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.
Some of you've been wondering how our family get-together with my brother went after my agonizing in this post; fortunately, it went fine but I'm still so glad it's OVER so I can stop stressing out over it.
We made the trek out to my mom's yesterday and had a fairly nice visit. Sometimes I worry that Delia's just receding into the background and that some of that's my fault, but then it always seems that one person in a couple is the quiet hanger-back. Like my brother's wife who mostly hung out in the kitchen. Some people are so quiet and pleasant those of us who are more obnoxious just naturally steamroll them.
Anyway, there was no mean-spirited or overt bullshit to be had towards us, though I did wonder when thank you's for the presents we brought came from the kids and I got all the hugs and thanks why that was . . . because I'm the one who's actually related to them (though haven't seen them in eight years, since one was newborn)? Because Delia's trans? Because I didn't do a good job of introducing Auntie Delia? Or just because I was the one standing there with open arms, like "HUG YOUR AUNTIE, DAMMIT!" while Delia was behind me on the couch and less accessible/approachable/talkative? And then that firm handshake my brother gave Delia after hugging me goodbye seemed to have an awkward masculine edge to it, but whatever.
On our way home from our family visit we got together briefly with AmberLily and her husband (Tiny aka BigD) who is too witty and well-read for me to get his jokes which mostly seem to consist of teasing us for being Democrats. They go right over my head and I wind up staring at him, completely bewildered, wishing I could keep up. Fortunately he's nice enough to try to meet in the middle, patiently reminding me, for example, of my Third Amendment rights (so I could understand the joke he was making) even when I obtusely ignored his explanation. Maybe if we got to spend more time hanging out then AmberLily wouldn't have to try to translate for us, "and now BigD is joking; that was a reference to the obscure blank and blankety blank." Anyway, I hope I haven't gotten them banned from their local McDonald's because I kept saying the "F" word and loudly talking about wet WET pussy, something I'm far more familiar with than our Constitution.
My point is, I love them and BigD should be an internet celebrity.
Normally when we go back to the area east of Seattle where I grew up I'm thankful we don't live there, but yesterday the summer air was too seductive and familiar for me to not want to have more of it. It smelled heavily of home, especially driving through shady places along rivers. My mom's yard felt so lush and green and bushy and the porch was so . . . porchy? With the screen door? Our dog looked like she was going to melt right into the cool grass, unlike here where all the grass is dry, short, and totally dead. It smells like saltwater and high wind and dry things where we live, but where I grew up it smells like a humid valley in the summer where every dog bark is magnified - sounds don't blow away where I grew up. I hate that, but it's still home.
You have NO IDEA how excited I got watching that, and will continue to get as I press play over and over and over. Her thighs and butt and the rest of her just make me want to cry and scream -- so gorgeous! I have watched the other girls on that site and while some of them are lovely & I drool over them, too, Jess really deserves the prize on this one.
She describes herself as an "eco-feminist-pagan-hippie sex-worker chick currently residing in a Nudist Colony in the last redneck outpost of South Florida". Loosely translated, that means most of my blog readers will dig her for at least one reason, if not more. Plus, she's FUCKING GORGEOUS. Like, a totally striking knockout. She reminds me of Emmanuelle Seigner and a girl I went to high school with (I know that means nothing to you, but the reminder of my gorgeous German friend with her cheshire cat grin is lovely to me).
She's also a fellow Niteflirt/phone sex operator and I squealed when she set up an appointment to "consult" with me on different possibilities for setting up spycams. After I got off the phone with her I watched her free Masturbation Impossible video (wankers: you will not make it through the portions where she carefully wobbles down the stairs wearing her rollerblades and smiles mischievously - SUPER HOT).
Right now Libby Lynn's describing herself as an art student and porn cashier and it's just a MAJOR OVERSIGHT on my part, me not adding her to my blog links before this. I think I thought she was already in there. From her I get a depth and breadth of inspiration/relation(? if that's the right word)/variety that I don't get from most other blogs and online contacts.
I sort of don't know how to describe the connection I feel when I read her, but as far as you go in deciding whether or not to dig into her posts and flickr and twitter and stuff, I think she'll appeal to smart voyeuristic types who like meaty posts and porn and art or are working on the process of their own selves/work/art.
I also updated my link to Mia who is now blogging at MiavonDoom.com, my online buddy from way back and a multimedia POWERHOUSE.
I'm struggling under the weight of a lot of things right now. Nothing that should be debilitating, but the end result is that I've been acting almost completely disabled. Money problems, health problems, overwhelming-to-do-list problems, incompetency problems . . . you know, life.
The struggle on my mind right now is trying to figure out how much energy to expend on conservative friends and family who have issues with my work and/or with my partner being a transwoman. Not that they know that word. And I should be patient because how many people DO? It's not THEIR fault, right? And with me being in the kind of relationship where I even USE the term "my partner". My girlfriend. My not-a-man not-a-husband not-a-boyfriend.
My mom has been struggling with how to tell HER mom (my grandma) and her born-again-Christian-asshole brother (my uncle) so I haven't even seen my grandma in way over a year.
God, it makes me tired even trying to blog about this bullshit.
Now one of my step-brothers, the one I WANT to be in touch with a little, is coming out with his family for a visit next month. My mom visited them in Pennsylvania last year before the election and came back so disturbed by his wacko right-wingerism that she doesn't really even want to see them again (AND didn't even want to get into the basics of telling him anything about my controversial-to-them "lifestyle").
Delia's family in the Midwest still doesn't know about her transition. We had a plan for telling them that we cooked up with her therapist who said that ideally you shouldn't break the news in a letter, but face to face. We tried to get them to come out here last year so Delia would meet them at the airport presenting as a male (a concept that now seems totally ludicrous, uncomfortable and weird to me), she'd sit down with them and tell them all about it, the next day she'd present as a woman, and we'd all go see the therapist so they could learn about transgender. A nice idea, but there's no way to lure them out here when the REST of Delia's family is in the Midwest and her dad can't take time off work; it just makes more sense for us to visit them there.
