Femme Daddy 4 Femme

Sugar, a pale, fat queer with freckles, black lipstick, and black eyeliner, reclines against the wooden headboard of a bed. Their hair is cyan and short, falling to their ears. They are wearing a black babydoll that is split down the middle and red underwear. They are gazing directly into the camera, head tilted to the left ever so slightly, and holding one tail of a black suede flogger in both hands in front of their face, biting down on the middle of the tail.If you’re looking for something sexy, have a sweet and true story snippet from my first sexual experience as a femme Daddy. (Which is pretty fucking great, y’all.)


[CW: Sexually explicit, DDLG, orgasm control.]

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“Oh, Daddy…”

She’s squirming beneath me, the pitch of her voice octaves higher than usual, her breathing ragged and her hips rotating, supple lips parted, lashes long and dark over her cheekbones, eyes rolled back beneath her eyelids. I press my hand harder into her cunt through her short shorts, applying the pressure to her vulva that I know she craves – firm, unerring rubbing, massaging the legs of her internal clitoris, sending warm satisfaction through her groin and tingles into the head of her clit as it continues to swell.

“You have to tell me when you want to cum, babygirl.”

I shift the layers of my skirt to leer over her, press the Die Cast against her clothed cunt, and lean into it, savoring the feeling of her body shuddering under mine. She immediately takes her mouth off the pillow and tries to muster the words. It’s cute, her incredible responsivity, the soft noises she makes, the way she begins to pant so easily when she’s swamped with lust. I drag the long nails of my other hand up the bare inside of her upper thigh. Eventually that sweet, small voice comes back out.

“Now, please, Daddy…”
“Okay kitten… bite the pillow then, Daddy’s going to make you cum.”

She stuffs the fabric into her mouth as I turn the Die Cast up, squeezing one of her breasts and rubbing the wand up and down her vulva. The Die Cast is already starting to numb my fingertips, holding it as close to the head as I am, but it’s worthwhile – I know it won’t be long before I get what I want from my girl. Her muscles are twitching and she begins to tremble beneath me, her quickening breath beginning to hitch in her throat. I bump the vibe up another notch.

“Oh, that’s a good girl… Cum for Daddy, babygirl.”

She lets go, squealing into the pillow, convulsing under me as I hold the head of the toy against her, watching that sweet expression on her beautiful face – her curls falling over one of her eyes and obscuring everything but the black, sharp tip of her flawless winged eyeliner. When her convulsions slow and she curls in on herself, I turn off the vibrator. We had five minutes to get that orgasm out, and I want us to be prompt about her departure so I can respect my roommates’ boundaries.

If I didn’t have to send her home, I’d keep the vibrator on against her cunt, hitch up my skirt, and ride it down into her until we were both exhausted and soaked. I’d part my outer lips and show her the slick, convulsing, pink parts of me, dripping after the languid and intensely hot making out, the feeling of her tits in my hands, the frustrated, whiny way she whimpered, “Daddy…” when I bit her earlobe. I’d let her stroke and probe, show her how I liked it, let her explore every curve and crevice I had.

And then, I’d give her my Sailor Moon pajama shirt to change into for bed and hold her afterward, my naked body against her, kissing the back of her neck and lacing my fingers through hers until we fell asleep together in a room reeking of incense, make-up, perfume, and sex.

Woodhull SFS17: Crowdfund Queer PoC and Trans Blogger Attendance!

I’m SUPER pumped about going to Woodhull’s Sexual Freedom Summit ’17 (a.k.a. SFS17)! Shevibe was kind enough to sponsor my registration and room costs, so I’m definitely attending and I can’t wait to see everyone there. This blog post isn’t about how much I’m freaking out about attending, though – it’s about getting other bloggers there too!

Image reads, "Help trans bloggers get to SFS 17! Woodhull is matching funds raised by Sugarcunt to bring trans bloggers to this year's summit! Check out woodhullfoundation.org for more details!" The image background appears to be notebook paper, and other than the text the image features Sugarcunt's logo ("CUNT" spelled out in rainbow sex toy silhouettes) and the Woodhull Foundation's logo.

