tgstonebutch: (boot)

Unfortunately, I will not be moving forward with my previously announced Queer and Trans Storytelling Workshop at Liminal (a feminist writing space in Oakland).

I am going to explain why, because I think that folks in trans communities in the Bay Area may find the information helpful.

The contract I was provided by Liminal misgendered me, despite the fact that Liminal knows the correct pronouns to use. I stated that I would not sign a contract that misgendered me, and stated that it felt disrespectful to receive one.  Liminal did not take my concern seriously, nor address it in an appropriate or respectful manner, and did not provide a corrected version of the contract.

I have concluded that this space is not a good fit for me as a trans educator, or for a workshop on queer and trans storytelling. I will not be teaching it at Liminal.

Sincere thanks to everyone who was excited about the workshop and helped to promote it. I hope to find a way to teach the workshop soon, either online or somewhere else in the Bay Area.

I have retitled it Trans and Queer Storytelling.

tgstonebutch: (boot)

As you know, my first solo collection, Show Yourself To Me: Queer Kink Erotica, was released in the fall. I am excited to be reading from it this coming weekend in San Francisco!

When: Sunday May 22, 3pm

Where: The Center for Sex and Culture in SF. 1349 Mission St. between 9th and 10th

Who:


  • Avery Cassell is an older genderqueer San Francisco writer, poet, cartoonist, and artist who grew up in Iran. They live with their Maine Coon cat, Lulu, and bake yeasted waffles every Sunday morning. You can find their erotic short stories sprinkled in various anthologies, including Best Lesbian Erotica 2015 and Sex Still Spoken Here. Avery is currently working on a book of more of Behrouz and Lucky's shenanigans, transcribing a collection of aerograms from Iran to the States in the early 1960s, and an illustrated early reader children's book about a eight year old transgender boy and his family.

  • Sinclair Sexsmith is a genderqueer kinky butch writer who teaches and performs, specializing in sexualities, genders, and relationships. They've written atnet since 2006, recognized numerous places as one of the Top Sex Blogs. Sinclair's gender theory and queer erotica is widely published in anthologies and online, and they are the editor of Best Lesbian Erotica 2012 and Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica, both published by Cleis Press.

  • Wickie Stamps is a widely published writer whose work has appeared in The Advocate, OutWeek, Gay Community News and over a dozen short-story collections. Wickie has won accolades for her writing of the staged drama Fugue State (Fringe Festival, San Francisco) and the multiple-award-winning film Foucault Who? Prior editor of both the notoriously hypermasculine Drummer magazine and the equally infamous Socialist Review, Wickie continues to make films, zines, and other work as part of San Francisco’s Heads Will Roll Studios. Keep an eye out for the upcoming Zeboiim, a queerly Southern tale of trauma and crime, and for Io Facc’ l’Omm, a disturbing crossroads of gender and obsession.

  • Xan West refuses pronouns, twists barbed wire together with yearning, and tilts pain in many directions to catch the light. Xan adores vulnerable tops; strong, supportive bottoms; red meat; long winding conversations about power, privilege, and community; showtunes; and cool, dark, quiet rooms with comfortable beds. Find Xan’s thoughts about the praxis of sex, kink, queerness, power, and writing at xanwest.wordpress.com.

What: As Queer As You Want To Be. Four local smutty writers, Sunday afternoon, and you!

A free gift bag of sexy goodies from the fabulous folks at Good Vibrations for the first 15 folks at the show!

Suggested donation ($5-20) — No one turned away for lack of funds!

Avery Cassell will be reading from Behrouz Gets Lucky, a romantic, literary, kinky, and political novel about two older San Francisco queers - a butch dyke gardener named Lucky and a genderqueer librarian named Behrouz.

Sinclair Sexsmith will be reading from Sweet and Rough. Sweet, sensual adoration and dirty, rough sex meet in this anthology of queer smut.

Wickie Stamps will be reading from Io Facc’ l’Omm, a disturbing crossroads of gender and obsession.

I will be reading from Show Yourself To Me, a queer kink erotica collection where you meet pretty boys and nervous boys, vulnerable tops and dominant sadists, good girls and fierce girls and scared little girls, mean Daddies and loving Daddies and Daddies that are terrifying in delicious ways.

I am going to read from my story, “Willing,” which is by far my most romantic story yet. It centers a jaded vampire dominant sadist who meets the willing boy of his dreams, and includes knives, canes, rough body play, and blood sports, some of my most favorite things. Here is a tiny taste.

“I have been watching you a long time, Sir. I have seen how you play. I see the beast inside you. I know what is missing. Those boys at the Lure don’t know how to give you what you really need. They don’t see that they are barely feeding your craving and not touching your hunger. The boys here at Gomorrah don’t see you. They just see their own fantasy. They are simply food. I am strong, Sir. Strong enough for you. I can be yours. My blood, my flesh, my sex, my service. Yours to take however you choose, for as long as you want. To slake your hunger. I would be honored, Sir.”

I take a deep breath, stunned, studying him. This boy offered what I never really thought was possible. He has surprised me again. That alone shows that this boy is more than a meal. He just might be able to be all that he has offered.

I almost leave him there. I am ready to walk away. Fear creeps along my spine. With the centuries I have lived and the things I have seen, this boy is what scares me. There is nothing more terrifying than hope. I rake my eyes over him. He is standing quietly. He looks like he could stand in that position for hours. He has said his piece and is content to wait for my response. Oh, he is more than food, this one. What a gift to offer a vampire. Can I refuse this offering when it’s laid out before me? I step back, looking him over, and decide.

I breathe in possibility, watching the pulse in his throat. My senses heighten further as I focus my hunger on him, noticing the minute changes in breath, scenting him. I want to see him tremble. I want to smell his fear. I want to devour his pain, without holding back. Forget this public arena. If there is even a possibility that I might truly let go and move with the beast inside my skin, his growl on my lips and his claws grasping prey, I know exactly where I need to take this boy.

I do hope to see you this weekend at this awesome event!

tgstonebutch: (reality check)

About content: this post speaks openly (and in some detail) about trans oppression in queer communities (with a focus on the ways trans men are targeted), gender border wars, purging, and gender-based coercion and abuse in relationships. Most of that discussion is in the first section, so if you want to avoid it, skip to the section titled My Response to Grandmother-nei-Leylit’s Cloth of Winds.

My Own Context for Reading Rose Lemberg's Grandmother-nai-Leylit’s Cloth of Winds

I remember the hardness of the chairs in the auditorium. I remember the buzz of the fluorescent lights. I remember trembling in my seat, my stomach in knots. I remember the energy in the room feeling dangerous to me, like if I moved I might get noticed, get hit by the violent storm.

I don’t remember what exactly people said at that queer town hall meeting. I have tried, today, as I write this, to recall those kinds of details. But I can’t access them. I don’t know how I ended up in that room. I don’t know who I came with.

It was 1996, probably. I think. Twenty years ago. And it was the first time I heard queer cis women speaking openly about the reality that some of their partners, some folks in queer women’s community, were transitioning.

I say speaking openly, but that is too measured a description, and a bit too kind. Because what they actually were doing was debating. Debating whether to allow this. Whether to purge these men from their lives and their community. Whether they could possibly bring themselves to ever date someone trans. Articulating their feelings of betrayal. Naming the ways they felt hurt and victimized that lesbians were disappearing. Describing the ways they felt trans men were erasing their queer cis womanhood, making them even more invisible than they already were. The ways their identity and community felt so intensely threatened by the existence of trans men.

They told proud stories about how they tried to convince, manipulate, and coerce their partners into not transitioning. They offered advice to each other, describing the emotional blackmail that was most effective in preventing their partner from discussing transition. They had this intense righteousness in talking about dumping long-time partners who pursued medical transition options. They consistently named the trans men they talked about as women, as lesbians, using she/her pronouns the entire time.

