My name is Trixie (aka TastyTrixie). The Wandering WebWhore is my personal blog. I'm a 30-something indie pornographer whose journal covers a variety of topics: mundane daily life, work-related reflection, sex stuff, current events, and more.
From a video we shot awhile back but just posted recently:
I don't do enough glasses porn so we shot that in part to try to remedy that. It's a shame I don't shoot more stuff while I'm wearing my spectacles since I have a really "sexy" strong prescription, if you're into that sort of thing:
right eye = -6.75 -1.00 x 135 left eye = -4.00 -2.75 x 156
The third number is for my astigmatism.
I also did a creepy voice-over/roleplay with myself for that video AND Delia threw her back out shooting that POV (point of view), so I want to make sure it's fully "appreciated" by nerd-lovers. Members can see it here. Non-members can join our sites to see it OR buy it on our clips4sale store (look for "Interview with a Nerd").
Speaking of nerds, we finally saw Star Trek last night. Aside from it being an amazing, must-see-on-the-big-screen event, it totally had a Father's day theme AND there were only five other people in the theatre with us, and three of those people were mega-Trekkers. The dude looked exactly like "Sex", the crazy guy whose mom brings him to try out for So You Think You Can Dance every season. Only this guy made really awesome geeked-out joy noises in response to the movie and made the experience even more pleasurable and authentic than it would have otherwise been. I mean, we totally geeked out but this nerd-monkey NOISE that he made just epitomized what Star Trek fans are all about. And even with that few people in the seats, I *still* managed to get some fucker putting his feet up on our row of seats and shaking the shit out of me so, as usual, I had to have words with someone. PEOPLE. I love and loathe the shit out of them.
I think the last movie was saw in the theatre before this was Twilight so we're parched for big screen entertainment. I'd love to see Up and Terminator Salvation before it's too late.
I couldn't resist looking at the beautiful man-body chopping wood next door so I did something I think (I thought?) is really, REALLY wrong: I took sneaky pictures of him without his knowledge or consent. And now I'm doing something even MORE wrong: I'm posting one of them here:
He's not our neighbor, he just delivers and chops wood for our neighbor. And I HAVE to watch him do it, because the guy is incredibly beautiful. Not his face, just his whole old-fashioned working-man's body with that wedge-hourglass shape. The thick pants with the shiny metal details, the gloves, the white tank top, the cap, the scraggly mullet and those pale muscles built up in the shade and from working outside when it's raining, because it rains all the time where he works. He's like an 80's version of the guys in old propaganda posters like these:
I have always been in love with watching men do physical labor. Even though I felt sort of dreadful about it, I was compelled to run and get the camera. I stood in the kitchen and snapped a few pictures where he could have turned around and seen me. But before that happened, I ran into the bedroom and took pictures of him through the crack between two panels in our shoji screen so he couldn't catch me watching him through the magnifying lens of our camera. My desire to capture his image forever outweighed the voice in my head reminding me I was doing something wrong. Something I've seen/heard of other people (men) doing that sickened me, but that memory didn't stop me from doing it myself.
You shouldn't spend time on fetish-oriented forums online if non-consensual voyeuristic photography (and other stuff) bothers you. You'll find out things that you just don't want to know and see things you weren't meant to see. Like pictures of used maxi pads guys steal out of public restrooms or photos a foot fetishist surreptitiously took of his neighbor's niece's bare feet while their family unwittingly enjoyed a barbecue in their driveway. The woman was probably in her twenties and the guy who took and shared the pictures described his sneaky method for capturing them and the type of camera and settings he used and how he managed to not get caught.
The freaky part is the way these people usually don't even acknowledge the line they're crossing, or worse, act like they're ENTITLED to snagging these things that belong to other people. Of course, half the time someone with common sense will challenge these people or point out the err of their ways, but most people don't bother to post any opposition, instead just showing their appreciation for what the voyeur-thief has "created"/salvaged for the members of the board. Or they will critique the spoils, like the guy who complained that the neighbor chick with the bare feet was so fat, how in the world could the spy-photographer possibly think anyone would be interested in seeing her or be aroused by her himself? So not only is this woman with the arched foot and a BBQ rib in her mouth being displayed on the internet without her knowledge or consent, she's ALSO having her weight criticized. AWESOME, right?
I pretend that I'm not quite as bad as these sociopaths because I know what I'm doing is wrong. But I guess that actually makes me worse because I know it's wrong and I'm doing it anyway (and those guys on the forums might know it's wrong too, they just don't waste time making a big show of acting guilty about it the way I am in all of my gross hypocrisy).
I can pretend I'm conducting an experiment or research. That I'm a writer. That the end result of provoking thought about these important issues of privacy, consent, and all SORTS of interesting things is worth the negligible or nonexistent "damage" I'm doing. And after all, it's a really REALLY grey area, right? I mean, how many people would even think me taking and posting the picture of the axe man is wrong if I didn't tell you that *I* think it's (maybe) wrong? And this isn't really a blog entry about that guy, it's about me or the collective us and the image is actually a snapshot of me -- the voyeur -- and my thoughts, not him. It's entirely possible to intellectualize it that way. He could be anybody. You can't see his face. No one will ever know who he is. Probably not, anyway.
And would he care if people DID know? Maybe he'd WANT to be credited and known far and wide as The Woodsman Who Got Trixie Hot. Of course, that brings me back to the obvious trespass of not asking for his permission to photograph him in the first place, but speaking of consequences, *I* certainly don't want to pay them. I don't want *him* to know he was chopping wood next to TASTYTRIXIE and therefore knows about our websites and where I live and can tell everyone how to find me (I'd have to tell him about our sites in order for him to give INFORMED consent, though that disclosure would be out of ethical, not legal obligation; you don't have to specify where or when something will published on a consent form, just that you as the photographer have all rights to the photos which legally you don't REALLY need to do anyway since in our country the photographer automatically owns the photos, not the model). I don't want to tell a big strong stranger with an axe and a cock that he gives me a boner and I want to take pictures of him -- LOTS of pictures. Well, I do sort of want to tell him that, but I know it's not such a good idea/could cause problems. He might be weird or scary or even if he isn't, then our neighbor (a decent neighbor, not our scary neighbor) would know about us and that would make everyone on the block uncomfortable. Most of all us.
If it were my actual neighbor out there making me hot chopping wood, I wouldn't have taken the pictures. Because that would be violating the good neighbor code of pretending each other doesn't exist. And I certainly wouldn't take pictures of his young daughter! Even if it were to record how she trespasses on OUR property, walking just three feet past me sitting in our window. Well, maybe I would (for proof of trespass only!), but I wouldn't post them on the internet. But maybe only because I'm a pornographer and could get in trouble for it just by virtue of that fact.
When I pondered these things aloud to Delia, she doubted my assertion that if it were a woman out there, hanging laundry or washing a car, I totally wouldn't have taken the pictures. She's probably right. After all, I took this picture (without her knowledge/consent) of a hot redhead fishing because she had a really great ass:
It's the kind of picture you can get away with taking in public and even sell prints of in local galleries that don't have any artistic standards. It's the kind of picture no one (except other wankers) would bat an eye at as long as you keep up the appearance of it being completely innocent. Even though I know that I took it purely out of sexual/sensual interest. And I know that any straight man with a camera would have taken it for exactly the same reason (or to prove to himself that he wasn't) whether he would admit it or not, and there are tens of thousands of men with cameras with hobbies or professions doing exactly that. I know a lot of people who take completely g-rated innocent-looking pictures and jack off to them later even if they didn't intend to when they snapped them.
Part of me feels justified in posting this because there are so many writers and artists and reporters and network television stations getting away with doing so much worse with absolutely no compunction. It's only people like me who openly call ourselves pornographers who are recognized for exploiting and objectifying others even though we play be much stricter rules and are faced with much harsher penalties for violating them than any other industry would be. But that train of thought is just another diversion from asking myself how *I* would feel if my neighbor were peeping through a crack in the blinds taking pictures of ME doing yardwork or thinking he's not home when I sunbathe naked on our deck when actually he's hidden behind a tree and rubbing his crotch against its bark. Of course, I'd feel totally different about it if I had a teenage son or daughter being spied on. But the guy chopping wood is clearly an adult. And he wasn't sunbathing naked. And again, I don't think I'd care if my neighbor secretly stood in his kitchen taking pictures of me as I walk around OUR kitchen at night topless (which I do sometimes with the blinds open, not because I'm an exhibitionist but because I just don't care) as long as he didn't hang them in the post office with our address printed on them or something.
Meh. Now that I think about it, I really don't care. As long as someone stays on their own property (not sneaking onto mine or a stranger actually stalking into the neighborhood to spy on us or putting on an obscene display of masturbating and shooting cum into our yard) and is only taking pictures of what I do outside or with the windows open then who cares. It's kind of fucked up, but not a huge deal. It's not like I'm lying in wait every day, conducting surveillance on everything that our neighbors and their visitors do.
After completely overthinking this, I absolve myself from guilt. It's harmless and legal. But I guess if I give myself permission to be an opportunistic voyeur-perv-photographer that means I have to stop being shocked and offended by other people who do the same thing. I'm reluctant to do that.
Here's a couple with a sleeping bag and no picnic basket that I shot entirely because I knew they were setting out to lie down together and *do things*:
If I hadn't admitted that and had posted the picture somewhere else, like on a stock photo site using woman-approved keywords like "young love" and "spring romance" (and cropped out our cracked windshield & wipers giving away that I'm like a dirty old man doing a drive-by) it would probably be perceived in a totally different way. It would just be a bad snapshot. But because of who I am and what my site is and my confession that I'm a voyeuristic pervert who sees sexual potential everywhere, it seems more DIRTY and exploitative than it really is. What if a local television station were doing one of those weather "stories" about how people were still going to the beach even though it's overcast, and those two lovebirds were in the background? Would the station be committing an evil deed? If not, why does it seem so evil when I do it and admit that I see erotic potential? And why would it seem so much grosser and more evil if I were a man instead of a woman?