So Delia's parents offered to buy us tickets to come out for a visit, like, RIGHT NOW. It would work out perfectly for the whole coming-out-face-to-face (except we wouldn't be able to take them to our counselor) BUT Delia already changed her name so in order for them to buy a ticket she could actually get on a plane with, she'd need them to know ahead of time her real femme name (or we'd have to buy the tickets ourselves which we can't afford to do right now). So after some soul-searching and discussion she decided to write a letter which she's still working on.
As the word "transition" implies, it's a process. And part of that process is . . . all of this bullshit of informing, educating, explaining, confronting, and dealing with loved ones and not-so-loved ones.
It made me feel sad when my mom said she doesn't know if she wants to see my brother / can't handle his fucked-up views. And I know it makes HER sad, too, but I feel like it will only be a few hours and it would be wrong to shut him out completely. I wouldn't say this about my other stepbrothers or about my ex-stepdad, but this brother? I would. So I wrote him and his wife an email about "my lifestyle" so they wouldn't be hit with surprises and wouldn't ask about my job in person if they aren't comfortable hearing me talk about what it really is (and told them, in short form, that I make adult websites). And the wheels are turning and they're paying lip service to not judging other people, but copping to being "REALLY conservative". And expressing concern over their seven year old daughter. He doesn't want her to have to "learn too much about life" at this tender age. Like, what aspect of life does he feel he needs to shelter her from or that I'm going to so-inappropriately expose her to?
As usual I can't help comparing my apparently depraved lifestyle with other people in our family and in Delia's family. In both of our families there are those who have HUGE problems with my job, yet think nothing of letting the children be around people in the family who've actually sexually molested other family members. Nobody objects to the lifestyle of the family members who worked for the chemical company that made Napalm and Agent Orange and other killers and cancer-causers. When I had a husband who worked for Boeing, it never bothered anybody in the slightest (including me) that a family member worked for a company that makes machines of war. Their job is something to be proud of, but MY job is a big, scary, society-eating disease. Excuse me, but as much as you try to fallaciously connect porn depicting consensual sex and non, I DIDN'T DO THIS TO KIDS. Not even close. My brother doesn't have a problem with his kids being around one of his other brothers who has stolen cars and served in Iraq and laughs with glee at videos of US soldiers beating and kicking the shit out of Iraqis. But oh, GOD!! WHAT will we tell the children about Trixie and her tranny girlfriend or that she has a job making grown-ups feel pleasure?
I know it's hard, but it's not THAT hard. Especially given the truly fucked up things that people are perfectly willing to ignore, live with and even brag about. He's a soldier! He's a chemical engineer! He works for the military industrial complex!! So easy to boast about. And even those other people who have actually HURT people -- kids -- get the benefit of the doubt: He deserves a second chance. But how many people boast about "my daughter, the pornographer!"? Actually, my mom does and my dad did. In small amounts, but still. They are extra ballsy and good. And I guess if all these little things are hard, I still have that to be extra specially grateful for and don't know what I'd do without it.
It would be easier in the short run to just say we're going to be busy. Too busy to see my step-brother and his family. Too busy to fly out to the Midwest. Too busy to communicate on any deeper level with old friends than filling out those email quizzes about what our favorite colors and drinks are and coming up with a different reason than the real one for the last thing that made us cry.
I could do that (and have and still will to some extent), but sometimes you have to TRY. Because they're family or because you really need a better reason than fear and exhaustion to sever ties with them. No, you have to try your hardest to be patient with their ignorance and fears and confusion (thankfully people have been patient with MINE). You have an obligation to make yourself fucking vulnerable to being told that what you do -- whether it's selling pictures of your beaver on the internet or it's defying the status quo of letting your genitals define your gender or it's being in a non-straight relationship -- that you're destroying the moral fibre of the country, tearing families apart, degrading humanity, and damaging our sensitive youngsters and oldsters who shouldn't be EXPOSED to our depravity and perversion in their fragile mental and physical states!
You have to be gentle with them while they insult you and beg for your protection. Oh but mom is just too old to understand . . . oh god, I just don't want to upset Grandma Seriously? These women have televisions and they've all HAD SEX. When I'm in my eighties I hope people don't think I'm too stupid to understand new shit or that I can't handle knowing that some women charge men money to get their dicks hard. I think they can handle it, and if they can't? OH WELL. I wish someone would protect OUR feelings for a change. Like maybe not insulting the girl on the television for having "too masculine of a jaw" right when you're sitting next to my trans girlfriend who might feel self-conscious enough as it is about her OWN masculine jaw. Like maybe not saying that I'm going to warp your seven year old when YOU are the one warping her with your stupid, bigoted views.
I know I'm being a baby to complain about it because so many people have had it so much worse, but I'm *sick* of coming out to people and trying to hold their hands through the process when I just want to scream at them. It feels like such a gigantic waste of time and energy for me, personally, when I don't even LIKE socializing with people. But I know it's not healthy to take the easy way out and be isolated. I know that talking to people makes a difference, not just to us, but in teaching tolerance and understanding on a broader level.
Basically I just feel bogged down. Getting together with family is expensive enough, emotionally & financially, and communicating with old friends that you aren't sure you have anything in common with anymore takes enough of a toll, that having to pay all these extra costs is really draining. It's like walking through a field of land mines every time you connect with someone who doesn't know who you are and what you're doing lately. Are they going to freak out or pat me on the back and laugh? Should I brace myself for them to say something inadvertently hurtful or let myself trust them to be wiser than that?