I knew purges well. Knew how this could turn in an instant from venting to something even more ominous. Recognized the danger electric in the air. Held the clear knowledge in my body that my ability to dance carefully on the margins of queer women’s communities could twist into a brick wall in my face. That really it was just a matter of time before that happened. I held very very still, sick and trembling, and waited for it to be over.

It wasn’t over when I left that night. Instead, it got worse. These conversations were everywhere, and sparked like flash fires any time I was in queer women’s spaces. There was no escaping them. They didn’t stay in those spaces either. Groups of cis lesbians would show up at the tiny trickle of trans men’s events that began to happen, in order to stand up and demand the conversation center on them and the ways that trans men’s existence hurt them.

I quietly attended a trans men’s open support group (one that welcomed allies), month after month after month, not telling anyone in my life that I was going. I never said a word in the group. Continued to present as and be read as a femme cis dyke. The men in the group all thought I was an ally. They were confused why I kept going. No one else went that wasn’t openly trans, even though they were technically welcome. At least not after accompanying their trans partner the first time. I didn’t have a trans partner, had not begun talking about my own gender with anyone. At the time, I didn’t even really know why I was going. My experience of gender did not match the experiences described in that room. But it was urgent inside me. I needed to go. It hurt to miss a meeting.

That time, those memories, are intertwined with my first moments of recognition of my own transness. That feeling of being deeply afraid, stuck still and trembling, dreading being recognized. That feeling of sickness in my stomach and shards in my throat as I listened to people I thought were my community, and even people I thought were my friends and family, debate my welcome and the welcome of people like me. That certainty, yet again, that who I was meant that I would be rejected, would not find love or sex or wholeness in relationship.

I was a late queer (and trans) bloomer, was part of queer community and doing queer activism without dating pretty much at all (after one terrible disaster). I had never had a romantic relationship with anyone, had pretty much only had casual sex with cis straight men (and one queer man). I identified as bisexual, but hadn’t had sex in a few years at that point. I’d spent most of my out queer life having unrequited unspoken crushes on cis women friends and friends who were queer cis men. This realization that letting myself be trans meant accepting that I would lose community, lose friends, lose my queer family, be treated like an enemy, and never find a partner, was a central part of my sense of myself as a trans person, from pretty much the beginning.

It seemed inevitable, that I could not be trans and be loved or even welcomed by queer cis women. That they would see me as the enemy, if they thought of my transness as real. That if they did love me, or welcome me, it was because they didn’t actually think my gender was real. Those were my choices, my only options as far as it went with queer cis women. To be rejected as enemy or accepted and loved not as myself. I literally could not imagine anything else outside of that framework. It seemed like nobody could, that we were all stuck and spinning and hurting with no way out.

It took several years before I could step enough outside my own trans reality and pain to recognize the ways trans women were (and still are) erased in queer women’s community. The ways transmisogyny was operating in those conversations. The ways that as women, to be rejected and erased from women’s communities was (and still is) an intensely harmful act of cissexism and transmisogyny.

It took many more years before I considered pursuing any sort of medical transition options. At one point, I was asked by my primary partner to promise that I would never go on testosterone. And I agreed.

It took longer before I recognized that attempting to coerce, convince, or manipulate your partner into making particular decisions about their gender or attempting to limit your partner's gender expression is abusive behavior.

From pretty much the beginning, I imagined not letting myself be trans. Hiding, so I could stay in dyke community, so I could keep relationships, so I might possibly be able to find a girlfriend someday. It took a long time for me to choose something else. It felt like such a huge risk to do so, a leap into a future I could barely imagine as anything but bleak and lonely.

My Personal Response to Grandmother nai-Leylit’s Cloth of Winds

I brought this personal history to my reading of Rose Lemberg’s Nebula nominated Grandmother-nai-Leylit’s Cloth of Winds.

Quite literally. After reading it, I relived the visceral memory of what it felt like to be in that room at that town hall meeting twenty years ago, lay in bed frozen and trembling. That feeling rolling round and round in my head, of stuckness, of being caught, of deep fear at being recognized. I saw myself, a future I could have lived, almost did live, in Bashri.

It hurt to read a story from the point of view of a cis woman who sounded so much like those women in that meeting, who struggled so much to hold the reality of her grandparent’s transness, and her sibling’s non binary identity.

It hurt, and it healed at the same time.

This story felt like such an emphatic clear answer to the framework that had taken me about a decade to think my way out of. Not an easy answer, not a simple answer, but such an insistent one.

My first cogent reaction to this story was: I wish I’d read this 20 years ago. I needed this story when I was first coming into my transness and trying to imagine my own future and what it could be.

This story, written by a trans writer, that centers two trans characters with very different genders. This story that works against a cis gaze even as it is told from the point of view of a cis woman. This story that broke open old wounds and helped them breathe. This story that insists on the reality that our transness cannot be muted without cost, and will need to be faced eventually. This story that offers a vision of queer family that cannot hold stubbornly tight to rejection of trans family, that instead needs to figure out how to hold us, perhaps a bit more loosely than before.

Considering Grandmother nai-Leylit’s Cloth of Winds as a Trans Writer

When trans authors write trans characters in a complex nuanced way, there are folks who won't get it. Especially cis folks.

It won't fit the prescribed form that cis people are told they need to follow in order not to be fucked up in their representation. It will be more complicated than that.

Because the prescribed form is written in a simplified way, that assumes that cis people have less nuanced analysis of and experience with trans oppression, transmisogyny, cissexism, dysphoria, and internalized trans oppression.

Because trans writers choosing to engage with the trans oppression of cis people that we know so intimately from having been targeted by it in so many ways and internalizing it in so many ways…we are going to engage with it differently. We bring a different lens, the complexity of our personal history, an on-the-ground analysis of oppression that comes from being targeted by it relentlessly. We tell different stories about it, because we are writing from deeper lived experience, because we have different reasons for telling them, and are often writing for different audiences.

Lemberg discusses this in their recent post about this story:





“The viewpoint of Aviya was difficult for me. It is a viewpoint that begins from a place of both love and at the same time rejection of our truest selves, which is so familiar and so incredibly hurtful for many of us with cis and/or straight family members. When I am writing a viewpoint of a cisgender family member who is loving, but only conditionally accepting I am both writing the other, and writing from a perspective which is excruciatingly and deeply familiar to me. Like many trans people, I have been pressured to learn this perspective, to internalize it, to center it before my own.”




This is a story that lives in the tension of holding firm in trans perspective and reality, and engaging and connecting with the internality of a cis perspective that deeply struggles to honor and accept trans reality. Connecting with cis perspective is something that is a common experience for trans people, as Lemberg points out. To engage with it while holding firm on a trans lens for the story itself is a nuanced balancing act that trans writers are much better placed to do. We have a lot more practice.

If this story were written by a cis person, it wouldn’t work.

I would never advise a cis person to write a story about trans people and tell it from a cis character’s point of view. I would especially advise cis writers not to describe the ways cis characters struggle to accept and love and be decent to trans people in their lives. Those stories mean something really different when told by cis people. Those stories are told in really different ways when they are written by cis people.

In Cheryl Morgan's article for cis writers, on “Writing Better Trans Characters,” she talks about the cis gaze:





"There is such a thing as "cis gaze"; that is, a book can be written because cis people are fascinated by trans people. They want to see us doing those weird trans things that they think we do. Or they want to see us as victims that they can feel sorry for and rescue."




That is what cis gaze does in a story. It sets trans people up as Other, as objects, as "fascinating", "interesting", "strange", sources of learning. It sets us up as objects of pity and rescue and study, far from the assumed cis readership. It does that in the structure of the story. This isn't about the POV character's gender, but about what the story does, how it frames the trans characters, what information it decides to share about the trans characters, what language it uses, what questions it grapples with.

