Babeland’s Best Sex Toys of 2008

Celebrate the New Year by indulging yourself at Babeland’s retail-wide annual four day sale. From January 1 through January 4, almost everything in the store will be 25% off, with many toys marked down up to 40%. Warming refreshments will be served. Stop by a Babeland store in Seattle, New York or Brooklyn.

So if you’ve always wanted to pick up that Here’s some of my PERSONAL favorites that are on sale:


SaSi (Sensual Intelligence vibe)
On Sale for $138.75 (Save $46.25!)

Form 6 (designer luxury vibe)
On Sale for $128.00 (Save $50.00!)

Rabbit Habit (Sex and The City fame)
On Sale for $67.50 (Save $22.50!)


Liv (luxury vibe)
On Sale for $81.75 (Save $27.25!)


Jock O Harness (versatile harness)
On Sale for $63.75 (Save $21.25! )

Outlaw Dildo (silicone dildo)
On Sale for $91.50 (Save $30.50! )

Curve Dildo (G-spot dildo)
On Sale for $60.00 (Save $20.00!)

Share (double dildo)
On Sale for $89.25 (Save $29.75! )

Hitachi Magic Wand + Gee Whiz (electric vibe + G-spotter)
On Sale for $84.45 (Save $21.50!)

Babeland Nubby G (thermo-plastic rubber vibe)
On Sale for $18.75 (Save $6.25!)

And last, but not least …


Pure Wand (stainless steel dildo)
On Sale for $81.00 (Save $27.00!)

Thank you, Babeland, for being an affiliate this year, for the fantastic toys that you’ve sent me to review, for the promotions, for the knowledge you share, for your education and activism, for your safe-sex gender-forward queer-forward progressive policies and staff, for the support of the sexblog communities.  Happy New Year!

Shared Items – December 26, 2008

Define: “butch in the streets, femme in the sheets”

I ran across the phrase “butch in the streets, femme in the sheets” (again) the other day, and it bothered me (again, still). So I started thinking:

It generally means – and correct me if I’m wrong – that this supposed “butch in the streets,” once taken to bed, liked to or wanted to get fucked.

This is operating on an identity alignment assumption: that butches are tops.

This notion comes from old-fashioned sexism: that if you are a man – or masculine – that therefore you are dominant. Period always end of story.

But come on – we know this is not always the case. We know butches can be – gasp! – bottoms.

It may be statistically most likely (even if by a small margin) that masculine folks are tops, it may be a stereotype (which, let’s be honest, often exist for a reason), it may be quite possible. But it is an assumption based on identity and presentation, not based on an individual’s personality and interests and unique manifestation in this body, on this planet, at this time, in this life.

Don’t let sexist stereotypes dictate how you see another person. Can we please move beyond that? Can we please work a little harder to obliterate these sexist assumptions in our own radical, progressive communities?

Sugasm #155: Top Three!

This Week’s Picks

More Sugasm | Join the Sugasm | See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

My other favorite pick of the week:

In response to what you want

I would love to watch you dance.

From the way that you fuck I can imagine how your body would move, all sweet s-curves and slow gyrations: there is such precision in your physicality, such openness. I can see the way you’d raise your arms to float at shoulder-height, eyes heavy to the floor or on the bodies around you, so tuned in to the music, the beat, the rhythm. You’re aural that way, I can feel it in the ways you speak with your body, a language all to itself I am just learning to interpret and read under my fingertips like braille, waves of energy rising falling.

There is so much you can tell about the way someone fucks by how they dance, and the way someone dances by how they fuck; but I’ve never seen you dance. Still, I can imagine how your torso slides and arms carry out the movement, how you can pop your hips to accentuate strong moments.

I would try to keep up with you on the dancefloor just as I try to keep up with you when we fuck – you carry me high and I follow your guidance, despite that I am making the choices. It is your body that dictates my choices, your breath, your responses, the precise way you gasp “oh god” and start to shake. In dance it is the same: I take your lead and match your rhythm until we are so synchopated that I can move you, can create variations on a theme and read you well enough to know you’ll follow where I lead.

It’s all energy. Building and releasing, swirling between us.

More literally:

I will sit at a table sipping whiskey while I watch you. Gently finger the shaft of my dick through my slacks and remember the last time I made you move like that.

You take a break, breathless, and come over to sit on my lap, straddle me, your short skirt hiked up, my hands on your thighs, you can feel my cock against you and let yourself grind up and down for a minute, your arms around my neck, mouth on mine.

(Just the thought makes me harden.)

This is maybe when you say “I gotta pee,” or “please baby, fuck me now,” or I say “I need some fresh air,” or “goddamn you,” and I’ve had enough waiting. I take you out back to the alley or to the filthy club bathroom – the men’s room. On your knees on the dirty tile. Cheek against a brick wall as I make you moan.

I’ll whisper things against your jaw, your neck, that make you squirm. Look at you, all ready for me. All wanting. I can take you wherever I want to, just how I want to, can’t I.

I want to hear you breathy in my ear again. Feel your hands grip my shoulders, thighs grip my hips as you cry out, scream, come.

How to Read Sugarbutch

Welcome to Sugarbutch 4.0! I’ve made some changes around here in the past two months, and unless you’re a purely RSS reader who never comments, you’ve probably noticed. It’s no longer a typical blog layout with the recent posts displayed chronologically on the front page of the site – the layout is more magazine or newspaper style, with the most recent post for each of the categories displayed in different sections.

Here’s a breakdown of how to navigate through the front page of Sugarbutch Chronicles 4.0:

ABOVE THE FOLD:

First & foremost, there’s the heading, search box, and the top navigation. This is part of the grey site navigation areas and is included on every page and post within this site. It includes About, Archives, Community, Contest, Definitions, and the FAQ.

The featured post will now be the first thing you see when you visit Sugarbutch.net. This is a weekly (or so) polished piece that I am particular proud of, or that I want to get maximum exposure, so it gets top billing until I write the next featured piece. This could be from any of the categories, but will probably most often be gender theory. The featured post area also includes tabs you can navigate through the most recent smut, In Praise of Femmes, or On Butches pieces of writing, which are my personal favorite categories on this site, so I decided to give them a little extra exposure by highlighting them “above the fold.”

FULL RIGHT COLUMN:

Areas shaded in grey are for site navigation, and this includes the bar at the top of all pages. In the right-hand sidebar, first there is the greeting, then – after you skip that green stuff – comes the links that will help you navigate the site. This includes a list of recent posts, most popular posts, recent comments, and tags, as well as the et cetera which includes RSS links and a space for you to sign up on the mailing list.

Ads & affiliates areas are shaded green. This includes occasional sponsors, and my affiliate programs, which are websites whose products & services I recommend highly enough to give them advertising in exchange for a tiny kickback when my readers sign up or purchase products from their site. Explore them all in the affiliates area.

