NetNews Usenet Archive 1993 #3/NN_1993_3.iso/spool/alt/stupidit/3751

Text File | 1993-01-23 | 5.5 KB | 90 lines

Newsgroups: alt.stupidity
Path: sparky!uunet!paladin.american.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!The-Star.honeywell.com!umn.edu!csus.edu!sfsuvax1.sfsu.edu!roy
From: [e-mail] (Rivet Head)
Subject: Re: Strange Masturbation Memory Dream
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Sender: [e-mail]
Organization: California State University, Sacramento
Date: Sat, 23 Jan 1993 05:17:08 GMT
Lines: 79

In article <[e-mail]> [e-mail] writes:
>
>
>The following story is completely true.  I am what I say I am, and this just
>happened to me last week.  I have never posted anything this intensely personal,
>and this is my first use of the anon service.  I don't really know why I am
>posting this, either.  It is a curious thing.  Perhaps insightful.  Perhaps
>only self-indulgent.  :-)  I was not sure where to post, so please forgive me
>if I have cross-posted to anyplace inappropriate.
>
>I am a male-to-female transsexual who had sex reassignment surgery long enough
>ago that I have no conscious memory of what it physically felt like to have a
>penis.  When I am awake, if I try to imagine having a penis again, I completely
>fail (and, no, I do NOT want it back! this is just a thought experiment).  But
>the other night WHILE ASLEEP I felt it there.  I was dreaming.  This is my
>dream:
>
>I am in my old room in my parents' house, watching television.  I am wearing a
>rather sensuous bathrobe that my mother gave me when I was here before, recup-
>erating from surgery.  Abstract shapes and colors, and strange symphonic music
>come from the television, which is the only source of dim light in the room.
>The feel of the bathrobe against my body arouses me, and I give in to the urge
>to masturbate.
>
>Strangely, (this is a dream, remember.  my actions make no sense), I let open
>my robe and look down to see a woman's vulva, but closing my eyes I wet my hands
>with saliva, reach down, and feel, really feel, an erect penis.  I begin mast-
>urbating the way I did before my operation, wrapping my hands firmly around my
>ghost penis, squeezing, and moving rhythmically up and down.  My eyes are closed
>while this is happening, for I am fantasizing with all my might that the geo-
>metry of my body is reversed.  That the outer skin of my penis is really the
>inner skin of an imaginary vagina, and that the rubbing sensation really comes
>from a man's penis gently thrusting inside me.  Of course, this fantasy is
>imperfect, and the way I had imagined it then was nothing like the true exper-
>ience.  But I had become accustomed to it.  The sensation was very familiar.
>This was a memory dream, and the memory was suddenly extraordinarily vivid!
>I felt every detail.  Every blood vessel, it seemed.  Every detail that I still,
>when awake, cannot consciously recollect.
>
>In my past real life, this was a slow but desperate process.  I had to intensely
>concentrate on maintaining the illusion.  I had to keep replenishing the saliva
>on my hands, and keep up with the rubbing and squeezing, and even though my
>arms would tire I had to fully keep alive the day-dream that I was a woman
>having intercourse with a man, and that I wasn't using my hands and arms in
>this way at all.  So it was in this sleeping dream, but as always I am half
>aware of what I am really doing.  But this time I am also half aware that I
>have no penis to produce the illusion.  That my hands are really moving over
>thin air.  And yet I feel what I used to feel.  And my dream character does not
>find this strange!
>
>As I begin to feel an orgasm building, I hear the sound of my parents pulling
>into the garage.  I ignore this, taking the chance that they will not enter my
>room (the door is open).  The shapes on the television begin to look like
>silhouettes of cartoon beings in bold colors like red and deep blue and purple.
>I can make out dinosaurs, Tweety and Sylvester, and the profiles of animal
>headed Egyptian gods.  The music sounds like a cross between Bach, Stravinsky,
>and the random sounds of an orchestra tuning up.  The mood of these images and
>sounds is almost sinister, slow, purposeful, but not at all threatening.  It
>is strange enough, though, that it inhibits my orgasm.  But the fear of being
>discovered by my parents enhances it.  I hear my parents enter the front door
>of the house.  I grip my ghost penis one last time as the orgasm surges through
>my loins.  I lurch forward.
>
>I wake up!  Somehow forcing myself awake like I sometimes do to end nightmares.
>I'm lying on my side in bed.  Normal sleep position.  My hands are nowhere near
>my genitals.  Still the orgasm is there surging through me.  My pelvis shudders,
>and thrusts jerkishly forward.  My clitoris explodes with pleasure.  Muscles
>throughout my vulva and vagina vibrate.  I am wide awake enjoying one of the
>strongest orgasms I have felt in a long time.  I gently rub my hands over my
>whole body from my knees to my breasts, relishing the post orgasmic glow, and
>reassuring myself that my body is the way I want it to be.  For the glowing
>feeling is tempered by insecurity.  What kind of woman am I that I could have
>a dream like that?!  And that it could affect me so!  Disturbed and uneasy, I
>get up half an hour early and begin fixing myself breakfast.
>
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