This is about stories that turn trans people into objects for cis people to learn from, pity, manipulate, and use. Where trans characters are empty vehicles, not complex nuanced people.

It is important to distinguish the cis gaze in a story from the POV of the story. They are different things. You can write a story that is deeply entrenched in a cis gaze from the POV of a trans character. I've read a lot of those. You can also write a story from the POV of a cis character that is not written from a cis gaze.

Of course, it is possible for trans people to write stories from a cis gaze, because we can internalize it.

But it is also possible for trans writers (like Lemberg) to write stories from a cis character's POV that do something else, something different. Stories that do not come from a cis gaze. In my read of this story, it does something different, and powerful. Something that felt deeply needed for me personally as a trans reader.

This story is told from the POV of a cis person mired in the same framework I described in the first section, a framework that can’t imagine how to do relationship with trans people, can’t conceive how she as a lesbian might grapple with a trans man partner, or how to hold the trans and non-binary realities of her family members. Aviya is stuck in that framework I knew so well twenty years ago, a framework that purges trans people from queer women’s lives because it cannot figure out how to hold onto relationship with them. She is stuck in her own ableism and cannot fathom honoring the non-binary identity of her autistic sibling.

But the story is told from a different framework. A trans and non-binary framework. A framework that holds trans and non-binary realities in their complexities. That insists that Aviya recognize her love for her family and partner is critically important and worth struggling to hold onto, even when she is freaking out and can’t figure out how. That textually challenges trans oppression and cissexism. That illuminates the ways language structures can be hugely important barriers for trans and non-binary people. That insists on honoring the trans reality of a non-verbal autistic character.

This story engages actively with internalized trans oppression, ableism and misogyny. It does that in a way I found quite deft and careful. These things are textually challenged, again and again. It doesn't use unnecessary hurtful language. It works to slowly shift perspective over time. It's not overly blatant or didactic. That's part of what makes it work.

This story shows how stuck all these characters are in trans oppression, ableism and misogyny, both interpersonally and especially structurally. It shows the pain of trans oppression, from the POV of someone who realizes that she has been hurting her loved ones.

It's a hard story.

And, I think, a critically important one.

Final Thoughts

Grandmother nai-Leylit’s Cloth of Winds” has been nominated for a Nebula, and I find that to be a very good thing.

I am awed by the fact that a story centering a queer family, focused on queer love (both familial and romantic), is honored in this way. I am awed by the fact that a story grappling with the limitations of gender and language, told by a trans author, is honored in this way. I am awed by the fact that a story which insists that the reader hold the complex realities of trans and nonbinary characters is honored in this way. I am awed by the fact that a story by an autistic trans author centering an autistic trans character with powerful and beautiful magic is honored in this way.

Grandmother-nai-Leylit’s Cloth of Winds” has so much in it that moves me, so much that feels important and necessary and full of the kind of respite that I ache for.

I urge you to read it. To let this story in. To hold it in its complexity and nuance. To consider what it has to say.

Read Grandmother-nai-Leylit’s Cloth of Winds" for free.

(cross posted on WordPress, Tumblr & LiveJournal)

tgstonebutch: (boot)

I'm excited to be reading my queer kinky erotica at Leather, Lace and Lust this Saturday night at the Center for Sex and Culture in San Francisco!

I have chosen to read an unpublished piece, an excerpt from my polyamourous queer BDSM romance novel in progress, Shocking Violet, that's titled "My Pretty Boy". It depicts a gender play scene between Jax, a transgender stone butch dominant, and his pretty boy, Rickie, a stone femme trans guy. The full story will be printed in my upcoming erotica collection, Show Yourself to Me, along with most of my erotica, old and new. This collection, coming out from Go Deeper Press, showcases my work over the last fifteen years.

I'm looking forward to sharing an excerpted version of "My Pretty Boy" with folks this weekend. I adore the relationship Jax has with Rickie, and the intensity of their play together. This story centers a bottom who hates soft gentle touch, and chooses to take it anyway, for his dominant. That aspect of their play electrifies the scene.

I'm going to share a taste with you. As a heads up, it references gender play, blood sports, blade play, and pain play.

Rickie was as armored as Jax. He didn’t want anyone too close, didn’t talk about feelings. That suited Jax just fine. The play was hot, respectful, intense, and boundaried in exactly the way Jax needed it to be.

Tenderness was edgy for Rickie, which made it a lovely tool for a stone butch sadist like Jax. His reactions to it were so glorious. Jax was looking forward to this date.

Rickie greeted him in the tightest black jeans Jax had ever seen, and a teal hoodie, unzipped so Jax could see the white v-neck underneath. His head was tilted, his eyes accented with slate eyeliner, his lips a deep blue, his nails a sparkly fuschia.

“Damn, you look pretty, boy.”

“I thought you might appreciate these jeans, Sir.”

Rickie adored being Jax’s pretty boy. He needed to be honored in the complexity of his gender, the ways that it was classic NYC Puerto Rican femme. Jax had consistently done that over the last year and a half. Inside play, and out of it. That shit was rare.

“Where are you at tonight?” Jax asked.

“I need to go down, hard. Need to prove I can take a lot. I need to bleed for you.”

“You can take a lot. You’re tough. The prettiest boys usually are, hmm?”

“Sir, I need…please make my mascara run.”

“Gladly. It makes me want to fuck you. Do you want my cock inside you tonight?”

“Oh, yes, Sir. I need you inside me.”

“Then we are on the same page. I’m in a claiming mood, like where we went a couple months ago. Remember that?”

Did he ever. That was exactly right for tonight, so much what Rickie needed that he hadn’t even let himself think it.

“I’d like that,” he said gruffly.

“Alright, then. Are you ready for me?”

“Ready, Sir.”

“Stay in exactly that spot. I will be there in a bit.”

Jax headed to the bathroom with his bag. He hadn’t wanted to be packing on the train over. But now that they were going to play…The familiar press of it in his tight jeans was a reminder to seek his own pleasure tonight. He had bad habits in that area, and he’d been working on breaking them. He was no service top, at heart, had deep needs of his own, and balancing them as he played was part of his conscious practice over the past year.

He took his time moving toward his boy, looked him over, slowly. He pulled out the only three tools he needed. His favorite quirt, his rubber flail, and the scissors that were dedicated to this boy. He picked up the scissors, pressed the sharp tips against his boy’s jugular, and spoke for the first time since he’d put the boy against the wall and told him to stay there.

“If you want to keep those jeans intact, they need to come off, now.”

If you want more Jax, he appears in a number of excerpts I have posted already. Of course you could also show up on Saturday and hear me read more from this particular excerpt.

tgstonebutch: (boot)

I will be reading my erotica at Leather, Lace & Lust tomorrow night, alongside such amazing authors as M. Christian, Molly Weatherfield, Blake C Aarens, Suz DeMello, Jean Marie Stine, and Mistress Lorelei Powers. Doors open at 630, event begins at 730, at The Center for Sex and Culture 1349 Mission St, San Francisco. Entry $10, tickets here.

I plan to read from my story, "A Large Full Meal", which was printed in Cruising for Bad Boys and Salacious Magazine. It is an intense filthy ride between two trans fag tops, featuring knife play, fisting and rough body play. Here is a taste:

Knives get to me like nothing else. I’m one of those tops that likes to start with a knife and a wall, and go from there. To trap my prey, cornering him, until the wall is at his back and he is stuck facing my bulk and my knife. Because knives get me hard, instantly. There is this electric metal taste that seeps into my mouth, as adrenaline starts pumping in tune to the movements of the knife in my hand. We play that adrenaline together, and I find myself soaking up the steely scent of it, sliding my tongue along skin to taste it.