Once I started writing this blog entry I realized that the most important thing we can do when it comes to friends and family right now is to cultivate our relationships with people who FUCKING GET IT. Our porn friends, our trans friends, our not-so-straight friends. I'm not very socially energetic but there's no way I can cope with some people's bullshit without having the comfort of other people's understanding and similarities. And I can't help sort of resenting the amount of energy I'm putting into the one camp when I could be pouring it into the other. OR WORK.
Jesus, I can't afford this bullshit. Including my own -- all I want to do is sleep and read and eat and listen to music. I feel sort of guilty and wretched and oh-so fucking tired.
I just added Oasis' blog to my links and wanted to point her out to you. If you're interested in knowing all of the groundbreakers in internet porn -- people who had amateur sex sites before there were role models for such things -- read her blog because Oasis is one of a small handful of them.
She's one of those legendary people in *my* circle of do-it-yourself porn people, and has a hands-on, hardcore approach of swinging, fucking fans, flashing, gang bangs, interracial and party girl antics.
I don't know much about her (yet) except that she's doing sex work in Australia. I was introduced to her recently through tweets linking to this post she made -- It's You I'm Afraid Of -- that made me cry because so many parts of it rang so true for me, especially since I've been trying for the past few months to reconnect with family and friends and acquaintances from high school and college, some of them cops, many of them religious, loads of them Republicans, and a few others "liberal" (yes, in quotation marks).
"Folks want to be supportive but sometimes they donít get it and thatís OK. I donít expect people to know everythingóIím still learning too! But you should know that when you donít get it, it can really sting or, Iíll be honest, irritate the shit out of me.
So itís you that I sometimes protect myself from. Itís you who I will avoid or go silent with because I just donít want to deal with how disappointed I feel. Itís you that I write for and to. Itís you that I want on my side. You are the ones whoís judgments, stereotypes, awkward silences and ill-informed questions I watch out for. Itís you Iím afraid of."
We're getting ready to spend a couple of nights shooting in one of our favorite local places so our spycams at home will be mostly-dead except when we come home to let the dog out, pick up things we forgot, etc.
I made an appointment for next week to make my hair blonde FOR REAL and this time I will leave no room for any misinterpretation. EVERY SINGLE STRAND OF HAIR ON MY HEAD MUST BE BLONDE. Not all the same shade, but all unambiguously blonde.
The week after that we're going to be gone for four days traveling, shooting, seeing Delia's doctor, and maybe taking a day off for ourselves, too. We're only making plans to see one person while we're gone, someone we're shooting with/haven't shot with before. I have a hard time balancing socializing, shooting, and staying sane so usually I sacrifice the socializing when I know I can't handle it all. I honestly do not understand how other people are able to squeeze in so much time with other people. It's beyond me, but still I hate all the missed opportunities to see people we like/love.
I'm reserving my scanty social juices for two things over the next six weeks or so: spending time with AmberLily and BigD before they move away from us, and spending time with family when my second nephew is born next month (during an extremely inopportune time; the H00d Canal Bridg3 will be closed, severing our most direct route to Seattle.
Between that and the usual stuff, I'll try to post more interesting blog entries. For really real!
We very much enjoyed having Kris Madison and company over this weekend, including her pug:
We indulged in the finest pizza, quiche and naughty treats from McDonalds, played birthday games, saw Coraline (delightful), talked sex, introduced Kris to Deep Space Nine, and didn't get QUITE enough sleep (WELL worth it).
I also got enough work done that I feel carpal-tunnel-syndromey in my right wrist, but not enough done that I'm not panicking right now since tomorrow we've got chat and shows lined up for members to celebrate my birthday and St. Patrick's Day and I'm still trying to finish a members-only update and eleven promotional galleries I meant to send to affiliates way BEFORE St. Pat's.
My show tomorrow (the 17th) is at 4 pm (PACIFIC TIME), Delia's is at 6, and my members-only birthday chat is from 7 to 8:30. If you can't make that one, there's another one on Saturday from 4 to 5:30 to possibly draw/determine the winners of the make-me-blonde thing (which, after last week's terrifyingly low sales (a subject for another blog entry), will be the only way I can afford to make that shiny transition. There is hope for you yet, redhead and brunette lovers!
If you follow my twitter you know I went to Seattle for FootNight on Thursday thanks to AmberLily giving me a heads-up about the event and encouraging me to apply with her to be a "foot model". It was a good opportunity to get out of my nerdy hermit bubble and enjoy having my feet fondled (something I've always enjoyed).
It was also a good excuse for me to get a pedicure: an expense and investment of time I rarely can justify since I don't specialize in foot fetish porn (though we do try to include at least a few shots of my feet in most of my galleries).
99.99% of the sexually stimulating work I've done has been on the internet or over the phone, starting out with private shows on iFriends in 2000. Even though I enjoy private shows and phone, I have almost no time to do one-on-one stuff anymore (especially since the camworld is so much different from when I started) but I *miss* it, so attending FootNight was a way to get back to that a little bit while also experiencing something new in a safe environment with an emphasis on something I love: feet.
The rules were very clear for the event (no nudity, foot worship only, no direct sexual contact, no leaving the party with customers and coming back in, etc.) and all of the women were dressed to attend a nice cocktail party or fine art fetish shoot: black turtleneck dresses, shiny black corsets, etc. In my estimation, I was the only one dressed in a way that said, "it's all for sale, boys! I'm a total hussy!" with my blouse buttons bursting, my skirt way too short and my boobs bouncing all over the place. I was also the most nervous person there, I think, next to many of the guests with my knees practically knocking trying to walk up and down the stairs in my unimpressively practical (but still challenging for me) heels and very unsophisticated sweat stains accumulating under my arms. The truth is that I don't have any classy party garb that's also sexy/leg-baring that I can still fit into.
