

It was about 3:30am. And I went to watch Firecrotch dress (I was not about to leave since I had not yet had my own moment.) He put my number in his cell phone and called me so that his number would be on my phone. Ain't technology grand? And how nice that he was even interested in doing something beyond the scope of a backroom tryst.

But I had to wonder, why was he attracted to me of all the goodlooking guys willing to obsess over someone with such a large dick? (Size talks at a sex party -- and it talks LOUDLY! -- he was the belle of the ball!) But is the answer really that much of a surprise as to what his attraction was to me? It was that I was the only one who paid any attention to his ass! And really, aren't all big dicked guys bottoms?

Not necessarily, but the following night at my own party that promise came to fruition as I fucked Firecrotch in a very public space. He seems to have an exhibitionistic streak that I'm more than willing to accommodate! And the subtle moans and gasps he made as I was doing it -- perfect! He's not into the spitting as I am prone to explore, but his adventurous spirit, the sensitivity of his pale skin to my touch, his passion for kissing and willingness to be seen as a bottom, make up for any desire for kink.
And really, who needs kink when bright orange pubic hair is in the house?