So it is not surprising that he got to me, and I came face to face with the fiercest animal need I have ever experienced.

A few months earlier, I had caught his eye at a sex club, but we both were busy at the time.  I grinned when I saw him in the hallway at the queer conference.  He was giving an impromptu lesson on cruising gay men to a couple of eager young trans fags.

“It’s all about the body language,” he explained.  “See, in gay men’s community, touch is a primary mode of communication.  Say I think that guy is cute.”

He raised his brows at me as I was walking slowly past him.  I turned slightly to catch his eye and cocked my head, pausing, eyeing his ass. 

“So I’d body up to him from behind, see?”

And he did, slowly.  I could feel his breath on my skin.

“And then I’d wait,” he said.

I moved back slightly, completing the contact.  He wrapped his arms around my waist, settling in behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder.  Even from behind, I could tell his bulk was mostly muscle.

“See how I waited for him to complete the contact before I wrapped my arms around him?  It’s all about the subtle signals.  Now I bet, if I trailed my hand along his arm, and tilted my head, he’d follow me.  We wouldn’t need to say a word.”

He was right.  I followed him.  Into the single stall all gender bathroom, and locked the door.

Hope to see you at the reading tomorrow!

tgstonebutch: (boot)
Yep, I'm doing it, that intensity called NaNoWriMo.

The queer kinky erotic novel I am working on is tentatively titled
Shocking Violet, the tale of a tg stone butch and a high femme cis queer woman risking connection with each other, set in NYC amidst the intensity of trans inclusion activism. It revolves around their efforts to build the trust and access intimacy that is necessary to explore the D/s they both really want. It is a deeply polyamorous love story, a story that centers two disabled Jewish queers in their queer communities, and highlights their commitment to honoring the multiple vital relationships in their lives.

If you want to follow along: the synopsis is here. The first taste, which centers Jax's spark of attraction for Violet is here. The inspiration Pinterest board (an ever-growing collection of images that I’m using to inspire the novel) is here. And I just posted a second taste, a snippet from Violet & Jax's first date.

ETA: I posted a third excerpt here.
tgstonebutch: (boot)
 Save the date: I will be reading my queer kink erotica at Leather, Lace and Lust on 12/6/14 at the Center for Sex and Culture

In other news, my gay firemen cathartic play story "Facing the Dark" is slated to be printed in a charity anthology, Coming Together: Pro Bono, and my genderplay edgeplay story, "Strong" will appear in Best Lesbian Erotica 2015. Both of these books are coming out soon.

I've been doing some new writing on my website that may be of interest:
If you are interested in reading more of my reflections about my own writing, they are collected here on my website. There are also a bunch of resources for writers on my website (look on the lefthand sidebar), including a list of calls for submission for erotica and a queer and trans list of calls.
tgstonebutch: (boot)
Folsom weekend approaches and I wanted to let you know about an event I hope will consider including in your plans. I am thrilled to be returning to read my erotica (which I write under the nom de plume Xan West) at the Pre-Folsom Perverts Put Out, in San Francisco, for the second year in a row.

When: Saturday September 20, 2014. Doors open at 7pm. Reading starts at 8pm.

Where: The Center for Sex and Culture in SF. 1349 Mission St. between 9th and 10th

What: Perverts Put Out! is San Francisco's long-running pansexual performance series. Join a sexy celebration of leather and lust at Perverts Put Out!'s annual pre-Folsom-Fair show, with performers including  Sherilyn Connely, Greta Christina, Phillip Huang, Lori Selke, horehound stillpoint, Xan West, with your hosts Simon Sheppard and Dr. Carol Queen.

Cost: $10-25 sliding scale

I am excited about reading from a piece that centers two trans characters, so I am planning to read from “Missing Daddy”, which was recently reprinted in Best Gay Erotica 2013. It was described by the editor Paul Russell as a “breathtaking foray into extreme sex”. It features a Daddy reminiscing about when he was a boy dreaming about gay public sex, and being claimed by his first Daddy. Both Daddy and boy are trans men, a bear and his cub with a sweet and raunchy dynamic, and they are part of a community of gay trans men. One of my main goals in writing “Missing Daddy” was to illustrate what it’s like for a bottom who is not a masochist to choose to take intense pain as part of his submission. You go through that experience from the bottom’s point of view, hear how it feels and what he thinks about it, and hopefully get a glimpse of why he might choose that, what it means to him.

In other erotica-related news, my piece “Strong” will be included in Best Lesbian Erotica 2015, which can be pre-ordered right now.
Also, I posted a “Snog for Sommer”, along with over 50 other erotica writers, to support the erotic writer Sommer Marsden, whose family is grappling with pancreatic cancer.

I hope to see you at Perverts Put Out, if you are in the Bay next weekend.
tgstonebutch: (boot)
I’m excited to announce that I will be on a panel discussing kink and disability in San Francisco in a couple weeks.

When: Saturday August 23rd, 2014. 6-830pm
Where: The Center for Sex and Culture 1349 Mission Street  San Francisco, CA [Between 9th and 10th Streets, on the corner of Grace Street]
Who: Carrie Wade, Lyric Seal, and Corey Alexander (me!)
What: Disabled Pride/Disabled Pain: Stories of Kink & Disability

The Center for Sex and Culture is proud to present a panel discussion of disabled folks discussing their experiences with kink. Join a panel of bad-ass disabled folks for story-sharing centered on disabled pride, sex, power, and (even sometimes) pain.

Suggested donation of $7-15 sliding scale. Pay what you can and no one turned away for lack of funds!

Access info: While the Center for Sex and Culture is not ADA accessible, there is wheelchair access through the front door and chairs have fit in the bathroom with relative ease. Our automatic door opener sometimes works, so sooner to the event we will update as to whether it is working or not! Please come scent-free (also no smoking outside the door and please be aware of chemicals you may come in contact with throughout the day). ***We are working on getting an ASL interpreter so as soon as interpretation is confirmed we will make a post on Facebook!***

I’m really looking forward to being part of this event; these kinds of conversations are rare and precious to me.

In related news, one of my core writing projects right now is a series of queer kink erotica stories that center fat disabled trans and genderqueer folks. I talk about this project on my website, and share excerpts from some of the stories I’ve been working on. I have also been doing a bunch of writing about writing erotica, which is collected on my website here. My series of posts on writing for trans readers may be of particular interest. I have also been working on translating my classes on stone sexuality into a blog series. My latest post in this series describes the pleasures of stone sexuality. I am also working on my first novel, which I’m pretty excited about.

I hope I will see you at the panel in a couple of weeks!
tgstonebutch: (boot)

I turn 40 tomorrow. I’m pretty excited about it. If you want to help me celebrate my birthday, I sure would appreciate any of the following birthday presents:

tgstonebutch: (boot)
I've been doing more writing in the new year, which is one of the things I hoped I would have more room for when I moved to the Bay Area.

I began working on the novel. I began my blog series on stone. I wrote three new stories in March and April, two full length stories and one short short, that together with an earlier piece that is still unpublished, form a new phase of my erotica writing that includes an emphasis on centering disabled characters. In April, I wrote about aftercare in kink and erotica, and the backstory of one of my earlier erotica pieces, "Nervous Boy". May was taken over by life events, but I was able to write this reflection piece about compersion (the concept) and "Compersion" (my story that was printed in I Like to Watch). In June, I began to post some think pieces on my website about writing trans erotica and being a trans reader of erotica:If you are interested in reading more of my reflections about my own erotica, I collected them all on a round-up page on my website.

I have high hopes for my new stories, and am crossing my fingers that they will be printed sometime next year.

