*Before…

Money, position, who someone was looked at being more than who they really were and that’s what I let out.

What I think that this felt like.

And I get some stuff out that I should have vented about in my other life although a little sideways but still...Different closet same darkness.

Me it was being trans and never able to get close to myself.

Her it was being shaped and molded and getting to where she thought that she was this...empty shell of a person. Not real enough or strong enough to be a mother or a wife and drowning every bit as much as I was in a situation that she only saw one way out of.

One that I and most trans people think about too often.

God I feel it, I feel that drowning despair in her like a phantom pain left over from when her soul was amputated from her body.

I end up crying for the both of us until the sedatives and meds and just getting emotionally worn out kicks in and Dr, Smith takes my tea before I spill it and helps me under the covers as I drift off into this whole place of shared soul deep hurt.

*And Now…

Dreams are a funny thing.

So is this phantom soul pain.

Like I said I feel like I can feel her emptiness and while different than my own in not being myself hers was the same in never knowing or even how to be her own self.

I get that.

I so get that and I can more than emphasize with her and in that tired too much in a day and hurt and emotionally drained hurt I really get it.

And my own stuff with my own family back when I had family still alive well I can get why she cut ties and she avoided all of them.

I loved my family. I did but they were who they were and we were just as much as that image invested as her family is. We were not rich by any means but we were very invested in what we were.

It was not that hard for family for me to fall by the wayside as people passed away and when it was just the outside relatives like Aunts and Uncles and cousins that weren’t really close to begin with.

Pretty much everything I had was in the forces including most of the people that I knew.

It was easier to just keep going than is was in downtime and thinking of who I’d never be and dealing with people that honestly were never going to get me or be there.

So I cried myself to sleep and cried in my sleep for the both of us.

And then I slept deep, feeling sort of lanced of some of the pain.

Like I dropped some of the weight too.

I think I remember this odd cartoon very Disney like dream scene where I’m sewing myself into the new me in a very Peter and his shadow sort of way and there were bits of the three fairy godmothers there and there was The Angel Nurse there but she was like Glinda The Good Witch from Oz and then things just sort of played around in my head with what I now knew of our house and of me doing things like cleaning it up and making it my own all in that sort of cartoon way still.

I’m blaming the meds on that.

Then it changes again when I dream of Josh.

Dreaming of Josh and me and our boys and doing things and him being a dad and me finally being a mom.

Which switched to full life dreams like normal ones and Josh being Josh...nice looking, friendly, funny, kind, really kind and sweet and the kisses and then more and then more until…

I woke up grinding my hand and moaning into the pillow with my breasts aching as well as other parts.

That down below wet, damp ache was like this combination of pent up sexuality like normal I guess with this very internalized feeling. I’m hard in the small bit and I’m aching in this way that is only describable as needing to stretch a muscle in the worst possible way and to grip something as well and all of that with this sexual edge to it.

I get out of bed and undressed and get myself into the shower that I have there and once I’m under the hot water and have a minimum of suds going on I’m leaning into the corner with my feet braced and my hand is slipping down and I’m doing more than exploring.

My brain is in full fantasy mode all tripped up with the reality of me finally being me and going through this finally in the right body.

Everything is right.

The feel of my skin, the pressing down with my fingers and the slick slip through my hair on my mons as I press hard but so damned good with my palm.

Fingers and suds gliding over and over my labia as all those nerves are so damned awake. The feeling is lightning erotic sending shivers through me.

My other hand finds my breast and soaps and rubs and presses and rolls and squeezes and even grips and tugs at aching soapy and leaking nipples with a thumb and a forefinger.

Which combining with my other hand send my two middle fingers deep inside until I find my spot and rub and touch and rub and rub and rub and then getting more and more used to this and into it so damned much I bring myself over the edge with these little strokes of my fingers inside of me curling as they flick me off in theis come hither.

Come hither, come through me goddess gesture.

Getting off was knee bending.

This wave of clench and pleasure that is exactly like inside of these spurts that a man has there’s that first came with a rush and the clenching but became these flutters of pleasure and muscles and nerves.

I was going for more and rubbing for more before I realized that I literally could now.

The second left me boneless and breathless as I cried in relief that was over five decades old for me and tears of rightness and passion sweat and suds and breast milk as I rubbed and pressed and squeezed with both hands and then pulling, tugging, pinching, milking in this fervor that was based all out of a lifetime of lack and a overwhelming need and sensitivity.

I drive myself crazed and to the point of grinding out a third.

My hands are Josh’s hands only his will be bigger, stronger, the squeeze, my squeeze his mouth… my hand, my hand my fingers not fingers but him, all of him inside of me and there’s this full on fantasy of being held and kissed and touched and held as he suckles and nuzzles and frankly fucks me hard and passionately.

A full wet dream while masturbating.