I started a fundraiser in May to help bring transgender bloggers to Sexual Freedom Summit ’17! Two of my favorite bloggers, Insert Trans Here and Taylor J. Mace of Feisty Fox Films, are the intended beneficiaries. Newer bloggers tend to have a lot more difficulty securing sponsorships than more established members of the community, so I wanted to ensure that they would both be able to attend without having to find sponsors for the full cost (which can be tricky no matter how experienced you are). We’ve raised over 50% of our goal thanks to an AMAZING outpouring of community support, and now the Woodhull Foundation is matching up to $750 in donations! If we meet our goal in donations, Woodhull’s matching will make it possible for me to help other trans bloggers attend, so please donate and share widely. If you have already donated, thank you so much, from the bottom of our hearts.

Image is a green, square-patterned background with the Twitter profile photos of PinkLotusBud, TheNotice, and MakeupAndSin, which depict them in 2 photos and a drawing. The text reads, "Help bring bloggers of color to Woodhull 2017!"

My most recent fundraiser launched today, and is dedicated to bringing 3 bloggers of color to SFS17! Victoria of Pretty Pink Lotus Bud, Rae of The Notice, and Carly of Dildo or DilDon’t — will be attending this year, but need some extra financial support to make it to the summit. This goal is larger than my goal for the trans fundraiser, and we have less time to reach it. Sex bloggers of color are vastly outnumbered by white bloggers in our community, so share and donate to help these bloggers bond with their community and improve the Summit with their feedback!

Dangerous Lilly has helped me reach out to retailers about matching donations for this fundraiser while I move, and she got not one, but TWO retailers to match donations, AND one is offering donation incentives!

Image of five Come As You Are-branded handkerchiefs overlaid atop one another, green, black, red, blue, and pink, on a green, square-patterned background. The text reads, "Donors get at CAYA hanky or tote and 30% off in the CAYA online store! Come As You Are is matching donations! Donate now!"

Come As You Are Co-Op is offering donors who contribute $25 or more 30% off in their online store and their choice between a Come As You Are hanky or tote! They’re also matching up to $800 in new donations, so please donate if you haven’t already.

Image features three multicolored Swarovski crystals on a green square-patterned background and reads: "Thank you Crystal Delights! Crystal Delights is matching $250 in donations to bring bloggers of color to #SFS17. Donate now!"

Crystal Delights matched $250 in donations! I have consistently been impressed with Crystal Delights’ commitment to charity in the past, and was so thrilled to have their support here.

Please keep sharing this to help us meet our goal in time to get these bloggers to the Summit!

If you’re interested in attending Sexual Freedom Summit ’17, check out this post by Lilly where she discusses some options to get yourself there, such as blogger scholarships and free registrations. Be sure you read her description of the Digital Content Creator Meet and Greet, as well, and RSVP if you can come! We want to meet you, skill share, and network!

Show Yourself to Me by Xan West

I don’t read a lot of erotica anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I like erotica okay. I’m going to be reviewing a couple erotic novels in the near future. I can masturbate to the written word. But for the most part, erotica usually feels like it’s missing something for me. I can get on Literotica and read some short stories, but they always seem to lack body, depth, characterization, and passion. With that deficit in mind I was thrilled when I started reading Xan West’s Show Yourself to Me.


Book cover for Show Yourself to MeShow Yourself to Me
is a book of queer kink erotica that goes above and beyond what I’ve been conditioned to expect from erotica. I agreed to review it because I’ve read some of West’s blog posts about writing diverse characters in erotic stories, so I expected inclusivity, but nothing could have prepared me for this book, because it is so damn good.

West’s characters are gritty and empowered – they fill up the page, and feel real on a visceral level. Over the course of just a few pages I can go from being introduced to a new character to feeling like I actually know them. I know this seems like a strange thing to say – after all, when you’re reading a novel it can take the span of the entire book for that level of characterization to occur – but West’s descriptions are rich, and they really give me a sense of what makes each character tick.

