Riki Ann Wilchins

I Was Astride a Young Man

I was astride a young man
at my favorite sex club
I don't usually bother with men
    but he was so beautiful
    dark-skinned and sweet
    with gentle, smooth hands
    and veins like rivers running down his muscles
and as we were nearing the end of our quietly
energetic encounter
I said to this sweet boy, about half my age
"What's your name?", almost shyly.
"Tom. What's yours?"
"Riki."
"That's an awfully masculine name."
"Well it used to be Richard."
And I watched his eyes go unfocused
the gears in his head churning
through our entire encounter,
    the breasts he couldn't get enough of
    the soft, then hard nipples he sucked till I cried
   the warm wet rose which clung to his cock
"I'm sorry... didn't know... you'll have to get off."
Which of course I did, wondering quickly if this
might get a tad ugly, which it didn't
and thinking how I had changed
that something like this no longer bothered me, but
was his limitation, not mine.
An interaction which, 10 years ago,
would have left me shattered
for days.

Her name was Emily,
we met in my favorite lesbian bar.
She had the smoothest, flattest stomach I had ever seen
and I licked each inch and the
line of fine downy hair
which marched down across her navel as
we made love for hours that first night.
We saw each other three more times.
On the fourth and to-be-final date we finally got
around to talking and my transexuality came up.
I do not run from this.
"I can't handle this."
And gathering her things, she turned and walked
out of my apartment,
    no backward glance
    and out of my life,
this woman with the flat stomach who had feasted
    her tongue
    and lips
    and whole hungry mouth
on the insides of my cunt and over the top of
my clitoris,
trying every way to see which stroke
made my hips arch up high off the bed
    and my breath come
    in rapid labored gasps
I watched her then
    looking down my own body,
    her eyes deeply focused on mine
    the bottom half of her lovely face
    nested barely visible
    in my red tangled bush
I could feel
    not see
        her finger circling my vagina
        teasing, tempting,
        thinking to open me slowly
    until one of us lost patience
        perhaps she,
            thrusting forward in a rush
        or I,
            impaling my greedy hips on her rigid middle finger
but anyway, inside quite sincerely until
    my breath wouldn't come at all
    my stomach knotted and the
    piercing sweetness drilling my femme little soul
    like an icepick through warm butter.
and I watched her then,
    walking out of my life forever
    I groaned for long minutes
    curled in a fetal position
    to miserable to move a single fiber
    crying for 2 or 3 or 4 hours I don't know
    and that is how my lover, who had a key to my apartment
happened by and found me:
this desolated fetus, wanting only to
be dead.

The young man's taut butt recedes across the crowded mat room.
I wonder if anyone knows what has just happened.
I realize I don't care.
I reach for the small, pouting triangle,
the soft special place where I am
still sensitive to the lightest touch,
using my knowing hand
the rhythm it knows better than my own
heartbeat
I come
relax against the pillows
a smile of satisfaction
flickering like a small flame across my lips.