Saturday, September 22, 2012

My day begins just like any other human.

Not long ago I made a comment to a blog about a man who was diagnosed as trans-sexual by Department of Corrections doctors after being in prison for 20 years.  I have no idea what stirred that situation up, except that he wanted the state to pay for his operation.  The state in question is Massachusetts, the crime was murder.

I said it mattered little that a tranny serving a 1990 sentence for murdering his wife (we have no details on that) and now wanting a sex change that the MA Dept of Corrections doctors said he qualified for, was no big deal.  My logic was, after all is said and done, compared to the expenses already spent catching him, having him go to court and sentencing him, not to mention the stuff he's gotten since being in prison, and the fact his wife is still dead, what does it matter who pays for his sex change?

The public responses ranged everywhere from "let me cut it off and shove it down his throat!", to "isn't MURDER cruel and unusual punishment on the victim?", and "just ask someone to shank his ass...problem solved ... Hopefully someone will before the surgery."

To my post an anonymous poster said, "You also do not see having sex without commitment as no big thing.  In reality, without morals and ethics, we have no social contract or rights."  I wouldn't disagree except to say I think I'm different than the majority of humanity.

Having said that, my day starts the same as anyone else's, except that I wake up at my leisure by the Sun coming in through my window.  It makes little difference if it's 7 AM or 2 PM, I can lay in my snug and warm bed all day if I want.  I have no job to go to, no boss to report to, no place I need to be.  Some say "I'm lucky", I call it being retired.  It's not that much but I worked for it!

I worked for the US government for over 25 years providing "services" and now the same government pays me to do nothing.  My retirement is paid with tax dollars, so, thanks goes out to all those who pay taxes, myself included!  Without a retirement (limited as it is) I'd have to keep on working and I simply loath Wal-Mart. 

Since I retired I thought it safe enough to "come out" and allow my sexual orientation to freely flower.  Thinking about my retirement today I'm still, in many ways, providing services, lol!  The biggest difference is, I very much like providing them.

I get out of my warm bed dressed in only my panties and my see-through nightgown.  I put on my robe, which is floor length and made of silk, my slightly heeled slippers, and walk to the kitchen to make myself some coffee.  While I make my coffee I look out my kitchen window and see the parked cars below.  Some of the owners are very familiar.  When I'm finished starting my brew I go into the living room and look out the picture window to see what the day has in store for me.  I see more cars below.

Looking at them reminds me I may get busy later, I'm a biological male who thinks I'm female.  I'm a mtf transvestite and I love all men.

As I wait for the coffee, I open my Kindle to the Calendar and look at the times I've set up for any appointments.  Some days I barely have time between appointments to change my outfits and fix my makeup, let alone take a shower.  Other days I have plenty of time between appointments and some days I have no appointments at all. 

I actually appreciate those days without appointments.  Maybe it's my age.

I take inventory of my bar as I walk past it because most of my appointments usually involve alcohol and I like to keep it well stocked, I drink alcohol very sparingly.  As I pour myself a cup of motivation and sit at the dinning room table, I pull my note pad and write out my grocery list; butter, eggs, cheese, bread, sugar, the usual list of needs.  What I need in the way of booze is also written down.  I usually have to make a daily stop at the local liquor store because I offer drinks and most men drink alcohol when they come over.

In my coffee I add plenty of cream and sugar, I use them so I can't taste the coffee.  I'll have my usual two cups and take my shower.  As I dry myself off, I check my reflection in the full length mirror on the bath room door.  Despite being a biological male I make sure I'm shaved smooth all over and I look long and hard at myself.  I'm looking for any tell-tale signs of advancing age.  Perhaps my stomach is too swollen for a corset, or maybe my chest looks a bit odd without the plastic breasts, or my legs are no longer stocking ready.  I think I look OK.

