A spontaneous trip

Just got back home from a totally spontaneous trip to Visby. Was gonna post yesterday that I had just randomly booked a "date" for the following day, but I was too drunk and tired to post anything. Yeah I made sexual reservations with a complete stranger online while I was drunk. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone who doesn't know well that they won't regret that kind of stuff when sober again. Cause I've learned what kind of stuff I would regret and what I wouldn't, and I only act on what I know I won't regret. Yes I get more brave, verbal and more horny when I drink like most people do, but usually I have the same mindset, the same goals and wantings. It simply removes some of my unwanted, hindering barriers.

That is exactly why I have a tendency to become alcoholic sometimes. Because drinking enhances me in ways I like and desperately need. Sadly. It seems to temporarily "remove" or "unshield" a lot of my asperger symptoms. Makes me dare to do what I wish I dared to while sober. However, on a more positive note, my drunken adventures have helped teaching me how to live without regrets. But few people relate to their own drunkenness in the same way. So I can only say: it works well for me, but I really hesitate to say it's a good idea. Generally it is not, but exceptionally it can be.

Honestly I wasn't sure I was gonna make it there today, cause I was hungover and tired as fuck, with a pounding headache, but I drank coffee, a protein shake, lots of water, took painkillers and pushed through to it. To spare you whatever worries you may possibly have: The whole event, everything included, went really well. The only issue was (not surprisingly) getting a little lost in Visby. I literally took 1,5 hour to walk a 15 minutes distance. But woe is me, right? I had arrived at the bus station in Visby at 5 pm and wandered around confused and frustrated but refusing to give up, although that thought hit me several times, until I finally got my tired ass to his door, at around 6:30. But I wasn't really upset or stressed about getting lost, I just kept going and checking google maps, some kind of gps system in my phone and sighed my way forward.

It was a pretty good gps app thing, but it didn't show me the correct location of his apartment, but about 15 meters off. We kept chatting so he could eventually guide me to the right door. And the fucking relief when I found it! Jolly jezus crap! He had been very adamant about me being descrete and not catch attention from his neighbours, and I just really hope that me having wandered around in that area for a good 10-15 minutes or so didn't make anyone think of me as suspicious. But maybe the fact that I kept looking at my phone and looking around confused out in the open probably made anyone who saw me just think I was trying to find my way to somewhere I was invited but hadn't been to before. There were a few people walking their dogs there, but hopefully they were not immediate neighbours to him. But anyhow. Inside the entrance I worried about running into a neighbour of his but there was no one there. I was as silent as I could be. He had told me to not knock or ring the doorbell, but to just walk right in.

So I did, as quietly as I possibly could, and stepped into a very cosy, small apartment. I only had to glance to my left to find him naked on a bed in a dark room, curtains closed. And in that very moment when I saw him all my nervousness just washed off of me. A gorgeous, thin man with incredible eyes gazed longingly at me while stroking his dick. I had no hesitation from then on. We had agreed upon that I was just gonna suck him off and then leave, but oh boy if I got a penny for every time guys say that and then proceed to want more! So of course I was prepared for possibly doing more, but silently so. I like giving the impression of being more prudish/shy-ish with a "yep just that, nothing more" attitude but then when asked for me be like "I hoped you'd ask" as if I'm just positively surprised by the random suggestion and had nooo intention of possibly proceeding further all along. I'm such a tease...

So anyhow, I just took off my jacket, bag and glasses before I gently dived in on his manhood. He definitely enjoyed it, and beckoned me to rim him as well, which I did and I could tell it pleased him. First time rimming another guy: check. It was nice, sexy, and he must have showered very recently, which I appreciated. I went back to sucking him a bit more then, and then he asked me "Do you want to sit on it?" and I was only hesitant for one reason at that point: I wasn't sure if he knew about my pussy situation or if he was expecting a dick. But I also knew he did have access to full on nudes of me online where we met, so I thought what the hell, I'm sure he must know. So I thought for a short moment before I said "yes, sure", took off my pants while he slipped on a condom and then I took a seat.

Yeah, I let him slip into my vag and then I rode him for a couple of minutes or so while gazing into those pretty eyes of his, lit up only vaguely from a small opening between the curtain and the window wall. And despite the slight stinging sensation inside me, it wasn't really bad. I guess my reason for doing that was quite simple, yet hard for me to make understandable and not sound more self destructive than it is: I still have this annoying hole, and for in those moments when I only have mild dysphoria and feel comfortable in any particular man's company, I might as well if he wants to and it doesn't have to be a big deal. It's a very convenient part of my equipment, always wet and easy to use with basically no foreplay or effort needed. I know its tightness is often appreciated too.

And as it really is that easy, to literally just strip and sit down, then why not? However at this particular point I was definitely turned on and wetter than usually. I'm not saying I want or like to use it, even though my subconscious keeps begging for it, I still want to get rid of it for all the same reasons I've always listed. But yeah, I definitely have a very complicated on-and-off hate relationship with that hole. I hate it but sometimes I let it have its way when I'm not so emotional about it. It seems to have a bit of a will of its own. But at best it's "meh, stings a bit but whatever, I'll survive this too" yet it yearns. It's never nice, but it's not always horrible if I'm in the right mindset. And I can like being in that kind of atmosphere, like the psychological feeling of having another man inside me and being connected in every thrust. And pretend it's actually in the other hole that I'm not dysphoric about. What I'm hopelessly trying to say is: while it's still unfortunately there, on good days, I might as well use it. Basically: if there's a hole, why not fuck it. Some people say I think like a dude, but I didn't think it was quite on THAT level...