The leeeettle green area at the very bottom of the right-hand bar is (well, currently) a place for you to order the Sugarbutch Star chapbook or donate to my “send Sinclair to Dark Odyssey!” fund. Support and donations are greatly appreciated. (Plus, don’t you want to read about my stories of fisting girls in the woods at winter camp? I thought so.)

LOWER LEFT COLUMN:

Stories to turn you on is the entire tan lower left-hand column. This is either fiction stories, stories from the Sugarbuch Star Contest, or aspiring stud stories from my personal life. The most recent 5 hot smutty stories are displayed here.

LOWER CENTER COLUMN:

Product reviews are pretty straightforward; the most recent product review is contained in this area. I review sex toys most frequently, but also films and books, and who knows, maybe occasionally other stuff.

Semantics is the category for exploring language, words, and definitions. We are not necessarily taught the language of marginalized sexualities, so a lot of language we have to either make up for ourselves, appropriate, or reclaim through linguistic techniques and word explorations. Using a common language is a huge way to build community, too, by creating a common dialect. I love exploring this stuff.

The community category includes Public Service Announcements, events, activism, guest posts, interviews, and then all sorts of other random miscellany, including contests and give-aways.

The aspiring stud stories are from my dating life; it’s kind of the “Mr. Sexsmith’s reality show” category, and often includes recaps of dates or sex play, musings on

The writings I include under the orange personal category are often password protected and under the category of “omphaloskepsis,” aka navel gazing. Not that this entire site and every category could also serve as naval gazing – certainly they could. The personal category also includes occasional poems or prose-poems.

Last, but not least, in the center column, is colophon which is a word for the pages in books with publication information on it, such as the number of copies printed, printing or type information, and copyright information. I use it to gather things about the site. The main thing I post in Colophon these days is the monthly roundup, which highlights the important writings each month.

Okay, that’s it!

If you wish you could see a list of what is most recent, I’m working on a tab in the featured area at the top which will display the most recent posts, but am not finished with the coding yet. For now, check the sidebar (in grey) for a list of the most recent posts by title, or subscribe to the RSS feed and read Sugarbutch in your feed reader.

If you’re looking for the category or monthly archive list, those are under “Archives” on the top navigation bar. I’m trying to figure out a way to put them back into the sidebar, but still working on that coding as well.

Any questions? Does this breakdown help? Are there features that you are missing, and you wish I’d bring back? Do you like this new navigation, or hate it? Is it easier? Are you wondering where something’s gone? Ask away.

Catherine Opie Exhibit at the Guggenheim

Oliver in a Tutu

Oliver in a Tutu

I spent Sunday afternoon wandering through the Guggenheim, visiting the exhibit of the Catherine Opie retrospective for the second time.

I’m not sure how much of it I can really put into words, which is why I haven’t mentioned it yet, here – I’ve wanted to write up just how powerful it is to see images of queers hanging in a museum gallery. How powerful, but also how strange and revealing, how vulnerable. I stood in the portrait galleries, tears streaming down my face, reaching for my handkercheif, attempting not to notice the way that other galleryviewers were watching me interact with the photographs.

There were moments when I felt like I too was on display, walking by the straight-laced folks who regarded me with their museum gaze as they held their hands behind their backs and clucked their tongues while examining the photograph’s informational card.

There were other moments when I caught the eye of another queer – there seemed to be an extraordinary amount of dykes wandering through the four galleries of Opie’s work – and it was an intimate, knowing look, a bit of reverance, a bit of support, a bit of an acknowledgement of how amazing it was to be in an incredibly fancy museum looking at images of ourselves reflected.

I highly, highly recommend the exhibit if you are able to visit the Guggenheim here in New York City. I’m including a couple of images that I’ve pulled from various places on the web here in this post, but there are many, many more that I didn’t include, her series on cities and series on freeways are both phenomenal and worth seeing in person for the scale and richness of the photos.

Catherine Opie: American Photographer
Guggenheim Museum
1071 Fifth Avenue, New York
212-423-3500
September 26, 2008 – January 5, 2009

Since the early 1990s, Catherine Opie has produced a complex body of work, adopting genres such as studio portraiture, landscape photography, and urban street photography to explore notions of communal, sexual, and cultural identity. From her early portraits of queer subcultures to her expansive urban landscapes, Opie has offered insights into the conditions in which communities form and the terms that define them. All the while maintaining a strict formal rigor, working in stark and provocative color as well as richly toned black and white. Influenced by social documentary photographers such as Walker Evans, Dorothea Lange, and August Sander, Opie underscores and elevates the poignant yet unsettling veracity of her subjects. [Text from Art Tattler.]

Opie’s Self-Portraits

So stunning. I don’t even know if I can write about these, there is just so much emotion that comes up in me just looking at the images.

   

Opie’s Portraits series

The Portraits series may be my favorite. You’ve probably seen some of her shots around in queer community events or galleries or homes before, I certainly have. There is especially a lot of exploration of gender celebration. Many folks have made note of how the portraits use portrait painting techniques, and the subjects become nobility in their rich colors and stature.

 

Opie first came to prominence with her Portraits series (1993-97), which celebrates the queer community in San Francisco and Los Angeles, including practitioners of drag, transgendered people, and performance artists. Set against brilliantly colored backgrounds, these figures confront the viewer with intense gazes, asserting their individuality and destabilizing conventional notions of gender. Opie describes these sitters, all of whom she knew personally, as her “royal family;” by adopting a style inspired by portraitists like 16th-century German painter Hans Holbein, she offers an affirmative and tender portrayal of a subculture rendered invisible by dominant cultural norms. [Text from Art Tattler.]

Icehouses & Surfers

Also particularly stunning was the gallery of Opie’s Icehouses series and Surfers series, set across from each other on opposite walls. They are visually stunning, huge photographs. The surfers especially explore waiting, the moment of solid grey where sea and sky are undifferentiated and there is just infinite patience. Icehouses, in contrast and in similarity, explores temporary communities. I love how the (somewhat absent) line of the horizon mimic each other in seeing both series across from each other.

   

If you’ve been to the exhibit, what did you think? Do you have other queer photographers you’d recommend? I’m not too terribly familiar with the world of visual art, I’d love the recommendations.

We’re just getting started

I spent the day alone in my room, recovering, remembering.

Her skin in the morning, golden, glowing. Her eyes as they increasingly tired last night. Her hips as they hinged open. The ways I held back, the ways I gave in.

My mental recap is increasingly romantic, but really it is raw desire. How does she do this to me?

