Wednesday Night Part 2: Ask and Ye Shall Recieve

Big booy in jeans

My Boo's is Better

Start the night here.

The rest of the night was fun: a small crowd gathered on the dance floor, and it was nice that everyone on the floor had some skills.

I walked Noma to her car–and our intense kisses soon lead to more intensity in the back seat As our lips entwined and our hands roamed, I remembered all-over-again how much I love her ass–I mean, I have a nice ass for a white girl, but she has a badonkadonk! A stud with a big ass and nice titts? A nice smile and great personality–do you wonder why I’m falling for her? (Although I usually think of it in the opposite order when I’m not gripping said ass.)

I never dated anyone with a nice ass before, and I always figured that regardless of how it looked, all asses pretty much feel nice in the dark. I was so wrong! Her ass feels just as amazing as it looks!

*     *     *

During a lull in our intense, frustrated grinding I finally worked up the courage to ask her if she’d ever tried a strap.

“You like to strap?” She did a little double-take and gave me a huger-than usual smile.
“Well,” I demured, “I’ve only done it once…”
“I’ve done it three or four–a bunch of times.”
“Do you have one?”
“Well yeah…I am the boi…I have a few…”
“Why didn’t you say?” I asked.
“Well, not everyone likes it…but we can–the next time you come to my house…” her face lit up. “Are you free tomorrow?” she asked. After not expressing any particular desire to see me till Sunday, if then, suddenly she wanted to see me tomorrow!

“We’ll both still have our periods tomorrow.” I reminded her.
“Oh yeah.” Her face fell, before lighting up again”Next weekend then!”

I can’t wait for next weekend! My first time in P-Town for Women of Color Weekend, and taking things to the next level with my sexy soft stud!

Just Call Me Goldilocks

So a couple of years ago I came out of a ten year pussy-fast (punctuated by random kissings by women in front of their boyfriends) to pull a beautiful femme out of the closet. Unfortunately, things went downhill from there as we argued about everything from the proper procedure for renting a movie, to whether I’m a reverse Oreo, to if she had an ass or not. (For the record, I am, she doesn’t)

Worse than that, she turned out to be a pillow princess and stalker ex-girlfriend. All take, not enough give.
I then started a casual “arrangement” with a hardcore stud who never stripped down past her boxers. She was only interested in serving. While I preferred that to blue balls, it wasn’t truly satisfying. Plus I never was anything but nice to her, and she could be pretty mean.

I dated a few other women, but there was always something missing.

So what’s my point?

I think I’ve met someone who’s just right! I don’t know how she’d feel about me writing about her, so I’m not going to say too much, but we’ve had four “dates” now, text every day, and I really, really like her!

Okay, I’ll give you a bit more.

Our first date was on a Tuesday, and involved almost constant smiles–and she paid for dinner! We kissed all the way to the car.

Although were planning on seeing each other in the next week, we couldn’t wait, and met that Thursday night at a certain Lesbian night.

I got there before her, and was, quite frankly, bored. I’ve been to this Dyke night before, and find it’s embodiment of every stereotype of a white Lesbian bar–it’s painful in the extreme. There was not a single attractive woman in there, and if I hadn’t been “importing” my own cutie, I would have left when an earnest femme started warbling out a Mellisa Etheridge song on karaoke (just for the record, I adore Melissa, I mean,  she came out at the same time I did. It’s just the principal of the thing.).

When my date got there, she had a really different perspective: “This is a really mixed crowd” she said.
“How so you mean?” I asked. All I could see was a sea of plaid, white tee-shirts and greasy hair.
“Well,” she said “there’s an equal amount of butches and femmes, and–”  she indicated a high yellow woman walking in with her light-bright friend, “there’s women of color.”

“Well a few more showed up” I allowed grudgingly.

We danced and people watched, and after a while she asked if I wanted to “take a walk.”

It turned out the walk was a trip to her car. The only thing I have to say about what came next are three words: Hot. Car. Sex.

Okay, okay! I’ll give you a little more…

As we kissed in the back seat and she did a remarkably good job of extracting me from  my bra, I found myself in a quandary that other femmes who date studs or butches can relate to. what should I do with my hands? I know some studs don’t like to be touched on the titts, crotch, or even anywhere at all.
“So,” I finally verbalized, “is there anything you don’t like?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Like, places you don’t like to be touched?”
“Um, no…”
“So you’re versatile?”
“Yeah, versatile,” she favored me with her blindingly sexy smile, “I like that!”

She’s just the right amount of stud to my femme, receptive to my aggressive. Plus she’s smart, thoughtful, on an actual career path…actually she seems to match up pretty well with my wish list!

Help I’m catching feelings!

Dream Woman

So, tonight I’m doing one of those speed dating things, and that got me thinking…what am I really looking for? My friend suggested that I write a list of what I am looking for in a partner. So here it is, and I’m sharing it with you:


  • She must be physically attractive to and sexually compatible with me. Lets’ get this one out of the way first off! No, sex is not the most important thing in a relationship, but trying to build one without it–unless it’s a pure friendship–is like building your house on sand. (Believe me, I’ve tried!)
  • She should have a career, not just a job, or be actively trying to achieve one. (No more broke bitches lol)
  • She should have a strong foundation of morals and ethics. (Not a playa or a liar)
  • She should like kids–not in a “ooh they’re so cute, I want some of my own  and I spoil them rotten” kind of way, but in a, “cool, kids are family–now listen to your mother when she talks to you!” kind of way.
  • She should be a good communicator: does what she says she’s gonna do or let you know if she can’t in a reasonable time.
  • She needs to be logistically compatible–live within a half hour drive, have her own place or room with cool roommate, and be cool with mostly seeing me after 9/9:30 PM–when the kids are at least theoretically asleap. Also willing to let me take my time and get to know her before fully integrating into each other’s lives.
  • She needs to be forthright and honest, and believe in working out problems and issues between us.  (Because I know we’ll have some lol!)
  • She should have a sense of humor.
  • I believe that it’s important for both members of a couple to have other interests and strong friendships outside of the relationship, and she should feel the same way. (I recently realized that this is a deal-breaker for me.)
  • And finally, she needs to love me and be able to handle my quirks!