The other day I treated myself to a trip to the spa as a reward for being 33% of the way to my June 1st weight loss goal. I decided to get a body wrap for health reasons (it helps you detox) and out of curiosity since I'd never done it.
I knew going into it that I *might* really hate being wrapped up like a mummy and mostly-immobilized for forty minutes, but I also knew I *might* really enjoy it and, at the very least, could endure it without feeling as though I'd been placed in a straitjacket.
By the time my appointment rolled around at 4 pm I'd been soaking, sweating, reading, and steaming at the spa since 10 am (I should've made my body wrap & massage appointment beforehand but was afraid to in case I couldn't figure out how to pay for it or wanted to do something else instead so 4 pm was the earliest they could get me in) and was GIDDY with anticipation.
The girl explained what was in the mud (mugwort, seaweed and a bunch of other stuff I can't recall), instructed me to disrobe and sit on the massage table (on top of a sheet of plastic on top of a metallic emergency blanket on top of MORE blankets) with my back to her. She warned me to expect the mud to be fairly "warm" because it cools off so quickly, then she started slathering hot goop on my shoulders, back, and arms. She had me lie down after that so she could apply it to the rest of my body. Right before she smeared it on my boobs, she prepared me to anticipate the touch in a nursey-kindergarten voice: I'll just apply some to your breasts now . . . (circle, circle).
After she got it all over me except RIGHT between my legs, the soles of my feet and my face, she closed the plastic around me, then the reflective blanket, then the other blankets and towels until I was thoroughly cocooned with only my head sticking out. She asked if I wanted a pillow or for her to bring water or tea when she came back to check on me in ten minutes. Then she turned out the lights (as I requested) and left me alone in the dark, unable to move. AND TRAPPED WITH A TERRIBLE CD OF ROMANTIC/NEW-AGEY GUITAR MUSIC CRAP.
The first ten minutes were pleasant (except for the hideous music). I didn't even attempt to move, afraid I would make myself itchy and be unable to scratch myself. I could see how easily I could become panicked if the slightest carnival-ride twist had been added to it (it WAS April Fool's Day, after all). Like if she'd laughed maniacally before she left and I could hear the door being locked from the outside. Or if weird scrubby things began to descend from the ceiling towards me. Or if the walls just started shrinking inwards. I kept my eyes closed JUST IN CASE so I wouldn't have to see anything like that happening. Or if a man with a bunch of surgical tools were to simply walk in, bend over my face and start whispering at me you can't move you can't move you can't get away from me or my tools! and just put his hands heavily on my chest.
So yeah . . . this might help explain to you PART of why I'm not interested in being bound. Because it would be way too fucking easy for someone to scare me psycho. I can happily lie motionless for hours, but FORCE me to -- restrict my mobility -- and I might freak the fuck out. Part of me can appreciate the appeal, imagine experimenting with it under very specific conditions, and be tempted by the psychological challenge of it and another part of me just thinks the (psychological) risk is not at all worth the scariness. I feel the same way about LSD. It sounds really interesting but I think I might be a little too vulnerable to bad side effects. The body wrap at the women-only spa is about as far as I can go.
One time I did let someone bind my hands behind my back with his leather belt (a natural outgrowth to him of my spanking and man's-leather-belt fetish, but to me it was just not the direction I was interested in going once I was face down on his bed -- it was crazily exciting, but the fear of having my arms locked behind me that way and of him possibly being able to put his weight on me and smother me was just too fucking freaky for me and I begged for mercy so it didn't last long. I was far more interested in being whipped with the belt (but not to the point of bruising or bleeding), but he wasn't so much into that so that little experiment didn't last very long. I know that some of you are thinking I just didn't do it with the RIGHT person, someone I TRUST. But the point is a) my imagination doesn't trust ANYBODY, and b) testing my boundaries on this is NOT as important to me as preserving them. For a whole lot of reasons. Thinking about it is provocative, but I am (and always have been) more interested in having force applied to me in a psychological way (and even more so applying it to others) in ridiculous role plays. I like being bound by RULES and structure. I like things that happen inside my HEAD way more than things that happen to my body. Or maybe I'm just lazy. I don't know. Woops. Now that I've written this I can recall a few different instances where I've been bound in different ways and liked it. Hmmmm . . . still, not exactly my "thing".
Back to the spa.
The first time the girl came in to check on me she brought me tea with a straw that she lowered to my mouth. I wasn't prepared for it and giggled because THAT is totally hot to me, being treated like an invalid. I wasn't prepared and dribbled tea down the side of my face, then I got her to change the CD to a variety of new agey music I enjoy -- Shamanic Dreams or something like that. She asked if the level of heat was okay (yes - warm and cozy) and again if I wanted a pillow (this time? yes).
When she left I decided to try to sleep since I'd only gotten three hours the night before. And sleep I did, for a few minutes. Let me tell you, it was NOT pleasant waking up mummified, sweating like a pig in a strange dark room with weird pagan drum music going on. I decided not to go to sleep again and couldn't wait for her to come back. When she did I asked for the heat to be turned down. She did, and blotted the sweat from my forehead and cheeks with a cool cloth (yummmmm . . . more pampered-invalid feelings). I wanted to ask her if anybody had ever lost control of their bowels while getting a wrap but decided against it, fearing she'd think I was planning something disgusting. Still, the thought was entertaining. I know SOMEONE, somewhere has done that on accident or on purpose, and I'd really love to hear about it.
Note: I'm far more likely to experiment with and enjoy shitting in a warm, plastic-wrapped bed than with being tied up. Just an FYI. I don't PLAN on doing either, but a warm bed of crap seriously sounds more fun to me than letting someone tie me up. Maybe I'm just a loner with a short attention span, though, and wallowing in my own poop is an experience I could live fully in five to ten minutes by myself whereas the whole bondage scene requires time and at least one other person. I guess there are some things I could do to myself, but again, I'm too lazy and disinterested for that. Plus, scat is just a whole lot edgier than bondage and I like the idea of being able to make people think by gleefully confessing I've shat myself for the pure, HAMRLESS fun of it. It's stupid, but poop is so much more taboo (and illegal/obscene) than bondage these days. Again, I HAVE NO PLANS TO DO THAT. I'm just comparing/contrasting. For fun.
Anyway, I survived the last twenty minutes without losing my mind, going back and forth between feeling blissed-out and on-the-verge of screaming, "GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!" I kept reminding myself of what good "exercise" it was for me and how much healthier I'd be afterwards. I worried that I'd be so sick of lying there that I wouldn't enjoy my massage afterwards (but it actually worked the other way, made the massage seem longer and way better). Basically I endured the procedure a little bit more than I enjoyed it. If I get a body wrap again I will definitely bring my own cd with guided meditations or something so my mind won't wander to torture scenes.
Finally she came in to unwrap me and I went down the hall naked to the shower with the glass-door making my clean-up efforts visible to anyone who walked by. I decided to pee in the shower instead of wasting my massage time putting on a robe and traipsing down to the restroom, but I worried about it, wondering how many other people do/don't pee in the post-wrap shower, worrying that there'd be some way they'd know I did and would talk about that disgusting customer with the long toenails who peed in the shower. Silly fears, but still. I have them. Which goes to show you just how very VERY far away I am from ever pooping in a plastic-wrap cocoon.
After the anxiety of the day BEFORE the spa and the super-extended stay I had there, I was in recovery mode all day yesterday, totally drained and exhausted and verging on a big fat headache. If you've never gotten body work, steamed, soaked, detoxed, etc. then you probably thing I sound like a fucking crybaby asshole, complaining about how TIRED I am after spending a day doing something that sounds like pure luxury to most Americans but that shit is MEDICINE. My throat and eyes burn after all the gunk inside me is dislodged and stirred up and swirled around and sucked out. It feels like preparation to go into hibernation, like the final step in this cleansing/healing process is to go into an induced coma for two days.
The spa experience is totally my cup of tea, though. The front desk lady seemed to think I was crazy for wanting to stay there for more than eight hours, but since I go so rarely it hardly seems excessive. It takes me awhile to really turn my brain off and melt into it, so that cuts down on the time I'm really benefiting from it, but it's exactly my idea of the perfect mini-vacation. Alone, not talking to anybody, with scads of naked ladies walking around, walking from one hot room to another, from one pool to another, being ministered to by talented, paid hands, smelling good things, and trying to become invisible to myself.
I want to pay more attention to seasonal holidays, the weather, rituals and nature so for the past six months or so a lot of our shoots have reflected my focus on integrating those things into our lives. Tomorrow is Fat Tuesday, a day I would never have had any awareness of if it weren't for having a magnificent pen pal from Baton Rouge when I was a teenager (if he sees this link and then these pictures I'm sure his eyes will melt in their sockets and dribble down his face in tears of horror -- I don't want to do this to you, really I don't -- I only want your Daily Preciousness to get the attention it deserves!) so here are some of my Mardi Gra-tesque pictures from a set I posted for my members today:
It's hard to procure a lot of beads when you're already totally naked:
The photo set might not win any prizes for creativity or eroticism, but for me it was a major achievement -- couldn't have been better. We shot them last night and I edited and uploaded them within two hours and actually HAD FUN doing it. My mind is still blown by how awesome life is when you don't feel like crap from fucked-up hormone imbalances. I'm not sure how apparent it is in pictures or on cam, but I feel 500% better than I did a couple months ago when getting ready for a shoot was TORTURE, to say nothing of actually doing the shooting itself. My face and neck were all bizarrely fat (even more than is normal for me -- seriously, ONE double chin is cute . . . six rolls are not), my lips were thin, there were terrifying dark puffy circles under my eyes . . . it was sheer fucking painful hell. All I can say is THREE CHEERS FOR ESTROGEN!