I won’t tell you much about this date. There is no scene to report, no interesting beginning-middle-end with links to the toys I used (though I did go through three cocks). I won’t speak of the ways I took her, the ways she opened and clenched tight. The tender places we both touched and from which we backed off (too too fragile). I won’t speak to her mouth, her mouth, her near-perfect mouth and the way she tosses her head back, mouth open, this half-circle arc, when she comes.

I am starting to understand her tells, the signals that her body is poised on the edge of orgasm, the ways I can slow and prolong the explosion. I have felt her come dozens of times now, I have completely lost track. She counted six the last time we were together. Last night, I counted one in the bathroom at the club and one against the door of my apartment before we even got to the bed, then two this morning, despite her swollen cunt and aching hips’ protest. What happened in between was a blur, and clear as the winter blue sky that greeted us when we woke.

She told me this morning (open, open, so open) more of what she’d like. To be hit across the face. My cock in her mouth again. More of what I did the first time, more power, more dominance. And I felt suddenly self-conscious: it’s true, last night, though I was in charge and in control and calling the shots, I took the vanilla route, barely moved out of missionary position once we reached the bed except that one time on her stomach, more fucking and less dominance, out of fascination in the exploration of her body. And she is just so goddamn receptive: everything I did, she told me exactly how it felt, what was working, how to go deeper, with her body and moans and breathing. I couldn’t resist that, couldn’t tear myself away from the simple singular act of getting her off, making her come, hearing bliss escape her lips again.

With someone new it is always a challenge to understand the way they like to be touched, to be taken, what will unravel them at the last minute, so that is what I spent the night learning.

And she never stopped me. That turns me on in ways I cannot describe – that every time I went for her thighs, every time I worked my hand or cock between her legs she was wet, open, wanting. Even if she’d come just moments before – why would I stop when she could do it again right now?

So I allowed myself the indulgence of getting her off, over and over and over again.

But I won’t forget that she wants more power play, more sensation play. I won’t forget she wants to be hit, wants my palm on her face (how could I), wants my cock in her throat.

She’ll learn, too, that struggle brings out the force in me, that she can push me to take more by giving less, now that we both know how she wants to give over. Now that we both trust our impulses to give in. It’s harder to force when there is no resistance. She’ll learn how to play my power as I’ve learned to play her body, like an instrument, like a tool that could be a weapon in the right hands.

We’re just getting started.

Review: Alumina Revolve

revolveAs of 2/8/16 This product is no longer available at Babeland

Um … woah.

This is the Alumina Revolve, one of Tantus’s new line of aluminum toys, called Alumina, and there are four – all of which unscrew at the center so you can mix-and-match the handles and shapes.

I want the whole set.

This is the fantastic affordable substitute to perhaps some of the Njoy toys, like the Pure Wand, which, though they completely amazing and current gods of the sex toy industry, are completely out of my (and most people’s, I imagine) price range. But the new Alumina line from Tantus is not – though the pricetags on their various Alumina items are not cheap, at least they’re under a bill and not over a hundred bucks like the best Njoy toys.

So, the material: the aluminum is really the selling point of these toys. It’s heavier than I expected, has a great heft to it that most wand-style toys do not. Not as heavy as the stainless steel toys of Njoy, no, but still, much heavier than most plastic or even silicone cocks. Plus it’s smooth. Sleek. And aluminum cleans up easy – soap & water to maintain, then a quick wash through the dishwasher and you’ve sterilized it completely.

Since it’s metal, it’ll conduct temperature. Currently my toybox is housed near the windows in my room, and since it is winter in New York City this week, it’s freezing and the toy is ice cold when I first pick it up. It warms quickly – and would retain some heat, too, if you were to submerge it in warm water for a while before pulling it out for use.

Extra bonus points for sensation play.

The Revolve specifically is made for G-spot stimulation, it’s a little more bulbousy (ew, that is NOT a sexy word, but how else to describe the shape?) than the other toys on the longer end, then the “handle” side is wonderfully tiered for some anal play. It’s narrow too – 8-1/4” x 1-1/4″ – not good for size queens, but plenty big enough.

The Alumina Pace is a butt toy, the Alumina Flow is sleek and would be great for PC exercises (uh, right), and the Alumina Motion has more taper to it, which would be perfect if you are particularly tight. If only I’d asked Babeland to send me one of each!

Shared Items – December 19, 2008

The two Crash Pad memberships go to …

#5, Becky
and
#22, Bettina!

Thanks, everybody, for commenting and starting this discussion about our favorite porn stars. I know it was a completely informal poll, but I may make up a list from it so we who are very unfamiliar with queer porn can do a bit more, ahem, “research” …

You can always head over to Hot Movies For Her and download 20 minutes of hot queer porn — that’s 10 extra minutes than you usually get when opening a new account at HMFH. I don’t know how much longer that special link will last, so get in there while ya can!

Also: still two more give-aways to come (and then NO MORE for a long time): sex toy cases from For Your Nymphomation, and a gift basket from Come Together.

Two Crash Pad Series Website Memberships – For You!

Oh, Crash Pad. Oh, Shine Louise Houston. How do I love thee, let me count the ways.

… What’s that? You’re not familiar with the original Crash Pad DVD, or the subsequent THREE DVDs of episodes compiled from the Crash Pad Series website? If only someone would give away a membership for the lonely, cold month of January!

Oh hey! That’s exactly what I’m going to do!

The Crash Pad is the hottest porn I’ve ever seen. Hands down.

I mean, I’m not actually an expert on visual porn – when I came out about ten years ago, I started renting lesbian porn and was incredibly disappointed (with perhaps the exception of some s.i.r. productions films, like Hard Love/How to Fuck in High Heels and Sugar High Glitter City), and I kind of lost interest in the genre.

Well … until it became increasingly obvious that dyke-made-dyke-porn-for-dykes was booming, and butch/femme queer porn was, uh, the hottest thing I’d ever seen. In my wildest dreams I hadn’t fathomed someone could videotape something so goddamn hot.

Uh, yeah.

(I’ll be in my bunk.)

Ahem.

The fabulous folks over at Pink & White (thanks to a suggestion from Jiz Lee) have offered up two Level Two (video!) membership to the Crash Pad Series website for the month of January for me to give away.

Whatcho gotta do:

Leave a comment answering who is your favorite porn star and why? If you don’t have a favorite star, make it your favorite porn film. If you don’t have a favorite porn film, well – you really need to win this contest! Leave a comment anyway.

Two winners will be chosen randomly on Thursday morning, 18 December.

Holiday Ideas for Butches

I know it’s a bit late for this, but here’s five (fairly traditional) ideas for the masculine-leaning butches and bois and boys and transfolks in your life:

1. Belt Buckles

A good solid belt buckle is an essential butch accessory, in my opinion. I’ve always liked belts, but it took me way to long to graduate from regular buckled belts to belts with detachable and interchangeable buckles – they’re heavier, for one, and they look amazing, plus there are so many styles.