  • It would be wicked cool if she was good with power tools and working on cars and wanted to do projects with me.
  • I think creativity is super-attractive–but creative types can be a little flakey (ahem) so while it would be nice if she was creative, I’d almost be more pleased if she was more down to earth and less creative–as long as she supports my need to express creatively.
  • I’m interested in politics and what’s going on in the world–It would be nice if she was too.

Okay, I think that about covers it: a nice, professional, stable woman. Is that too much to ask for?

The End of Jen

This is the last I will write about Jen (please Goddess!). My New Years resolution is to stop thinking about old ex-girlfriends and start making new ones! (Just kidding…kinda…read on)

So after I put my clothes on, I was pretty mad and fighting tears, but I calmed down and we did talk. I expressed how hurt I was, both by her distance and then the whole using me for sex thing, and she told me how she thought I just wanted sex and tried to move too fast for her.

She says she’s conflicted about her sexuality, although I don’t understand why that’s an issue now if it wasn’t two years ago, or the whole time she was dating this other chick, or when she cheated on the other chick with me. She says it’s because now her mom knows. (Her Mom does NOT approve.)

She asked me not to totally cut her out of my life, which is what I’ve tried to do every other time we’ve tried and failed. I agreed, but told her I would not be seeing much of her.

The next day she texted me that she was thinking of me, she loved our conversation, etc…but I had been crying off and on all morning. I texted her back telling her I need some space. She tried to push it, but I remained firm. Eventually I stopped answering her and she stopped trying. (Her version of trying involved guilt-trip texts and calling from blocked numbers.)

It’s true I do care for her, maybe even love her. But it’s like she has two personalities: one is thoughtful and loving. The other is a trickster child who lashes out at me. She’s really hurt me before, but somehow last night just hurt deeper.

I think that a part of me did think I just wanted her for sex, but when she asked me for more, asked me to open myself up to her, I did.

It seems so unlikely that Ill find anyone while I’m raising my kids. I’ve been trying to be hard and pretend like all I want is to play around.  Tried to convince myself I can really wait until another 8-10 years until my kids are grown to find someone with whom I just fit, someone I can make a life with.

But if that was true I wouldn’t have been so ready to get back together with her or so devastated by her treatment of me.

Birthday Sex

I was talking to a friend at work about the new man in my life, and she pointed out something I should have noticed: the fact that there was zero excitement in my voice when I talked about him. That’s when I realized that, although he doesn’t know it yet, it’s over. Right now the only thing I want from him is my bra.

I was just thinking about this when I got a text from my ex girlfriend Jen. (I’ve written abut our off-and-on thing so much I finally made my own category for posts about her.)

For all the times I swore I would never mess with her again, it turns out she only had to text me two little words to pull me back to her like a puppet on a string. Those words being “birthday” and “sex” (her birthday, not mine).

So despite being completely exhausted from insomnia the night before, I went over to her house Wednesday night.

At first I thought she was playin with me again, as she spent the first 40 minutes I was there playing around on Facebook.

Then when I finally got something started with her she was very skittish. I felt like I had to keep asking: “is this okay?” At one time we used to flow together so well–but I guess it had been a while. Finally she reciprocated. Every touch of her hand on my skin made my whole body tingle. we spent a long time holding and caressing each other. I missed the feeling of her body up against mine. She’s one of the few lovers that I’ve had that is just perfect to cuddle with…

And OMG I new I liked eating pussy, but I lost my damn mind over hers! She never even touched my pussy, but  I came three times while eating hers!

I got too excited though…I definitely need more practice…she kept telling me with her body what rhythms to follow, but it was hard to follow when my passion made me want to lead. Still, she says she can’t stop thinking about me, so I must have done something right.

We’re back in the honeymoon stage…trying to be nice to each other. Experience says this won’t last long but I hope I’m wrong…

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.

No Such Thing as Trick Ankles

So I’m talking on the phone with my, ex, Jen…

Me: “I thought you and your girlfriend broke up?”

Jen: “We did, but she keeps texting and calling me. I have to change my number, she can be very persuasive.”

Me: “You can be very persuasive.”

Jen: “I don’t consider myself to have any powers of sexual persuasion.”

Me: “Are you kidding me? When I saw you for the first time after a year–your eyes just demanded sex. I didn’t have a chance.”

Jen: ***

Me: “I just kept thinking: Oooh but she has a girlfriend.”

Jen: “See that’s the problem with dating bisexuals. You think like a straight.”

Me: “What are you talking about?”

Jen: “When you get in the Lifestyle, it’s all about being in the moment.”


I desperately try to change the subject.

Me: “So I finally got this woman at work who hates me to laugh, and it only took falling on my ass. I stepped wrong getting paper out of the printer, and because I have trick ankles I fell hard on the floor. I turns out she also has–”

Jen: “Wait a minute, trick ankles?”

Me: “Yeah. If I step wrong my ankle bends sideways and I fall. It never hurts–most people who twisted their ankles like that would need a brace, ice….”

Jen: “Trick ankles?”

Me: “… It did hurt my ass though. It’s embarrassing as hell…you never saw me step wrong and fall on my ass for no apparent reason?”

Jen.  “No. There’s no such thing as trick ankles–That’s just something parents tell their kids.”

Me: “Like the Easter bunny?