Frankhenry Sex Cam & Chat Room


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Short version: Hi, I’m Frank, and thanks for reading. Trans male people exist (I don’t know if there are others on this shonky cam site though) – I am one. I feel like a boy AND I love the pleasure I experience with my female-shaped body. opted (so far) for hormone therapy but not surgery (putting this here because it's a common question). I enjoy the body I have AND I feel like a man.  I'm not interested in discussing gender issues here because I come here purely to relax and have fun. (If you have questions about gender stuff you can ask Google and get pretty good answers.) I like playing here as lets me connect my fantasies with other people's. I'm into men and especially gay male sexuality but open to share my cam with ANYONE who wants to watch it and who is respectful and nice towards me and others, and who knows how to enjoy themselves :-) I love the people who come play and enjoy with me in a spirit of generosity and fun and horniness and open-mindedness, and a bit of wit and intelligence does not go astray (I’ve been known to fall suddenly in fantasy love on the strength of it). There's nothing like the magic of the reality or illusion that someone, even if just for a moment, understands you... Demands are not welcome, and attempt to dominate me will be laughed at, though not unkindly.   Longer version (get a glass of wine before you start reading): Hi, my name is Frank Henry. Frank is one of my given names (well, a version of it). I think the Henry was inspired by my memories of a [youngperson]hood illustrated story book of the legend of John Henry – the archetypal American working class male hero and just about the most exciting and explicit symbol of masculine sexual power (stripped to the waist, smashing out a canal of rock with a giant hammer applied to the crowbar held by his workmate) available to my six-year-old mind. Random things I’d like you to know about me, dear [insert your name here], before we go further: - I have one twisted foot and walk with a limp. - Nevertheless, my holiday of choice each year is a month-long walking (limping)/camping trip in southern England. Going for the third year in a row this September if COVID-19 permits.  - I have a face like a pudding - a cheery pudding, but a pudding nonetheless - though I privately believe I’m quite handsome. - I have man-hairy legs, back is getting a bit furry, whiskers are coming in on the pudding face, and I’ll have a hairy chest too one day – love you, testosterone. - I work a desk job four days a week and am writing my first novel, which has grown over the last two years into a kind of gothic-y lit fiction featuring coming of age, simmering gay romance (unrequited, because they do say “write what you know”), a supernatural presence and lots of shadowy forests, darkly flowing water and darkness – lots and lots of darkness. - I have three horses (retired) and two cats (unemployed since birth). - I have the odd panic attack if I don’t eat right, get to bed on time and get some exercise, and generally I feel and think about things intensely. - I’m a visual thinker, which features in my fantasies for sure. - And most importantly I am a passionately committed vegan, because the desire that makes me long to tenderly fuck your arse with my bendy-but-not-too-bendy ribbed strapon until you weep for carnal joy is at root the same desire that makes all animals want to live free of pain, suffering and oppression. The desire for survival experienced in the quest for pleasure. So now, back to [youngperson]hood. Gender is a story, with two mirrors presented to all us from birth, with clear indications as to which one we should look in. Most people find most of themselves in the mirror they’re given (but very often, not all of themselves ), but some of us only see ourselves in the other mirror. I always naturally saw myself in the “other mirror”.   I didn't realise that the other humans called “girls” didn’t feel just as I did – although I did notice that they often seemed to act mysteriously and a lot differently than me in most situations. So I didn’t stop to say to myself, “I am, in fact, a boy”. There wasn’t such a thing in 1973 anyway. All I did was have 100% male role models in my head (I was my father; I was Robin Hood rescuing Maid Marian and helping the poor and cavorting in the woods with all his merry men; I was Biggles in his biplane being passionately devoted to his best chum, Algy...), and bitter resentment at being made to put on a T shirt when i went outside once I turned six or so, and hating girls’ clothes, and loathing the idea of makeup, and being outraged when my father said I couldn’t become a church minister because I was “a girl” (I grew up in an earnestly religious family: that earnestness is embarrassingly obvious in me to this day). And instinctively knowing from my own babyhood that I could never be  a parent, and always naturally feeling that certain among the boys – other boys – at school were my best friends. And as I grew up I was deeply engrossed and infatuated with and turned on by male sexuality. With male on female sexuality (because of my experience of living in my body) but especially, overwhelmingly, male on male sexuality. Male, male, male in my head, all the time. Adored sex with men with the body I have, yet it felt like I was fucking as a man. From the start I had a more stereotypically male attitude to sex. First of all I wanted a lot of it, and I wanted it with different men, and very much with older men), didn’t have much interest in monogamy and certainly had no interest in marriage. I adored sex physically with my body and mentally with a 100% male sexual mind. And it’s still that way today, aided and abetted by a daily dose of topical testosterone. By far the best sexual relationships I’ve had have been with men – heterosexual men, but very cool ones – where being “in love” played no part but having fun and laughter and respect and real equality and genuine care for each other’s welfare played a major part. I am 51 years old and it didn’t occur to me until about five years ago that there are actually women in this world who like being women. Who feel good being female. That was a weird realisation. I always knew there was a big indefinable difference between me and “other women” (even the phrase made me feel nauseous, as did any female term or concept applied to me.  Among the best things about making a conscious explicit realisation about my gender (on top of the instinctive one that was always there) is that immediately – in a moment – all the implicit tension and barely suppressed anger and resentment and irritation that I had always felt with women, just melted away. Once I didn’t have to pretend to be one, all that negativity evaporated. I love and respect and admire and value and am amused and delighted by women as a group, and it’s a pleasure to relate to them now.   