Etsy is amazing for buckles – do a search and include a keyword of one of your butch’s hobbies (like bikes or birds or beer) and it’ll turn up some amazing vintage or handmade results, many for less than $20.

(Belt buckle shown from Lucybluestudio’s Etsy store)

2. Cufflinks

I kind of hate to give it away, but Cuff Daddy is my current favorite place for cufflinks. They have everything! I haven’t even searched through all of their little figures and all the fun categories. They have cufflinks that are watches! Levels! Compasses! I’m currently coveting the Superman emblem cufflinks, myself.

Don’t forget Etsy for cufflinks, too. Ditto to the belt buckles, put in a couple key words – pinup, Obama – and you’ll get all sorts of great results.

If she’s already got some cufflinks, and probably doesn’t need more? Consider this cufflinks box in black leather.

(Betty Page cufflinks from Bellamodaartist’s Etsy store)

3. Ties

Uh, okay, Etsy for-the-win of #1 and #2, I should probably say something else for #3, right? Well, you already know that you can search Etsy for vintage and handmade ties – add a keyword and you’ll come up with awesome skull ties, striped ties, butterfly ties, whatever your butch happens to like.

If that’s not quite fancy enough for ya, perhaps consider a Tie of the Month Club. J Crew is doing one now (it’s a 888 number to sign up, I can’t seem to link to it on their website directly). They’ve got some great ties.

4. Pocket knife

Consider a Vintage pocket knife, and perhaps a pocket knife sharpener too.

Or if a knife isn’t really her thing, what about a pocket watch?

5. Shaving Kit

Even if it’s occasional, or for gender play, how hot would this fabulous shaving kit look on her dresser or in her bathroom?

Maybe you can recreate the famous k.d. lang and Cindy Crawford 1993 Vanity Fair photo shoot.

If that’s not enough good ideas for ya, take a flashback to the 2007 Butch/Femme Holiday Gift Guide that I wrote last year, maybe some of those will pique your interest.

Femmes … what would you absolutely love to receive from your friends & lovers this year? C’mon, help us out with some ideas.


A few friends and fans and readers have emailed me about sending me something, and in the spirit of the holidays, here’s a few things you can do for me, if you feel so inspired …

“I’m kind of … insatiable.” My First Date with Kristen

I could’ve fucked Kristen for a few more hours at least. Was just hitting my stride, just beginning to feel confident in the ways her body turns on and gets off. Like how when she gasps more she may actually mean more friction – how she has the type of orgasms that means she can squirt.

Which is why I kept going for orgasm number two, three – because I wanted to feel her do it. I suspected she could.

(I was right.)

I hadn’t planned to take her back to my place, but that didn’t stop me from cleaning my room on Saturday before the date. Unlikely is not impossible. And if my room is not presentable, it isn’t even an option. I like to have options.

I could fist her, I think. She opens in a way that makes it seem possible, makes space inside. I would like to throw her around more, too – she’s small, and so receptive. She went where I put her, stayed, made space for me to enter, to take. My favorite kind of bottom, surrendering.

*

At dinner:

She’s wrestling a little with a femme identity. “Femme and feminist sometimes conflict,” she started to explain.

“I understand that. I saw butch and feminist as conflicting when I started figuring this out for myself too. I was a feminist first, and most importantly. And when you take misogyny out of masculinity, what’s left? Societal roles teach us those are one and the same.”

In case it needs reiteration, I firmly believe that femme and feminist can be simultaneously occupied. In fact, in some ways I think intentionally choosing femme is inherently feminist – as I think Leah said at the Femme Conference, femme is a way of making “girl” not hurt. Femininity can be inherently painful under societal hierarchies and rules, and to recreate it in ways that actually buffer the hurt instead of deepen it is so incredibly powerful.

She talked a little about the ways femme is misperceived, especially as an invitation to men. This is definitely a huge difference in the development of the butch and femme identities.

We barely scratched the surface of these conversations.

This was foreplay.

*

After dinner:

Suddenly Kristen stopped walking and back-stepped.

“Did you just lose your shoe?” I laughed.

She gave me a small smile. “Uh, that’s embarrassing.” I held out my hand so she could balance on one foot, slip her high black heel back on.

“Nah, not embarrassing,” I said, hand against her back as we started to walk to the bar again. We’d just come from dinner and needed a darker, more comfortable place to make out. “It happens to me all the time.”

She shot me a questioning look. “Really?!”

“Uh, no. Not really.” Too deadpan. I turned to face her, stopping her from walking forward, took hold of her jacket at the zipper with both hands. “No, sorry, that was trying to be a joke but it really didn’t work.” I pulled her a little closer. Even in heels she was still shorter than me. “Do forgive me …” I held her gaze and pulled her toward me. Immediately the kiss was electrifying. Delicate and wanting, full of desire. I’d barely touched her yet but now wanted my hands on her, on her waist in that secretary pencil skirt, her legs in those seamed black stockings.

*

At the bar.

A gin gimlet for her, another Maker’s on the rocks for me. Chatting. The topic was activism, mostly – educating those around us. I feel increasingly bold, be it the good conversation or the drinks or the chemistry or the ways she opens her eyes to look at me. My hand finds her waist, her back, and her nerves are electric and so receptive, her body curls every time I touch her.

She gasps a little. I keep talking. “Uh, I’m sorry – I’m not hearing a word you’re saying.” She looks at me with her eyes half-lidded. “But keep talking, please.” I pull her toward me and we kiss again, sparking at the mouth, at my fingertips where our bodies connect.

*

In the car on the way to my place.

She’s got her legs in my lap and if she wasn’t wearing full stockings I would already have my fingers in her. Her ankles are small and my thumb and forefinger close around one, then I take her instep in my hand, grip her heel. Run my hands up her legs and don’t stop, cup her cunt with my palm, catch her gaze with mine and she leans forward to kiss me again.

Every time I touch her she lets out a moan, quick, with her breath. “You have to be quiet,” I say, nodding toward the driver. I’ve known dykes who were kicked out of cabs for kissing.

“I’m not quiet,” she tells me earnestly, giving me that under-the-eyelashes shy look.

“I can tell.”

And she’s not. At my place I throw her down onto the bed, hold her down when she tries to get up. Peel off her sweater and skirt, shove my hand in after I’ve pulled her stockings and underwear down to her thighs. She’s gasping already. Each breath a moan, each touch connected to the noises she makes. She is so responsive.

It is wonderful to hear.

I don’t know exactly when I pulled out my packing cock – sometime in the beginning – but then switched to my hands when I figured out she comes that way, gspot orgasms, one after another and I love to feel it inside when that happens. Love the way she thickens and shudders, her whole body twisting, so I hold her down, forearm over her chest, my knees holding her thighs open.