Besides, I didn't want to go to great lengths to "fit in"; I figured it was better to stand out looking like a tramp than try to blend in. On top of that I love upskirts and panties and have much more of that kind of thing than feet on my site so I was excited by the idea of having men on the ground below me able to see right up my skirt to my hot pink and black panties. Even if it wasn't THEIR thing, it's MY thing; I don't get out much and planned to milk the tease for all it was worth.
I don't actually think I have great feet; the only thing I have going for me is that they're exceptionally small, but at the party there were A LOT of women with small feet. Maybe not quite as small as mine, but there were plenty of size five and six chicks there. All that small-foot competition gave me yet another reason to be glad I had a corner on the market for the super-slutty look.
So WAS there a market for it? Not so much, I don't think, but wearing something less conspicuously trashy wouldn't have made a difference. There were a couple of guys who expressed quite a bit of appreciation for the upskirt action, but as far as I know I didn't have guys waiting in line to spend time with me and my feet at $20 for ten minutes. I kept busy and had fun, but probably only gained one new die-hard fan for the future.
The first guy to give me money wasn't even there because he liked feet. He was there on a mission with a bottle of Scotch to try to get back into Lady Lydia's good graces. He told me he'd been rude to her on the phone so she'd stopped talking to him and all he could hope for is that she would accept his gift, if not his apology.
In the process of relating this to me, he reached into his pocket with defeated contrition, pulled out a twenty and assured me that he KNEW the ONLY reason we ladies were there was to make money. "I know it's all business and I don't want to waste your time." I told him that if he was going to pay me, we should at least retreat to a more private area (ie a different couch farther from the door) so I could make sure to give him the time that he paid for even if he didn't care about my feet or really anything besides Lady Lydia. He and I also agreed that our move and the open exchange of money for time would serve as a model early in the evening for the other guys to take similar steps to secure special attention from the "models".
After forty dollars worth of talking he felt compelled to resume his tortured quest to adequately humble himself to Lady Lydia. Even though it was the first face-to-face transaction I'd made like that, it felt very familiar . . . very natural to the point where I'm sure I'm forgetting a whole lifetime of doing exactly that: being the whore that men pay just to listen. Of course there've been a few other times I've gotten money from men face-to-face for certain things, but the circumstances were less formal and the terms not at all clearcut. No, I don't think I ever blogged about them even though they'd make interesting reading. Much of my limited experience with photographers felt exactly like sex work too, even though they took great pains not to call it that -- not to even call it porn -- and they didn't pay me with money; all factors that made it MORE compromising and awkward than work that's commonly labeled as sex work.
Anyway, Lydia's guy probably only wanted to spend twenty dollars on me out of obligation because I'd practically forced him to tell me his story simply by introducing myself, but my timer's battery wore out making it difficult for me to keep accurate time. I'm still not sure if my unreliable timer worked in my favor or against me; on the one hand I wound up giving people more time than they paid for before I realized the timer had no intention of beeping. On the other, they sometimes paid for more since I would discover this too late for them to turn down the next ten minutes since they were already in progress. We were advised by the party organizers to keep a discreet eye on the time but my timer was NOT discreet AT ALL; I pulled that fucker out at the beginning of every session and beeped in ten or eleven minutes in a very obvious way, nerdily assuring them this would help me NOT be distracted from the fun we could have by worrying about the time while they raised their eyebrows and mumbled that I certainly was . . . prepared. If it had actually worked and sounded an alarm at the end of those minutes, I'm sure it would have annoyed a great many people so maybe it was all for the best.
I felt busy the whole time I was there, but didn't really make enough for the trip to be worth what I put into it between the pedicure, ferry, gas, and time that I could have spent doing more lucrative things (like finishing the years-overdue redesign on my site and Delia's and this blog and . . .). Still, it was worth it to me because it was FUN, super-erotic (I'll elaborate on in another post) and a reminder of how good it feels to connect with customers individually.
It was also worth it to have BigD snap his suspenders at me, "work" with AmberLily to doubleteam a guy with our feet (again, I'll elaborate in another entry), and to meet Lydia (I only realized when I got home that she's the one Ron has told me so much about with so much admiration), Reyja (a fellow Emma Steel), and Mistress Matisse. We women didn't have much time to stand around chatting with each other, but after so many years of reading Matisse's blog and communicating online even the little bit we have via email and blog comments it felt to me like we were cousins at a reunion. You know how there are people that feel like they're in your life -- that you're related to in some way -- even though you only see each other face-to-face a couple times in your life and rarely interact? That's what it was like being in the same room with Matisse: totally uncommon but still irrationally familiar. In fact, that's what being with customers face-to-face is like. There wasn't anything weird or new about it that I didn't recognize as the same as a million other interactions I've had and kinds of work I've done which is probably what made it so hard for me to accept that I couldn't just climb on top of a couple of these guys and fuck them dry for a few dollars more. Not that any of them asked for that (everything was very above-board, no-pressure, polite, and legal), I'm just saying it's hard for me to accept the stigmas, restrictions, and separateness attached to sex work and all the little subtleties built into some of them so that they can avoid being labeled as such.
We just got back from spending a couple of nights in Portland where we did some shooting and saw Delia's doctor where she got new prescriptions for higher hormone doses. I started editing a set of photos to post in my members area tonight, but instead of finishing I'm going to call a time out and just giving you this sample:
I am now going to force us to take a couple of days off and promise ourselves to take two days off next week AND the week after that. Normal people expect to have weekends but we're not normal -- working at home, enjoying our work, and feeling a lovely sense of control over our destiny makes it a real challenge to get away. I've kind of been freaking out the past couple of weeks, though, and know that my productivity is down the shitter because I *feel* like shit.
We're not going to go anywhere or do anything fancy, but I am going to get a massage, some exercise, and spend quality time with some books. We are also going to take in the new Ed Harris/Viggo Mortensen movie -- be glad you weren't near me when I shrieked and squealed with crazy Elvis-fan lust when we saw the preview. I cream my panties enough over those guys individually but being blessed yet AGAIN with another pairing of them in the same film is like manna from a very pussy-friendly heaven.