When I have a few more shoots I like posted, I will post a putrid gallery I've been sitting on that epitomizes how wretched and disgusting I felt. Sort of a before and after kind of thing.
Last night after we did all of that, Delia was "in the mood". After I spent about ten minutes rambling about my curiosity regarding hemorrhoids and whether or not I have one, she politely asked if I would like to engage in sexual intercourse (probably as a counter to my repeated invitations to her to inspect my anus). I clapped my hands together and cried, "get the lube!"
After that it was actually sexy. You might not be able to imagine how, but you don't have to. That's our private joy . . . just between the two of us. And our voyeur cams, of course.
One of the reasons I love reading Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer books is the food porn. Big boned babes and greasy spoons abound. Example from The Big Kill:
. . . .I went down the corridor to where a bunch of typewriters were banging out a madhouse symphony and asked one of the stenos where I could find Ellen Scobie. She told me that she had gone out to lunch at noon . . . . It took me about ten minutes to make the four blocks and there was Ellen in the back looking more luscious than the oversize T-bone steak she was gnawing on.
I've always wanted to shoot gluttonously sensual softcore porn, but never want to compromise my enjoyment of a good guilt-laden meal to do it. Pictures like these do inspire me, though (click images for sources):
These pictures of me in a blonde wig outside in the snow with a blue sky turned out almost exactly how I wanted them to be:
I'll be posting the full gallery of over one hundred pics for our members next week.
Tonight it's my turn to be the photographer shooting a Christmas gallery and video of Delia. We're off to a late start due to the severe winter storm warning we're under here in western Washington; it just started snowing again and is supposed to keep going for the next five days. In our town we're being hit by stuff coming in from the west AND the south, so it might get really windy. Don't be surprised if our voyeur cams go down and you don't hear from us for a time -- it will just mean we lost one or both of our internet connections and/or power.
The streets are already coated with ice so Delia made sure we went to the store to stock up on everything we'll need if we can't get out for a week. Of course we'll still be able to walk, but I got a blister on the bottom of my foot a couple of days ago when we had to go downtown and thought it safer to walk than drive; my Payless snow boots are cheap and don't fit me well so I don't want to have to trudge for miles to lug home heavy groceries.
We're staying home alone for Christmas; I'll miss seeing our nephew, but I think it's better for us and our whole family if we're not on the road. Actually, I'm really missing Delia's family right now; I love spending Christmas at her parent's house. It's the only place I've been in the past six years where I don't feel compelled to work. I plow through books, I masturbate in bed, we come down with colds and flu, and somehow it's just a huge, relaxing vacation (for me, at least -- unfortunately, Delia isn't as aroused by our bedroom being located right next door to her parents as I am).
These pics of me wearing shiny thigh-high boots are from a new set of photos I'm posting for my members soon:
My mom, sister and nephew spent a couple of nights with us so I haven't gotten much work done the past few days, but here are a few posts you might have missed with examples of my masturbation fodder. For those of you who are curious about what I get off on when I have a couple minutes to pursue such things, lately I head to Rude for the homemade masturbation videos guys upload there themselves (I know the ads are annoying, but I'm a member so I don't have to see them):
EXPOSED MEMBERS: As you can tell by the number of videos regular guys post online for free featuring themselves jacking off -- sometimes in the most humiliating of ways -- a lot of men are not only exhibitionists, but get off on the idea of being forced or coerced into exposing themselves in embarrassing ways, being laughed at, having their penises inspected, and being ordered to masturbate for onlookers. There's even a porn niche called "CFNM" (clothed female nude male) featuring men at the mercy of women who make them do these things for their entertainment.
CFNM is one of my favorite types of fetish scenarios because it revolves around the fantasy of women making men perform "against their will" with the balance of power being tipped in women's favor (pretty unusual in porn). I also love role plays with a lot of build-up, which most CFNM scenes have. There's a new site called CFNM Secret which is a fun attempt by one of the big corporate porn giants to exploit this market. I personally prefer Pure CFNM because they seem to "get it" more, but maybe CFNM Secret will appeal to a broader audience. I'm not so much into scenes where the chicks suck and fuck the guys, and I prefer for the men to look psychologically TORMENTED and completely aghast at being unable to control their own sexual response, but pretty much any CFNM scene turns me on way more than generic porn unless it's the bachelorette party scenario where they go wild for male strippers (yawn).
I understand why guys enjoy fantasizing about being male strippers, but as someone who's been to events where they've been hired, even when those dudes are outnumbered and getting paid they still act like they're in charge of us and what happens, and that pisses me off. I will never forget the fucker who came to a bachelorette party and overstayed his welcome for HOURS lecturing us on NAFTA while most of the girls tolerated and even encouraged it while I drunkenly got in his face telling him he was WAY out of line, to shut the fuck up and to leave. Fifteen years later, the memory of it STILL makes me mad. The only time I've seen a male stripper behave properly (submit to women and entertain them, rather than himself) was a black guy with a circus penis (down to his knee, NO JOKE) at a house party with mostly black women. He kept his mouth shut and performed without acting like he needed to intimidate us. He was eager to please and seemed to genuinely get off on being in a submissive position without demanding extra attention. We got to USE him and he seemed to know that was what he was there for.
As I write this I am fully aware that I would freak out if I saw a guy writing about female sex workers this way; I know I have a double standard on this (men who are hired to entertain women should KEEP THEIR YAPS SHUT), but there's still a double standard in the Americas with men doing most of the talking and controlling and women doing most of the submitting and listening. I can't help it that role plays reversing that power imbalance are a turn-on to me both sexually and emotionally. It's like therapy; I get a big charge out of it.
A couple of samples from the gallery I just posted for members:
I don't think I'd feel like I need to lose fifteen pounds if we could afford for me to specialize in long line girdles and corsets.
Speaking of what we can/can't afford, I know that I need to cut some obligations out in order to have time to really tweak and market our sites appropriately. For some reason I'm having a really difficult time deciding which things I need to stop doing, at least temporarily. I've been freaking out a lot and feeling anxious/overwhelmed. I don't think my priorities are set in a way that's effective and it's hard for me to rearrange them and then accept that the things at the bottom will have to be trimmed off. I am trying to do it all (and have been for too many years) and it's just not working. I'm sucking at everything and not really focusing my best efforts on the things I'm actually GOOD at and the things that make the most money.
It's hard for me to let go.
One of the things I realized this month (besides that we NEED to take days off) is that we will have to 1) limit the number of miles we drive/trips we take each month and/or in rapid succession and 2) make sure visiting family doesn't get sidelined in that equation in favor of work or friends. It's not because of fuel costs, it's because we live so far away from everyone that the HOURS spent in the car NOT working (except to fuck up my back/body) cost too much, plus it breaks my heart going for such long stretches without seeing my nephew. I also had a major meltdown awhile back with extreme guilt over neglecting to visit my grandma in over a year. Long story short, I'm stressed out and tossing ideas around in my head to reduce that stress.
Eventually I am going to have to learn how to forgive myself for not being able to do everything, and allow myself to succeed working from a shorter/different to-do list.
After taking swimming lessons as a kid, I haven't spent much time in pools, but I want to get in the water more often so I dusted off my old rubber swim cap (barely used), bought a new one (the purple one below) and replaced the old broken rubber strap on my goggles. I tried everything on during one of my webcam chats last week and was extremely pleased with the results:
I can't tell you how much I love wearing my swim caps -- it has all the pleasure of a corset without the hassle and expense. A corset for your BRAINS! They're snappy, squeaky, thick and delicious and wearing them reminds me how glamorous I thought women were who wore do-rags and turbans when I was very young. LOVE! I am INCHES away from shaving off my hair and wearing swim caps full time (and paired with earplugs it would be delicious deprivation of auditory perception). Except without the hair I don't know if it would be as pleasurable to remove the swim cap after thirty minutes or more of wear; there would be less hair-pulling, but too much cold to enjoy the slow expansion of the head and hair-floof back to maximum size.
And don't even get me started on goggles . . . this is my LOOK! I think it's totally cool when there's a reflection on just one lens.
Swimming was fun, but I went alone and was actually nervous about doing something new: would they have lockers and if so, would they provide locks and keys and something to hold onto the key while I'm swimming? Would I have to pay for each scheduled event I stayed for or only the first thing I showed up for? Would I be horribly slow and block faster, fitter people from enjoying their laps?
I managed to go despite these nagging anxieties and enjoyed myself, even if I can't seem to swim in a straight line and kept kicking the wall during my sidestroke and wound up with a scraped foot. I love being immersed in the water. I love the colors and sounds of an indoor pool. I love everything being muffled and wet and full of vapor. I love floating and turning and being thick and mobile.
I felt calm and heavy afterwards. It's good stuff. In fact, I went back for more and posted a confession/fantasy today for members that I had about myself and the nerdy lifeguard.
We have a wedding to attend today, so we had to cancel our usual Sunday shows. As a consolation prize, last night I posted a new gallery and a couple of archived webcam shows from a year ago in my members-only area, including one where I played in one of my favorite things, GLOVES, specifically short red leather gloves:
I covet gloves that are small enough to fit me and tight enough to STRETCH across my knuckles. These ones are old and stained from a vintage clothing store, but I fucking adore them. I would love to have fresh, duplicate pairs in white, red, pink, brown, green, and black. That would make me squeal with leathery happiness! I want to slap others and myself with them and appreciate my freckled arms stemming from their sassy short lengths.