I don’t know when it was that I took off my bondage belt and waited for her to slide her wrists through it. I took hold of the loose strap and curled it around my hand for grip, twisted it a little, her arms over her head, on her back again, just so she could resist, just so she could feel the pressure, my other hand between her legs and shoving inside, fast, hard, or slower, massaging and tender, as she thrashed against the pillows again.

Gorgeous.

*

We lay together and I catch my breath, flex and stretch my fingers. I run my palm along her hips, the sides of her body, and she is all nerve endings and sensitive skin, writhing under my touch, rubbing her feet against the blanket on the bed. I could take her again. Could roll her into her back and listen to her breathe and moan.

I like the way her moaning becomes practically laughter as she gets closer. How she turns her head to the side and strains with every muscle like she’s trying to press all the edges of her, like she’s going to tear her way out of herself, la petite mort indeed.

She shifts next to me, I balance on my elbows on top of her again. I still have my tee shirt, my slacks, on. She’s stripped bare.

“Did I mention I’m kind of … insatiable?” she asks, a little embarrassed, a little shy, a little excited.

I grin. So am I.

My hand between her legs again, my mouth at her neck. “You’re wet.”

“Yes,” she breathes in my ear.

Yes, yes, yes.

*

I could’ve fucked Kristen for a few more hours at least. Was just hitting my stride, just beginning to feel confident in the ways her body turns on and gets off. There is so much more I know I could do to her. I barely got to smack her. Barely used force. There was very little restraint or bondage, very little sensation play, and she could take it, I know she could.

We could’ve kept going. Two hours wasn’t quite enough.

What a wonderful feeling to have coming away from a near-perfect date: that raw potential for more, more, more.

Queer Eye Candy is back!

It’s official – the Eye Candy has moved off of Sugarbutch Chronicles and is now on QueerEyeCandy.com, being maintained by myself and Amber and Denise.

BIG thank you to both of them for helping me out! Round of applause, please!

The focus remains on butch/femme portraits and photos and images. Please continue to submit pictures of you, your sister, your girlfriend, your wife, your gang, your crew, your best friends, your ex, your teachers, your mentors, your lovers.

Portrature – especially self-portrature – was actually a big piece of my own personal identity development, and I think it’s really important to see ourselves reflected, to be able to study photos of myself and say, is that what I look like? really? as I was discovering and uncovering and creating and re-creating my own aesthetic.

I was just looking at some old photos this weekend and found some after I’d cut my hair all off (in 2000) but before I was claiming butch, when I was dying my hair red and still wearing lipstick. I found a photo of me with a daisy chain crown, and no I am not kidding. It was a trip to look through the photos, watch my hair change as my haircuts started getting more and more butch, after I stopped dying it red and stopped wearing low-cut shirts, when I started figuring out what I really wanted my gender to be, what my soft animal body really loved and how I felt most comfortable, most like myself.

As butches and femmes, we don’t see ourselves in popular media, except usually as a stereotype or a (usually unflattering) archetype. I mean we don’t even see lesbians reflected in popular media all that often, let alone queers or genderqueers or butches and femmes – which is partially why we consume and watch and love just about any film that has lesbian characters, just about any book with lesbian characters, just about any crappy TV show with lesbian characters (*cough*L Word*cough*), because we are so starved to see images of ourselves reflected back to us, some semblance of recognition or some flash of similarities between our lives and the lives of the stories we watch and consume.

Aside from the validation of seeing queer eye candy, there’s also the personal revelations of just figuring out what your body looks like, how others might see us externally – shifting the gaze from seeing out through our eyes to seeing what our eyes look like from outside. It’s powerful, and brings, I think, a greater self-awareness and, hopefully, self-confidence.

Speaking of self-confidence: what I said before about requiring comments on Queer Eye Candy still holds true. I don’t write for comments, I don’t expect people to comment on my own things (though I of course appreciate it), but the photos that are sent in are often from people who are not used to having a web presence, are not used to revealing themselves for a queer audience to consume and judge.

Putting images of yourself out there like this is vulnerable. Scary: What if I’m not butch enough? What if I’m not femme enough? What if I’m not really hot? Come on, all of us think that when we see images of ourselves posted.

This is not a “hot or not” project – this is more of a project a la Malcolm Gladwell’s Blink – what does your brain do when you first glance at the queer eye candy photo? Do you think “hubba hubba, omg hot!!”? WRITE THAT. Do you think “holy crap I have that same shirt! I wonder if it looks that good on me?” WRITE THAT. Do you think “Oh good lord, I would marry her on looks alone”? (That’s Bevin’s line I shamelessly stole.) GO FOR IT.

This is about building self-confidence through appearance. About celebrating the myriad of ways that butch and femme get represented through visual styles and identity.

So: Submit photos. Comment on photos. And you will make this top very, very happy.

From the Queer Eye Candy mission statement:

You might be afraid of us, but you don’t know who we are.

We’re hot, we’re fierce, we’re vulnerable, we’re beautiful, we’re in love, we’re horribly ugly, we’re scared, we’re tender-hearted, we’re dog mommies and daddies, we’re parents, we’re children, we’re neices and nephews, we’re married, we’re bachelors, we’re rednecks, we’re blue-collar, we’re construction workers, we’re political pundits, we’re musicians, we’re drag performers, we’re community organizers, we’re angry, we’re activists, we’re just us.

Let’s show off who we are. Let’s show those who don’t know what we look like, let’s show off who we love and who we spend our time with, let’s show off our joyous communities and our heartaches and our hardships and our work and our play and our joy.

Let’s celebrate ourselves, just as we are.

What happened in November

Ah, November 2008: forever famous for THE ELECTION OF BARAK OBAMA as the President of the United States. Oh, rejoice, liberals of the US and the world. Except … then there was that pesky little thing about gay marriage amendments in three states, and the amendment that makes it illegal for unmarried folks to adopt in Arkansas.

But that wasn’t all. There was also the New York City Sexbloggers Calendar offical release party.

So even though I was attempting to take time off in November (betcha didn’t know that, huh), there were still many posts.

RELATIONSHIPS

ACTIVISM:

  • Post Election: On Love – and about my disappointment in the 2008 election, despite the fantastic nomination of Obama.
  • Letter to myself: Enough Moping – we took the temperature of the country by seeing how these anti-gay amendments passed so easily. Stop dwelling on the giant blow of the election and channel the hurt energy into activism. Buck the fuck up.

COMMUNITY:

REVIEWS:

In November, I also relaunched Sugarbutch into this new layout – if you’re reading via RSS, come on by and check it out. I’m still working on a “how to read this new layout” type of post, I know it’s rather difficult to tell which posts are new, but I’ve got some plans to fix that and I’ll iron that out in the near future.