Since I haven't posted anything new of myself for my members in a couple of weeks, it will give me an opportunity to post extra stuff for Halloween! In the meantime, AmberLily posted one of the sets I shot of her at our house so my members can enjoy that!
Over the weekend we were blessed by a visit from AmberLily and her husband. It was a working visit, meaning we weren't getting together *just* to socialize, but mainly to shoot a bunch of pics for her site. Delia and I looked forward to doing this knowing it would feel totally awesome to get a lot of work done without actually having to be in front of the camera ourselves the way we are when we shoot each other. Instead we got to totally devote ourselves to behind-the-camera work which is really so much easier with two people not just to actually TAKE the pictures, but to set up lights, move/clean stuff, etc. It was a good experiment to find out how productive we can be when a bunch of roles/tasks are subtracted from our routine.
I don't want to ruin the surprise of her cute outfits too much for her members, so here are some samples that won't reveal all of her sexy and whimsical ensembles:
I totally hogged the camera the whole time which was fun for ME, but by the end of the night a lot of the pics I snapped were totally fucked: poorly framed, blurry, etc. It's very physical work, both modeling for pictures and taking them; my "muscles" were totally sore the next day, but that didn't stop me from TRYING to get BigD to pose for me.
I *achingly yearn* for more resources (aka money) to be able to shoot with friends in nicer places for longer periods of time without such a limited schedule and the same boring house we've been living in for years. It boggles my mind to think of how much hot porno we could make if we weren't bound by, you know, huge debt and stuff. Until that day comes, however, we're doing a pretty good job with the time and other resources we DO have. If we could do all that we did in five hours, I wonder what we could do with a week or two in more inspiring and spacious locations? You can scoff at the necessity of those things when it comes to porn, but if you do then you've no idea how hard it is to frame thousands of photos to look reasonably special/different so that you don't include a mess, carpet stain, wires, light stands, and other distracting crap that your subject (and her hot HOT pussy) is squeezed between.
After our trip to my psychiatrist, we drove a little more to spend the night with our friend, Ron Carlo. We had an idea for a new porn site to pitch to him and wound up staying awake until 4:30 in the morning excitedly talking about it and brainstorming. Here's the domain and a little of the concept:
I know, you're thinking I'm crazy, always coming up with ideas that I don't have time to develop, but that's the beauty of this one; we aren't doing it alone. Delia and I can do a lot (we DO do a lot) as a couple, but adding just one more awesome person to the mix expands the possibilities exponentially.
While this is a business venture, I'm more excited about it for personal and creative reasons. It's an excuse to spend more time with Ron (and his family when we're not actually shooting) and it really is true that so much more can be accomplished by a team than by individuals. The difference between two people and three is GIGANTIC, especially when that third person has tools, skills, talents, and experience that we don't have. Ron knows what it takes to produce and market video and music on a variety of different budgets and timelines and his experience is super-varied. He is very familiar with our sites. We are familiar with each other's tastes and turn-ons. Over the past three years or so of working with him on projects like this one and True Necromance, we know each other's strengths and weaknesses, we get along really well, we are comfortable being honest with each other, our personalities balance each other out, we have a lot of important things in common with him and hanging out with him always uncorks a deluge of creativity. I LOVE THAT! He is resourceful, funny, optimistic, encouraging, smart, well-rounded, and he treats people with dignity and respect.
The rest of his family shares those qualities which is important since spending a lot of time with him also means visiting with his family (though not shooting porn with them) since we don't have an office or studio (and because we like them). My family knows about and is supportive of my work and I know that makes a huge difference in how I *feel* about being a webwhore; it makes me really happy to work with people who are similarly blessed with supportive and creative family members. I know it sounds hokey, but the "energy" is just better when people aren't keeping secrets from their loved ones and can talk about work with them. The second time we worked with Ron it was at his house where his wife is the one who picked out and sewed my costume and dressed me. Everywhere in the house was evidence of the things they value: art, activism, education, music, etc. They are people we care about which adds an extra incentive to this project and our desire for it to succeed.
Somehow this post is sounding like a letter of recommendation which isn't what I intended, it's just me counting our many blessings and sharing PART of why we are so excited about this project. We've been dying to branch out, shoot other people and do more creative things with our porn -- things that we can continue to do as we get older that showcase more of our personalities and assets than the physical ones. We are so lucky Ron is excited and willing to take a risk on this project with us; the concept is something completely unique to him and an exaggeration of dynamics that could really only exist between the three of us. We would not and could not put this together alone or with anyone besides Ron. We can't wait to see what emerges in two months, six months, a year from now and so on.
In the meantime, Delia and I are working hard to get ahead on updates for TastyTrixie.com and DeliaCD.com so that our current members don't suffer while we're shooting, building and launching imakeporno.com (again, it will be part of our network so membership to one of our sites includes access to all: our current members will automatically get access to the new site if they are still active when it opens). I'm hoping to launch before Thanksgiving, but Ron is aiming for SOONER!
Just a quick post to say that we have family visiting today and tomorrow so some of our cams and audio will be down. It's been too long since we've seen our nephew and we haven't even given my sister her present for her birthday which was a month ago. It's a hot pair of peeptoe sandals so in the back of my mind I'm hoping I can get a set of foot-focused pics out of her while she's wearing them, too. Is that so wrong? PROBABLY!
Some snaps of me from the last time we had company over:
My psychiatrist's office finally called back so I made an appointment to get back on Ritalin. I got a huge headache yesterday because I've been trying to use caffeine instead of prescription stimulants and caffeine? It's pure fucking evil. I don't have to consume much over the course of three or four days to suffer nasty consequences.