Next up is the blog posts I've got planned on stone (to continue the blog series I started in March), which I have not been up for writing. I am hoping I will be able to do some of that writing soon.
tgstonebutch: (boot)
Each year, the Best Lesbian Erotica series captures some of the best smut stories by well-known and brand-new authors. Come hear readings from 2014's collection edited by Kathleen Warnock. Join us for an exciting reading from the new 2014 collection and beyond.

Here is the full list of readers, and its pretty amazing: Amy Butcher, Jen Cross, Carol Queen, Sinclair Sexsmith, BD Swain, M'kali-Hashiki, Cheryl Dunye, Xan West, and Jiz Lee!

$20 at the door includes the price of a book!


Buy your tickets EARLY from Eventbrite and receive an EXTRA ticket in the door prize giveaway, featuring fancy silicone toys from TANTUS and queer porn DVDs from PINK & WHITE.



Queer Smut: Best Lesbian Erotica 2014 release party


Thursday, December 12, 2013, 7-9pm



1349 Mission Street between 9th & 10th, San Francisco

Cost: $20 Includes a copy of the book Best Lesbian Erotica 2014


No one turned away for lack of funds



I am excited to be part of this reading, and am looking forward to reading an abridged version of "What I Need", a piece filled with D/s, edgeplay, rough sex, pain play, bootplay, breathplay and bloodsports. What more could you want?


Here is an excerpt from the story:

I push you to your knees, take out my cock, and ram it down your throat.  Fuck the niceties, I need to be deep inside you right away, and I am there, feeling your throat convulse around me, growling, telling you to choke on my cock, to take it for me.  I have my hands wrapped in your hair and I fuck your face, watching you work to take my dick, reveling in the sight of tears in your eyes.  I take your breath with my cock, your nose stuck in my belly, my dick down your throat, and watch you struggle, your eyes huge, tears rolling down your cheeks.  I pull back just a bit to free your breath, and yank up my shirt, as I take your breath again, my cock blocking your throat. I don’t pull up my shirt often, usually fuck with all my clothes on, but I want to feel your tears on my skin. My hunger for that is stronger than my need to be completely covered, at least right in this moment, and I know how you see me.

My stomach is jammed against your nose, allowing you no air. I savor it, the control I have over you in this moment, and wrap my hands into your hair, pulling it, as I feel you gasp around my cock.  Then I let you breathe again, pulling out for a moment to slap you across the face with my dick, watching your mouth form the words, “Thank you Sir.”

I slap you in earnest, hard on the face, with my cock, then the back of my hand, repeatedly, each time upping the intensity.  I thrust into your throat, feeling you choke on my cock, telling you to take it for me, be good for me.  I groan, and grip your hair tightly, ramming your mouth onto me, closing my eyes, savoring the feel of being deep inside you.  I work my boot between your legs and grind it into you, meeting your eyes and watching them fill with pain, my dick down your throat muffling any noise you might make.  I ride your throat hard, my boot grinding in time with my strokes, fresh tears falling on my fat belly and making my cock even harder. 
tgstonebutch: (boot)
“Baxter’s Boy”, my story printed in the new anthology, The Big Book of Orgasms, was a long time coming. I’ve written elsewhere about how this piece is connected to my development as a smut writer, and is set in a very specific moment in my dykey college town, when trans men were coming out in droves and queer communities began to shift. The editor, Rachel Kramer Bussel, recently called it “a wonderful take on gender and desire.”

That is particularly apropos because “Baxter’s Boy” also has deep origins in my own genders and desires. I think owning and claiming your desires is a powerful thing to do; it is a central aspect of my sex positive politic. It’s also a huge turn-on for me: when someone owns their desires, is embodied in them and names them clearly, it is one of the hottest things in the world. One of the things I love about so many of the faggots I’ve known is how much they boldly and bluntly owned and claimed their desires.

I’ve been hot for faggotry for as long as I can recall actually owning my own desires, beginning around 20 years ago. Not just individual queer men, though I definitely have been hot for many. But for faggotry as sexual culture, fag archetypes, queer men’s sexual geography and expression. As my gender has ebbed and flowed, that desire has remained constant.

This aspect of my own desire has been a broad theme in my published smut. I have created many genderqueer and trans men characters who ached for faggotry, who reveled in being recognized, cruised and desired as queer men, who wanted to suck cock in alleys and bathrooms, wanted Daddy to bring them home from the bars, wanted to be seen as the faggots they knew they were inside. Here are a few snippets from some of those stories:

That's why I chose this alley. Fag friends have cruised by with me, shown me where to go, described protocol. Told me story after story about being on their knees, or getting sucked off, or (if it's especially late and fairly empty) bending over against the dumpster and getting fucked until they are so weak they can barely make it home. It's like you know the same stories. You're standing there against the wall, strategically placed to watch for danger. You're a cocksucker's dream, every inch the leather Daddy of my fantasies.” –“Alley Obsession”, printed in Got a Minute?: Sixty Second Erotica

As your boy, I was able to tap a deep faggotry that had been denied realization by a trick of biology. There was no disruption in it for you. You fully celebrated my raunchy queer sexuality. I could sink into it with you, hold none of it back, know you would meet my faggotry with your own.”—“A Lesson About Gender”, printed in Pleasure Bound: True Bondage Stories

“Daddy made me feel proud to be a faggot. That affirmation of self threaded through everything. He knew about my fantasies, the way I ached to cruise for public sex but was scared that no one would touch me. He made me jack off as I described being forced to my knees in an alley, being bent over the sink in a public bathroom, kneeling to service cock after cock at a gloryhole.”—“Missing Daddy”, printed in Best Gay Erotica 2013

“I watch him carefully as I free my cock. His eyes widen. Is that fear? Excitement? Both, I decide, stroking my cock as I watch him. He is scared—what if it isn’t how he wanted? Or worse, what if it is? What if he really is a cocksucking fagboy who gets on his knees for strangers in alleys?” –“Nervous Boy”, printed in Love at First Sting: Sexy Tales of Erotic Restraint

I came out into a cis gay men’s community, as a bisexual dyke. (I was genderfluid back then, but not out to myself about it.) My desires for many of the faggots in my life were not spoken, most of the time. We watched gay porn, they talked about their tricks and their lovers openly. We played spin the bottle and the boys tried out kissing each other. I had one former lover who became one of my closest friends, and shared the details of his queer sexual life, including a lot of details about how cruising and public sex work in cis gay culture. I learned sex positivity from these young faggots, as they continually affirmed their embodied desire with each other, and I began to build my own. I spent a long time yearning quietly. It felt impossible to be met in this desire.

Until about 15 years ago, when I got my hands on Carol Queen’s The Leather Daddy and the Femme. It was the first erotica I had ever read with a genderfluid character that got it on with cis gay men as a femme as well as a boy. This was the closest I had seen to any reflection of one of my core desires in an erotic text. Like Randy/Miranda in Carol Queen’s book, I didn’t just want to be desired as a boy, but as a femme too, without losing recognition as a fag. Because I wasn’t the kind of trans* that was just one of those things, and I wanted to be known, witnessed and desired in the fullness of all my genders. And I dreamed of a leather daddy I could submit to as all of myself.

I spent a long time writing about that need to be known, witnessed and desired as a fag boy, and in multiple genders. Many of my stories reflect that, including the ones I quoted above. But when I think about the origins of my own deep yearning for faggotry, I am taken back to the bisexual femme dyke I used to be, who thought her desire might never be met. She is who I wrote this story for.