Sometimes I tend to think that maybe I'm using my pussy in the same way many cis guys use their dicks. But what do I know, huh? I'm not cis. I don't know how cis people really relate to their parts, whether they're men or women. But I'm not using mine as carefully or privately as I suspect women use theirs, and certainly not always (or often, for that matter) with my psyche connected to it. I think that is exactly how I've managed to fuck around my dysphoria in the past. To disconnect my psyche and only focus on the physical sensations. Until those got ruined too.

So no, it wasn't so bad this time, and I did thrill in the closeness and warmth, the sexiness of the situation, that he liked it and how he showed that, how hot he was, how turned on I was, how well it felt like we connected, how we seemed to vibe in synchrony somehow, how relaxed and soothing yet exciting it felt for me to be with him in that moment, and it was alright. It was right, cause I clicked so well with him. At least this time it was and I realise I likely won't click that well with so many others in the future. It was a lucky off-shot of a chance. Anyhow we didn't go on for very long, I knew he was likely to cum fast cause he kept telling me, and after having been riding him for just a couple of minutes or so, he asked if I could suck him until he cums in my mouth as he was very close and I said yes. It was a lot more bitter than it usually is, but I swallowed without complaining as I usually would. Then he thanked me over and over, and since I had a such good time too and also felt a really good connection with him, I smiled genuinely and thanked him too. As I see it, it wasn't just for him, it was for me too. Then I got dressed again, said good bye, that we'll talk again soon, and that was it. Lit a cigarette when I was back outside and had walked out of sight. No neighbours around that time either. I looked up how to find the bus station from where I was at the gps thing on my phone again and found my way back easily.

When I got back to the centre of the city again, which probably didn't even take 10 minutes, I had an hour to wait for the bus. I was hungry and tired, but most stores where closed at that hour (around 7 pm), so I went into a grocery store in a shopping mall which was still open. Wandered around in the store for a while until I found something that could be mildly edible, and bought more bottled carbonated water while I was at it too. Then I took that weird chocolate pudding thing I had just bought (categorised as "yoghurt" but whatever) with me to an empty staircase which was the only place to sit other than the floor itself, and dug into the pudding with very little appetite for it. However, getting the taste of bitter cum out of my mouth felt like a somewhat higher priority than how much better the pudding actually tasted. Don't get me wrong though, I like swallowing cause I think it feels sexy, but no I don't always like the taste, although most of the time I do. And also it's hella convenient to do. No mess to clean up. Slurp.

Then a woman I didn't know walked up to me and asked if it was permissible to sit on the staircase I was already sitting on. I told her "Well why not? They don't have any benches here" and she agreed that was reason enough to use the stair as a bench. I'm always creative about places to sit when out and about wherever, and saw no issue with sitting in those stairs. It was pretty cold outside with just one or two plus degrees and I still had about 45 minutes left to wait for the bus. So I talked to her for a while there to pass time and cause I had time. She talked about how she didn't like her noisy and high crime neighbourhood and that she used to live in a calmer place on the island. She hinted at that she had to move from there to get away from an abusive relationship. She didn't say it outright but I read it between the lines. She appeared to be somewhere in her 50's from what I could tell, tired after a long day and struggling to move, but seemed happy to talk to me for a while. There was something about her that I couldn't quite pinpoint, but that made me feel like I could relate to her mentally.

She was going with one of the city buses and we soon departed after we had started walking out from the shopping mall together. I walked slowly towards the bus station and annoyingly realised I had 15 more minutes to wait than I had first thought. So from then on I had 45 minutes to wait instead of 30. Oh well then. It wasn't good enough reason to bother my mother about it, so I stuck with waiting out in the cold at the bus station. Then I got into the bus when it was ready to leave, but unfortunately it wasn't much warmer in there. So I shivered all the damn way back to Hemse. Should have brought a bloody extra sweater as I had planned to but of course forgot about.

When I go for these kinds of adventures I can't layer 300 complicated clothes on like usually, even when it's winter. It has to be convenient and to be perfectly blunt about it: easy to remove and put back on, cause I don't want to stand in a stranger's home and fiddle with putting my clothes on right for half an hour, just as much as I don't want to do the same amount of fiddling when wanting to get naked asap. But being dressed simply and conveniently does also means freezing my butt off. My cell phone battery was at 25% during the bus ride and I hoped it would keep the phone running all the way back home. It did, and I was glad to have gotten on the one bus that actually stops at a stop closer to my place than the main bus station in Hemse, so I got a shorter walk that last bit by luck and chance. Then I shivered my way back into my apartment and here I am. Went at around 3:30 pm and was back home at around 9:45 pm.