Special extra minutes for you from Hot Movies For Her

Uh, did you see the photo in that ad? It comes from one of their films, Post Apocalyptic Cowgirls, and no I am not kidding.

Fabulous reviewer for HMFH, Ms. Debauchery, describes it thus:

Ever since I was first given the heads up about this latest Bleu Productions movie, I’ve been super excited to check it out. Two tattooed, gritty post apocalyptic cowgirls dressed in leather, boots and bad attitudes cross paths on the Arizona highway and fuck wildly in the empty desert.

Uh, for reals? Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, and this year, that would be me, the man with the bag: thanks to Hot Movies For Her, Sugarbutch is passing on 20 minutes of anything you’d like over at HMFH where you can watch Post Apocalyptic Cowgirls, Good Dyke Porn, Turn Me Up Over & On, any number of flicks with trans man Buck Angel, Sappho’s Girls #1 … Hot Movies For Her really does have a great selection. Check out their new queer films section too – not just lezzzbian, but queer! Awesome.

Here’s the deal: sign up for an account through this link and it’ll give you twenty minutes FREE. You do have to enter your credit card information (to verify your age), but you do not have to give up anything else.

Post Apocalyptic Cowgirls isn’t your boyfriend’s lesbo porn film, though, beware.

I might not recommend this hardcore lesbo flick to someone looking for a soft focus lens and romantic tribbing, but for all us down and dirty dykes, I say this one is for you!

Check, please. No more talking over dinner, no more making eyes across the table: I’m taking this one home with me.

So … what’d you download? Any good recommendations?

and the winner is …

The envelope please:

Thanks to the random number generator, the winner of the DVD of Good Dyke Porn is … samantha!

Bevin Branlandingham, fabulous host of the FemmeCast: Queer Fat Femme’s Podcast Guide to Life, came up with the idea of asking y’all what your 2009 sex goals were, and as all the responses (54 of them!) came in, she and I kept talking about how increasingly moved we were. “I was overwhelmed at their commitment to visualizing and actualizing their sexual goals,” Bevin just chatted to me. “The first step to good sex is to know what you want, or at least know what you want to try. Then to communicate that.”

And she wanted to throw in a little extra sumthin-sumthin: a fabulous comedy CD Almost Pretty by butch comic Kelli Dumham! Kelli is the Butch Dyke Comedian in Residence for the FemmeCast and performs all over the country.

Hope you enjoy them both, Samantha!

Samantha’s shared with us her Goals for 2009:

1.) Do NOT fuck any clingy/needy people. This is an absolute, and must be followed. More of a rule, actually.

2.) Fuck a girl that actually knows how to top. You might think this would be simple, but D.C. is severely lacking in the dykey, top department.

3.) Get restrained. I’ve done the whole multiple-uses-of-a-handcuff thing. Now im extremely interested in being tied up with rope, and being a complete submissive. Pushing the pain/pleasure bounds.

4.) Lastly, watching more porn….preferably with a partner. I normally don’t watch porn, nor do I own any….this is where this whole video thing would come in handy Mr. Sexsmith ;)

Damn good goals, if you ask me.

Samantha, I hope you very much enjoy the Good Dyke Porn and the fun dyke comedy. If you feel like writing up a paragraph of your review of it, I’m sure other Sugarbutch visitors would love to know how you find it!

December is now unofficially the give-away month, and I’ve got a few more things for y’all in the next few weeks. Hey, it’s a dark time of year, we need a little extra lovin’! Keep an eye out for locking sex toy cases from For Your Nymphomation, two subscriptions to the Crash Pad Series website, minutes for video-on-demand downloads at Hot Movies for Her, and Come Together Gift Baskets!

Giving away Good Dyke Porn

Want some Good Dyke Porn? Of course you do.

Bren Ryder’s dyke porn is quickly becoming widely celebrated around the queer dyke sexblog circles, and you’re really want to get your hands on her first DVD selection of seriously hot sex.

I’ve got a full review coming, but meanwhile, it’s the holidays! What better way to celebrate than to send some fun gifts away to the folks who follow this writing project (that would be you).

Bren actually sent me this DVD in connection with the 8 Against 8 campaign, and I was going to give it away at the end of the fundraising, but with the election and my vacation in November, I didn’t ever get around to it.

So, today I was chatting with Bevin Branlandingham, infamous host of the FemmeCast, and she suggested this little idea for a give-away …

Here’s what you gotta do:

(Legit email address required, real name optional.) Leave a comment sharing a sexual goal for 2009. What do you want to do? What do you want to try that you’ve never done? Who do you want to fuck? Where do you want to be fucked? What toy have you never tried that you’d like to?

Who what where when why? Visualize it. Dream about it. Maybe then it’ll really happen.

It’s like The Secret meets smut.

Winner will be chosen by the Random Number Generator, so you won’t be judged on how you answer. You must be willing to send me your address so I can mail you the DVD!

Milk: In the Footsteps of Gandhi and King

After You Cannot Live on Hope Alone, the folks at Causecast.org have made a second short film about Harvey Milk.

The life of late San Francisco Supervisor Harvey Milk in the context of Gandhi and Martin Luther King. This animated documentary charts a time-line of the life of the first openly gay man elected to public office in between events in other civil rights struggles. Produced by Causecast for Focus Features, the piece celebrates the release of the film MILK, in theaters November 26.

I haven’t seen Milk yet – or read many reviews, because I’m waiting to see it for myself first. Hopefully I’ll go this week.

Have you seen it? What’d you think, what were your reactions?

Define: Courtly

Back in September, I asked for a word for someone who accepts chivalry. We had a lively discussion in the comments about what that person would be called.

It’s a very specific skill, really. Not everybody knows how to move when someone else is pulling out your chair, slipping your jacket onto your shoulders, how to navigate a door being opened for you, how to wait until the car door is unlocked. It takes a lot of consciousness about what is happening around you, and between you and the chivalrous person.

Many folks liked “gracious” as a word to describe those who receive chivalry, but I feel like it’s not specific enough. It has another definition and commonplace usage in our culture, so the word wouldn’t stand out as being used with this intentional meaning in conversation.

Which is why I really like the word “courtly.” (Thanks to Femme Gender for suggesting it!)

Court·ly: adjective.
Receiving chivalry and politeness with graceous skill.
Example: “That sub boy I went out with last night was really courtly, it was fun to have the foreplay start with chivalry.”

Court·li·er: noun.
A person who receives chivalry with politeness with graceous skill.
Example: “When the courtlier rises from the table, it is customary for the chivalrer to also rise.”