Even though I was almost totally out of commission yesterday with the headache, I did manage to write and post for members a sicko masturbation fantasy I had. I'm not sure if other people will jack off to it, but it's an interesting peek into the mind of a woman and how the threat of violence from men is a constantly disturbing companion that can't be safely separated from sex in our subconscious minds. Our brains are diseased with scary men.
Tomorrow our friends Julia the Naughty Teacher and her photographer are coming over for a visit, which we're really looking forward to.
We won't be shooting, just hanging out and chatting; we really need the social time and they're willing to drive all the way out to our peninsula location so the least we can do is try to get our house to look less like a pig sty. It's getting late and we still have a lot of cleaning to do, so I decided to post a "no frills" version of The List (of all the people I've fucked) tonight along with a guest gallery from Julia, and will publish an additional, more detailed version of The List whenever I'm able to implant the first layer of augmentation in the form of details, links, and video commentary.
While Julia and her photographer are here some of our cams will be down so they will be comfortable. Then we are going to be gone on Thursday so Delia can make one last deposit at the sperm bank before she goes on hormones (we're taking a break from trying to conceive) and we'll also deliver a late birthday present to my sister. We'll also be gone part of Friday for Delia's laser appointment. Next week I'll be hosting hyperchat, though, so members will have many opportunities to hang out with me in chat.
VOYEURS: sorry about the PMS - I know it's not very relaxing to spy on someone screaming and swearing and scowling and barely managing to not throw, kick and break things, but that's life. I tried to treat it with exercise and got out of the house to blow off some steam; it helped a lot and I enjoyed it, but hormones are stubborn fuckers and I have to let loose before the next three days of interacting with others and/or being away from home where I *have* to control myself.
I'm feeling really blessed to have good friends that I love after spending a few days totally spoiled with good company: Kris Madison and Amberlily drove all the way out to our remote locale so we could have a Sex and the City slumber party (Amberlily's fun idea). Seeing the movie was entertaining, but the best part was just spending time together and having the chance to talk. Half the time we were off cam (in other rooms or out of the house) or had the audio off so we could speak freely, so it might not have been a big treat for the voyeurs, but for ME? It was heavenly. I actually feel *rejuvinated*.
We did spend a lot of last night in bed talking (with the audio *on*) which was probably pretty entertaining for voyeurs to listen to (or not, depending on their perspectives); we had insanely heated arguments (I almost lost my voice/damaged my own hearing with my own high pitched protestations) about really inconsequential shit (which is the best kind of thing to debate). Does Holly Madison "deserve" better than Hugh Hefner who tells her she's not photogenic enough to be a centerfold? Do Tim Harrington's (of Les Savy Fav) performances insult/make fun of his audiences or are they a layered casserole of joy? Those two questions, their characters' milieus, and the surrounding issues were the basis of HOURS of delightful discussions.
For once I don't feel like I need a day off to recuperate after socializing (just a little catch-up on sleep), so before bed tonight I'm going to try to plan a couple of good shoots for tomorrow and get them out to my members as soon as possible.
My favorite Christmas present was having Juno come to our town's theatre and getting to watch it with Kris, and seeing Diablo Cody win an Oscar last night for writing Juno was like an early birthday present.
Here's a video of Kris and I at the movies GUSHING over Diablo:
For me, Diablo represents the very best of what the blogosphere and web voyeurism/exhibitionism offer: the opportunity to watch another human's story unfold and experience success along the way. To develop high hopes for someone and cheer for them when things go well. To recognize someone's talent, observe that recognition snowballing, and see her REWARDED for it. It's very fulfilling, and not in a vicarious I-can-now-imagine-it-happening-to-me way, but just in the basic sense of caring about someone and being extremely happy for her.
Of course, she *is* also a symbol to me, too (on top of just being an awesome human); seeing a woman on that stage who has stripped and worked the peeps doing hardcore masturbation shows for money now getting respect for her non-sex work while everyone knows about her stint in sex work is Pretty Fucking Cool.
Anyway, we have (one of) her shining moment(s) recorded on our DVR now and have watched it about 35 times in the past 23 hours; I have cried every single time. And can I just say that she looked fucking fabulous, too?
We're back home from our Portland trip and 500 photos richer. Well, 498. And of course we'll delete many of those, too. Not very productive in terms of shooting, but what we DID shoot was great. Besides, we were really there for Delia's doctor appointment and also spent a nice evening visiting with our friends, Torn and Toni of KatVixen.com. I realize you all read me telling you how much I like to avoid people and socializing and all of that jazz, so you probably never conceive of how much I actually *do* like people and talking with them, and how hard it is for me to call it a night once conversation is rolling. I think I deprive myself so much of social stimulation that I become parched for it, which creates a vicious circle because I pretty much know I'll want to overdo it when we meet up with people and then need a week of hermit mode to recover my wits There is often a part of me that *almost* whines to friends, "I wish you/we didn't have to go" at the overdue end of a visit. A lot of my issues with socializing/needing a lot of alone time are less to do with preference and more to do with the way my brain is wired and that I just wind up blowing fuses trying to process the extra stimuli.
So. A small (or literally a large) reason why we didn't shoot more photos is that I didn't recognize in time how overweight I am and that an outfit I packed, THE outfit, the one I was all sexed up to wear and use in a teacher role play, could barely be buttoned/couldn't be zipped. I love it way too much to wear it incorrectly so it put me in a bit of a foul temper. It was slightly more depressing than our Halloween shoot debacle where I actually SPLIT THE SEAMS of the pirate dress I ordered. That was sort of funny and I wish we'd have gotten the splitting on tape. Oh well.