In the other show I posted I wore black nylon stockings and stuck my feet in the camera/viewers' virtual faces a lot:
Next month when my insurance waiting period for pre-existing conditions ends I am going to go see an endocrinologist as suggested by oogoddess awhile back; even if they don't find any explanation for my infertility, weight gain, etc. it will be good to rule out a thyroid problem and other things. My period finally started SIX WEEKS after my last one and I'm pretty much at my wits end dealing with wacky hormones and seeing very little results from exercising and eating more moderately (which is really really fucking hard when having wacky hormones makes me want comfort food for medication). I know I'm getting older and my metabolism is slowing down -- I can accept that -- but I still want to rule out the thyroid thing completely. Thyroid problems seem to be pretty common and frequently undiagnosed for years; there's no reason to suffer needlessly if that's my problem.
Here's a little insight into part of our work for those of you interested in how we get our photos from the camera to our porn site members and blogs:
Every time I post a tweet letting members/voyeurs know they're watching me at the computer "editing pics", I wonder if people are thinking, "what does that entail, anyway?" So here's the process (Delia does hers a little differently than I do, so I'm just saying what I do):
1) We transfer the image files from our camera to a computer where we store all of our full size, unedited image files. We use a usb cable rather than removing the card every time and using a card reader, which seems to be the more popular way that most people do it. Not us, though. I've always used the cable because a) it came with our cameras, but card readers did not, and b) I prefer to avoid handling our memory cards that often; I think it's better not to touch them and expose them to dust, etc. so the only time we remove our memory cards is if we're shooting away from home, fill up a card, and need to put in a new card to take pictures. Estimated time: 5-30 minutes depending on how many pics we took (usually 75-200 per set, and we often shoot multiple sets on one card); it definitely takes longer with our new camera since each pic is 4288x2848 pixels and around five to nine megabytes.
2) At this point we often take a look through the pictures to assess how we did and talk about why the look good or don't. You'll see us doing this with our heads tilting back and forth since pics we took as portraits are laying on their sides in landscape. Estimated time: varies between 2 and 30 minutes
3) We make COPIES of the original files and put them on our working machines. Estimated time: virtually none as long as we aren't having annoying network problems
4) I go through the photos and delete duplicates, ugly pics, pics with bad lighting, etc. Because our sites are homemade with an amateur appeal, I leave in a lot of "bad" pics because even the blurry ones and ones I think are unflattering usually have some redeeming quality (ex. my face looks bad, but my butt looks great, or the light is not technically excellent and the picture's not print-ready, but it still evokes a mood and helps tie the images together so there's some movement from one image to the next). Sometimes I do leave in poses that are nearly identical; the standards for porn sites are very different from artistic photography sites because we aren't trying to exhibit our very best PHOTOGRAPHY, we're trying to give people pictures to arouse them AND meet the quantity expectations porn review sites look for.
Very subtle differences in two like photos can make one jack-worthy to one person while the other is not. Let's say there's an image where I have an enticing expression on my face, but my feet are cut out of the frame. Then there's another nearly identical picture where I my double chin is highlighted, but my feet are all there and looking great. One guy who loves feet will be happy I included the ugly-face, feet-included pic, while another who doesn't care about feet will only be interested in my come-hither look in the other photo. That's why I leave in a lot of less-than-perfect and repetitious images. Still, I sometimes take a lot of time deciding whether or not to keep or toss pictures. Estimated time: 5-20 minutes
5) I open three photos at a time in Photoshop. I use a hotkey I've set up to rotate the image (if necessary) and another hotkey to resize the photo to my specifications. I look at each image more closely than before, adjusting levels to brighten them up if necessary, add more contrast, and adjust the color balance as needed; because we don't use a flash or tons of lights and we often rely on natural light or a combination, there's often a lot of variation in our photos even when we've taken all of them in one location. We might move in and out of different colors and levels of light so it does NOT work to apply a process on a whole batch of photos, I have to look at and edit each image individually.
I also use the bandaid tool to cover up zits or ingrown hairs sometimes. Sometimes I crop and size pictures more creatively if I need more close-ups or really need to get rid of some distraction in the picture to salvage something good about it. Very rarely I will apply filters (soft blur, etc.) to images or just fuck around seeing what those look like without committing to them. We *do not* change color photos into black and white using Photoshop, Well, hardly ever. Almost all of the black and white pictures on our sites were SHOT in black and white.
6) I save each picture WITHOUT optimizing them (making the file size smaller for web suitability) because I want to keep a copies of high quality edited versions of each photo since one picture might be used in a number of places in a number of ways. Sometimes I save duplicates of images I especially like in a "promo" folder at a different size with a border added that I use for posting in our blogs. I have a promo folder inside each edited gallery folder. Estimated time for steps five and six: 30-120 minutes
7) I go through the pictures again to see if there are more I want to delete.
8) Sometimes I rename files so that they will be presented in an order that makes better sense (move pictures we took in the middle to the beginning, etc.). Estimated time for steps seven and eight: 0-10 minutes
After all of that, I build the gallery which is another process entirely.
ESTIMATED TOTAL TIME SPENT ON THIS PROCESS FOR EACH GALLERY: 45 minutes to three and a half hours
I enjoy this process quite a bit (especially if I look halfway decent in the pictures) and appreciate taking the time to really SEE what were making. It's pleasurable, meditative, hot and it makes me feel productive. I also think it's important we do this work (and do it ourselves) because it teaches us what does and doesn't work with posing, lighting, camera settings, framing, etc.
Want to know more behind-the-scenes info regarding our pics? Check out this entry on how much one shoot cost: ARE OUR SHOOTS WORTH IT?
Allow me to direct more frustrated gazes towards the marvelous "PLineWorld". When our friends introduced it to us, I was immediately smitten and HYPNOTIZED by the flash preview.
Even though I do not have time to enjoy porn memberships right now, just the realization that even if I DID, I'd need a translator to figure out how to signup/couldn't figure out how makes me agitated with lust. They've done a great job luring me in . . . because those pictures are very VERY alluring (clicking on the member login takes you to previews of the galleries with samples, which of course make you really want to see the thumbnails that are NOT clickable to non-members).
Would love to blog about a million things (my questionable ethics, clarification about what is probably a "justice" fetish, etc.), respond to this and that (and blog about when it is and when it isn't reasonable to expect a response from me), but . . . I haven't got the time right this instant. I did want to share something tasty with you, though, so enjoy PLineWorld! It's a very inspiring place . . .
Today I spotted a really good deal for webmasters on a huge stash of hot Russian fetish porn so I bought it and decided to use it to start building a bonus site for our members. Tonight I'll post a gallery of fifty of my favorites; the following are samples from that gallery:
I bought this package not only because it was cheap, but because it contains so many things I love: gloves, inflatables, peeing, smiling natural-looking girls, outdoor nudity, white panties & socks, and a host of other naughty things. It's hard to believe the content broker advertised it as his "ugly girls package". Snort. There's some insight into the porn industry mentality (in case you need any, which I doubt).
My hope is to make this bonus site to house bought content (non-exclusive stuff I like, but we didn't shoot ourselves) and be more of a story site with my own little fantasy narrative to accompany my favorite images from each set. I know! WHY am I starting another project? It's not really a big thing to do, though, and not something I need to crank out or "complete" any time soon; it's more like adding another feature to our sites and inspiration for me to write more porno stories which are conspicuously small in number on our sites as it stands. I like riffing off of strangers in content other people have shot. It's fun/hot, plus I feel the need to bulk up on the stories because a) the types of people who dig our sites also seem to dig stories, b) it offers insight into my own turn-ons which is part of the personality people expect from me, and c) to offer a little more of the type of content women gravitate towards (IN GENERAL; of course not all women like their porn in story form, but a whole lot DO rely upon the written word for masturbation fodder and think huge sets of 200 pics are totally fucking boring). Stories are pretty cool because they don't require a bunch of money or extra people to produce outrageous scenarios; you just need time (which IS money, I know) and a pervy imagination.
Speaking of stories, here's the latest on the "Red Rose"/Karen Fletcher case in which a woman was prosecuted by the federal government for OBSCENITY. She was convicted of a thought crime right here in AMERICA! I don't know how to explain this if you don't already know it, but it should not be acceptable to any of us that the government thinks WRITING about criminal behavior and publishing it IS a crime in itself, no matter how unsavory the subject matter. Even if people are jacking off to it. Especially when there are shows on television like Law & Order: Special Victims Unit which is big corporate porn of exactly the same stripe as Karen Fletcher's, only maybe it's worse because people delude themselves into thinking they're watching those fictions not out of "prurient interest" (which is the language the law uses to say certain media is used as jack-off material rather than some more socially-acceptable form of entertainment - I call it the pornography of abuse and it's how Oprah MADE her fortune) but because it's somehow good for society. What a crock of shit. You cannot flip past that show for ten seconds without some Daddy creeping into a family bedroom he shouldn't be in or seeing a child shivering naked in a bathtub or hearing the word RAPE. People obviously get off on that shit in many different ways. Let me clarify, I'm not condemning human nature here (most of us are drawn in one way or another to the horrifyingly sick, scary and macabre), I'm condemning the double standards that criminalize speech that SHOULD be protected by the First Amendment while giving the entertainment industry fucking Golden Globe awards for the same shit wrapped in a different package and set of excuses.
If Karen Fletcher was DOING the things she wrote about or printing the stories up on fliers and distributing them at elementary schools, well OF COURSE she should be not just prosecuted, but locked up for life. But she wasn't. That's not what the Department of Justice went after her for. They went after her for sitting at home in complete isolation, putting words on a computer and then onto the internet. WORDS. She thought about bad things and shared those bad thoughts with a whopping audience of twenty-nine people who sought out and chose to read them. Would I want to be her friend or have her over to babysit? Of course fucking not. What I want is for us all to prosecute and put people in prison WHO ACTUALLY COMMIT CRIMES. Not just imagine crimes in their heads.
On my walk to the bank I found a pair of dirty panties laying on the street by the elementary school in the crosswalk.
