11/21/2023 0 Comments My first time with a trans womanWhat a delight when Jim and I met for coffee and it was good. Newly invented social practices had appeared-like “ghosting”-and wow, did I get some duds. It was the late 1990s and internet dating was becoming a reality. As I approached 40, lines were beginning to show in my face and my life felt incomplete. My challenges were no longer those of a trans woman, they were simply those of a woman. ![]() ![]() I was secure in the life, body, and career of a mature woman. The anxieties of a second puberty and the trauma of physical and social gender transition largely faded into memory. I remained single through the years of physical and emotional healing, the gradual process of settling into a body and life that finally aligned with who I had been since my earliest years. High-femme in presentation and with the grace of years of ballet in my youth, I turned heads. At 32, with fortunate bone structure and a good figure, I had come out of medical transition looking twenty-something. There is an adage amongst adult-transitioning transgender women that estrogen takes off ten years, and this was certainly true in my case. I am a heterosexual woman going to bed with a man for the first time.Įstrogen had been good to me. My fear is forgotten, my focus now on his hand, his mouth. Very deeply, waking my entire body in a flush. His fingers travel upward, from my navel, up my chest, back to my throat, the weight of his hand resting there as he kisses me again, deeply this time. He guides me over and lays me out on his bed. He moves in close, cradles my face in his hands, kisses me very, very gently. ![]() He exposes me, runs his fingers through my hair, drapes it as if to frame his view. I am trying hard not to shake as he undoes the buttons of my blouse, then the clasp of my slacks. The directness reminds me that this is transactional. Without preamble he leads me directly to his bedroom. A slight hesitation and I take his hand and enter his home. Turning, he steps through the doorway, turns back and reaches a hand toward me. He turns and looks at me reaches out and brushes my cheek with his fingers and a slight smile. With his attention briefly diverted, I have a moment to feel the butterflies in my belly, a little perspiration of anxiety and fear of the unknown, and an underlying sense of anticipation. I follow him up stairs and wait as he unlocks the door to his flat.
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