Here’s why I like this word:

  1. Courtly is uncommon in daily speech, so it stands out. If used in conversation with someone who isn’t familiar with it as a term for receiving chivalry, it will be different enough for that person to be able to ask, “what do you mean, ‘courtly’?”
  2.  It has an archaic quality, yes; it reminds us of the royal courts (and reminds me specifically of the historical stories of British knights and kings and queens). But I like that, especially because many people see chivalry as archaic as well, so they kind of match. Plus, I think there is some reclamation of these terms that has to be done and explained in order to use them consciously.
  3. Definitions of the term “courtly” relate mostly to manners, elegance, refinement, and politeness, which isn’t specifically what I mean, but it’s definitely related. Much of chivalry is about manners and awareness, and I think being courtly is too.
  4. It also relates to the term “courtship,” that dance that we do when we’re interested in another person, courting each other into a relationship. I like the connection of chivalry and courtliness to courting and courtship.

This also pulls a little on the idea of chivalry as consensual – I think it’s important to have enough awareness over chivalrous acts that you stop opening doors, holding umbrellas, rising when the courtlier stands at a table, if the person in question does not like to be treated that way.

“Hey, I’m not courtly,” s/he can say. “I don’t like being treated that way. No offense, but knock it off.”

Having a word for the position of accepting it, aside from the acknowledgement that accepting chivalry is a skill that, for most of us, must be studied, acknowledges that some folks may prefer not to be in that position, may prefer not to be courtly.

Excellent Queer/Lesbian Films

Hey Janet – thanks to the Random Number Generator, you are the winner of the copy of She Likes Girls 3 from Wolfe Video!

Everybody else, She Likes Girls 3 comes out on December 2nd – preorder your own copy, it’s going to be great.

Janet writes at Mid-life Clarity. Congrats! I’ll be in touch with you via email.

In this completely informal poll that wasn’t even really a poll, here are some of the queer films that you all answered when I asked what is your favorite lesbian/queer film of all time?

Top favorites:

Incredibly True Adventures of Two Girls in Love (7)
But I’m a Cheerleader (6)
If These Walls Could Talk 2 (5)
By Hook or By Crook (4)
Better Than Chocolate (3)
Bound (3)
Fried Green Tomatoes (3)
Imagine Me & You (2)
High Art (2)

One mention each:

All Over Me
Priscilla, Queen of the Desert
Itty Bitty Titty Committee
Little Darlings
D.E.B.S.
Paris is Burning
Tipping the Velvet
Boys Don’t Cry
The Alley Cats (by Radley Metzger – “1960s lesbian sexploitation at its finest”)
Derek Jarman’s “The Garden”
Puccini For Beginners
Show Me Love (aka Fucking Amal)
Saving Face
Fire
The Gay Bed and Breakfast Terror
Go Fish
Antonia’s Line
Aimee & Jaguar
Kissing Jessica Stein

Films that weren’t mentioned (but probably should’ve been):

Desert Hearts
Chutney Popcorn
When Night is Falling

Perhaps you know some young gay folks who might just love to have their little queer worlds rocked the way ours were when we first saw some of these films, when we first saw ourselves reflected on screen, given that it’s the holidays and all.

And speaking of the holidays – want to be a Gay Santa for Sylvia’s Place, homeless queer youth services?

—please forward widely–

Expand Your Shopping List This Christmas – Be a Gay Santa MCCNY/Homeless Youth Services is seeking volunteers for our “Gay Santa” program. Gay Santas respond to letters written by the LGBT youth in our program requesting gifts. Gifts are mailed or dropped off at the shelter so that each young person has a gift to open Christmas morning. Interested? Contact: [email protected]

Butch women celebrating their Inner Princesses

Inner Princess, three butch women celebrating their inner princesses, is playing a show on December 11 at Sugarland in Brooklyn with Bitch and some other folks. myspace.com/innerprincess or innerprincessmusic.com for clips, photos, and more information.

Inner Princess
Thursday, December 11
8:00 at Sugarland
221 N. 9th St., Brooklyn, New York 11211
Cost: sliding scale

Photos borrowed from innerprincessmusic.com. Thanks to M for sending on the concert information!

Shared Items – December 5, 2008

Win a copy of ‘She Likes Girls 3’

Want to win a fabulous collection of lesbian short films, thanks to Wolfe Video?

Yeah, I thought you did. Who doesn’t like free stuff? Especially when it’s funny, sad, romantic, and dramatic lesbian short films. Aw yeah.

Tell ’em what they’re gonna win, Sin …

She Likes Girls 3

The girls who like the girls are back in this jam-packed installment of the most popular lesbian shorts DVD series of all time. Enjoy the eye-candy and prepare to be entertained by these funny, sad, romantic, dramatic lesbian short movies from today’s top talents including: Guinevere Turner (Go Fish, The L Word), Julie Goldman (Big Gay Sketch Show), Cassandra Nicolaou (Interviews with My Next Girlfriend, Show Me), Roberta Munroe (Dani and Alice), and others.

Available on DVD at fine retailers everywhere on December 2nd. Ask for it by name – or buy your copy right now from WolfeVideo.com!

So what do you have to do to win? Leave a comment in this post and tell me: what is your favorite lesbian/queer film of all time?

If you want to say something about why it’s your favorite, too, go for it. I’m sure there are a lot I’ve missed out on – I only recently saw Puccini For Beginners, for example (which, though I was skeptical, I quite enjoyed).

The winner will be picked on Monday morning, December 8th.

Review: Liv vibrator

As of 2/8/16 This product is no longer available at Babeland

I’m not a vibrator connoisseur, I’ll just go ahead and disclose that right now. I couldn’t really tell you just by turning on a vibrator if it is more or less strong than another one from memory, I find it challenging to give them a number based on how strong their buzzing is. It’s even hard when two of them are right next to each other – unless one is the Hitachi Magic Wand, pretty much, which is of course the Grandmother of all vibrators.

And I do like my Hitachi, I do. It is a fairly standard go-to for quick-and-easy jerk off sessions. My nightcap, if you will.

But …

When my roommate is home, the Hitachi has quite the vroom-vroom-vroom engine that is really not so subtle. Especially at three in the morning when my whole building is quiet.

So I’ve been vaguely searching for a decent vibrator which would be very quiet, but strong enough still to get me off fairly quickly and easily.

I reviewed the Laya Spot vibrator a while back, and that’s been a pretty good one on this quiet-but-powerful scale, but now that the Liv vibrator by Lelo has come along, I haven’t picked up the Laya Spot once.

Liv is smooth. Sleek. It doesn’t hurt that it’s black, and silicone, but the silicone doesn’t really separate from the plastic/electric pieces, so aside from just soap and water I don’t think there’s a way to boil it in order to sterilize it.

It’s got three speeds, and a couple different variations of sensations too, including a short-quick-bursts and longer, rolling pulses. It is not too strong, or too big either, but if you like something easy that can be inserted and that buzzes quite nicely, this may just be perfect for you.

