My First Blow-job after Trans Phalloplasty

No NSFW images, only NSFW text.

My penis has a second birthday coming up this Christmas. I’m about 30 years older than my penis. All at once, I feel like both like I have always had this penis and like everything about my penis is new.

The Emotional Aftermath of Bottom Surgery

Now that everything is healed after gender transition surgery, it is strange to me that my body hasn’t always been this way. It just feels so right. An example, I have an album of my phone of frank nudes labeled with different body weights, strictly for myself. I was scrolling through to see what I looked like last time I was this weight, and I did a double-take at the picture of my body with only a vulva, only a vagina– how I used to look. Without processing it yet, I shuddered with surprise. I don’t like that memory. I like my body now.

When people ask me about the emotional experience after having bottom surgery, the most cliche but true answer is that I feel complete. It is as if any other essential part of my body were returned to me, which by some accident of birth was never formed. To me, my penis is as essential as my hand, my nose, or my ear. Memories of my body before gender transition strike me like a curious and disturbing dream.

The Growth of Erogenous Sensation

So many kinds of sexual sensation feel new to me. I marvel at what the flesh looks like entering my partner. I feel the chill of the lubricant first then the warmth of their body. I marvel at the rubbing sensation of my flesh moving between our bellies or legs when my partner enters me. If you have never felt sensation in a place in front of you, but you know your body should exist there– At the first perception of soft touch, I experienced profound psychological pleasure.

In healing timelines, first you can sense pain, then ordinary touch, and finally Ortiz pleasure. However, before I could feel erotic pleasure, I got profound psychological pleasure from any sensation at all. The closest thing I can compare is relief and pleasure of answering your instinct after holding back so long. Like chaste lovers with burning flesh for touch, who make contact; like a consuming hunger meeting the pleasure of a bite, taste, and chew; like the unignorable urge to push when the contractions seize you in childbirth. That is how strongly I needed this piece of me there and how deep the need came from within.

Yet, over the long months of healing, that first emotional tsunami of completeness began to come tandem with all the physiological signs of erogenous sensation. Over time, when I would touch or be touched, I felt a lump in the back of my throat, my breath unconsciously quickening, the urge to vocalize, the building ache to continue, a queasiness of longing, an engorgement of the natal erectile tissue, and the muscle tension of stiffening legs and belly. When I am asked how I know if sensation grew erogenously from the genitofemoral nerve hookup, these physical signs tell me: Yes, absolutely yes, I have erogenous sensation! For a long time, I felt touch without these signs, but as I approach the second year, they grow stronger by the day.

A First Experience of Fellatio

The satisfaction of my first fellatio that could fuel me a million years. The story of it, the first time–

We cuddled loosely in our four-poster bed, city light coming in through small panes in the old windows which flanked us. The orangey light through those windows cast squares over the lilac bedroom, a hypnotizing geometric illumination of rhombuses that flexed into new shapes with movement. It is summer.

She is my sister in transition, our equally-yoked love. We have been a mating pair seven years, and she thrills me. I stared at her undeniably beautiful face. I looked from her naturally full lips down to the wide, mauve-pink areolas swollen broad by estrogen. We touched. We kissed, first sweetly, a goodnight. But we lingered in kissing, our lips growing more rhythmic. At a point she breathed lowly, “Love, what would you like?” Our comforter wrapped downy cotton around us, the sheets white and soft.

I paused. There is never a script for our bodies, our roles. I glanced at her eyes affectionately, inviting her, “Go down on me?” I felt momentarily shy, pulling back the blankets. In this light I’d catch washes of color now and then, like hand-tinted sepia. If she could see my cheeks in this light, they’d show a pink blush. During our kiss, I had made myself hard, and my penis stood up. I’d been rubbing my balls and the implant pump, and it was ready. Her eyes narrowed in focus on the novel delight on display. She reached to move my knees apart, thinking I wanted oral sex there, at my natal glans. I moved my leg back together, and she raised an eyebrow. Oh, she seemed amused, you want it that way.

I don’t know how men can talk flippantly about blow jobs. I thought I’d know just how it would feel, since my natal parts have all the same kinds of nerves, but there’s a unique pleasure in the span of the thrust. It is like a glissando. The pressure of hardness within against acute sensation; the perception of sucking. Closing my eyes and feeling as much as I had been seeing and hearing. To feel, people take so for granted being able to feel.

It stirs me to now be able to say: I have closed my eyes and felt how a tongue feels across the shaft. I know what it feels like for moist lips to suck a kiss around the glans. I know the pressure of the tip of me against the very back of the my lover’s throat, hands cradling the rest of my package. I know the feeling of a ring of fingers gliding up and down the length as our passion escalated.

It felt right. It felt wonderful. We traded passionate affection until one of us climaxed. Maybe it was my love and not me. I don’t remember. The climax wasn’t what we were after. We were both so content, I remember that.

I– I can hardly believe I have been so blessed as to have these experiences. And, at the same time, I marvel that I have at my age never gotten to experience this before. I sit with both feelings. I feel such gratitude that I could experience this with a transgender woman who knows how meaningful it is for me, who loves me. I wouldn’t denigrate the experience someone else wanted, but for me, the fact that it was us together in such understanding and patience only sweetened the sensations.

May everyone else who would feel more complete in having a penis find their way to it. May everyone else who longs to sense their lover’s affection on their penis find themselves in the same position. May we never take this for granted.

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