The scenes are beautiful, and many of the stories talk about BDSM as more than just play, addressing the transformative aspects of it as well. BDSM is a way that many people explore their limits and identities, work through trauma, and strive to become better, and West’s stories demonstrate this. The stories are sexy and engaging, and they don’t feel detached or clinical at all. They are dark (but not in a morbid way) and heavy, and I love that.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with light ‘n fluffy BDSM or tales that only focus on the outer sensations, but that just isn’t what Show Yourself to Me is. The stories are deep and the play is intense. Heavy sadism, rough body play, and edge play are regularly featured throughout the book.

West does the reader the courtesy of including a content guide section after the table of contents, so the reader has forewarning of which stories include potential triggers such as trauma, knife play, humiliation, or consensual nonconsent. If you find that certain types of play may trigger you or simply aren’t to your taste, I urge you to use the content guide. On the other hand, if you’re specifically in the mood to read about blood play, the content guide will tell you which stories are up your alley.

It would be remiss of me not to mention the diversity in writing. West’s writing introduces you to disabled, fat, and transgender people. There are people of color (PoC) in the stories, and they acknowledge some of the baggage that surrounds PoC and BDSM play. Part of what makes the characters feel so real is that acknowledgement of the different people who participate in BDSM: people of different ethnicities, people of a larger size, people with canes and scooters, people using neutral pronouns, people who embrace stone sexuality. Instead of being as vague as possible, West specifically mentions the things that make characters part of minority groups so you don’t automatically assume everyone is white, cis, able-bodied, and thin… and that is beautiful.

I also learned a lot about different areas of kink from this book. Until I read this book I had never been exposed to certain BDSM cultures and fetishes like leather, Daddy/boy, or rough body play. Reading about these subcultures and kinks was fascinating, and really gave me insight into the appeal of some things that I’d never considered before. If you like these things, then this book is definitely for you, but if you’ve never given them any thought and would like to then this book is a great place to start thinking.

My favorite stories were The Tender Sweet Young Thing (which you can read here!), Falling For Essex, How He Likes It, Facing the Dark (you can read Xan’s backstory for it here), and Ready. You can view the Table of Contents for Show Yourself to Me and read little excerpts from the stories in this post on Xan’s blog.

I highly recommend Show Yourself to Me for kinky queers that love the written word. You can get eBook or print copies from Go Deeper Press and you can buy the book on Amazon. You can read more thoughts from Xan West at https://xanwest.wordpress.com/.

Book Description:

In Show Yourself to Me: Queer Kink Erotica, Xan West introduces us to pretty boys and nervous boys, vulnerable tops and dominant sadists, good girls and fierce girls and scared little girls, mean Daddies and loving Daddies and Daddies that are terrifying in delicious ways.

Submissive queers go to alleys to suck cock, get bent over the bathroom sink by a handsome stranger, choose to face their fears, have their Daddy orchestrate a gang bang in the park, and get their dream gender-play scene—tied to a sling in an accessible dungeon.

Dominants find hope and take risks, fall hard and push edges, get fucked and devour the fear and tears that their sadist hearts desire.

Within these 24 stories, you will meet queers who build community together, who are careful about how they play with power, who care deeply about consent. You will meet trans and genderqueer folks who are hot for each other, who mentor each other, who do the kind of gender play that is only possible with other trans and genderqueer folks.

This is Show Yourself to Me. Get ready for a very wild ride.

Blog Tour Stops:

You, Your Family, And “Coming Out” As Something

One of the most frequent discussions that I see among the sex blogging community on Twitter is, “What if my parents find out?” “Do I choose to ‘come out’ to my family and friends?”  I also see this fairly often in the kink and poly communities, where I find many people lamenting that they have a “vanilla life” and a very small “kinky (or poly) life,” and never the twain shall meet.