My conflicting feelings/thoughts regarding my level of physical fitness: *I think I look and feel fine -- nay, almost exactly how I've always WANTED to look -- for a normal thirty-four year old *but not a thirty-four year old who sells images of her body and needs to be versatile. *I don't fucking WANT to eat less or exercise more. I just don't WANT to! Okay, I do want to but there are about 567 things on my list of things I WANT TO DO ****WAY MORE**** than exercise. I'd rather be fucking blogging, right? I'd rather be masturbating I'd rather be eating donuts while Delia gets ready for me to take pictures of HER. I would just rather be sitting on my goddamned ass using my motherfucking BRAIN, okay? *but okay, I *do* want to look good in that outfit, darlings. I *do*. It's just too perfect. There are SO MANY perfect little outfits. I pretend not to care, but oh, I *do* care, because I want to look so cute and fit in polka dot blouses and dresses with darts.
None of this matters in any real way and it sickens me to even think about it for a moment, let alone go ON and ON about it, torturing myself and others with this fucking weight loss drivel. What a senseless waste of time. But. I think some of my dramatic feelings right now about my body are connected to bigger things than my bigger body. Like admiring some of the work my more cerebral cohorts do and feeling resentful that I don't have time to do more of what they're doing. That I'm bogged down by my visually body-oriented work that begs me to tend to it in such time-consuming ways. That my body right now is my most valuable natural resource and I'm trashing it (I would say that Delia's body is my most valuable resource, but that would open up a whole other can of worms about possession and pimping and shit). That I want my work to focus more on *other* people's bodies and less on my own. That I want it to fucking WORK PROPERLY but suspect I'm rounding the bend where I can't take it for granted at all and it wants me to know that. I'm full of suspicious lumps, I can't seem to get pregnant, and I'm having a hard time disguising my comical bulges.
I don't like to complain about it or sound pessimistic. It's important to me to say that I don't FEEL as bad as I sound. But I *do* need to process these feelings. And remind myself that the reason I do the work I do is because a) I like it/feel driven to, and b) it is part of a plan that *does* allow me to do *all* of the kinds of work I want to do. Some of it right now/all of the time, and more of it eventually. And all of it really whenever I want if at any time I want to drop any of it that I'm sick of. And that's the big reminder, that I can do whatever I want. I don't WANT to stop doing anything I do right now OR I WOULD. I just really crave to do MORE of the millions of things I want to do. Making choices pains me because sometimes choosing to do one thing means choosing NOT to do other things I really really DO want to do (refer to above: socializing).
Sorry if that is all incoherent and vague. It makes sense to me, though. FYI: comments reassuring me about my weight or arguing about it will not be published; it's not the real issue here: the real issue is what I want to concentrate on more than my body. Love to chat about it more, but again, this is more of a reflective post for myself than an informative or conversational post for others; once I post this I want to be dumped of it and move on.
I don't know if I can describe how satisfying it is to look at these photos we've shot, the ones that are beautiful. Since it's difficult to describe without being redundant or obnoxious, you wind up reading more angst about dumb things like body image than daily thanksgiving about important things like how splendid I feel about what we make. I feel wrong even taking that much credit for just being lucky enough to have a camera, a moderately good eye and an appreciation for the beauty of certain things that never get old no matter how many times you duplicate them: black nylons against a blonde wood floor. Red patent leather. My girlfriend's ass. Her willingness to get on the floor for me. The way the pictures I capture can keep getting better regardless of how fat I eventually may get or whether or not I can bear children or whether or not I ever lose a breast to cancer. I will still always know and deeply appreciate a billion and one things that are beautiful and exquisite and erotic and are not too hard for me to point out and celebrate. That I WANT to point out and celebrate.
Being Average: My use of the word "average" as a webwhore marketing tool has changed over the past seven years. I used to focus on the ways I was not average to try to distinguish myself from other camgirls and women with paysites. Hairier than average, more honest than average, nerdier than average, etc.
The longer I do this work, the more I value the ways in which I *am* average, partly because average is charming and partly because of the company I keep online. Most of the people I associate with in this industry are women with similar values, similarly structured businesses, and above-average smarts; next to my friends I *am* average. I now prefer to think of us as the rule instead of the exception; it's less interesting or appealing to me these days to make it sound like I think I'm extraordinary by describing myself as "not your average webwhore".
As I age and mellow into my work and my body, embracing "average" appeals to me. It looks and sounds intimately awkward and fetchingly familiar. It feels celebratory and empowering. Average exudes confidence. I'm also a fan of contrast and its erotic potential: the contrast between a thick, opaque thigh-high sock, for example, and bare skin above it is SO much sexier than a completely naked leg. The same thing applies to beauty, I think. When you notice a beautiful detail on an average (or even an ugly) woman, it's very potent and sensual. When you're average and aging, your beauty and sex appeal become magical: now you see it, now you don't. You become unreliably hot, which is very seductive because it starts to take you by surprise.
The older I get, the less interested I am in trying to be exceptional. The sound of mediocrity no longer makes me shudder; mediocrity sounds companionable. On a similar note, I no longer hate potluck food: cold noodle salads and deviled eggs are delicious!
Now? I pass on the love to five of my favorite chick bloggers:
GODDESS GLORY I've been dying to have a free week to focus solely on writing an ode to Goddess Glory and all of the reasons I admire and cherish her. Without taking a week to do so right now, I'll just introduce her by saying that she's an unshaven, ball-busting, enema-loving, awe-inspiring, mesmerizing, W-O-M-A-N. She's also one of those rare and splendid people with a complex and highly-developed sense of self-defined VALUES that she applies to everything she does. The Almighty Glorious Glory is an earnest philosophizer, and a head-spinning dual-character of humility and divinity, lover and fighter.