“Baxter’s Boy” centers a high femme dyke who aches to play with queer boys. It focuses on her desire for Baxter, a gay FTM top, the first trans guy who came out as a faggot in her dykey college town. It is about her fantasies of bottoming to him and his boy, sparked by a long term crush and one particular New Year’s Eve kiss. Here is an excerpt that includes that kiss, along with a bit of pain play:

“When it hit midnight, I found myself next to Baxter somehow. He reached toward me, and gently touched my neck, watching my eyes as I trembled. Seconds later his hand was fisted in my hair, his tongue thrusting into my mouth, the other hand cupping my ass as he dipped me low. I opened to him, putting everything into that moment, all my submission, all my desire. He gently placed me back on my feet and smiled into my eyes, lightly chuckling. “I like to keep them guessing,” he said, indicating the crowd of shocked spectators. I smiled, heart pounding, and watched him walk back to his boy, his strut clearly showing he had done what he had come to do, and was proud of himself. He backed Robert into the wall and began to devour him.

I hadn’t seen him since. I spotted Robert watching me bottom a couple weeks later, as I fell in love with the rawhide cane.  I’m not a masochist, but there are some toys that reach into me. That kind of pain is a joy to submit to, in its relentless invasion.  I loved that cane so much I ached to kiss it afterwards.  When I opened my eyes to beg for that privilege, Robert was gone.

I went home that night with Robert and Baxter in my head, a fresh set of cane marks on my thighs. I lay in bed playing with the marks, taking off my combat boots and grinding the soles into them. I imagined Robert’s eyes watching me, Baxter’s boots on my sore thighs. I wanted them both so much. Wanted them inside my head, filling up all my holes, giving me pain. Wanted to be between them, a conduit for their pleasure in each other.”

“Baxter’s Boy” has just been printed in The Big Book of Orgasms, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. As part of its launch, I will be reading and signing books, along with a number of other authors, at the Polk Street Good Vibrations in San Francisco this Wednesday 11/6 at 630pm.

This blog post is an official part of the BBOO virtual book tour, and as such I can offer a giveaway. Click here for the chance to win a free copy of The Big Book of Orgasms.



cross posted from tumblr and my website
tgstonebutch: (boot)
I am pleased to announce that I will be doing another reading in SF in the first week of November. This FREE reading is to celebrate the launch of The Big Book of Orgasms, which is now widely available. I will be reading from “Baxter’s Boy”, a piece filled with queer fantasy and yearning, which has its roots in my identity as a smut writer.

WHEN: Wednesday November 6th, 2013, 6:30 - 7:30pm

WHERE: Good Vibrations Polk Street, 20 Polk Street (at Sacramento Street), San Francisco

WHAT: The Big Book of Orgasms: 69 Sexy Stories (Cleis Press) is editor Rachel Kramer Bussel's latest and greatest erotica anthology. This climactic collection of pansexual short shorts are perfect for bedtime reading to a lover or on your own. Whether getting off from exhibitionism, voyeurism, hot wax, dirty talk or a very special pair of blue jeans, the characters in The Big Book of Orgasms go all out for the Big O. From vanilla to kinky, and everything in between, there's something for all erotic readers here.

At this special reading, Bussel will be joined by contributors Lily K. Cho, Malin James, Crystal Jordan, Sinclair Sexsmith, Donna George Storey, B.D. Swain, Virgie Tovar, Jade A. Waters and Xan West (that’s me!) for an evening of steamy stories that's sure to leave you hot and bothered.

Facebook Event Listing: https://www.facebook.com/events/186231794893318/

Fetlife Event Listing: https://fetlife.com/events/201391

I want to tell you about the Bookgasm raffle, where you can win 23 digital copies of Coming Together erotica anthologies, including two with my work: Coming Together: In Flux, and Coming Together: In Vein. Deadline to enter is 11/30/13.

Also, Cleis Press is running an Amazon sale on digital copies of a number of their anthologies, including two with my work: I Like to Watch and Leathermen.

I hope to see you at the reading on November 6th!
tgstonebutch: (boot)

Cleis Press is doing an ebook sale, and two books that contain my erotica are on sale for $1.99 in ebook form, on Amazon:

I Like to Watch: Gay Erotic Stories edited by Christopher Pierce- $1.99

I Like to Watch is a collection of voyeuristic gay smut. It contains "Compersion", a sweet sadistic ride from the POV of a Daddy who's boy is showing off for him by bottoming to two sadists.

Here is an excerpt, from the beginning of the story. (As a heads up, it describes play that involves blades, voyeurism, rough body play, and objectification.)

He calls it showing off for Daddy. He likes to show off for me. It gives him the opportunity to make me proud and get me off, all at once. He picks tops that are wired like me, to get off on tears, fear, control, and pain. Because he loves to play that way, but also, particularly, because he knows that will give me a good show. He knows that watching him cry as he gets fucked is sure to make me cum.

He had a special treat for me that night, had been putting it together for weeks. He set up my favorite chair, my Daddy chair, so that I could see everything. He had even thoughtfully provided a footstool, toilet, and cumrag in the form of Sam, a boy who I had been hot for ever since I met him three years ago. Sam was in service to a couple, Marcus and Franklin, who always topped together. Abe had been lusting after them for as long as I had been eyeing Sam. He could not hide his cat-got-the-cream grin as he showed them around. He wore his eagerness openly, and I wondered if they were thinking what I would be thinking—about slapping it off his face. I settled into my chair, ordered Sam into position, and put my boots up, resting them on his bare back. It was going to be a good night, I could feel it.

They cornered him against the wall, knives in hand, speaking softly to him. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but his eyes got wider and he had stopped breathing. He was scared, I could tell from across the room, and just watching the fear on his face made my dick hard. Marcus had a gloved hand on Abe’s throat, a knife against his cheek, holding him still against the wall, as Franklin swiftly shredded his clothes from his body.

He was trying so hard to be perfectly still, but I could see him trembling slightly. Franklin’s knife toyed with his cock, as Marcus murmured something that made him wince and close his eyes. The moment seemed to last a very long time, that thick, long, shiny blade caressing his dick. He began to breathe rapidly, his fists clenching as he fought to stay still. It was delicious.

They yanked him away from the wall and stood him between them. He was staring into Franklin’s eyes when Marcus punched him on his back. Franklin responded by punching his pecs, and they worked a call and response rhythm together on his body, building it, until it was so fast he had no time to process it. He was struggling, shaking his head, and stomping, trying to take it, but I knew it was too much too fast and he didn’t know how. That was the point, to throw him off, not let him find his footing, and I could see it getting to him.

Franklin spun him around, and began pounding into his back with his fists, as Marcus removed his gloves to put others on. I knew what these must be—SAP gloves. So did Abe, because he growled, as Marcus began to punch his chest. I could see him struggle with it, watched it blossom on his face. He couldn’t stop them, was overwhelmed and off kilter and he always cries when you punch his chest—it’s like a release valve, and this time I got to watch it happening, and savor each moment.

It was glorious, to sit back and watch him struggle against tears, until he released them. It made my cock throb. When I saw Marcus continue to pound his chest with punches while he cried, grinning all the while, saw Abe register that it wasn’t going to stop, and he really could let go, my heart filled up with love for him. My boy was beautiful when he cried.

Leathermen: Gay Erotic Stories by Simon Sheppard- $ 1.99

Leathermen is a collection of gay kinky porn. It contains my story "Willing", where a jaded vampire meets that ever elusive prize: a willing boy who can really take it. 'Nathan Burgoine has described this story as:  "brutally brilliant, a mix of sex, BDSM, and boundary pushing that leaves the reader breathless and unsure of the possibility of a positive outcome. 'Willing' deliciously defies expectations.”

I've discussed this story before, sharing an excerpt from the beginning of the story. Here is a different excerpt from "Willing", from later in the tale when the vampire top begins to really go after what he wants. (As a heads up, it describes play that involves sadistic desire, blood, rough body play, and pain play.)