They weren't dirty in a way that indicated a struggle took place while someone was wearing them, just dirty in a way that any discarded fabric would be if it spent time laying in the road. They were pink Hanes Her Way, definitely grown-up panties. A twig was ensnared in them and they were bunched up.
I walked past them quickly in a kind of shock, knowing I wouldn't want anyone to catch me looking at them, but wanting to just the same. I left them behind, wishing I'd had my camera. I left them behind, but couldn't stop considering picking them up and putting them in my backpack. I could use the twig to pick them up without touching them, or at least I could say that's what I did so people wouldn't know that it doesn't really freak me out to pick up dead panties out of the street with my bare hands. I could bring them home and justify my strange behavior because I'm a pornographer and some people would like to see these panties I found. Because some of the people who read me online are exactly the people who WOULD have found a way to snatch those panties off the street, or would be jealous of my wild and crazy ability to defy convention and do so.
I'm always fascinated by the private things that are abandoned in public places. Grocery lists, for example. But it's especially strange and fascinatingly intimate when underwear is discarded. Socks in parking lots. Panties used as toilet paper and dropped in conspicuous store locations. Shoes thrown over telephone wires. Panties on the street. I'm drawn to these things and wonder how they got there, just like I wonder why half the bad boys and girls on COPS are driving and wandering around the streets barefoot (not wearing shoes on the street is a much more significant sign to me that these people's lives are totally fucked up than the drugs in their cars or their desire to run from the police). Are they leaving their clothes behind to mark their territory? Is it like movable pheromone-filled graffiti? Are they trying to fuck with me/people like me? Or are they just getting rid of things they don't want anymore?
On the way back home I thought about the place where I left the panties behind and whether or not they'd still be there. They were, and this time I actually stopped and peered down at them. There was blood on them. Not crime scene blood, but natural period-type spots. Did she buy new clean panties? Did she just decide to go without? Did she wonder what people would think when they saw them right there in the crosswalk? Was she laughing when she threw them? Was she alone? Did she get rid of them because she was proud to show them off rather than wash them after they'd already served their purpose? Or did she get rid of them because they disgusted her and she just wanted to leave them behind?
Or maybe someone's son or younger brother stole them out of the laundry and brought them to the playground to show to all of his friends and they all laughed and threw them around after passing them to each other with grubby fingers wondering what it all meant. Or maybe someone sat in his car by the school late at night and jacked off into them, then threw them out. If he would have been caught he could have to register as a sex offender for committing that act within so many feet of a school. Even though it's summer and school's not in session. What was he thinking, throwing them out right there? What is anybody thinking?
Maybe they were just on the top of someone's laundry basket in the car with the windows down and just flew out on accident.
The panties will be gone the next time I go by there, and I'll wonder who took them. A concerned mother picking them up with a plastic bag between her hand and the cotton like she's picking up dog poop? The guy I've seen at the playground with a metal detector, scavenging for treasure? The same person who put them there? A lonely teenager in a trench coat taking a midnight stroll? I wish I could watch them do it without anyone seeing me.
Here's an email I got the other day from someone trying to decide whether or not to join my site:
Hey, sexy, I am thinking about joining your site. How many nice videos do you have in there? Do you do any fart video?
Out of all the emails I get that deserve responses, choosing to spend time replying to this one PROBABLY wasn't wise or fair, but I did write back to say this:
Hi there! I don't have any fart videos (well actually I have one, but it's such a small and insignificant fart, it barely warrants mentioning). What I do have are spycams upon which patient voyeurs with audio enabled can sometimes hear me farting or even see me lifting my cheek to do so. No guarantees of when or how often or that you would catch it, though.
I don't know how many videos I have at this point, and I'm not sure how many you would consider to be "nice" since that is a highly subjective term. Most people who join my site are into the whole "package" that I offer, both as a strange and wonderful human being AND as a porn site proprietress, and statistics barely enter into their decision of whether or not to join.
Good luck in making yours!
It's not that I think his questions aren't legit, I'm just reluctant to hand out quantified guarantees of satisfaction to people who are reluctant to join without them since I doubt they will be happy with my site (especially in this case when I don't have content to make a die-hard fart fetishist happy, even though I probably have MORE to offer him than other non-fart-focused porn sites).
Mostly I answer emails like this one because it's so freeing to be flip, especially when the person expects me to do everything I can to convince him to buy and I'm just not going to. It's so much easier to communicate with people I *know* I can't make happy than it is to write back to the people who really want to hear from me and whose opinions I genuinely care about. I feel guilty for it, but there it is.
I have a lot (even more than usual) of maintenance, (re)design, and promo work to do on a lot of our sites so that's where I'm focusing most of my computer time. We have an appointment with Delia's therapist on Tuesday to talk about coming out to her family about her transition so that will probably be our day off for the week since we have to traverse a few counties to get there/won't be home most of the day.
Next week we've rented a room to shoot fancier photo sets with hosiery, etc. than we've been doing lately. I'm excited because the walls are PURPLE! You have no idea how much of my webwhore happiness depends on shooting in colorful locations. In the first two weeks of August we'll need to focus on shooting a lot, too, so we won't be posting galleries shot in the same exact place for two months straight.
I have a couple of really exciting things to blog about but just wanted to post something quickly today to stay in touch and let you know where we're focusing. Twitter's been down a lot so I haven't been able to do it there reliably (and am worried Twitter's downtime is effecting the way our members see our members-only area since it won't load the rest of the page until it tries to load our tweets). I should redesign that, too, so twitter is the last thing to load, but it would so fuck up the balance. Sigh . . . I wish the twitter fuckers would monetize it already so they could afford to make it WORK.
I found this video while researching fat belly fetish movies to get ideas for a small plumper site I want to make with my chubby pictures:
Like the last video I posted, I know it's just supposed to be "funny" but I actually adore it (and think the sprinkler and body slam shots were *hot*); you can always count on me to love videos of people dancing and grooving without trying to look cool. I mean, I also love watching people dance better, but even more I love seeing regular people expressing themselves and making their whole bodies giggle and shriek.
I always intended to make a chubby Trixie site, but I have lots of ideas that I don't have time for so I've never done anything with it (even though I have a couple of domains that are perfect for it: JellyRollJane.com and RubenX.com. Right now my belly is probably bigger than it's ever been, though, so I have a few more photos than usual I've been reluctant to post on my regular site AND I'm constantly trying to hide how big it is during shoots; that's SILLY since it would be so easy for us to take about 25 more pictures each shoot that EMPHASIZE my belly fat and would be marketable to a unique audience.
I do feel guilty and self-conscious about even admitting I want to segregate my roly-poly belly pictures from my other photos (the ones where I don't make a point of showing how big my pot belly is); I know that a lot of people like the belly fat and I know that I'm always talking the big talk about sharing myself in all of my natural glory (hence the almost-in-your-face menstruation stuff, etc.) BUT I'm definitely reluctant to highlight rolls of belly fat, cellulite and double chins in the members-only area of TastyTrixie.com. It's still all *there*; I'm not actually hiding it from members (and I do have some fairly in-your-face chub pics and galleries), I'm just not sure about taking it to the next level of really fetishizing those parts of myself and the truth is that I kind of want to.
I remember the first time we shot photos meant to augment the sight of my belly fat; it was SO AWESOME, the feeling of letting go and letting it all hang out instead of sucking it in and drawing attention to anything BUT my belly. Because I am quite chubby looking right now, I could really stand to have some fun with it instead of worrying about people who join my site not anticipating they're getting a chubby chick. And people? Don't even try to reassure me about this one; I'm just being realistic; YES I know there are lots of people who will adore me no matter what. Unfortunately I am neither in-shape NOR fat enough to turn-on chubby chasers to the extent of making a real living off of it. I am average; the best I can hope for with my site when it comes to my body is to attract members who are aroused by an average body type; I'm pretty sure most of those guys can tolerate and/or are aroused by a little extra padding but a REALLY bulging belly with an obvious overhang and many rolls of fat? I think that would alienate and turn-off a lot of my audience; Lord only knows I already do enough to alienate and turn-off my fans so adding the really big taboo of fat on top of that is probably not a wise business decision. Again, it's not that I don't show off fatness on my site (you know I love showing off the backphat, especially) but I'm concerned that if I take it much farther (belly-jiggling videos, videos of me overeating/talking about how much I love to eat/describing how I'm getting bigger, hiding toys & dildos in my folds, pooching out my belly as far as it will go, etc.) that people will be . . . confused.
I started compiling more fat-focused photo galleries today and it felt SO GOOD to look FOR really chubby pics instead of hoping not to come across them. Looking at pictures of my belly hanging over my waistband suddenly became a joy instead of a nuisance simply because I started looking at them from the perspective of people who specifically SEEK OUT that look for masturbation fodder.
While I do have some reservations about catering to fat fetishists, if I just make a small collection available OFF my main site then it won't require a lot of time or long-term commitment (and I won't have to pay for the fall-out of alienating the average-body fans). Part of me just really wants to give expression to the growing magnificence of this part of my body along with some of my food fantasies. I have a lot of specialty interests (gloves, bubblegum, stockings, feet, taboo roleplays, and numerous underground fetishes) but my chub is something I feel especially suited to explore right at this moment in time.
It will be a good experiment, anyway, and for those of you who *do* want to see it and are already members? I will figure out how to share it with by request and/or some of it will show up on TastyTrixie anyway in spite of my reservations and/or could be combined with FertileTrixie; the pregnancy fetish is complex enough that it also encompasses people who like seeing women growing/inflating and might crossover enough with the fat belly stuff I'm doing that it will all meld together in a delicious vat of plump 'n pregnant stew.