And by that time I’m on my knees in the shower.

I get washed and dried off and the exhaustion sort of is replaced by this feeling.

Afterglow.

Everything is so deep, so internal and naturally so that it’s like running or working out there’s endorphins, there’s all of this boosted heart rate and then literally all those good chemicals released.

I feel like I’m firing on all cylinders more than ever.

I’m awake and reading her book she had been reading when the nurses come around with breakfast and some more meds and ask me how my night was and then get me my breast pump and the fillers.

My little escapade in the shower didn’t do anything to put a dent in the supply.

The book.

Well it’s really middle of the line romance book club sort of stuff and not even like Oprah’s book club either this was just.

Like a movie prop book club book.

But it was something to read and I’m trying to get myself into the headspace of some of the women in the book as well as the woman that wrote it.

I sort of can too in the steamy parts.

But I kind of want the other stuff in it too.

The happy stuff.

The domestic stuff.

And what she wants in hooking up with the guy in the book I kind of feel too.

Other than that it’s just that and drinking tea until lunch when Josh shows up with his family and we spend that time just talking and connecting. And me with my boys.

It was more than good to see him.

Even his parents.

And of course I was overjoyed at seeing my boys and they burbled and did the happy to see me too. Which honestly makes my heart sing.

Feeding them both, changing them with Josh helping and I don’t mind even a little of that.

Seriously compared to some of the smells in some of the countries I was in.

And it’s more than just Josh and I talking too. We’re getting closer just by spending time together. There’s little shared smiles and there’s little touches. The touches thing is still sort of messy since I’m not used to those little touches and he seems to be used to pulling away from doing them or trying.

More stuff to fix.

And I’m happy to do it too.

I liked the smile there when he put his hand over mine while we were sitting on the floor and I moved my thumb to rub his hand.

We talked too, we talked about the stuff that I found or didn’t find online with me and while they knew all of it as I had all of them at least on my Facebook they don’t know why I hadn’t really any contact with that many people or friends.

Molly though… “I didn’t see the whole flame war but you did go off on a blocking binge clearing a lot of your friends list.”

“Oh, well that explains some of it I guess.”

We both sort of end up shrugging about it and I don’t have my computer just now and I don’t want to ask for it while they’re here because unlike a lot of people that I know or well knew I’m not joined permanently to my devices.

We talk about the boys as we play with them and at first it was just Josh and I sitting down on the floor with them but soon it was his mom and his dad too and it was about funny things they did or faces that they made and Molly is well...she captures everything she can on her phone.

It was a good day.

It was a very good day.

The next day not so much.

Josh showed with his folks and the babies and as soon as I seen him I knew that there was something going on.

“Josh? What’s wrong?”

“The families are pushing to sue us, sue you for wrongful death.”

“Oh bad?”

“Bad enough, it’s a lot.”

“And the state?”

“I’m working on a deal we might be able to plead out depending on what your doctors say.”

“Okay, well that makes sense.”

He looks really troubled and he looks worried about me.

I go over and hug him with that sort of one arm but leaning on him hug with a kiss and he kisses me back and he nuzzles me and takes in my smell.

Which is romantic or it is to me, even without me having perfume or such. I’ve deodorant but it’s unscented because well it’s a hospital and allergies and stuff.

“God I’m so tired of this Taylor, I just want us to be through this, I want to go home.”

Josh looks like I said worried and he even bites his lip a little because he just kind of admitted that he was tired and he is.

He’s tired and scared and he’s actually pretty brave.

I hug/hold him tighter and I kiss him again and press my forehead to his.

“I know, I know Josh and I want that too but there’s all this stuff that happened and what I did. And we have to get through it before we get to the other side.”

I try my best attempt at a brave and loving smile for him.

“We can do this, we can, we can get through this, people get through worse than this.”

He’s looking at me again in that way like he really never expected me to say something like this.

Or maybe she did and just ended up stopping saying things like this.

Either way the way he’s looking at me, the love and the relief there makes me ache again but not the sexy ache just that sort of heartache and sort lovesick ache.

I’m not his Taylor, He’s never been my Josh and yet I’m really sure that I’m falling in love with him.

The bad, the good, finally being me?

Yeah I’ll take all of this and I’ll ask for more.

I was trans, I was me and trapped and everything that went with that and when it comes right down to it none of us.

Not one person like me in real life wants some perfect fantasy life, we just want OUR life, the good and the bad the laughter and the tears all of it.

I kiss him again and sort of lean walk with him where we can sit down together.

“We’ll get through it Josh, we will….how about you tell me about us, but the future us? What do you want to do when we’re past this? Talk to me, tell me about your plans, our home, what you want for a change.”

He’s looking at me again like he might just cry as he smiles this really nice but kinda broken smile.

“Well the first thing is I think I want to move.”