Yesterday, Blacksilk posted something along those lines, examining how she manages the sexy aspect of her life differently around two different family members.  This got me reflecting on a few times when I ‘came out’ to my parents about different things, and I’ve been blessed with two very accepting people who have simply opted to laugh with me along the way about most things.  I’m thankful for that every day.

I’ve always lived in a house where I was pretty sure my parents knew everything, even if they didn’t actually know everything.  For starters, Momma Sugarcunt tells Poppa Sugarcunt just about everything that I tell her, even though there was a reason I didn’t tell him.

Case in point: My dad IMed me on Facebook and asked if I was coming to a family event a few hours away, because my grandfather would like to see me.  My extended family is extremely conservative in every sense of the word, and I have always  been the black sheep because [I didn’t grow up there/share no common interests with them/dye my hair/am the most socially-liberal and thusly generally politically liberal person they know/fill in the blank].  (I also just un-friended the entirety of them on Facebook, because they have never contributed anything positive to my wall or messages, just as they have never contributed anything to my life except food, judgment, criticism, and awkward reunions where I inevitably go sit alone.  So after one of my cousins decided to argue with me about equal rights for marriage, then ignored the analysis of scripture that I handed him after he took an accusatory and dismissive tone and asked if I had read the Bible, I was done.)

Since I last saw my grandfather, I had acquired all of my current piercings: Tongue, eyebrow, nipples, and clitoral hood.  I replied and said, “I’m not sure he’ll be as happy to see me when he sees my tongue and eyebrow.”

My dad shot back, “He’ll get over it, just don’t tell him about the other ones.”

I was, momentarily, baffled.  While I told my mother about my genital piercings, I didn’t tell Dad.  Because my dad doesn’t really want to know, and I didn’t really want him to know!  There are plenty of parents who would rather not know about their child’s genital piercings.  He said my mom told him.  Thanks, Mom.  I’ve kind of come to accept that if I tell my mother something, she will tell my father at some point, regardless of what her intentions may be.

So obviously, I’ve got a pretty open relationship with my parents, and have conditioned them to be immune to shock and awe. If anything, I think my dad is probably most astonished if we go somewhere and I -don’t- embarrass him by being openly inappropriate.

For the most part, when there’s something that most people would hesitate to tell their parents, I don’t sit down with my parents and have “a talk.”  I never want to make “a thing” out of it.  I don’t really feel like I should have to explain it.  It just is.  It’s a fact about me, part of my identity.  It all comes out in passing.

If you’re hoping for stories with drama, conflict, and resolution, these are not the stories you are looking for.

How I Came Out As Queer (Sexuality):

I was pretty much positive that I was queer from around the time I was 10 or 11.  I never dated many people in high school, so I never had any girlfriends or transgender partners to bring home.  I long-distance dated two girls in middle school and high school… but it never came up because it was long distance.  Hell, I met a dude when I was 15 and held on to him until I was 20.  So my chance to act upon my sexuality didn’t really come until I became a part of my college’s GSM community and met a beautiful lesbian.  We dated, and while that relationship had some setbacks, we remained roommates until I quit school and moved out of the dorms in March.  At some point in the first month of our relationship, I was at a doctor’s office with my mother and mentioned in passing that I was dating her.  My mother raised an eyebrow, then she shrugged, and that was pretty much the end of it.  Both of my parents had already met her.  Mom inevitably told Dad because she was pretty sure he wouldn’t care.  I carried on and never spoke to him about my relationship proper, but constantly made jokes about administering cunnilingus.  (And usually didn’t realize that I’d done it until someone pointed out that I said it in front of my father.)

