Cock.

Man I love strapping on a cock. It's not that I am or want to be a guy, just that it's nice to have the option from time to time. There's something fundamentally pleasing and satisfying, even comforting, about having a nice chunky piece of sexual equipment filling up my pants.

(I've always felt like this comic describes a fun way to be.)

It's not about dominance either, by the way. Having a cock does not make you automatically the top, as quite a few boys I know could tell you. I have had my cock ridden by a guy who was holding me down.

And I love having a boyfriend who is nearly as enthused as I am about the whole subject. He has a little hesitancy about the physical implications of playing with my cock, which is understandable, but not about the "oh no, if I enjoy having sex with a girl, but it's the wrong kind of sex, then that's like gay sex, which might make me gay, which would be terrible."

Then again, I'm amazed at the things Rowdy actually enjoys that in other relationships I would hope to "get away with" at best. Sexual perversion, of course, but also my enduring lack of competence or enthusiasm in the realm of femininity. Finding out that he actually thinks I look good with no makeup in cargo pants, rather than just putting up with it when I'm too "lazy" to get into drag proper feminine attire, is such a "you can have chocolate every day" feeling. Also, farting: not a dealbreaker. (Don't laugh; "girls don't fart" is a fucking issue. God knows how many belly cramps we've suffered holding it in over the years.)

Last night Rowdy and I were watching porn and cuddling and he was alternating between stroking my cock and playing with my pussy, and all I could think was, shit, what the hell deodorant should I be wearing?