Relating to men? In my head, nothing has changed. But in the perception of men, or at least the apparently straight down the line heterosexual men who were formerly interested in me, plenty has changed. I was always such an odd intense bod around them: straight men knew they liked my body but I was utterly clueless and literally unable to act “like a girl”, so they tended to avoid me. They gave me cues that sailed 100 feet over my head (fortunately- all the disasters that were avoided!).  When actual “relationships” happened (vanishingly rare and weird, didn’t have one really until age 27 although got thrillingly laid a few times before then), they were deeply corrupted with tension around my not “acting the role of the girl”. I hated being the girl. I did NOT LIKE IT. And the guys did not like that I did not like it. I could go into a lot more history here but suffice to say, not being immediately recognisable as your true gender is socially a game of blind man’s buff carried out in the dark, in a thunderstorm, in a forest in Siberia. And yet there have always been men and women alike – the more perceptive sensitive of them – who instinctively accepted me as I am, even if not consciously as male. That recognition has been precious. I'm sure we all value that kind of acceptance when we're blessed with it.  Although I went through phases and ups and downs with relationships, it has now been about 12 years since I've had sex with anyone other than my hand and an imaginary presence conjured up by my imagination. Why? This shit is not easy. There’s a lot of growing up going on along the way, too, growing into the independence and strength you’re going to need to discover, realise and express your truer being. There was a long intermediate period when I lived out in the country, isolated and androgynous, surrounded by simple normal folk with no clue. The kicker was five years ago when I fell seriously in infatuation with a gay man who also happened to have damage from a traumatic history – something I should and would never have done had I been stronger and more independent in myself at that stage – and when it inevitably blew up a year or so later it was the worst emotional wound of my life. It was the last straw of relationship failure.  At that point I Swore Off Love for Life. And ever since then I have lived with a positive and deliberate plan never to be close to any human being again (apart from my family members of course, all of whom I love), certainly never to have sex with anyone or risk loving someone new. I even pulled away from my friends. I became the splendid island of self-direction. At least I was now expressing my male gender, and growing in confidence. Becoming more and more myself, at last. More clear on everything in the past, understanding how much of the delightful and blessed and privileged strangeness of my experiences relate to this gender thing.  Then I got on testosterone two years ago and it had its own cunning plans for me. I started mucking around on this cam about a year ago. Why? Basically because I’d had no sexual expression or outlet for years, so something had to give. And with my love-ban of the last five years, I seemed to have no options in real life. The fantasy world seemed the best place to first of all, just get off, and secondly, to express and play around with my truest feelings in a safely anonymous abstract environment. It’s been interesting. The surroundings are banal and crass as hell and there are terrible cynical (and horribly sexist) attitudes that you just dismiss, but, as always in even the cheapest and nastiest hotel, there are some sweet hearts and great minds here. I love the relaxation factor and the dirty immersion factor. I love the unsophistication (not a word, should be a word).  Yet I am also well aware that if I was a so-called "fully transitioned" transman with surgeries done (bye-bye great big breasts, that are bound and hidden away beneath my men’s shirt during the day), I’d get about 1/20[sup]th[/sup] of the attention I do get here. And this is getting to the nub of the matter. I don’t hate my body and I don’t hate the way I feel from the inside (although I did really hate the weird at-sea feeling of female hormones, whereas on t ALL IS COOL AT ALL TIMES). I HATE presenting female in public and never would or will again. I LOVE being on testosterone and how it makes me feel SO much better and happier and more simple and myself. I do think about getting chest surgery; but I’m also very hesitant about losing nipple sensation (love that so much) and going through the serious pain and suffering. And there’s another thing...   There are some really excellent people  who are bicurious and transcurious (if that’s a thing). Most come to my cam looking for a trans woman, but the cool and fun ones (who actually read my profile) hang out and stay. It seems there may be people who are capable of enjoying my body while also accepting and me as person who feels male – here in fantasy, intimacy-avoidance-land, and maybe even in real life. And ultimately what my own experience has taught me – right from the beginning of my life – is that the 1:1 association of sexed bodies with gendered minds is just far too simplistic. It's not real. It's not the way things actually are or even have been, despite what gender hegemony would tell us. So why should I rush to a simple dualism when considering what transition-related steps are right for me? And when chatting I have begun the feel again the stirrings of wanting connection and friendship despite all my isolation. The instinct for empathy and compassion that underlies attraction (for me, any way). "I want you to feel good", and wanting that with all my heart and mind and body. And I know so many people feel that way, including people here, but they are afraid. This way of living, each of us in our box, is so unsustainable. I know I need community and connection and god knows, maybe even a lover. Life is short. I’m a lot nearer to the end than to the beginning . So are many of us here. And everything can change and go away in a moment. That is the nature of life. As humans it is our burden and privilege to be aware of it.  So this is the thing. I want to begin to combine my outwardly male-expressing gendered self with my physical self which is, well, as you see on my cam if you ever visit me there. I can’t continue to let myself be split into public and private parts. Writing this blurb tonight – and putting my public-face picture on this profile, a picture I took at about 7.30pm tonight up on the hill where my horses live – is part of trying to put those two things together. And be accepted and understood by the good people I’ve met here. Frank Henry, 26 Feb 2020

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