I want my claws on his chest, now. I want to rip him open, expose him to my gaze, my teeth, my hunger. I want his blood on every tool in my possession. Now. I want to feast on him. I can feel the beast roll through my body.

Not yet. I want more pain to draw it out. I want to see if it's true. I want to know he can take my worst and still want more. I want to see his strength. That is worth delaying my feed. And postponing it will only make it sweeter.

I breathe deeply, focusing my senses as I walk slowly in front of him, inspecting him from every angle. He straightens his posture, easing into a position he can hold. I move close, and grip his shirt, tearing it swiftly from his chest and tossing it onto the floor. That's what I want first. I throw my shoulder into the body slam, and feel the electricity of our skins’ contact. I trace my fingertips along the horizontal scars on his chest, and then grip his nipples, twisting. I am so close, I cannot resist sinking my teeth in and teasing myself. I bite deeply, barely avoiding breaking skin. Building connection. Making my cock throb. Drawing out my beast. I lift up and bite down, feeling his body shift with the pain, laying my mark on him. I claim him like this, first. Begin how you wish to proceed. With fear and pain and teeth and sex all rolled together. I can feel the blood pulsing just at the surface, calling me. I bite down hard and thrust my cock against him. My low growl mixes with the slow soft moan that escapes his lips. I lift my head to meet his eyes, and see that he has begun to fly.

I step back and begin my dance around him. Heaving my fist into his chest. My boot into his thigh. My open hand slamming down onto his pecs. I move rapidly, layering and shifting, gliding around him. Thrusting pain into him in unpredictable gusts of movement. Upping the ante. Ramming my boot into his cock, grinding the heel in and watching his eyes. He is twirling high in the air, lips parted, offering himself to me. His eyes entreat me to use him. And I do, exercising minute control, I coil into him, watching as he floats. This is just the beginning. I constrict his breath, cover his mouth and nose and thrust my teeth into his shoulder, feeling his heart against my tongue.

tgstonebutch: (boot)

To celebrate The Big Book of Orgasms: 69 Sexy Stories being in stock on Amazon as of October 1st, editor Rachel Kramer Bussel having a 48-hour flash sale. Not only do you get 69 stories for $12.12 (less than 18 cents a story!) you also get a whole other free autographed book. It’s a win win.

Note: This offer only extends to purchases on Amazon.com from October 1 at 12:00 a.m. EST to October 2 at 11:59 p.m. EST. I can only send to U.S. addresses for print copies, but can send Kindle copies to anyone. Just buy The Big Book of Orgasms from Amazon during that 48 hour time period, then forward your receipt by 9 a.m. EST on October 3 to orgasmantho at gmail.com with “BOGO” in the subject line and tell Rachel which of these Cleis Books you’d like. She will send yours by November 1st (or immediately if you request the Kindle version). Your options: Anything for You, Baby Got Back, Best Bondage Erotica 2011, Best Bondage Erotica 2012, Best Bondage Erotica 2013, Best Sex Writing 2008, Best Sex Writing 2009, Best Sex Writing 2010, Best Sex Writing 2012, Bottoms Up, Caught Looking, Cheeky Spanking Stories, Do Not Disturb, Fast Girls, Going Down, Gotta Have It, He’s on Top, Hide and Seek, ), Irresistible, The Mile High Club, Obsessed, Only You, Orgasmic, Passion, Peep Show, Please, Ma’am, Please, Sir, Rubber Sex, Serving Him, She’s on Top, Smooth, Spanked, Suite Encounters, Surrender, Tasting Her, Tasting Him, Twice the Pleasure, Women in Lust, Yes, Ma’am, Yes, Sir. Thank you!

Official description:

What happens when you bring together 69 authors sharing their hottest orgasm stories? If you have top notch erotica editor Rachel Kramer Bussel, you get The Big Book of Orgasms! This climactic collection captures top erotica writers serving up steamy scenarios all focused on The Big O. Whether getting off from exhibitionism, voyeurism, or a very special pair of blue jeans, the characters in The Big Book of Orgasms explore all sorts of ways they can come. Go “Under the Table” with Elizabeth Coldwell and cheer for “The Pink Team” by Kelly Rand. Discover the thrill of hot wax and even hotter sex; these short stories bring the heat on every page! With a foreword by Ecstasy is Necessary author Barbara Carrellas, these are climaxes you’ll want to relive again and again.

My piece, “Baxter’s Boy”, which took years to write, is printed in this anthology. Here is a short excerpt:

He was a legend. Baxter. The first to transition in my college town. (At least, the first anyone knew about.) In 1994. Before the generation of FTMs that started T the instant they finished their degrees in women’s studies. Before the genderqueers and the transgressively gendered. Before bois spelled it with an “i” and any one talked about cisgender. Before the trans revolution hit my dykey college town, there was Baxter. Anti-social. Determined to enjoy his faggotry, in a time when it was frowned upon for FTMs to name their desire for cis men...or each other.

Baxter had been a softball butch, dated high femmes, fucked other butches in secret. Then he left town. When he came back, he was a fag. He brought out FTMs and butch boys, teaching them to celebrate their faggotry, to own their desire for pain. He was so good with a cane that he had experienced leatherfags begging to submit to him. Robert had been his boy for over 2 years now. They were a happy pair, rarely going out, except to cruise fresh meat. Boys that were full of need, and bravado, that needed to be shown their place. These boys would emerge from that house with their heads high, their leather immaculate, and a pride of fresh marks on their backs. 

He mesmerized me. I ached to be boy enough for him. Except I wasn’t a boy. I wasn’t even butch. This high femme dyke ached to play with queer boys. I jacked off to gay porn. I knelt to suck butch cock, dreaming of alleys and piers, glory holes and bathrooms. I had fantasies about Baxter, because he was a fag...and had dated femmes.  Might there still be desire in there, for a femme in seamed stockings, her deep red lips on his cock?

Now is the time to order The Big Book Of Orgasms from Amazon, fresh off the presses and with a free book thrown in for good measure.

tgstonebutch: (boot)

This is a friendly reminder that I will be reading my erotica (which I write under the nom de plume Xan West) at the Pre-Folsom Perverts Put Out, in San Francisco.

When: September 28, 2013. Doors open at 7pm. Reading starts at 8pm.

Where: The Center for Sex and Culture in SF. 1349 Mission St. between 9th and 10th

What: Perverts Put Out! is San Francisco's long-running pansexual performance series. Join a sexy celebration of leather and lust at Perverts Put Out!'s annual pre-Folsom-Fair show, with performers including Jen Cross, Greta Christina, Phillip Huang, Steven Schwartz, horehound stillpoint, Naamen Tilahun, Xan West, and Mollena Williams, with your hosts Simon Sheppard and Dr. Carol Queen.

Cost: $10-25 sliding scale

I will be reading an abridged version of my story “Strong”, which was printed in Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica.

Reviewers have this to say about “Strong”:


  • “a tribute to bottoms, to what we give to our tops, to what it takes to do what we do…Xan West, more than anyone I’ve ever read, intrinsically gets what I do at my core, as a femme and as a bottom.” Helena Swann on Cuntext

  • “The caning scene within this story literally made my thighs ache, and not just in sympathy.” --Angel Propps at Lambda Literary Reviews

  • "some of the most boundary breaking erotica I’ve heard in a while" --Kelli Dunham

Here is an excerpt from the beginning of my story, "Strong", that appears in Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica (as a heads up, this excerpt contains oral sex, gendered D/s, and play with misogyny)

For both of us, gender is both complex identity and elaborate sex toy.  But not just that.  It is not easy to grow up breaking the gender rules, to live lives visibly nonconforming.  Gender is a dangerous and delicious edge in which we play, knowing that we may inadvertently step on the minefields of our gendered histories and present struggles.  Part of the thrill is that danger. We push gender to it’s own edges, play its sharpness against our throats, fear in our mouths, ache in our guts, building armor against becoming what we fear.

