I’m Not a Stud-I’m Just Stud Curious

I had way too much fun as a stud last night.

First we had to go the costume shop. As I helped my friend with Tina with some last-minute costuming, I noticed the costume girl smiling at me a little flirtatious, giving me that “extra” smile. It’s hard to know when a woman is smiling at me if she’s just being friendly or if she likes me, usually I don’t know if she can tell I’d even be interested. In this case it was such a knowing, friendly look that I knew she knew I was into girls…then I realized how I looked.

I realized that, dressed as I was, anyone could look at me and just know that I’m gay. And what a liberating feeling that was.


I rolled into the club with my girl Tina–I had my fitted cap cocked to the side and my street strut on. The first place I hit was the men’s room (you can do that on a Lesbian night.) As I washed my hands the boi next to me fiddled with her hat.

“I can’t wear ball caps.” She complained. Her green cap was on backwards over her long blond hair. She had that clean-cut college boi look going on.

“You’re wearing one now.” I observed.

“Yeah, but you don’t understand…I don’t usually dress like this.”

“You look good.” I said. “What do you think of mine?”

“Well yeah, you look good!” She replied with a tinge of exasperation, “But I can tell you wear a cap all the time!”

“Actually I don’t.” I said, smirking slightly. “I’m a femme.”

“Really?” She looked me over skeptically.

“Yeah. This is my costume. I call it my ex’s worst nightmare. Actually–she’s probably here tonight–well, she wasn’t really my girlfriend.” I amend hastily as Carlotta, a woman I know steps out of one of the stalls. The pseudo boi I’m talking to gets distracted talking to her and I slip out to join my friend by the bar.

Now the thing about Carlotta is that shortly after I started talking to Mena (the stud I used to have a thing with) she was talking about a Spanish girl she was considering, but decided against fucking because she was bi and too boyish. (Or maybe she did sleep with her, would she tell me?) Every time we went out to the club Carlotta was constantly either trying to dance with Mena, or dancing seductively with a slender white femme in front of her. Me she either glared at or favored with sickly sweet smiles. Finally I introduced myself to her, and she said she was a “very close friend” of Mena’s. Even after it ended with Mena, I always dreaded seeing Carlotta at the club.

So imagine my feelings as Carlotta stood next to me at the bar ordering a drink–and my shock as she favored me with a genuine and flirtatious smile.

“So how are you doing tonight Carlotta?” I asked her gamely.

“Oh my god!” She replied. “How do you know my name?” She really didn’t recognize me as a stud! I guess the clothes really do make the man.


Tina and I headed to our usual corner at the edge of the dance floor. As we walked my ex caught my eye where she sucked the light out of the opposite corner: a small thick dark stud dressed in green-embroidered black. Smoke swathed the room. Multi-colored lights danced off women all colors, shapes and sizes in a riot of costumes. Strong thick studs strode the room in hard scary costumes. Curvaceous femmes swayed in slinky costumes that revealed just too much booty.

Tina and I danced. It was strange dancing in my stud clothes: the baggy pants constricted my movement, while at the same time I felt I had to be harder, more aggressive in my movement. I definitely felt that dressed this way I could act out parts of myself that I normally repress or try to conceal.

I also wasn’t entirely focused on dancing because my attention kept being pulled like a star ship to a black hole towards Mena.

After we danced for a while I wandered the floor, dancing either by myself or with the women there. At one point Carlotta and I had a very sexy go on the floor. She obviously liked me as a stud, and I liked her as a friendly person.

Finally I wound up near Mena. After dancing not far from her for a while, somehow we ended up face to face.

“I miss my friend.” She told me. We talked a bit, and danced. She laughed in a friendly way at my costume, giving me a dap like a man.

I agreed to drive her home and Tina and her seemed to hit it off. Walking home we talked dirty and checked out all the scandalously dressed women roaming the night.


I woke up the next morning with a deep feeling of peace.


  1. […] a Lesbian, but a bona fide Dyke, like any moment I might don a polo shirt and stud stagger (okay I could, but he doesn’t need to know […]

  2. […] given me an outlet for the butch side that I try so hard to hide. When I told her about my plan to dress like a stud for Halloween, she looked at me funny, and asked how that was different from how I normally dressed. I looked down […]

  3. […] I shimmied into a black cocktail dress, secured my reddish-brown curly wig, and topped it off with a red feather boa, devil horns and a tail. That’s my idea of a costume–sexy and cheap! (Last year I went as a stud.) […]

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