Let's talk about sex

So, it's time to put the adult content warning on my blog.

Papi thinks I should be on anti-anxiety medication.  Oh, that's not why we need youngins to have consent to read this.  I promise I'll get to that shortly.

Anyway, I doubt my doctor is going to go with giving me this medication.  I asked for medicinal marijuana for my back pain and was confronted with a very large no, "We're not going down that route."

Hell, I must be a well recovering addict, because I took her 'no' as gospel.  If I wanted to be the practising addict, I'd just go and hook myself up with some off the street and cook it myself.  I still remember how to do that.  The brain injury didn't knock that one out of my head.

I obey you, oh goddess of medicine.

However, I know damn sure that if I asked for one of the 'pams' for anxiety, she'd look at me with her head tilted down and eyes looking up, bearing a hole into me with invisible laser beams like a librarian who's given too many 'shhs' to a certain individual.

That would be a 'no' as well.

Besides, I'd like to be able to get through all of this without relying upon magic pills et al.  I'm on enough right now as it is.  I wouldn't want to go back a step in feeling like a walking pharmacy like I did for a year after the accident.

Jeeeezus!  I was jacked up pretty good then.

Yesterday's anxiety was that Papi isn't going to love me after the male transformation.  It's like I think that all of what my love stands for is going to be erased.

Some of this stems from the love encounter we had where mi esposo smelled like a stranger and I was feeling like someone else was on top of me.  I wasn't in a great place to be going and having sex, but we did it anyway, and I admitted the feelings to Papi.

Those feelings, combined with a certain person sobbing uncontrollable for weeks on end, brought our sex to a halt.

I know that my love will have changes to another body part that I just haven't mentioned yet.

Clitoris.

Oooh ... scary adult content ... but I don't need crazy mothers going postal on me and having this blog taken down for talking about a natural body part.  They freak out about my love's bare breasts bad enough!

My love's clit will grow because of the hormones.  I really don't know why this instills fear in me, but it does.  It's just another part of that poison that makes me feel nauseous.

I tried using my humour about it with mi esposo in hopes that my brain would take it lightly.

"You're going to have a 5 foot long vagina!"

Papi liked that one.

Yet, this is one of the changes that has me  **ahem**  a 'little' dismayed and here's where it gets complicated; stress.

I'm stressed about Papi's 5 foot long vagina and my love is stressed that I'll be stressed during sex.

We're stuck watching this hamster wheel turn around and around.  Nobody wants stressful sex!

I desperately asked, "So now what do we do?" in hopes that Papi had the answer.

I received a delicate, "I don't know."

I know there's women out there that are absolutely thrilled about transgendered people.  I mockingly call them 'tranny chasers'.

They could swoop right in with their sex machines revving and pull mi esposo into a twirling maelstrom of lust, and I just sit here thinking about the 5 foot long vagina.

The paranoia of Papi no longer loving me went up a notch last night.

My love took a pain killer that doesn't work so well with Papi's emotions.  Every time that demon of a pill gets put into mi esposo's blood, I reap the negative effects.

It seems that when Papi takes this pain med, signs of impatience about my lingering brain injury appear, and I'm left in sorrow because there's nothing I can do to speed up this process of healing.

Last night I was left in tears and walking as quietly as I could in hopes that I could magically walk on air, possibly continuing to the stars.  I'm still too weak to defend myself.

I jumped straight to Papi has fallen out of love with me because we're having a little blockade about sex, that the age old 'lesbian bed death' has arrived, that Papi will no longer desire me because I'm stressed about making love.

Mi esposo ensured me through the apologies that the crankiness was strictly due to the pain meds.  I know that this is the same thing that happens every time Papi takes those, but this time there's more involved.

Where do we go from here?  This has to be healed quickly, because I'll tell you, I desire my love more than anyone I've ever been with.  Our connection is so strong, that even during our lull I think about sex with Papi every day, and when we have those sweet kisses I feel the electricity.

We can't lose this.

There is so much work to do around 'it', but I've got to work fast.  I need to keep mi esposo's sexual attention before one of the Tranny Chasers snaps it away from me.

Last night, Papi read my blog and answered my question about the prize at the end of the maze.

I don't get a cookie.

Papi said, "You get me."