After my relationship with my roommate ended, the transgender woman that had been coming home with me very apparently became my sexual partner.  We both stayed with my family many times, and were openly affectionate.  We slept in the same bed in my parents’ house.  I was constantly covered in bruises from necking with her.  We chastely kissed in front of them.  I bought her panties once or twice when my mom and I went shopping together.  Most people thought we were officially an item.  (We weren’t.  She wouldn’t date me.  After we had sex a few times, she told me she loved me, and I guess that was as a friend.  First she said she had feelings for me, but was confused because “she’d never been this close to someone before.”  Then her excuse was solely that she was confused.  Then she needed to be single to pursue her identity [that was true].  Then she didn’t feel “like that” about me.  I spent a lot of time snuggling, fucking, and mothering her when I wanted to smack her.)

Then I dated some cisgender men again and my sexuality has really never come up since.

 

How I Came Out As Queer (Gender):

I didn’t.

I can’t explain it well.  My parents won’t get it because I don’t get it.

At this point, I’ve gone from being at a happy medium where I understand my feelings to a point where there are days that I can’t stand my biological sex.  Porn makes me feel… strange (and I think it’s because of my vagina), and my vagina feels wrong sometimes.  Or it makes me feel ashamed sometimes (but not all the time).  My initial desire from high school onward was that ideally I’d have both sets of genitals, fully-formed, with sensation.  We can’t always get what we want.  Now, I don’t know if I’d rather have a penis instead of a vagina.  Genitals and gender identity aren’t always interdependent on one another, but when something starts feeling wrong about my genitals on an instinctual level, especially when I think about mutilating my genitals or what it would be like if they weren’t there, it leads me to question whether I’m right with my genitals, and whether my fluid identity is really appropriate or not.

I haven’t made an effort to hide my gender identity from my parents, and I don’t really have a pronoun preference.  There has been absolutely no reason to bring it up.  I can’t solidify anything.  I don’t even know how I feel, so I can’t rightfully tell them how I feel.

 

How I Came Out As Kinky:

I’m pretty sure they figured this out from all the times I mentioned or joked about it in passing.  And then later, because I would rage about BDSM portrayed in popular culture… and correct the assumptions.

 

How I Came Out As A Sex Blogger:

My mom actually fronted me the cash to set up my first year of hosting, so I told her straightaway that I wanted to start a sex blog, and talked about affiliate programs and reviewing toys, etc. She wasn’t shocked or appalled, because that’s how my mother is – she certainly knows more about the fact that I’m sexual than my dad does, because while he’s aware, we don’t talk about it. Neither of us wants to. And that’s cool with me.  But I wasn’t going to tell him about my blogging.

About a month after I started reviewing things, I was staying with my parents in the interim between summer and fall semesters. I set my desktop up at a desk in the living room, which was pretty much the only space available to me.

I got my first review toys from Babeland and Goodvibes during this time, and I was so excited when they came that I showed my mom, then lined them up on the desk so I could take a photo.

This photo, actually:

 

I didn’t realize how close it was to 5:30 until my dad walked in the door and I heard him in the kitchen.  I had a giant dildo, a butt plug, and a vibrator sitting on his desk.  If he walked in the room at that very moment, we would have been living in a sitcom and I would have been surrounded by 15 more dildos.  (Those were upstairs in a box.) Instead of that happening, I swept the toys into the box they arrived in and hoped he wouldn’t notice when he walked in the room.  And then he walked into the room and looked at me (I think I was blushing.  I don’t blush easily), then looked at the TV, then looked back at me.

Now is the time to give you just a tiiiiny bit of background info that is pertinent to what happened next.  I do not like leaving my home.  I do not like going shopping.  We don’t even have local stores that carry anything that I want or need other than groceries.  I do like shopping on the internet, and have a wide variety of hobbies (making jewelry, knitting, collecting cephalopod items and geeky t-shirts… also sex toys) that the internet caters to pretty damn well.  So when I got my first debit card, I proceeded to use it when I had money to purchase these things.  Because of my purchases of beads (handmade focals, small bags of gorgeous beads from de-stashes on Etsy, massive quantities of things from sites for jewelers and beaders), I had a LOT of packages, but I wasn’t necessarily spending a LOT of money.  I was living with my parents until I finished getting my AA at a community college.  It got to a point where they were very displeased every time I got a package.