Shit -- I hope I'm not talking this up too much and getting people's hopes up; I'm not talking about investing a whole lot of time in making special content like this so DON'T GET TOO EXCITED all ye fans of fat! I'm just looking forward to shooting some stuff that doesn't require me to try to be attractive from head to toe and allows me to express another part of my personality. Fetish stuff can be such a relief to shoot because people don't spend as much time looking at "the whole package"; you are beautiful to them just for having the right color of nail polish or a strong prescription for glasses . . . or an abundance of skin folds and wobbly flesh around your midsection.
On top of all of that, I have always wanted to see more porn featuring women who are truly average/just a little bit overweight and in porn? That's kind of hard to find since the industry focuses on extremes.
I know there are some twisted thoughts in this post and some unclear/contradictory thinking so yeah; I know my feelings, values and thoughts are muddled and maybe fucked up. If anyone wants to leave comments, I'm most interested in looking at this from a business point of view and hearing from people who consider themselves BBWs AND from fans on whether or not belly fat turns YOU on -- I don't want to hear polite reassurances (though I thank you for your kindness), only the truth if it turns you OFF or if it's really something you dig.
Still, it's crazy that this movie (which, if you HAVE to label it as catering to either a "gay" or a "straight" audience is OBVIOUSLY better marketed towards consumers in the straight marketplace than the gay market) is being recognized at GayVN but wasn't at AVN. If I remember correctly, Dacia said AVN got rid of their "bi" category; right now I can't find any of her many posts about this matter and bisexuality in the porn industry so I can't vouch for that detail. Anyway, The Bi Apple at Gayvn is a reminder of the bizarre standards in our society (that the porn industry REFLECTS, but I don't think CREATES) that male bisexuality is rarely acknowledged as common, normal or even possible; most people still subscribe to the belief that men are either straight OR they're gay with absolutely no in-between. That attitude flies so directly in the face of common sense, plenty of research and everything that is readily observable about male sexuality that you can't deny we must have a MASSIVE agenda in suppressing the truth and perpetuating homophobia to the point where we'd rather sound totally insane in the membrane that admit most guys are wired to get off on both cock AND pussy.
I just read Augusten Burrough's Sellevision and one of the FUNNIEST things about it was his fantasy portrayal of the porn industry as an open, bi-sexy, anything-goes atmosphere which it absolutely is not. His gay male protagonist can't get a straight job anymore so he decides to try porn "acting"; when Max tours the studio it's described as one that makes BOTH gay porn and straight porn, and has performers of all orientations lounging around ready to fuck both men and women; there's the star Trixie Thunderpussy (no relation) and the male fluffer, Shaun. Max does his impromptu screen test with Rocky right on the set of "Pizza Parlor Pussy"! If only that kind of shit really happened! It was the most naive, idealized, unreal things I've ever read coming from such a jaded author and just goes to show how little people, even sexually sophisticated people, know about the porn industry. The porn industry is crazily segregated and extremely UNcomfortable with natural variations in human sexuality.
My impression of a lot of men in the porn industry is that they fancy themselves reinforcers of decency and "standards". They all think that they know what All Men Want, they all think they know what sells (if they haven't tried it or don't like it then it can't POSSIBLY be marketable). They are very intent on maintaining their perceived boundaries between false dichotomies like bad and good, gay and straight, fat and sexy, fetish and non-fetish, hairy and clean, women and men, old and young. Blurred lines horrify them and the only stuff they'll accept that pushes outside of "normal" is extreme hardcore performed on women. The only arena where they seem interested as a group in challenging accepted standards is on women's physical and human limits. Okay, we've established women can take two cocks in the ass . . . how about expanding that asshole to two cocks, a fist, a frozen turkey and a barbie doll? And now that we've found that unilaterally referring to women as either sluts or whores or both is easy AND effective how about we really push the envelope by calling them cum-dumpsters and human toilets more often? YEAH! This is really NEW and CUTTING EDGE!
We should all think it's weird and wacky that the more we are able to know about sex and human behavior, the more restrictive and willfully stupid we've become, and the more feminism progresses, the more porn (along with all other media) seeks to put us back in our traditional places. It seems obvious we're in denial and trying our hardest as a group to maintain norms that should have been blown to smithereens. As individuals I think we really need to call bullshit on each other and question our motivation for being so rigidly resistant to acknowledging basic human truths, like, ERECT PENISES MAKE PEOPLE HORNY. Duh.
Does it seem as though I just went off on a tangent, switching from bisexual porn to feminism? I wish I had the time and the brain to do a better job of connecting the dots, but it does all have to do with gender to the point where sometimes I wonder if we're afraid that if men started openly acknowledging how much they want to suck cock that we wouldn't know what women are good for anymore.
Note: I do not think porn featuring women in submissive or even degrading roles is intrinsically evil or "bad" or harmful, nor do I think people should automatically feel guilty for getting off on that; my problem is with the PREVALENCE and thoughtlessness of that type of porn to the relative exclusion of other (and often healthier/more "normal") scenarios, and the ease with which people in the industry accept it contrasted with their disdain for other types of scenes.
Anyway, I hope The Bi Apple wins; I'm going to be watching Dacia's twitter like a hawk to see the outcome.
I'm editing a gallery of Delia's pictures; usually she picks through and touches up her own photos so this is a rare treat for me. There's not a lot involved in our editing process (adjusting light levels, contrast, erasing hot pixels and ingrown hairs, etc. all as needed, so on many photos we don't do anything) but we do go through every single photo individually to make these minor adjustments or to delete super-repetitive or totally worthless shots with no jack-off appeal. For me this is often a time to enjoy our work, especially when they're photos I shot rather than photos I'm *in*.
The reason I'm editing this gallery? Because Delia didn't think she wanted it on her site and thought it would be better on the houseboy site. I disagree wholeheartedly, but am glad it means the photos are in my hands now.
I guess she thinks they look too masculine; one problem with black and white photos is that they often dramatize jawbones, wrinkles, veins, hair, and all sorts of things that don't lend themselves to soft femininity. Also, she's naked in a most of the pictures and since she's not on hormones yet, her body is moderately masculine. I say that her members will still adore them. For now, her site is still marketed and named as a crossdressing site (she'll be developing a DeliaTS.com or DeliaTG.com site eventually which we'll add to our network) so we know at least some of her members ARE crossdressers who fantasize about being LIKE Delia as much as or more than they do fucking her. I'm just guessing, but I imagine it's reassuring to see her nude and occupying that grey area of gender, engaging in the familiar ritual of shaving, one of the few things a closeted guy can do regularly with minimal risk of raising suspicions. And all of those mirrors? Come on -- so loaded with a billion familiar themes.
It's amazing how much long hair or a simple bra communicates to us about someone's gender identity. Actually, it's more amazing how little is communicated by nudity and how much we "need" clues in the form of clothing to inform us whether we should relate to someone as a woman or a man. We actually don't have a lot of full nudity on any of our sites except the houseboy site, so that makes this gallery unusual since normally we focus on striptease-style sets with emphasis on familiar fetish attire like panties, tight sweaters, stockings, etc.
I'm fascinated by this transitional period we're in, Delia changing her name legally and about to go on hormones, us hoping to get pregnant. I love photos like these ones that will be reference points everyone can use to gauge her body's progress. These are before pictures (though not the beginning by any stretch of the imagination). We'll be able to look at her muscles, her jawline, her breasts, her balls, her hips, her hands, and her ass in these photos and compare them to a year or two from now when she'll have more fat.
Today we're going to try to do an outdoor shoot of Delia, and tomorrow an outdoor shoot of me. FYI: my period started yesterday and I feel GREAT. All is well and lovely. We were actually going to try to take a whole day off today, but that's not happening (though we *are* going to have a nice lunch out), nor will it happen at all this week. As a result I feel okay about watching pure buttloads of television throughout the week. Last night we developed an outline of some of the things we need to get done for/in October and I'm looking forward to tackling those things.
Anyway, I *think* Delia is coming around and will post the full set represented in these sample pictures soon. They are so not boy pictures.
Last night I dreamed I was walking down the street and EVERY head turned to look at my lovely newly blonde hair. It was like a commercial in which I was the girl chewing the new gum or wearing the new perfume that makes everyone love and want to kiss her. The only unusual part was that all of the heads turning and faces looking appreciatively horny in my direction were WOMEN'S. Hot chicks, all giving me the "let's fuck"-eye because I'm so eye-catching as a blonde. In my dream I thought to myself, "wow - this provesmy post that blondes are more attractive than brunettes; all of the women want me! I have to remember to post these results in my blog".
Yes, that's how much of a vain chick magnet I am in my dreams AND evidence of how trained I am to mentally note anything that could be blog fodder.
The dream went on to involve shopping in an expensive boutique with gorgeous silk dresses, sassy coats and even shoulder(?)-length leather gloves, all in magnificent arrays of colors. The beautiful proprietress with an updo exposing her yummy neck tried on a pair for me and I admired her exquisitely long, slender, leather-clad arms. I wanted to escape with her, but the store was very busy with tall, haughty women looking down their noses at me indicating I didn't belong there (apparently my hair was much less impressive here than on the street). The store also sold really artfully-printed business cards with white type on black card stock; let this be further proof of what a dork I am, that while I am a normal women who dreams normal woman-dreams about clothes-shopping, I have to also have office supplies for a wishlist dream to be really top-notch.
In real life, my mom and sister were greatly relieved to see me yesterday with blonde hair once again. They hated my hair dark.
Now that I've typed all of this I'm kind of grossed-out by the implications of the first part of the dream, but oh well. I'm human. We all want to be loved and wanted.
My nascent bubblegum fetish is getting bigger and bigger and BIGGER. I can't resist integrating it into my group webcam shows (as in the above image snagged by DavieUK during one of my Monday shows) and I'm beginning to crave it during (non-recorded) sex.
