Fierce femmes warm the cockles of my Heart

I once knew a femme chick that would pack under her dress. She didn’t make a big deal about it, she just wanted to be ready for her submissive when she wanted to bend her over a sink in a department store, or occasionally made her suck her off while they were driving down the highway. That was the kind of fierce femme she was. I didn’t think anything odd or different about it, I just thought it was what she was into, and who am I to disagree?

Don’t relax, or relax, whatever makes you comfortable. A femme strapping it on under her dress is her prerogative. Now if that makes you uncomfortable, I say, ask yourself why. What is it that makes people uncomfortable?  Are butches the only ones that should be wielding cocks around the great outdoors? Is that not a double standard? Have we really come a long way baby?

© Sam Martino

Femmie little butch, or butchie little femme?

As many of you know, as an erotic author I have the distinct pleasure of conducting research for my books. Relax! I always keep my dick in my pants, that’s not the kind of relationship that wifey and I have.

During my research, I’ve learned about some strange and interesting practices. Oh, I can hear it now…stop…save your breath. I am not condemning anyone or anything.

Hey, if you want to be put in an adult diaper that’s fine with me, as long as I don’t have to change it. More power to you, but that’s not what I’m discussing, here.

What I’m referring to is the confusion between the butch and femme roles. When in the hell did it get so damn convoluted?

I get it…I get the andy’s, the switch-hitters and the fence-walkers. I’ve heard it all, believe me, but every once in a while, someone throws a monkey cock into the equation.

It seems that new terms and new practices are evolving in our community on a daily basis. Switch, tweens, twinks, power femmes, hys and hyms. I can deal with that, but I have to draw the line somewhere…packing.

I held a conversation…research gathering…with an attractive young femme the other day. Tall, blonde, blue eyes, very feminine and drop dead gorgeous, until I noticed something odd. And, of course, if you know me, you know about my Key West experience and you know…I don’t beat around the bush, no pun intended.

“Is that a bulge in your dress?” I asked rather confused.

“Why, yes it is,” she proudly announced. “I bought it for this dress.”

Stop. Stop, right there. A femme packing? Under her dress? This couldn’t be real. Maybe I had died, not realizing it, and this was my hell. I completely understand role-playing and that’s not what I’m talking about here. Femme Tops play with strap ons. Why not, but to freaking pack, in public?

Now, that the image is burned into memory, I’m still not positive I’m not living in some sick rendition of hell, but the blogging and the writing must go on.

When and under what messed up circumstances did it occur to a femme that it would be a good idea to pack under her dress? Really? Wait…here’s a new term for you, from now on we could simply ask if someone is “a femmie little butch or a butchie little femme.” Huh, No! Not even joking…

Call me, old-fashioned, but I’ll stick to what I know, and what makes the most sense. Butch, Femme and Confused. Plain, simple and easy.

Do these stilettos match my Cock?

Butch – Femme roles are not always what they appear. I have not convinced butch womyn to do things for me out of a lack of not being able to do things myself. I mean come one, let’s face it, no one wants to change a tire? It’s certainly not my idea of fun. I am sure it’s not a butches idea of fun either, but a femme can get a butch to do it, and that’s why she does it. A femme also knows that somewhere deep inside that butch lays a satisfaction so deep; she wants to be the fixer. The one who makes it all better, and who are we to say no?

Being a lover of butch womyn, tops, bottoms, switches, I have an affinity for them all. In all their butch ness and glory, a womyn on her knees is a womyn on her knees, her motivation is of no concern of mine, just that she is there. Some would say that is a very butch attitude to adapt, but there is nothing butch about me. I am a femme Top, who appreciates a butch bottom lovingly looking up at me with adoring eyes, and a ball gag in her mouth. I also appreciate a butch Top who knows exactly what I want.

Growing up, my butch “other Mother” gave me this very valuable piece of advice, “don’t ever let anyone do to you, what you can’t do to her. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” I took that advice to heart, and never forgot it, so I ask you, do these stilettos match my cock?

© Sam Martino

Make me a little less butchie?

When my honey mentioned that we should think about starting a family, I had to stop and think about all the things I believed made me a butch…back in the day.

You know, in the day when dinosaurs roamed the earth and we all lived by the unspoken butch code. I’m sure femmes had one, too. Truth be told, I think theirs was a little more sophisticated than ours.

We all knew our roles, and we lived up to them, quite well, if I may say so. It was the day and age when butches were often seen doing some kind of menial labor for a pretty woman so that the femme wouldn’t break a nail or get dirty or an even bigger secret…if we played it right, the femme would be so impressed with us that we’d get a little something-something for our efforts. Yeah, we had ulterior motives. I won’t even try to deny it, now.