Gender is the core. It drives our relationship.  As a transgender butch, playing with gender is an edgy and necessary thing.  For my genderqueer submissive, who’s gender ebbs and flows in life and in play, the conscious choice to play with gender confirms self, breaks boundaries, allows catharsis.  My submissive is both my girl and my boy.  Tonight she was going to be one and then the other. 

When she is my girl, I always start by fucking her throat.  It is the most personal hole, and I claim her there first, make sure she knows she is helpless to stop me.  Her job is to open to me, give to me, feed me with her eyes. I begin by placing the cuffs on her wrists, lock them together, and force her to her knees.  My hands grip her hair, and I force her mouth onto my cock.  This is how we start, every time.

Beginning this way every time gives us both a way to go deeper into ourselves, to sink into what we are doing, find ground for the genders we are playing in. My cock in her throat honors how she wants to do girlness, how much we both want her to be open and vulnerable and raw. Her eyes looking up at me and her mouth wrapped round my dick reflect back the masculinity I want to do with her, how much we want me to be cruel and invasive and dominant. I need to see that she wants this, all the way through, and she knows how much I run on adrenaline when we play this way, how it reaches into my core and twists.

I need to start fast, and hard, almost dare myself into it, because this scares the shit out of me, and that’s the only way to get over the mountain of fear that builds in me as I know we are going there. The more fear there is the rougher and faster I need it. I was especially rough that night, ignoring the gagging, groaning as I forced tears from her eyes.

“That’s right, choke on my cock,” I said gruffly.

There was rushing in my ears as I watched her choke, tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes locked on mine, soft, reassuring.  I rammed myself into her, cracking her open, thrusting my way inside.  I got taller as I fucked her face, wrenching her hair, relentless.  I could tell when she started to float, weightless, rapt.  I pulled out of her mouth, looking coldly down at her as she took ragged sobbing breaths and offered herself to me.

In other erotica-related news, my piece “Baxter’s Boy” is included in The Big Book of Orgasms, which is coming out mid-October, and can be pre-ordered on Amazon right now. To celebrate the release of this book, I will be reading (along with fellow authors like B.D. Swain and Virgie Tovar, and the editor Rachel Kramer Bussel) at Good Vibrations on Polk Street in SF on November 6th.

I hope you can include Perverts Put Out as part of your Folsom celebrations.

tgstonebutch: (boot)

Cleis Press is doing a Super Summer Sale, and two books that contain my erotica are on sale for $1.99 in ebook form, on Amazon:

Pleasure Bound: True Bondage Stories edited by Alison Tyler- $1.99

Pleasure Bound contains "A Lesson About Gender", one of my two stories that center genderfluid genderqueer characters (the other is "Strong", which was printed in Say Please). I discuss the origins of both stories here.

Here is an excerpt, from the first part of the story, where the protagonist is watching a dual set of scenes with the same dominant, that spur memories of hir own dominant. (As a heads up, it describes gendered play that involves blades, bondage, rough body play, and pain play.)

"With his girl it’s intimate, reaching into all those places instinctively guarded, so dangerously deliciously intimate, his blade menacing her eyes, piercing the inside of her lower lip. She’s bound, revealed, facing the voyeurs; intensity building; then silky sliding penetration, fear twisting into pain. She’s tough. It’s not about breaking her. It’s about ripping her open slowly, savoring each tear, each exposure, each soft sound. She’s trembling, uttering very few words, simply soft gasps and pleading eyes. He’s up close, very close. She’s slowly split open like fruit, tears dripping.

With his boy: the boy’s not bound, not still. He takes positions braced against hardness: hard wall, hard floor; back to the crowd for the entirety, physical distance between them. Sir is huge, towering over his boy. He’s using percussive, slow rhythm; simple tools: fists, boots, belt; punching, kicking, beating, jarring. The boy is required to hold positions, made to do push-ups, pushed to physical limits. There’s constant verbal interaction, the boy’s voice keeping rhythm, counting off. Tears are present, but they’re not the point. Fear is not the point. He’s tough. It’s not about breaking him. It’s about building him up, revealing his strength to him, building something important, the boy taking pride in himself, Sir taking pride in his boy."

Brief Encounters: 69 hot Gay Shorts edited by Shane Allison- $1.99

Brief Encounters contains "This Boy", a microfiction piece that describes the fantasies of a dominant sadist. It was a cathartic piece for me to write, naming in particular a fantasy that I was choosing not to act on, about a boy who was asking for it.

Here is an excerpt. (As a heads up, it describes ds focused sadism.)

"I want to stalk this boy around the room, until I’ve cornered my prey against a wall. I want to watch the pulse in his throat speed up. I want to savor the scent of his fear, build it up as I menace him with my size and ferocity. I want to speak to him softly, about sadism, about the beast that roams in my skin. Detail all of the ways he has been teasing it. Describe exactly the promises he has made and how he has been asking for it. I want this boy to realize what he’s been doing, and be afraid. And then I want to take his breath, and watch him struggle with a smile on my face. I want him to know what it is to be at my mercy and to see exactly how merciless the beast inside me can be."

tgstonebutch: (boot)

fangskitten on "My Precious Whore"

"I really enjoyed the kink aspects of My Precious Whore. While it’s not the kind of kink play I would personally engage in, I always appreciate a good kinky story."

And a lovely long mention by Angel Propps at Lambda Literary on "Strong"

"Some of the best transgressive erotic fiction to come along in recent years has been authored by Xan West and in the story “Strong,” Xan is working at top form. Gender itself is the beating, bleeding heart of the play between a transgendered butch and a genderqueer submissive. Using language that shows all too clearly the terrifying loveliness that is vulnerability, Xan delivers characters who willingly choose to go places where others fear to tread and the result is incredibly, satisfyingly filthy and erotic. The caning scene within this story literally made my thighs ache, and not just in sympathy."

And one that doesn't...
Here is what a reviewer says  about Coming Together With A Twist (which includes my story, "Ready"

"each one is imaginative, sexy and well written."

tgstonebutch: (Default)

I just heard this evening that Cleis Press wants to include my story, “Missing Daddy” in Best Gay Erotica 2013. The series is edited by Richard Labonte, and this year’s volume is guest edited by Paul Russell. Labonte originally printed “Missing Daddy” in an anthology he edited, Daddies: Gay Erotic Fiction.

This is the story that I read from most often; the voice is so strong it makes for a good one to read aloud. It features a Daddy reminiscing about when he was a boy dreaming about gay public sex, and being claimed by his first Daddy. Both Daddy and boy are FTMs in the story—a bear and his cub with a sweet and raunchy dynamic, and they are part of a community of trans fags. It features some lovely heavy pain play with canes, describing it from the POV of a submissive who is not a masochist, but takes the pain for Daddy, and it culminates in a classic gay fantasy gangbang initiation scene. I have tremendous affection for it. I’m really glad that it will be reprinted, and in such a widely read anthology series.

Here are what a few folks have said about it, in response to the printing in Daddies:

Xan West's wistful "Missing Daddy" is about learning and moving on." –Richard Labonte, from the Introduction to Daddies

 “The moody "Missing Daddy" by Xan West features a Daddy reflecting on an epic gangbang-in-the-park scene given to him by his own Daddy years ago, and relating to his own boys.” --T. R. Moss

“Intense, compelling read.” Steve Isaak

"A "cub" undergoes an initiation into adulthood in Xan West’s "Missing Daddy,"... for a book so full of canings, rough sex, and bondage, "Daddies" offers a surprising number of moving stories about relationships that find their own lasting perfection: these men adore one another, however gruff the manner in which they might show it." –Killian Melloy

(cross posted to tumblr)

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