After my late show on Monday my g-spot was still craving action so I lured Tucker into the bedroom and climbed on top of him to rub my long-socked legs all over him. I suddenly felt like if I had some gum to chew and blow everything would be PERFECT. And then I got an urge to not only wear long socks and blow bubbles while fucking, but also to slap Tucker silly. Alas, he said he would need to be tanked to endure a slap-session and because I'd already combined in my head the gum-chewing/blowing with the face-slapping I didn't even bother getting off Tucker to go into my office for gum. Instead we had a loud and heated session of "regular" sex including some doggy-style after my orgasm. I have never had an orgasm while being fucked from behind (except with the aid of a vibrator) so even though I enjoy it and experience pleasure from it, we usually don't do it that way unless we're in extended-play mode. Unfortunately no one sent me a screen capture from that session, but I imagine those watching were too busy with other things to be copying and pasting screen grabs.
As some of you've heard already, we're going to start an ongoing contest with monthly winners for voyeurs who submit screen caps. The only reason I keep procrastinating on starting and announcing it is I feel like I need to write some tutorials for those who don't already know how to do the print screen thing. I also have some software to recommend for people to be able to automate the process and even capture video with audio. I'm sure some fellow webwhores will think it's totally irresponsible of me to teach viewers how to archive our live performances and spycam moments, but I don't really have a problem with it as long as they don't try to resell them or post scads of them on message boards, etc. I actually feel like it's totally taking advantage of members to get them to record content and then send it to me so I can use it to make money. Seems like a fair trade to me when it boils down to it.
I'll be posting more bubblegum and long sock content to my members area today so if you're not sick of my bubblegum obsession, you'll be pleased.
FYI: the bubble in the above pic was blown with four or five pieces of Bazooka.
I thought it important I post some eye candy to mitigate the bitch damage done in my recent entries. I'm making a concerted effort not to be an asshole today, and so far nothing has tested my patience so it's been pleasant. I spent my morning doing a little work, chatting with members and vacuuming (a meditative salve for the stressed-out spirit), then my afternoon was spent lunching (sushi roll and seaweed salad!) exercising (Dance Dance Revolution!), and showering. Tucker made a lovely steak dinner then we went to the store for snacks where we picked up a small bouncy ball for our own amusement and the dog's (more relaxing tonic for the nerves: watching Tucker and Nico playing outside with a ball). And now, Jesus H. Christ, it's night time.
Other accomplishments: shopped for and bought a new blonde wig for Delia, did some costume planning for our next shoot, pooped (twice!), went to the bank, replied to some emails, and concocted some promotional materials. I also drafted twenty-seven blog entries and fifteen podcasts . . . in my head.
I'm now in the process of researching the best brands of bubblegum and have determined that of the three most commonly available brands, Hubba Bubba is THE BEST. I've got a load of special-order Dubble Bubble and Bazooka on the way, too, but it's really nice to know that Hubba Bubba does the TRICK. Bizarrely enough, I had a horrid headache all day yesterday but once I popped some gum in my mouth and started chewing, the pain melted away. It may be that my Aleve just happened to kick in at that time, but maybe it was the sugar rush of the gum.
My big task for the evening is to answer a bunch of emails. As time goes on I get worse and worse about responding to email within a polite period of time. The main reason I procrastinate on it is I'm afraid my brain and social skills aren't up to the challenge and have come to believe that I need hours to write appropriate responses to email. I've become quite phobic about email and feel genuinely overwhelmed by it. Aside from the obvious consequence of appearing totally rude to people who've been kind to me (the majority of email I get is nice) I've also fucked up good opportunities for publicity because I turned the requests for information in the emails into giant complicated tasks that I came to believe were far too large for me to manage. I know it sounds totally crazy, and it really IS totally crazy; there's no denying it. As I get older, though, I become more and more aware of my own limitations (or maybe I impose limitations on myself because I'm lazy -- that's possible) and sometimes I know I just don't have it in me to run our sites each day AND give people personal attention via email in a kind or coherent manner.
While I know it's reasonable to accept that I can't do it ALL, it's also reasonable to recognize that I can do MORE. For example, when a certain UK television producer writes to me (and I do manage to write back) and then he writes back again asking for "any details about how, why and when you got into doing what you do" so they can put together a list of potential interviewees and I FAIL TO RESPOND it's kind of crazy. My avoidance script goes like this: Would sending him a list of links to pages on my sites that answer those questions be good enough? Or no, would that look lazy or disinterested? But then what is the perfect short, readable, quotable blurb to provide? Should I mention that I've already worked with people from his organization? Or would that seem pompous? Would attaching a photo of me with said people be too much? Would that make me a less-interesting subject since I've already appeared in one of their productions? Or does he already KNOW about that and that's the reason he contacted me so mentioning it would only sound stupid? What should I say to get Tucker in on this (if anything)? Or should I check with Tucker first since maybe he doesn't want any more UK exposure that his British grandma might see? Is the TV guy only aware of my bloody site and if so, should I answer the questions within the framework of BloodyTrixie.com only or should I convolute the whole thing by talking about all of our sites? Should I provide a username and password to our members-only areas or would that be shooting myself in the foot or maybe pressuring him to spend time researching me that he doesn't have or need to invest?
I think I need a therapist's help in figuring out why I'm sabotaging myself and how to knock it off. I mean, I can think of a hundred reasons why but I'd like a professional to slice through the bullshit 97 of them for me to get to the top three and massage away the problem. When someone with a website, for example, writes to me saying, "I'd like to do a story on you" it would be nice if I didn't ignore them, you know?
On top of all of that, I have a nasty habit of sabotaging friendships. The scary part is that I often feel RELIEVED when I've ruined a friendship. It feels almost like it might feel to have my email inbox suddenly emptied with no memory left in my brain of the requests people have made for me to respond. No more worrying about how I will fuck up or how I have fucked up because I finally DID fuck up! No more agonizing over how to word things in a polite fashion or pretend to be sensitive and thoughtful. No more pressure to get together to make sure someone knows I like them. No more trying to hide that I am an asshole who would rather be in bed shoving thickly-frosted cake and assorted salty carbs into my mouth while watching really stupid television shows than SOCIALIZING or NETWORKING.
Oh well. I'm both complicating things in this blog entry *and* oversimplifying them, so I'm removing the comment option for this post. Or wait, I better not do that because someone might have something important to say about BUBBLEGUM. So yeah -- comments welcome on gum and fetishes, but please -- no advice or words of wisdom on the other stuff. Personal stories of your own are welcome, but I'd rather not hear any analysis of my own issues which I've not fully fleshed-out here. It's not a cry for help, it's just a chunk of sharing and reflection and couldn't possibly relay enough information for anyone to respond with meaningful advice.
Note: I have been in therapy before, I love it, would love to get into it again with a local psychologist and would without hesitation if not for money issues.
We're going to be gone for three days / a couple of nights in a rental shooting as big of a buttload of photos as we possibly can. Normally we don't do a great job of taking care of our fingernails and toenails as we should given our line of work, so I scheduled a manicure for Tucker and a pedicure for myself today. I think the asian guy doing my feet tickled them on purpose with his pumice stone and got a big jolt of pleasure out of making me squirm and giggle.
So. I did do the brunette thing again and even a shade darker than last time. I LOVE IT!
Anyway, there won't be any action on our spycams while we're gone since there's no internet access where we're going. I know, it sounds like we're living in some kind of a time warp, but we tend to rent places that are in rural locations for our shoots so modern amenities like internet access can't be taken for granted and honestly, I'm kind of glad. We like to get away from the spycams and just immerse ourselves in shooting and then having bedtime all to ourselves with no computers humming or peepers peeping.
Okay, so I know some people got excited about this week's members-only update thinking it would be this photo set. But instead you're getting 40 minutes of video like these pictures, only louder and more obnoxious:
I know some of you think I don't give a rat's ass who I offend, but there's a middle ground for me especially when it comes to this kind of content. When people get pissed off at me about it, I usually think the arguments and complaints they present are laughably stupid, rude, and presumptuous but on the other hand it really DOES bother me thinking of some sweet older Christian person joining my site and totally not anticipating s/he'll be confronted by something so overtly profane. Yes, I do think it's totally possible for a Christian to join a porn site and not be a hypocrite by doing so and not even be a hypocrite for being disturbed by hearing me discuss the crucifixion in gory, sexually lurid language.
I'd love to reflect on this at length, but I'm SLEEPY and I think our guests are waiting to go get sushi so that's all I have to say about blasphemous porn right now.
Tucker took those pictures of me last week at the cabin we rented for the crazy custom video shoot; the location was fucking fantastic! I bought that Little House on the Prairie dress and granny boots specifically for the video, but of course we had to get in a little photo shoot of our own first before the thing got all ripped up and covered in fake blood. I regret not getting more appropriate legwear to go under the dress, but whatever -- the pics turned out nicely. And I had no idea that ankle boots could look so sexy! Must get more . . .
I've got a thing for girls and bubblegum . . . and boobs. Anyone sharing my appreciation of these elements will probably enjoy the gallery and video we shot today. Above is my favorite photo, one I loved so much that I have two versions of it in the gallery: one portrait and one landscape because I love looking at the bumps and colors and angel-in-need-of-bubblegum-oxygen-mask. And the way that my mouth looks SO much like a pussy (do you see that broken hymen up there?) and the gum splatters sometimes look like *another* layer of pussy and/or remind you of cum splatters, but yummy watermelon-flavored cum and sticky pink messes. I like things that *remind* me of sex and genitals but aren't. And I love the silliness and tacky-bored attitude gum-chewing and bubble-blowing convey.
Sometimes when we shoot stuff it's because we have to shoot *something* and it is kind of a bore; other times I really love what we're doing and the finished product. This bubblegum stuff is something I *love* that's fun and provocative (to me).