So that was my little 6 hours long, spontaneous Thursday evening adventure. For a 10 minute stay with that guy. But ah, that's the beauty of having little to no concept of time: in the future, it's gonna be those 10 minutes that I'll remember and look back at with a smile, and all those hours of travel and waiting and getting lost will be forgotten. So yeah, in that sense it is worth it. And because my life on Gotland would be even more insufferable if I didn't go ahead and do things like this every once in a while. No matter how not-worth-it many others would seem to consider them to be. If that isn't worth it, then what the fuck would be worth it with the very limited options that I have? I'm stuck on an island with little to no local/bus traffic and no driver's licence or car. And fuck yeah, I'd rather travel for 6 hours just to sit on a random hottie's dick for two minutes than just sit on my own arse at home for yet another day like all other bloody days, if that's the only way it can be arranged.

Was it crazy? Yeah probably, but it's not even weird for me to do this kind of thing anymore. Turns out, if you keep doing it you'll get used to it eventually and then it won't be so scary or weird, but exciting, fun, sexy or at least better than sitting at home 24/7. I may have quirky interests... And yeah, of course I know there's a risk I'm taking, never even knowing who I might meet. Especially this anonymous variety which usually means agreeing to meet a total stranger I have no idea what he looks like, or much of any personal information about him. I may know his age, sexuality and possibly dick size, but that's pretty much it. However, one thing that's dawned upon me lately, is that the main reasons why some guys choose to be so very secretive has literally nothing to do with their looks or them "being creeps" or whatever.

Main reasons are: they don't want to get outed, they don't want for their neighbours to spread rumours about them, they might be scared to lose a job or spouse, or a family member, or a kid for that matter. No matter how much I wish it wasn't so, homophobia is still a thing, and that especially in smaller places like this entire island, people talk. So they're scared and worried, and they have good reasons to, at least to the point where I can understand and show compassion and do my best to be helpful, but they're certainly not out to harm or trick you. They're protecting themselves because they're good people, not because they're bad. And this is also why I have no issue being with married or otherwise partnered men too. Cause we all have our demons and insecurities and I'm not judging any actions unless I both know and understand the reasons behind.

I used to think that the anonymous meetings were the most risky, and perhaps they still are, but I'm also still 99% likely to end up with a pretty damn decent and sweet guy. And when I think about it that way, I could fuck 99 different guys and have a good or at least mediocre time, for every 1 guy who might treat me badly. That's a lot of good and safe fucks in comparison to bad/rapey experiences. The ratio is certainly in my favour, and with such a low risk, or even if it was 2% of bad apples, it's still worth it for me.

But anyhow. As I walked out from the house of his apartment and back into the cold late evening, I thought to myself that I could so easily do this for money as well. That it wouldn't even phase me. Would be so damn easy, and not take a toll on my psyche at all. I read on some website listing various common reasons for why people become prostitutes and one in particular felt very relatable for me: to get money for sex I would have had anyway. Cause I really don't think the difference would be that big. But no, in case you wonder, I did not get any money or anything else for that matter (except from a good time with a great guy), from this little adventure. In fact it costed me a couple of hundred kronor for the travel back and forth. I thought that if he would for whatever possible reason offer money that it would be retarded of me to say no, but it didn't come up, I didn't expect it and I didn't say anything about it. The deal was for it to be for free. But if it had brought me money, I would have been fine with it.

However I do still see this as some kind of practice for that kind of thing. Like an introduction course, or something. Although, it's not very likely to give me much of any orgasms, I've realised, perhaps sadly, perhaps shruggingly. Cause my plumbing is just way too fucking pedantically picky about stimulation for it to work easily at all. It requires lots of patience and for me to be very relaxed and without a care in the world, basically. And for the guy I'm with to also be very patient and not stress about it. And most of the time, whether I'm talking about how it's been so far or for the future whether it will include a money reward or not - I cannot possibly count on getting orgasms. Cause yeah of course I'm keen on having a good time and enjoying myself as well as giving the guy I'm with a good time and pleasure - cis guy plumbling simply is far easier to work with to get to the point of orgasm, compared to female- and trans guy plumbing which is much more complex in its nature/biological reality. It's just the facts. And something I can't do much of anything about. It is what it is.

Something else that might need to be said, although I'll try to be quick about it cause I'm really tired, it's really late and I want to sleep... is that I definitely can appreciate and do feel sexy when others find me sexy. I have a weird ability to view myself objectively, practically through the eyes of others, and appreciate that I do have beauty and sex appeal even though I do not actually think that of myself. I imagine what others must see when they find me attractive and fuckable. And I absolutely love it when others look at me that way, and when I can feel it in their touch that their hands crave it. I can easily lose myself in that feeling and it turns me on to no damn end just being wanted like that. I do not see anything wrong with it, being objectified or even fetishised, I think it's an amazingly warm thrill to be in. And it doesn't matter who it is that shows me that kind of lust or how they show it. In fact I love it how everyone shows their lust in different ways, and it's always amazing to be wanted like that. I really can get high on that feeling. And for me, that is what ultimately draws me in. Well I guess that's the very long and complicated way of saying: it turns me on that I turn you on. And I think it's a beautiful thing of synchrony.