Today, some odd years later, I realize that our wonderful, femme, sex-goddesses talked us into or even seduced us to do stuff for them because they didn’t know how to do it, themselves, and of course, that got me thinking.

Thinking about having our own kids and it made me wonder if we, the butches, really did the femmes a favor by being their “Butchies in shining armor”? Now, now…I admit that most of the time the gratitude the femmies rewarded us with was…um…nice…but, did we really help them out by not allowing them to learn how to do some of these things on their own?

And I am NOT suggesting that butches abandon their notion of helping out our femme counterparts. We must always remember our manners and our good will of which, I will discuss on another post.

If we have a daughter, I don’t ever want my daughter to have to depend on anyone for anything. Period, end of discussion, so naturally I will teach her everything I know. Then my wife pipes up with, but what if she turns out to be a little girlie-girl, and she likes makeup and having her nails done and wants to wear high heels and short skirts?

Stop…stop…please! A girlie-girl? Really? What the hell do I do with a girlie-girl for a kid?

For me, growing up and settling down put a little kink in my grandiose butchie plans. Life isn’t as clear cut as I once believed it to be and after some serious soul searching, because I still do believe the butch-femme roles have a place in our community, I’ve decided that when the day finally comes that I am a parent, I will do for her what I didn’t do for all the other femmes in my past.

I know that now is not the time, nor today the day, but would it make me a little less of a butchie if I taught my daughter how to change a tire, and how to fix a car, and how to use power tools, and then took her for a manicure and bought her a new pair of heels? Um…yeah…forget the short skirt – ain’t happening! I know how butches and men think.

BTW: My wifey was impressed that I willingly came to this mature decision...on my own…and…um…has rewarded me…nicely, and that’s what I call a damn good day :0)

Unstuck

When she sought redemption it was there waiting for her to try on like a soft leather glove that’s been worn in by hands that smack faces and assess for a living, handed down by Mistresses and Masters for decades. There hasn’t been a time that those hands were idle. In fact they had not, and had been, waiting for her, they were conflicted, but they were ready. Time is funny like that; it’s unforgiving and waits for no one.

When that slap finally came, it felt like she was frozen in time. She could see it coming, she could feel the sting, but she never imagined that with redemption would come freedom; it just never crossed her mind.

Where does she go from here she wondered. Ignorance is not always bliss, and though you don’t want to know, once you know, can you ever turn back? Is there a way to lye in bed at night and pretend that you didn’t want to be free?

No, she said out loud, thank you Ma’am may I have another?

© Sam Martino

Results of groveling...

I am beyond thrilled to let you know that after some slight...okay...maybe not so slight...groveling, Sam Martino has agreed to be the better feminine half of this bratty, butch's blog.

Oh, you guys are in for a special treat, now. This lovely lady can certainly hold her own while maintaining her eloquent composure. I can't wait to see how much trouble we can get into, get out of, or cause. LOL

I will continue to update the blog and keep you posted. In the meantime, please, share this link.

Remember the more followers we have, the more fun it'll be...

Then and now...

My...how times have changed from when I came out. It used to be that we had a tight nit community. Yes, even tighter than the guys are now. Lesbians passing in the street immediately felt a common bond. We went out of our way to introduce ourselves and supported each other in our many endeavors.

Butches were polite. We were sensitive, caring and strong individuals. We instinctively opened doors for Femmes. We offered help when help was needed. Not only did we watch out for our Femme counterparts, but we enjoyed it. Okay...I'll admit that in today's day and age, that would be construed as chauvinistic on our part, but there was no harm intended.

Now, it seems that the lesbian community has its own set of rules. Things aren't as simple as defining yourself as a Butch, Femme, Top or Bottom. Now, we have Shebois, Andys and Tweens, among other names that I'm sure I'm just not familiar with.

My hopes are to get a Femme to agree to post with me on Sheboi in order to give you a well-rounded and balanced blog.

My first choice is a super sweet lady whom I've become quite fond of. She embraces her femininity and isn't afraid to use it. She's up with the times and isn't afraid to tell it like it is.

And no. I'm not naming names, yet. That would be rude.

Check back and wish me luck as this little butch throws herself at the mercy of this wonderful lady's feminine side!

I'll keep you posted!

Welcome to my new blog!

Well, I've done it! I deleted the old blog and started fresh. Why? Because I needed a place to jot my ramblings.

I will continue to revamp and adjust the blog as I go along.

In the meantime, Enjoy!