The video is not nearly as "sweet" -- there is some crazy-ass natural-titty action in it with my boobs flopping and whirling and swinging and swaying . . . all while I chomp on gum and try to blow bubbles as I'm getting fucked by Tucker. Good stuff.
I'm not sure I ever knew that Herve Villechaize killed himself. As a little girl I loved watching Fantasy Island; it was sexy, sinister, and of course totally fantastic. I got to watch all kinds of television shows as a kid at my grandparent's house that my mom would never have permitted me to watch at home; we had a tv in our bedroom there and I was a little night owl even then, so I'd stay up all night to see if any boobs would be on public television and to watch seventies horror flicks. One of my favorite movies was Asylum.
Why does it seem like the seventies and eighties embraced the forlorn, the melancholy, and the macabre so much more than the nineties and the present suck-ass century full of silicone-bloat, young-country "music", and criminally-insane levels of "Christianity" and "patriotism"?
If I remember correctly, there were a lot more scary clowns and freaky ventriloquist dummies back in the seventies and eighties. My first erotic dreams were about me and a grown-up man clown.
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I love wiggling my toes and referring to them as "piggies". I love how animated toes are, how plump and scrumptious they look, like the perfect finger food, like giant fat pale maggots roasted and eaten with relish by jungle tribesmen, their greases dripping down the feasting men's chins. Toes often look like they're stupidly straining towards survival, low-i.q. little beings struggling to escape their human attachments.
I'm not sure if I have more interest in playing with other people's feet or with having my own feet stimulated and worshipped. I don't find my own feet particularly pretty, so I'm more interested in other people's feet aesthetically, both men's and women's. Still, I have always intuitively reached out to people with my feet (which freaked out a couple of guys who were NOT footlovers and didn't appreciate having my feet thrust in their laps and faces). I like the distance my legs provide between me and another person; I enjoy sitting back and watching my playmate while I prod him with my feet and caress him with my toes. It's like two people facing each other to watch a movie projected into a space between each other, feet in hands or on genitals. The distance offers the intimacy of eye contact and a much wider, deeper visual playground.
As a kid I loved sucking my own toes . . . something about the salty flavor, I think. And as a preteen I was obsessed with trying to get my dad to kiss my toes. I know, that sounds kind of weird now, but at the time it didn't seem at all sexual to me (at least, not that I was aware of on a conscious level), although my dad must have thought it sexual because for some reason that mystified me, he vehemently refused to kiss my toes. His refusal only stiffened my resolve to force him to kiss my toes, and I would shove my bare feet in his face. "WHY, Daddy, WHY won't you kiss my toes??? Just do it ONCE and I'll stop bugging you!!" He would never explain why this simple act of affection was totally out of bounds and it drove me fucking MAD with an obnoxious combination of annoyance, confusion, and stubbornness. Daddy was easily manipulated so I was certain he'd fold under my screeching pressure, nearly kicking him in the face while I'd stick my feet in between his face and the T.V. guide or Jane's Tanks and Combat Vehicles Recognition Guide or whatever else he was trying to read.
Because Daddy almost *always* gave me my way, it's possible his refusal to kiss my feet (though he would tickle them for me, if I asked) made me want them kissed much much more than if he'd just done it. Why would he deny this simple request? It didn't make any sense, especially since he was normally so totally under my thumb.
Anyway, for those of you who have been begging for footjob action, the chocolate covered cherries shoot yielded some HOT and extra gooey video footage once Tucker got involved. I'll be posting all of the videos to TastyTrixie.com eventually, but right now Part I of the gallery is there, and the videos with Tucker are on TrixiesHouseboy.com, so if you don't want to wait another second to see that, join his site or SpyOnUs.com to get all of our sites, including Delia's.
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I love the way this gallery turned out . . . very wintery. I especially love my pink SOCKS . . . it's like having pink cable knit racing stripes being painted up my legs. It feels like such a fantastic decoration to highlight the curves of calves, the bend of knees, and the plump smile of the calf rounding up under said bent knee.
NO ONE EVER ASKS In the chatrooms, on private calls, and during shows I'm often asked whether I like black guys, whether I've fucked them . . . if I like black cock. But no one ever asks if I like Indians, whether or not I've fucked a native . . . if I crave indigenous cock.
For that matter the guys don't ask if I'm a sucker for asian men, if I've had experience with jews, or if I've body-surfed with pacific islanders. Nope, the race fetish is almost exclusively limited to blonde chicks and black dicks (or white guys and asian girls but I'm neither so I don't get asked about that). Apparently all other interracial sex is blase, or maybe other minorities just don't exist for most people in a way that warrants enough notice to spawn sexual objectification or fetishism. EDIT: there are definitely plenty of people who fetishize every single race and ethnicity, so I shouldn't make it sound like those people don't exist . . . I probably just hear a lot of the black/white thing because I happen to be a blonde white chick but still, it's weird they never ask me about my level of attraction to anything BUT black guys.
I don't really like being pelted by those questions anyway so I guess I'm glad they don't run down a full list of boxes to be checked for each possible exotic coupling I might have experienced. The fact is that I enjoyed compulsively checking off many of those boxes, not because I have a specific yen for one race over another, but because I liked collecting differently colored experiences. Like sticking flagged pushpins on a map for each place visited, I liked collecting numbers . . . names . . . experiences. Like a guy who wants to buy a dance from each girl in the club or a person who wants to try EVERYTHING on one menu. It wasn't actually something I actively sought out, but during and afterwards I'd secretly cross another skin tone off the list of to-do's. It's hard for me to remember all of the people I've had sex with, so a more unique physical appearance gives those guys more endurance in my memory.
As far as the question goes, I don't think black guys are better hung . . . in fact the only thing I've noticed is that the ones who were possibly bigger tended to be on the long and skinny side, which I find the most unappealing in terms of penis aesthetics. Anyway, I don't have enough experience there to do any kind of ridiculous racial penis profiling.
The only significant special attribute I've attached to anyone because of race or ethnicity is because of a Puyallup Indian boy who I really thought I was communicating deeply with, without words. It felt paranormal . . . extrasensory. Of course, I was also drunk but there was another guy there when we first started fooling around, and I wasn't feeling any psychic connection to HIM so it couldn't have just been the alcohol. I don't think it was some kind of preconcieved notion I had where I EXPECTED him to be more "spiritual" or something since I was not really conscious of his race or even sure what it was until after the fact. I'm not saying he was a fantastic lover either because he wasn't; though he was kind enough to give me my first rim job, he also gave me painful hickies on my inner thighs and that's really the only physical sensation I took away from the experience . . . but the PSYCHIC sensation was something else.
But no one ever asks about that, and I guess I'm glad I don't have to answer.I do sort of have a fetishistic attraction to hispanic guys, though. Remember Epstein on "Welcome Back Kotter"? I had a BIG crush on him. I also used to love Chico and the Man. There've been a few others too, I think.
SLEEPY GOOD I can't think straight right now -- can't decide what things to write about and what things to leave out, what things to do and what things to wait on. So I'll just give you a picture and let you know that the day the picture was taken (yesterday) was one of the horniest I've ever experienced.
Houseboy and I had a frustrating experience the night before with me trying to take pictures of him but initially failing due to my disappointment with myself in not even understanding my own stupid camera. I really wanted to take pictures of him in his spectacles but the fucking lights were reflecting off of them and without the lights shining on him everything was too dark. Anyway, enough of the frustrating part. He kept his good humour and pretty much made it impossible for me to just quit and go to bed . . . so we wound up with a pretty good set of pictures of him and . . . even sexier I got to videotape him jacking off. I cannot even describe how much of a dream come true this is, just getting to watch a guy jack off in real life and not be allowed to do anything about it. Since houseboy's site will be friendly for all audiences (male or female), there's no need to throw me in the mix every single time -- he needs some sexy solo content. Anyway, then yesterday houseboy took pics of me (see above) and I took pics of him . . . and another video. I almost wept from being so excited standing behind the camera while he jacked off. OH god yum. What a perfect tease!!
I absolutely love being the voyeur instead of the performer/participant/exhibitionist. And it's not just because I do it all the time for work . . . it's because the role of voyeur comes much more naturally to me than the role of exhibitionist. Most of my seemingly exhibitionistic behaviors are rooted more in my imaginings of what someone would be feeling by voyeuring me.
One of the most fascinating things happened when houseboy and I were looking through the pictures I took of him . . . looking at beautiful image after beautiful image of him on the monitor somehow he became somebody distant and celebrity-like. Staring at his still smiling/pouting/flirting sultry images I just absolutely marveled at his perfection . . . and I thought about how hysterically women will idolize beautiful sexy men (like Elvis and Tom Jones). I have always been fascinated by that panty-throwing/fainting/screaming phenomenon. I don't know if men are capable of that kind of senseless maddening worship the way women are. Part of it is arousal, sure, but it's much more all-being-encompassing than simple sexual arousal. It's like your mind, body and spirit are completely driven by intense brainwashed excitement. I seriously felt myself approaching that kind of hysteria with him yesterday . . . staring at the computer houseboy pictures for so long then finally turning around and looking at the real houseboy standing before me, SO gorgeous I tried to explain "it" (this wacky celebrity worship thing) to him . . . and just as I was reaching for the words he took a step towards me and was almost touching me and I truly felt my guts dropping and my entire face lighting up as though STAR STRUCK . . . ohmygodohmygod it's really him!!!!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!(insert hair pulling face squishing jumping up and down wetting pants screaming)AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! He's going to touch me oh my god it's HIM!!!!!! I didn't know whether to jump into his arms or take a step back!! It was the wackiest feeling! Silly and totally ridiculous, but I felt it anyway.
Anyway, if you want to see just one of the tame pictures of my the "object" of my hysteria, I think that houseboy is publishing one in his journal momentarily.