The 30-year-old Queer

I feel like I’m in a weird, often conflicting, headspace about my gender and sexuality lately. On one hand, this is the first time that I have ever fully embraced myself as being queer as fuck and I am doing so during what is undoubtedly my sexual prime. So, yay!

On the other hand, I’m a chubby, hairy, 30-year-old, hypersexual, non-binary queer who is undoubtedly NOT in their physical health prime and who is still uncertain of how “sexy” looks or feels as an enby. So… yay?

Of course, I’m fortunate to have found a partner who not only accepts that I am queer and trans but who is queer and trans themselves AND whom I share a loving, non-monogamous relationship with. That’s something that some may never experience, or may only experience after a stream of abusive, invalidating connections in which they are pressured to continue hiding their authentic selves. This can last for decades, with people not coming out until they are in their 50s, 60s, 70s, or even older.

Yet I often find myself in spaces dominated by young queer and trans people in their early twenties and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that there is a part of me that envies them for having the opportunity to explore themselves while they are that young.

I feel like I’ve missed my youth. Almost entirely.

While growing up, I watched as peers around me stumbled awkwardly about with oftentimes violently cisnormative and heteronormative social practices. Anything “gay” was bad. Anything femme was “gay”.

Meanwhile, I worked overtime to suppress my feelings, to repress my queerness, to force myself to be the boy that I was expected to be. I spent more time talking down to myself, berating myself for not being like the “other guys” than I ever did growing into myself naturally. I isolated, I lied, I drank, I self-harmed, and pushed so many away in vicious, self-destructive cycles.

Overall, my memories of youth are mostly a haze. A mix of seemingly disconnected moments of feeling content, long blank spaces, and deep regrets.

So, here I am at 30 often experiencing stark emotional extremes. I am both learning to love and accept myself, and struggling to let go of the hatred I subjected myself to for so long.

I am both excited about the incredible sex that I’m having with my partner and our lovers, and lamenting lost time being sexual with my youthful body.

I am both embracing my sexual needs, desires, kinks, and fantasies… and still struggling to unpack deep seeded internalized homophobia, transphobia, queerphobia, and sexual shame.

I am both completely sure of my queerness, and completely incapable of adequately defining or understanding it in any way that makes sense.

But you know what? That’s valid.

I’m 30, flirty, and crying.

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I’m That Angry Queer

So, it dawned on me recently that I think I’ve been, like, subconsciously going back into the closet…

Over the past two months I have been dressing less and less femme, I’ve been very sporadically wearing bras (when I had previously been wearing them every day), I’m not shaving very often (going weeks with stubble), my blogging frequency has slipped, and my self-confidence has been at the lowest it has been in… fuck, a while.

When I pick out my own clothes recently I tend to grab basic t-shirts and sweats or shorts. Then when people still inevitably stare at me I almost always turn to my partner Falon and say things like “why are they staring? I’m not even wearing anything femme…” or “I don’t even look that queer today, do I?” and my spoons quickly deplete. Still, dressing in pretty andro clothes, not shaving, and not wearing a bra, has made walking around town MUCH easier. I’ve been blending in a bit again.

And you know what? The street harassment HAS been way, way less over the last few months too. I haven’t had anything thrown at me from a car in a while, no transphobic/homophobic slurs yelled at me from some dudes in their pick-up truck, nobody following me and recording me on their phone (like with the Walmart or Mac’s Convenience incidents), nobody cornering me outside and screaming at me to get out of town (like at my bank last summer), just not a lot of harassment at all really.

Then two days ago, while standing in the kitchen doing some dishes, Falon could tell that I was really low on energy so said that they would finish doing them for now. “Go sit down, it’s okay,” they said. “You don’t have the spoons right now, but I do, so I can finish up what’s left.”

So, off I went to dry off my hands and without any forewarning I just fucking broke down crying. Hard.

Like, I’m talking full on hyperventilating, body shaking crying for nearly half-an-hour. And ever since then all I can think about is how absolutely, completely shitty that I’ve been to myself for the last 59 days.

This is the first selfie that I’ve shared on my Facebook page with friends and peers, since March 30th.


Between then and now I have spent the vast majority of my energy berating myself, bullying myself, invalidating myself, tone policing myself, gaslighting myself. I have let every single shitty, transphobic thing I’ve read on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, news articles, etc. over the past few years get under my skin and burrow deep.

All the YouTube videos with casual transphobic and transmisogynistic jokes thrown in for a laugh at our expense. The movies making fun of us, the public figures profiting off of our abuse and oppression, the Milo Y’s of the world calling us a cancer on society and advocating for us to be socially, politically, and financially quelled. The posts after posts after posts of people, both cis and trans, demeaning and degrading non-binary folk as liars, fakers, tricksters, and general nuisances to all. The cruelty of our families degrading and disowning us. The centering of capitalism, pinkwashing, tone policing, respectability politics, ally theater, and conformity by the organizations that purport to be “for us”.

It was all in there bubbling under the surface and until today I didn’t realize how much it had just been rotting and festering away inside me… making me feel sick, and sad, and worthless, and scared.

I deserve better, Falon deserves better, and my queer and trans readers, followers, and friends deserve better too.

Our anger, our frustration at the constant transphobia that we are forced to endure every single fucking day, those are valid emotions. Marginalized people are constantly  shut down and told by others for decades to be quiet, to be nice, to calm down, to not yell, to be patient, to educate people.

Yet over and over and over and over again people say and do transphobic things. Often the same people. Over and over again TV shows, YouTube vids, movies, news broadcasters, reporters, talk show hosts, etc. say and do transphobic things. Over and over again politicians, religious leaders, public figures, celebrities, teachers, professors, say and do transphobic things. Over and over again “allies” say and do transphobic things, then get angry when you bring it up.