The battery for Liv is rechargeable, which in theory is really great but in practice has proven to be a little bit of a pain in the ass, as it seems to lose its charge fairly easily (or maybe I just get off a whole lot more than I realize?) and the last few times I’ve grabbed for it, it has been dead. It’s dead now, actually, and will take a full two to four hours to recharge, and because I want to finish and get this review up immediately (while I am feeling inspired to do so), I’m not going to describe the pulsing as accurately as I would if the vibrator was pulsing away in my, uh, hand, right now.

So that’s a little annoying. It’s great, though, that there will be no awful AA batteries accidentally leaking battery fluid inside my vibrator – which I have had happen.

The price tag on this little bad boy is kinda high, $109, but it is such a high-quality toy. It’s no silver bullet (which was my go-to vibrator for years, and I would go through one every six months or so. Those suckers just don’t last). I haven’t had it for all that long, but it feels like the kind of technology that is built to last, not to be replaced.

The elegance is particularly lovely. It comes in a very nice box with a little silk bag in which it gets nicely stored – and hey, presentation and packaging counts for something. All the more bonus that it delivers so nicely.

Thanks, Babeland.

My Father’s Son

The GoatWhen I saw him in September we camped in his family’s cabin. My grandfather built it with his own two hands and gave it to his children; now his own two legs, the prosthetics he got after both were amputated below the knee from diabetes, are the legs of the cabin’s kitchen table.

My two younger sisters and I slept in the cabin’s only room on pillows and dusty weathered couches as Dad woke and stoked the fire. Mornings at the lake are chilly, even at the peak of heat in August when the summer has been baking the water to its depths and swimming is the best. I watched him add kindling and logs and sometimes dozed off. He spread another blanket over me. When I woke I saw a forlorn gaze in his eyes I’ve never seen. What was he thinking? Was he wondering how his oldest daughter evolved into this boy? This big-city dapper masculinity that is too faggy to fit in with him and his brothers and all my older boy cousins as they discuss elaborately the latest football game, the way they fixed their trailers and trucks, what they caught when out fishing, how to clean the geoduck, how to make a perfect sausage-and-egg breakfast for ten, how to put on a wedding, how to give away the bride.

Dad, are you wondering how I got here? How I went from that tree-climbing skinned-knee ragamuffin girl to this prettyboy? From that girl who worked through her teens in your sports card shop, flirting with the boys as my girlfriends came in to seek sanctuary from the juvenile delinquent park hangout across the street when their feelings were hurt, when someone dumped them (again), when they got caught smoking, when they were being sent tomorrow to rehab or summer camp or anorexia camp or gay camp or bible camp.

I never was your tomboy daughter, never got in fights with the boys in the neighborhood, never stood up to the bullies of my younger sisters. I was the artistic one, moody, on my own. Studying my peers as we metamorphosed into our adult bodies.

We used to go on drives sometimes. After dinner restless, this was when neither of us wanted to be home, neither could stomach my mother’s depression. We’d go on drives and this was when you first told me, “I want to open up a store, right there maybe,” pointing at the empty corner lot that used to be a restaurant bar, at the mall on the wharf. “But my dream space,” he whispered, leaning in, “is right by Foodland.”

That was back when we shared our dreams with each other.

It was on one of those drives, too, where he saw a little silver Saab for sale and said, “that’s the kind of car I want to buy you.” I was fourteen and wouldn’t have a license for nearly ten more years. I couldn’t see myself as a driver, just as I couldn’t see myself as a grown woman, a wife, a mother, a panic that plagued my teens.

Recently on a road trip I saw a blue 1970s GTO and remembered some photos from my mom’s college album. “Hard top, 1964,” my dad emailed back. “Midnight blue, the original muscle car. I got it up to 100 easy on the road out to the cabin. I called the car my “Goat.””

Once, I told a lover that I was considering taking T. She had a string of baby trannys, she knew how to break us in over her knee. “You won’t turn into Cary Grant,” she warned me, and stopped at a photo of my father in the hallway. “You’ll turn into him. Look. Is that what you’re thinking you’ll be?”

I didn’t grow up in my father’s footsteps, but suddenly I’ve found myself standing in his shoes.

And now, fifteen years later, he moved his store right next to Foodland, the only grocery store downtown. A prime spot for retail. He has all but retired from the environmental engineering business upon which our family was built and now sorts sports cards, comics, coins from his father’s collection, from when the store opens at noon – so he can sleep in – to six pm, every day except Monday. “I’ve worked enough Mondays for a lifetime,” I’ve heard him say.

Now, fifteen years later, I don’t drive much; I take the subway and taxis but I still miss the stick shift in my hand and the dance of the pedals, just like you taught me. Now fifteen years later I can imagine myself as my father’s grown daughter, this “man” I’ve become, your son.

Three daughters and your wife, our mother, all in one house for nearly half of your life. Did you ever wish you had a son, Dad?

I wonder what he’s thinking, as this fire, his fire, warms our morning. He smiles at me with a look I’ve never seen.

“I sleep just like that,” he says. “With my arm over my eyes. You look just like me.”

Define: Identity Alignment Assumptions

An identity alignment assumption is the assumption that one’s identity categories align with what is either a stereotype or a dominant compulsory cultural norm.

In modern western cultures, for example, it is assumed that men are aggressors and women are passive, that men are in charge and women give in. This is of course not true in every instance, but it has become a prevalent cultural norm, and – in some circles more than others – socially policed to assure that those alignments will be adhered to.

This particular cultural norm translates into a common identity alignment assumption in queer communities to presume that a femme is a bottom and a butch is a top.

It’s also a common identity alignment assumption that lesbians are feminists, that queers are democrats or liberals, that sex bloggers are slutty … ah, the list goes on & on.

Any particular identity alignment assumptions that have been especially challenging for you in your life? Any that you commonly assume, which still surprise you when they end up not being true? Share in the comments.

signed sexblogger calendars

If you’d like your sex blogger calendar signed by me, that can be arranged. Email nycsexbloggerscal(at)gmail.com with your order information and tell them you’d like one with my signature on it.

I’ll make sure to sign with the infamous silver pen.

Buy them through Dacia’s site:

Even if you aren’t all that into the idea of a putting up a sex blogger calendar in your house or at your work, please just suck it up and buy one anyway. Show your support not only for this project (which was a huge labor of love, thank you Njoy, thank you Tess) but also support for Sex Work Awareness.

This is one of those moments where you can keep this sexblogging community going and strong. I know there’s a lot of you who lurk and read our blogs from a distance, and this is your chance to give back.

If my empassioned plea is not enough for you, consider this: if you’d like to make this top very, very happy, then give in and submit to my desires here and buy a goddamn calendar. Consider it a sexual order.