Day 1

I click submit on the exam, slam my laptop shut, and open Feeld. I’m buzzing with excitement to see what Jacob has replied with. If Cuck L responded. Or Ray. Or Chris.

I start this diary on the first day of three weeks of debaucherous fun I’ve scheduled in between grad school semesters. Almost every night is booked with a vibe check, a hook-up, or a kink event. And I’m in the third month of what I’m affectionately calling my Bi Era™️.

I’d spent the last decade entrenched in big-tent lesbianism – but over the last year, I noticed my attraction expanding. Male celebrities began to catch my eye – I was biting my lip every time Taika Waiti came on screen as Blackbeard in Our Flag Means Death. I’ve been lingering as I look at random men on the street and dude friends of friends. I’ve started fantasizing about guys who are actually in my orbit.

For a few months, I’d joked to friends about entering my Bi Era, but I hesitated to act on it. I agonized over what it would mean about me, especially if I fucked cis guys, if it somehow negated my queerness (internalized biphobia, much?).

But then at a sex party, I hit it off with a cis dude. The chemistry, the banter, the playfulness overtook me, and for once my curiosity was louder than my fear. That horny curiosity led me to a daybed where I had incredible sex with someone I thought was incredibly hot, who happened to be a cis guy. Suddenly, I went from an apprehensive fantasy to an enthralling reality that left me wanting more, much more.

And that’s how I ended up on my couch, juggling Feeld chats with half a dozen guys who want to be dommed or give me a facial or flog each other until we bruise. And I am so into it. The novelty hasn’t worn off, and I feel like a kid in a candy store as I sext with two guys and make plans to meet up with two more.

Day 2

Ben is coming over for the second time. He has shaggy blond hair and a sweet face that combine to make him look like a golden retriever. But when I have him blindfolded, cuffed, leashed, and gagged, he looks far less innocent.

On Feeld and during our vibe check drink, Ben told me he’s a switch looking to explore his subby side. After doing a lot of checking in about types of touches, pain tolerance, and pace throughout our first hook-up, Ben asks me to increase the dom intensity this time. He wants to feel out of control and not know what’s coming. With that, he tells me his hard limits, and we’re off to the races.

I don’t know why, but it’s easier to access my dom side with cis men. I get self-conscious otherwise, rehearsing what I’m going to say and ending each of my orders with a question mark. Even though I love subbing for dykes, domming them is intimidating.

But with Ben, I’m slipping into dominance as effortlessly as sliding into a well-worn Birkenstock. Ben hands over his submission readily, and it’s thrilling to make him melt. Pressing his face into the mattress, tugging on the leash, looping a cock ring around his dick. I eat up every moan, and they leave me hungry for more.

The moans change tenor when I ease a finger into his ass. We’ve moved into a different plane of pleasure. I’m the first partner to play with his prostate, and discovering together the ways that make him clench around my finger and thrash on the bed is heavenly.

“Did I come? It felt like I came. Like I definitely had a bunch of orgasms,” he pants as I exit his ass. I’d heard of dry orgasms before, but I’d never witnessed one. We’re both having an evening of fantastic firsts.

He spends the rest of the night eagerly and obediently taking a combination spanking-flogging, getting ridden until his thighs are covered in my squirt, and being edged. The mischievous sadist in me wants to send him home without letting him come. That part of me delights in the idea of making him ride the subway hard and throbbing, rushing into his apartment to finish the job. But the insatiable hedonist who wants to finally taste his come knows I’d really just be teasing myself if I keep pulling him back from the brink.

I drizzle lube along the length of his cock, grip his dick just the way he’d shown me he likes it, order him to come for me, and watch him relax onto the pillows as he gives himself over to the ultimate reward.

Day 3

Today’s a recovery day – no scheduled sex, only a clothing/kink gear swap happening tonight – so I spend some time revisiting Feeld matches.

One match has a death row hanging kink. As he elaborately describes a past scene, I’m surprised by the parts of it that turn me on. And when he sends me graphic photos of him being (safely) hanged, I’m even more surprised that my desire to experience this alongside him almost drowns out my fear that I’ll end up with a manslaughter charge if something goes awry.

At the swap, the lingerie table is overflowing, and the sex toy table is replete with vibrators, restraints, and impact implements. I help a couple cuties adjust the straps of leather harnesses they’ve discovered and flirt with a handful of hotties.

Of all the clothes and goodies I go home with, the spreader bar is my favorite. It’s adjustable and metal – perfect to replace the wooden one I snapped last month by spreading too hard.

Day 4

Tonight’s fun is a queer, kinky speed dating event hosted by Mesh. The room is a sea of mullets, tattoos, leather, and Doc Martens. Most of the dykes in the room are new to me, but I spot a butch dreamboat I played with at a party last month. I melt when they give me an enormous hug.

We kick off with a dozen rotating one-minute conversations. It’s all I can do not to ask “Top or bottom? Dom or sub?” immediately. How do you balance finding out the critical information while still managing to seem charming, all in 60 seconds?

The bulk of the evening is four 10-minute-long dates, with matches made based on a kink questionnaire we filled out when we bought tickets. Even though all of my dates and I realize that our kinks aren’t really compatible and there’s not much of a spark, it’s still fun to talk to these puppy handlers, princesses with butch daddies, and needle tops. If nothing else, I feel in community.

Day 5

“I want you to use me to come and I want to be fucked so badly,” Ryan texted me yesterday. So when he arrives, I command him to strip and kneel on the pillow I’ve placed in front of the window. Then, I lean against the sill and order him to make me come. The power of towering over him, of my neighbors getting a glimpse, of shoving his head into my cunt, of him thanking me every time I come is intoxicating.