And we’re expected to just not burden those around us with any of it. We’re expected to take all the forms of harassment from them every single day and to deal with it ourselves, in quiet. Stop complaining, it’s not so bad, say those who just don’t fucking want to hear it.

We’re expected to not be upset by any of it. To stop being angry, to stop being so sensitive, to not take things personally, to not rock the boat, to “pick our battles” (but not actually fight them TOO loudly), and to respect and hear out the abuses from others as “opinions”. Further, we’re expected to then generally listen to our abusers and softly, calmly, patiently, and politely teach them. Don’t alienate your allies. Don’t alienate ignorant politicians. Don’t alienate the abusive police system. Be nice and be quiet.

So for the last few months I’ve internalized thing after thing after thing.

I’ve subconsciously punished myself for my anger. I’ve isolated. I’ve stopped posting publicly about most things. I’ve stopped openly sharing my self-care and empowerment selfies. My “friends” list has shrunk exponentially with each passing month. I’ve worked quite subversively to quell my emotions and NOT be that angry queer that everybody berates as an “oversensitive”, “triggered”, an “SJW”.

But you know what, I’m queer and I’m angry.

Don’t like it? Go fuck yourself. I’m bouncing back and I’mma be LOUD.

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Why I Post My Nudes Online

[CW: girl cock and NSFW images]

One of the most frequently asked questions I get about this site is “why do you post your nudes?” The snarky side of me kind of wants to give them a deadpan look and just say “You’re welcome”, however, there are actual reasons for why my posts tend to be sexually explicit and include nudes of myself engaging in the acts described (ie; the “Mx Nillin Fucks” series, the post on Frenulum Stimulation, etc.)

So, for those curious about why this sex blog is 18+ only and why I’m putting myself out there in various states of nakedness, here are some of the reasons:

 

This blog is literally self-love and self care for me.

I spent the vast majority of my formative years genuinely disgusted with myself physically and emotionally. I had discovered masturbation at a pretty young age. I had also been making out with and masturbating with another boy, all while crossdressing in secret on occasion. But deep seeded, internalized transphobia and queerphobia led to me stifling all that as best as I could.

I was the hardest on myself after crossdressing sessions when I would become very angry with myself. I’d call myself every name and the book and tell myself that I would never, ever, ever do that again. It was weird and wrong and if I wanted to be happy I had to be normal (as in not wearing “girls” clothes and kissing boys). Of course, looking back on it I see how popular culture, film, TV, news media, and a lot of mainstream pornography reaffirmed and perpetuated those ignorant beliefs. Hell, even more insidious were my school peers, teachers/educators, mentors, community leaders, and all the other adults around me who saw queer and trans people as sub-human.

You’d think that today would be a lot better in regards to all of this, but it’s not really. Anti-trans sentiment is still extremely high. Film, television, media, comedians, etc. still treat gender diverse people like jokes. Community leaders, religious leaders, elected officials/politicians, major organizations, and celebrities still actively advocate anti-trans and anti-queer policies, laws, and violence. And sometimes the comments section of most every news story, blog, and social media posts are often overflowing with transphobic and homophobic abuse from countless people with “opinions”.

This site is my reprieve from all of that.

On these pages I work to challenge those socially ingrained anti-trans, sexually shaming messages permeating around me by creating a space that is explicitly pro-trans, pro-queerness, pro-kink, pleasure, and sexuality. Embracing, exploring, speaking about, and sharing my body on this blog has greatly improved my mental, emotional, and physical health.

It’s reclamation, really. Reclamation of my body, my gender, my sexuality, my fantasies, my kinks and fetishes, and my desires.

 

Positive, Sexual Portrayals of Queer and Trans Bodies Matter.

Images of non-binary, genderqueer, and non-conforming people, especially those with a penis, engaging in sexual activity that doesn’t focus on degradation play are very hard to come by. The vast majority of any posts about sexuality and/or gender, whether NSFW or not, tend to almost exclusively utilize imagery that is heavily cisnormative or, when trans representation does exist, it almost always values images of cis-passing models with conventionally binary gender expressions.

Other sources can be objectifying, fetishizing, or outright degrading, such as the countless adult entertainment sites and blogs that market and tag all of their content with transphobic slurs.

Imagery of a chubby, hairy, non-binary, queer person with a girl cock exploring their sexuality in affirming ways? Yeah, no, that representation ain’t easy to find anywhere. And it won’t be easy to find anywhere for anybody until more start creating and sharing it. So, here I am… creating and sharing it.

Had I seen bodies like my own in a positive light at ANY point in my life prior to now, whether during my formative years or throughout my twenties, I feel that I would have spent far less time scared, alone, depressed, angry, and self-destructive while hiding in the closet. I would have had far more incentive and validation to celebrate myself and my body.

 

To Fuck with People’s Expectations.

Because, it genuinely makes me giddy to think that somebody has read one of my pieces and seen my pictures and it just completely and utterly shattered their entire binarist belief system about gender and sexuality.

Boom! Fuck your cisnormative expectations! Behold my girl cock and hairy lady balls. You’re welcome.

 

Also, just because I want to.

Yep. Simple as that. I genuinely just want to. Part of the enjoyment of this for me is engaging in some ethical exhibitionism through my blogging [with content warnings explicitly at the beginning of posts with sexually explicit material]. Honestly, I find the thought of friends, peers, and strangers alike looking at my nudes to be super exciting.

And hey, if the allure of nudes draw in curious, or horny, readers and they end up learning something about themselves or about other forms of sexuality, then boners! I mean, bonus!

 

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