Pegging, What’s At Stake

Pegging, What’s At Stake


the answer is Not Yet.
but i’ve been asked. many times over. by many different men.
what feels at stake if i do: femininity. beauty. being wanted.
what feels at stake if i don’t: my power. my liberation. my desire. my pleasure. my freedom.


to the friend who asked the question, i think you said this for the same reason that men ask me (me in particular, me specifically) to peg them: my gender is big, and i’m down to play, and fuck shit up.


and so maybe (probably, certainly) a cis dude can ask me to sex his asshole and he isn’t scared it’ll chip away at tis masculinity. beauty. being wanted. instead he knows i’ll love it, that i’ll see it as his power. his liberation. his desire. his freedom.


so here we are again. remembering that we’re in this together.
full bush.


*My interpretation of top in quotes is that this is useful language, but loaded. And imperfect.
“Queer” Guys

“Queer” Guys

Guys try to pick me up by telling me they’re queer. [This happens all the time. All the time. All the time.] When I was 23 (and 24 and 25 and 26 and . . .) I used to think that was kinda hot. Ah, they see me, I thought in that way that I do when I’m hungry to be taken seriously and scared that I never will be.

But I am aging out of my Amateur Hour (thank the holy heavens) and I now I’m trying this on for size…a guy can’t call himself queer unless he’s craving to suck some dick [1].


Don’t get me wrong, a guy doesn’t need to actually suck dick, or have sucked dick, or even necessarily plan to suck dick. I get it, people are in all sorts of complicated relationship contortions that make it impossible for dick sucking to happening. But a dude’s gotta crave it.


Here is a list of things I will no longer accept from “queer” guys, now that I am no longer in my Amateur Hour:

  • “I kissed a guy once at a party.”
  • “I’m queer cause I’m poly [unsaid: exclusively with ciswomen].”
  • “I’ve never made out with a guy, but I’d like to.” [Continues to exclusively date ciswomen, some of whom are queer]


Dear readers, this is a new one. What do you think?

[1] Queer guys don’t have to be cis, nor do they have to crave sexy time with other cis dudes. ‘Dick’ here is really dick, but it can be a stand in for any kind of queer sexual desire. However, dick =/= sexual desire for a cis woman (even if she’s queer af).

Queer Sex with a Straight Dude

Queer Sex with a Straight Dude

Right after the first time we had sex, he said, “There’s something called ‘queer sex’, right?” And I nodded (am I an expert?). “I think we just had it,” a pause, but not too long, “there were moments in there where I thought you were a man.”

I take this to mean that I move my body like I own it, and that I’m not afraid to top.

A few times later, I imagined that he was a woman. I did this on purpose, to see how my body would move differently (which it did) and to see if I felt more powerful (which I did). After I told him, “There were moments when I imagined you were a woman.” And he heard me and listened and then said, “To be honest, that makes me uncomfortable.”


On the one hand: Yes to honesty! This stuff is difficult and it takes real honesty to do anything like freedom.

On the other hand: What is it about Woman that makes you cringe? Can you love a woman enough to sex her well, if you’re secretly saying thank you lord that I am not one? When I say I imagined you as a woman, what in you felt threatened?

First Time Lovin’

First Time Lovin’

I was jumpy as fuck in the airport terminal waiting for you to come through customs. Then I saw your cute little face and I didn’t feel nervous anymore, instead I felt pumped and when we hugged you put your hands through the straps of my backpack so that your arms were on me.

“How solid is your driving,” you asked, “can I touch you without putting us in danger?”

“No,” I’m laughing, though it’s true I’m a bad driver, “but you can look at me all you want.”

At home, making out you said, “You can put your hands under my shirt, if you want,” because you noticed me start to but then pull away.

10:30pm blueberry pie – you naked, me in a top that shows the triangle points of my tits. We ate Thai food standing up out of black plastic containers and fed each other with melty plastic forks.

I wanted to suck your dick but you said lets wait. You went inside me (I wanted you to) and I was really in it so it took me a while to wonder why my mouth feels more intimate. It’s okay though, cause I’ve got this feeling we’re gonna explore each others bodies for a long time. So when you say not now, I know there is a later.

“Do you often peg your male partners?” you asked me.

“Only in my dreams.”

“I’ve never done it before, I wanna do that with you.”

We were both on our backs, I don’t remember the order in which our bodies were layered — Your shoulder under my neck? My arm below your back? — but I remember that one leg was draped over yours and my pussy was open to the breeze and you said, “You’re pretty, [my real name].”

You’re 60% top, but like to switch. I’m 60% bottom, so it’s pretty much perfect. Except that you’re married and the dad of 2 babies, but maybe that’s also right cause then you go home and I stay here and I don’t have to worry that every time you bite my neck you’re picturing me in a white dress. Instead, we get to love on each other and into each other, and fuck while there’s pie in the oven. I keep swearing off men but I’m attracted to their smell and here I am again.

“Hi,” I said, “we found each other. You’re the perfect size shape and feel.”

With me behind you, you leaned over and told me, “Do exactly what you want.”