“Cum slut,” “bad boy,” and “dirty girl” roll off my tongue as if degradation is my mother tongue. It turns me on to hear him desperately agree with me, to crave my dominance. I harness that energy for the rest of the night and push him toward the bed.

He arrived late, which presents the perfect reason to deliver a spanking. I have him count the spanks aloud, one for each of the 24 minutes he made me wait. Hearing his voice quiver as we pass 10 and tremble as we pass 20 gives me goosebumps. As a fellow masochist, I feel the delicious ghost of spankings past on my own ass. The slap of my palm against his cheeks, the way they redden, how they flinch gets me wet. I’m both impressed by the sadism I’m channeling and jealous that he’s the one on the receiving end of it.

But really I’m just warming up his ass for the main course. He’s an anal slut who puts my strap-on skills to good use. I’m still new to anal topping – two months ago, he was my first – but I feel confident with such an experienced and enthusiastic bottom spreading his legs for me and guiding me in. It’s not long before most of my hand is inside his hole and he’s ready for the dildo he brought. He takes it in missionary and then cowgirl, and when the dick hits his prostate just right, his eyes widen, his mouth forms a perfect O, and he nods vigorously. It’s my favorite way to see him, engulfed in pleasure.

He’s such an anal slut that when he’s ready to come, he wants to eat my ass while he jerks off. After I have my umpteenth orgasm and his come pools on his stomach, I kneel next to him for the finishing touch – scooping his come into his mouth. In his final act of submission, he swallows his own come, sucking my fingers for every last drop. I’m still new enough to cis men that I’m fascinated by semen. I’ve spent decades hearing that it’s revolting, salty, has hints of fruit, tastes like nothing. So when it’s there, I treat myself to a taste, for research purposes.

One of my favorite things about the night is how flecked with genderbending fun it is. Ryan is one of the queer guys who’ve all constituted my Bi Era, and I’m loving how much they’ve each played with their masculine and feminine sides while we’re together. Ryan arrives in a lace bralette and panties. He alternates between calling me daddy and goddess. While we’re cuddling, he tells me he wishes he could have both a dick and a pussy. As I’m thrusting into his ass, I ask if he wants me to breed his tight pussy with my rock hard cock, and his moans grow even louder.

Day 6

I’m vibrating in the elevator to Hit Me Up, excitement coursing through me as I make my way to my favorite monthly play party. I’ve been going for the last four months, and between the incredible two-story loft playspace and the amazing community, I’m hooked.

In the changing area, I wriggle into a leather mini skirt that barely contains my ass and a shimmery crop top so narrow it barely conceals my nipples. In the outside world, I dress masc, and skirts feel foreign. But at play parties, I’ve started wearing a tiny top/skirt combo, trusting that for those few hours, my gender will be read as nothing more than “slut.”

Eventually, I get Eva draped over a spanking bench, a moment I’ve been waiting for since I met her at the last party. Spilling out of a stunning black bra and lacy underwear, all contained in a slim red leather harness that trails from their chest to their thighs, Eva looks delicious. It’s a privilege to serve such a luscious ass. I alternate between my flogger, her wooden paddle, and my palms, moaning with her and melting when they call me daddy. By the time their ass can’t take anymore, she has bruises blooming on both cheeks and thighs.

A while later, Avery finds me lounging on a mattress, drooling over a neighboring dyke top4top sexy wrestling scene. I’d been taken with her ever since a mutual friend introduced us that night. She has long, flowing, dark hair and big eyes, and she’s wearing one of those fringe lingerie dresses that are practically begging for a nip slip. How could I not want to play with her?

We talk about the top4top struggle we have front row seats to and the other scenes we’ve been watching. She tells me that she’ll miss this party when she moves out of state next month. I don’t want to waste the precious little time she has left in New York, so I figure I have to make a move. When I ask if I can kiss her, her lips part in an inviting smile. Soon I’m straddling her, covering her neck in kisses, and grinding my pelvis into hers. I pin her wrists above her head and watch her eyes light up. It’s a move I would’ve hesitated to try a few months ago, but since harnessing my dom energy with guys, it’s starting to become easier to access with dykes.

At some point, Avery props herself up on her elbows to peer down at me between her legs. “I came four times,” she says as a grin spreads across her face. “Think I can return the favor?” I nod fervently and roll onto my back. Immediately, I’m writhing as she laps at my cunt, circling my clit and teasing my hole. She fucks me with my favorite dildo until a friend comes to collect us for an R-rated game of spin the bottle.

30 minutes of passionate make-outs, strap-on blowjobs, and spankings that our middle school selves could have only imagined end with me next to Eva. Soon, I’ll have to transition to my volunteer shift through the end of the party, but I have just enough time for another scene, and I want more impact with Eva.

She’s never impact topped before, but she’s game to try. Within minutes of strapping me onto a St. Andrew’s cross, she has me flinching in ecstasy. I’m drunk on pain, sticking out my ass for more paddling, flogging, and spanking. When my knees finally begin to buckle, she helps me out of the restraints and onto a couch for some tender aftercare. Before I begin my volunteer shift, she gives me a kiss goodbye that I feel on my crimson cheeks.

Day 7

Not much to report: I got home from the party at 5 am, so the majority of the day is spent sleeping.

I close out the week with a trip to the movies to finally see Love Lies Bleeding. I won’t give any spoilers, but I will say that Kristen Stewart and Katy O’Brian’s muscledyke 4 muscledyke sex scenes make me forget that cis men even exist.

But when I turn on my phone as the credits roll, my lips curl in a smile as the cis guys’ Feeld notifications flood my lock screen. I’m starting to think this Bi Era might just never end.