“Stop ordering things!”

SO.  With that background info in mind, wait for it.

Dad said, “…What’s this?”

My rectum clenched and I started acting accordingly.  “IT WAS FREE.  IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.”

He was asking what was on television.  Not what was in the box.  “…but now that you’ve called my attention to it…”

My mother decided to come downstairs and be helpful by saying, “What’s the matter, you don’t want to show your dad your big, black dick?”

“She’s too embarrassed.”

So then I had something to prove, so I grumbled, “No I’m not!” and yanked the Rippler (the big dick that isn’t black – she misinterpreted the color.  It does come in a sleek black, though!) out of the box.  I waved it in his face and said, “LOOK, it’s harness-compatible!  That means I can fuck somebody in the ass!”

And that was the end of that.

My parents don’t read my blog.  Although my mom said, at one point, that she’d like to look at it, but that’s because she’s being encouraging and I am perfectly OK with the fact that she isn’t badgering me for the address.

Anyway, it got to the point where I didn’t even put my dildos away when my parents visited me… and still wouldn’t, if they did.

When I Came Out As Mentally Ill:

I’m truly grateful for my parents.  I really am.  They have never denounced or disowned me.  My dad even told his brother to fuck off when he was harping on my hair at a family event.  (My uncle bitched about my hair every time he saw it, so my dad was understandably as sick of hearing it as I was.)  My mother has told me that she’s proud of me for standing up for my beliefs and speaking my mind.  My sister is 15, and is growing up to be an open, honest, thinking individual.  My brother isn’t a bad kid, either.  I have the most incredible family.

The only thing I would tweak about my parents is their view on my mental health, because they don’t understand my mental illnesses.  I’ve been diagnosed with Bipolar II and a general non-specified anxiety disorder, because I just don’t quite meet the DSM criteria for Social Phobia.  If you (my dad) have never suffered from depression and think that most mental health professionals are quacks and assholes (because you worked with some of them… like my dad did), then you (Dad) don’t understand why someone sleeps 18 hours a day, avoids family and friends, and literally can’t get out of bed or leave the house sometimes.  Especially if you’ve seen that same person act “normal” (because they’re in a safe and comfortable environment, like their parents’ house), or better still, bouncy, vibrant, and vivacious (because they’re having a hypomanic day).  When that person doesn’t want to go to school every day (high school and community college), stops going to classes (despite previous enthusiasm about them), and spends most of their time in bed, it looks like laziness or a lack of priorities.

It’s easy to tell someone to “pick themselves up by their bootstraps” when you haven’t felt that way and don’t have an intimate understanding or acceptance of mental health.  It’s easy to tell someone “you’re only as depressed as you want to be!” (Mom.  After I told her my therapist was recommending medication.  After our house burned down.) if your low points aren’t so bad that suicide looks like the only option you have to “fix yourself.”

These attitudes haven’t been very good for me.  They aren’t good for my sister, who is depressed and has panic attacks when fire alarms go off.  They aren’t good for my brother, who could use some anger management and coping skills.  I started exhibiting symptoms of depression (and I knew that) in middle school.  I was also surrounded by peers who liked to fabricate mental illnesses (no, I am not misjudging them or trying to undermine them.  Factually and diagnostically, they didn’t have them) and parents who talked about the “attention-seeking stunts” of their coworkers’ children.  I had a score in the highest range of a depression inventory when I took Health my freshman year of high school.  I did my senior project on depression, and my mentor (a school counselor) said, “Have you addressed the fact that you have a lot of these symptoms?”  Teachers overlooked my writing, my attitude, my behavior, and the fact that I slept in every one of their classes, probably because I performed well academically.  I never asked to see a therapist because I wanted to be left alone, and I continually told myself that I was just being a stupid teenager.

