[For younger readers: Presumably, this feeling isn’t new to you even if you’re not yet the age of consent. Grumpy adults who might think this subject matter is too risqué for teenage readers need only to remember their own feelings at age 15 or so, and that should help them mellow out a bit. If you’re younger than horny-teenager age, and you’re reading this, then yeah, probably it’s not age-appropriate for you. Sorry … and, no offense intended.]
So, as to the main subject matter:
My brain structure is female, and has always been. As to my body parts ‘down there,’ I haven’t had reshaping surgery there, so every morning I wake up with a male-shaped body ‘down there.’ In the past, that particular body part has indeed been the source of pleasure for me (and not just for me, but let’s focus on my solo activities here; they parallel the non-solo activities well, in this case).
The sex researcher Kinsey found that, as a rule, humans masturbate often — very often. Since most of us are unaware of how popular a pastime this is, each of us tends to have an exaggerated opinion of our own level of activity. By this (false) conservative standard, we’re a very horny species (and so are dolphins and several other mammals) because we’re engaged in self-love, very often daily, often more than once per day, sometimes many times per day.
If by now you haven’t concluded that masturbation is a normal and fine part of life, then, wow, you’re reading the wrong blog.
My own journey in this regard has two separate themes: focusing on the body part in front, or alternatively on the one on which I sit. The former is the subject of this blog post.
The self-pleasuring process typically includes me being emotionally aroused, then getting physically aroused (with things becoming large and erect) and then there’s a climax and things physically go back to the size and shape as before.
Problem is, with feminizing hormones, the “things becoming large and erect” and the “there’s a climax” portions of the agenda become more and more difficult to attain, and yes, even after only six weeks, I’m now experiencing that.
Knowing this, I hesitate to even start because the, um, process is taking longer and longer time to complete. At this rate, I can easily envision a situation where one day it becomes impossible difficult, and that will be a very frustrating day for me. And that day isn’t far away, at the rate things are progressing.
So, for the same reason as I don’t start a 60-mile drive with only a gallon of fuel in the tank of my car, my new policy is: don’t start.
It’s not an easy policy. On days when I don’t adhere to it, it’s not like I feel like a failure. It just means that I need to exercise yet more self-control. Even so, I have been able to adhere to my new policy for many weeks on end.
The net effect on me is a smoldering, always-there undertone of sexual arousal. It seems to make me exude sexuality. I feel like the hot blonde in a cheesy perfume ad.
Girls smile at me in a way that seems extra warm, and guys are a lot less subtle. I experience many gallant actions, and I get hit on much more frequently, sometimes blatantly. Last night, I was walking to the movies, and a gentleman walked past me, made a u-turn and started chatting me up. He was very charming and persuasive (though not enough to end up in bed with me which was the agenda; he was quite clear as to that).
And yet … I know I don’t look all that different from how I looked six weeks ago. I think my sexually simmering attitude is what’s different.
So, do feminizing hormones make a transgender girl more sexually aroused? Normally no. The way I am dealing with the situation: very much so, yes.
Lastly: someone has suggested that me delighting in my lingerie, such as posting such pictures, is not typical female-culture behavior, and I’m sure she’s 100% right. However, I’m not universally trying to emulate typical female-culture behavior so as to come across as more feminine.
While typical female-culture behavior is my guideline, the only I way that I managed to figure out that I might be a female brain-wise is due to all the feminine-mindset behavior that has been boiling up in me ever since I can remember. In that context, living with a male-shaped body and trying to fit into male culture, and then finally being free of both .. to me those are positively delightful events for me so I am indeed giddily happy about it, while I totally concede the point that girls don’t normally delight in their lingerie and how they look therein. I see parallels to the female character in the movie “My Mom’s New Boyfriend” who used to be very unhealthy and overweight and now she’s SO happy to be in good shape.