The penis between my legs is very tiny and almost unnoticeable.  It draws up into my circumcised skin and bending over merely reminds me that I fervently wish I could meet a professional who would remove my testicles!  I really have no need for them any more.  My penis has become more a clitoris and, while its always been kind of small, its now usually damp.  I've become used to the dampness and I simply put an Always brand dry-pad into my panties, then I begin changing my entire bodily looks...

I'm not a 24/7/365 male to female and I live alone, I have nothing of worth to offer save my experiences.  My body is simply what gets me noticed, it always has, I just enhance what others like to see.

When I go out to the store I hear the occasional obscenities, I'm not deaf.  I sometimes think the person saying them wants me to hear them.  Normally they're whispered behind my back but it doesn't seem to matter if I'm window shopping for dresses or in a store buying groceries.  I'm used to them, in many ways I actually expect them, and for the most part, I simply ignore them.  Usually.

Rarely are the insults yelled at me or the insulters violent confrontationalists.  If I think that kinda thing is gonna happen, it'll happen in the parking lot late at night as I walk alone to my car.  I simply explain the situation to the check out clerk and ask that I be escorted out.  While this request is quite normal, it usually creates problems of its own but most stores ultimately tell someone to walk me out.

Allow me to share a typical experience with you.

To begin, a manager, usually a man, has to get involved so I wait for him and then I have to explain my take on the situation to him .. again.  Usually more than one person comes to greet me, I suspect the other person is just curious or a witness.  Regardless if the manager, or other person, is a man or woman I get "looked over" from head to toe by both, no comments are made and the facial expressions are blank.  I wind up getting escorted by the newest employee or the most timid, or both.  The real irony is that even if the guy is a muscle bound brute he may not care for transvestites!  Whenever an escort is given to me it does little to alleviate my fears and I ask the clerk to wait as I start my car and drive away. 

I'm still very scared and I know I could be followed and raped or killed in my car or beside my apartment building and no one is going to do anything about it except watch or take pictures with a cell phone.  I was actually attacked once before.  I was "saved" by two policemen but, when I went to thank the person who called them after I got out of the hospital, I was told, "If I had known you were a queer wearing a dress, I would've let them kill you.  Don't ever come back here again, faggot." and the door was slammed in my face!  So much for humanity!

The beating I took lasted less than an hour and I was lucky, yet it was a horrible experience I will never forget!  Reporting any incident to the police, in my mind, merely creates more problems.  It matters little because I'm just seen as a man who's dressed like a girl and asking for it!  The fact is, I'm a human being, a simple person who just happens to be a male to female transvestite, I'm not a prostitute! 

Because I like to have sex with men I'm accused of having low morals.  Here's an FYI for ya, I don't have sex with every man I meet but I have many man-friends who admire me for having low morals!  Interesting don't ya think?  All of these guys know what I am, they're usually married and they're willing to give me their semen.  Apparently they don't get blow jobs at home so they "let" me give it to them.  Most leave me a tip as well.  I wouldn't go so far as to call what I do work, it simply lets me be a woman and I feel good about that.

What I learned is that what I do just happens to pay part of my rent, it allows me to have utilities, cable TV, a Play Station 3 with lots of the latest games, and, best of all, it lets me meet different admiring men.  I like the part about meeting different admirers the best!  I'm a male to female transvestite, I can't get pregnant or have children, and I'm not so sure I even want children anyway!  I have found word of mouth (so to say) to be very effective but, more importantly, the stories firmly allow me to be a woman.

Let me leave you with this tid-bit of info; if an established man-friend wishes to bring a new man to me, my only requirement is that they accompany this new guy and introduce us.  During that introduction we can all sit and I'll fix drinks, we have that drink and discuss his and my preferences for rubbers and lube, STDs, what he likes and what I am.  Everything is known well beforehand and there's no surprises. 

Another tid-bit of info, all men may be created equally but they don't remain equal!  They're very individualistic regarding their sexual behavior and mannerisms, and some are cheap!

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