I am my own advocate for my mental health.  My mother seems like she’s becoming more receptive to at least hearing me talk about it.  But honestly, if it’s just my mental health that my parents aren’t convinced about, then I’m not complaining.  I wouldn’t trade them.  Because for the most part, they accept who I am.  I’ve had friends whose parents have denied it, accepted it but pretended it doesn’t exist, disowned them, insulted them, and tried to convert them.  I am privileged in comparison.  I never really felt like I was “coming out” to them when I told them about any of this, because I was blessed with a family that didn’t make me feel like I had to hide it.

 

Has anyone else been this fortunate?  Have you come out to your peers and family?  How did you do it, and how well did it work out?

Gender Celebration Blog Carnival

Something I’m looking forward in participating in during the upcoming months is Ellie Lumpesse’s Gender Celebration Blog Carnival.

In Ellie’s words:

The carnival is about reflecting on gender, questioning it, doing the hard work of grappling with it but also experiencing the joy of celebrating it. Does everything we say have to be all sunshine and puppydog tails? Absolutely not! Celebrations often include intense conflict, debate, and even mourning. This one will be no different. However, my hope is that when we take the time to think, write, and converse about gender we’ll bring good things into the world. We’ll shed light on the beauty of the human family and we’ll all become closer.

It is with that hope in my heart that I am humbly requesting submissions for the first (hopefully of many) Gender Celebration Blog Carnival.

The concept is simple. A group of bloggers all agree to post on the theme of the Carnival during a particular period of time and they link to the posts that transpired at the  end of the Carnival. What happens in the middle is the real magic as we will hopefully have fascinating things to read and great conversations to share on the issues that are generated. Think of it like a two week, virtual cocktail party with a fabulous guest list.

The upcoming theme for July is going to be “Living Gender,” and I’m completely psyched about it.  Anyone interested should give the submission page a look!

Fully Functional Fundraiser

I’m still alive!  Due to a lack of sexual accommodations for a hellacious period and a combination of Minecraft and classwork, I haven’t been able to play with any of my new toys very much… but things are coming.

In the meantime, I just figured I would post to advertise about the fundraising efforts of Fully Functional.

I’ll just quote directly from the fundraiser page, for the sake of saving time:

“Fully Functional: A Zine About Fucking Trans Women”

…is a collaborative DIY (Doin’ It Yourself) zine about the sex lives of trans women. It is designed to help trans women and our lovers share information about how we have good sex and what we do when we have sex that works.

The project of Fully Functional is to create an open-ended community resource for trans women and our lovers interested in sharing information about sex and our sex lives.  Published as a digital zine and, beginning with issue #1, a print zine, “Fully Functional” is designed to be an accessible medium for communicating and sharing information with each other.  It is the first and only sex zine dedicated exclusively to the sex lives of trans women and our lovers, and most basically begins with the question “How?”, as in, “how do I have amazing, fulfilling, passionate, hot, toe-curling sex?”  Contributors are invited to discuss the ins and outs of their own sex lives, with no one answer privileged over another.  There are as many answers to the question “how do I have good sex?” as there are contributors, and with that in mind “Fully Functional” has been designed as a sort of community cookbook .  Our zine is a community resource for sharing our knowledge, discoveries, and practices with one another and our lovers.

As we are preparing to publish issue #1 of “Fully Functional” we have reached a dilemma: we are desperately in need of a fully functional computer of our own with which to write, design, create, and publish this issue and issues to come.  The goal of this fundraising campaign is to gather funds to purchase a MacBook that will be the primary computer for “Fully Functional.”

I definitely consider this zine a worthy cause, because sex can be an extremely conflicting issue for individuals undergoing transition, and it is also challenging to feel confident about being an adequate sexual partner to a trans individual, especially if your partner experiences gender dysphoria.  While there’s no substitute for honest and open communication, new ideas can go a long way in the bedroom.  It’s hard to find knowledgeable sexual material geared toward members of the trans community, so I’m definitely intrigued by what Fully Functional has to offer.  I encourage anyone  with an interest to check it out and support their efforts!

Here’s a link to the fundraiser!