ADORABLE AUDREY What makes Audrey a Rockin' Girl Blogger? Is it her frequent postings of alluring girl-next-door photographs? Is it her readability? Is it her sincerity? Of course it's all of those things, but for me, personally, it's her consummate professionalism. I'm a sucker for an extraordinary work ethic, and Audrey's is truly top-notch. I hate to mention it since "great work ethic" probably sounds boring to most people, but to me it's not just a laudable characteristic -- it's fucking HOT. Audrey is the kind of person who does ten times as much and does it all ten times better than 99% of the webgirls I know, all while maintaining a relaxed and alluring demeanor. Aside from "spectacular work ethic" being super-sexy to me personally, it's super-sexy from a porn consumer's standpoint because she delivers way more to her customers than they could ever afford to pay for. PRICELESS, she is.
EX-MILLENNIAL GIRL Stefanie is a GIFT. She writes with ease, humour, honesty, humility and acuity about herself, addiction and stripping. She's got talent and her own voice, and if you haven't been reading her you should fucking start from the beginning and catch the fuck up BECAUSE YOU HAVE BEEN/ARE MISSING OUT. She has the skill to tell her story so that it's accessible to anyone; you don't have to be a girl or an addict or a stripper or a customer to get it. You also don't have to worry about getting totally depressed; while a lot of the subject matter IS depressing, she's got a subtle positivity vibe that keeps you on an even keel emotionally without being Pollyanna-ish.
KRIS MADISON Most of you who know me well are probably also acquainted with Kris so I hope I don't have to expand on her many readily-apparent appealing qualities. Instead, I'd like to share something about her you might NOT know about: she knows a lot about a lot of stuff. Again, this probably sounds like a cop-out of a compliment to some people, but it's one of those qualities *I* am attracted to and that might be missed simply because she doesn't advertise it on her blog (which is part of what makes her blog readable; it's focused and coherent). Kris is the kind of person who loves to research and quietly infiltrate subcultures and niche areas of industry and expertise. She holds stuff in her head and applies it to her many (secret ninja) projects; you cannot have a conversation with this woman without her stealthily revealing yet another cache of knowledge on something intriguing you've never heard about before. In terms of her blog, I appreciate its readability even more because if *I* knew as much as Kris does, it would not be possible for me to present an organized thought. I would just say things like, "I deplete ATM manna pool now cheeseburger hack this ebook ROI point shoot traffic hymen matrix. Eh?"
SESKA Here's what I love about Seska's blog: ZERO PRETENSION. With all of the people and stuff Seska knows, the projects she's involved in and the respect she has earned inside (and outside) the adult industry, her blog never reads like it's full of insider-information that only the "cool" people will understand, and for that reason it feels very intimate and personal, like private notes she's writing just to you and herself. She never just *assumes* you have knowledge about the industry or sex or women or her hobbies or books or television or anything; she always gently guides you into her world by describing and defining each term, event and niche-reference she uses. A major pet peeve of mine are bloggers whose writing is so rife with obscure references, acronyms, geek-speak, etc. that they only can be understood by a very small portion of the population 10% of the time; I find that so aggravating that people like Seska and Kris stand out for taking the time to make their blogs readable. And as far as the zero pretension thing goes, as a person and web personality part of why she's outstanding is she extends respect to all of her readers and to people in general; her blogging and interactions with other people do not rely upon witty criticisms or laughing at other people. Seska is always refreshingly kind and that is pretty fucking unique and inspiring in the world of blogs and men.
I admit that I awarded these gals with "Rockin' Girl Blogger" awards based less on their blogs and more on everything I know about them. I also have to admit that this took me FOREVER to write: over three hours, in fact. Let this be another lesson to non-bloggers about the kind of stuff it takes for Rockin' Girl Bloggers to do what we do -- IT TAKES TIME. Maybe I'm just a dumbass and it takes forever and a day for me to write stuff that would take a normal person ten minutes to write, but my guess is that the majority of people who don't write have NO idea the amount of time and energy put into it. Allow me to take this opportunity to thank Angela of ZenFetish for honoring me by taking that time to give me such very warm fuzzies.
We didn't plan to get a room last night, but we were just so horny we HAD to!
We got the last ferry from Seattle to Bainbridge late last night after waiting an hour at the dock. Then we drove all the way to the Hood Canal bridge only to find that it was closed due to a fatal car accident. We were way too sleepy to sit there in the middle of the night for three or more hours waiting for them to investigate and clean up the scene so we drove to Silverdale and got a room. It was way too late to be horny. I actually just wanted to go to Sheri's and have some hash browns and eggs, but Delia was way too sleepy and not at all tempted by eggy late night breakfast concoctions.
Anyway, it looks like our cams went down while we were away, but don't worry -- you didn't miss anything since we weren't home. We did have an awesome time at Part I of my nephew's first birthday party (Part II is on Sunday so we'll be canceling or rescheduling our shows for that day) AND a delightful visit and late dinner with Kris and BCM.
Tonight I have a goodnight chat session scheduled for 9 pm pacific. Right now? I want to catch up on some of that sleep I missed.
I "wasted" my nap time this morning by masturbating instead. Had a nice wake-up chat with voyeurs first, then grabbed the eroscillator.
I caught up on my nap time this afternoon AFTER devouring another box of extra-dark chocolate little schoolboys, then I passed out in a chocolate coma only to be awakened by Delia coming in and giggling at the debauched scene of me in bed with little schoolboy remnants scattered all over the bed and me totally sacked out.
I've been pretty blissed out lately and it makes me lazy; I don't feel like striving, I just want to enjoy everything like an old person giving thanks at the end of her life. I just want to lay in bed and watch the birds (especially crows; I like crows) fly back and forth outside. This is the life. I just want to cuddle, fuck, masturbate, read, drink beautiful soy-creamed tea made from water boiled in our New Spanky Electric Kettle, and tell my girlfriend how much I love her.
We're going to be gone tomorrow for my nephew's birthday party Part I: the family-only event. If we're lucky and get in early enough we might also hang out briefly with Kris who is going to be in town but equally preoccupied with family affairs. She suggested we try to get in a few touristy snapshots so I might even take a shower beforehand!!
During one of my webcam shows one man, a Bob, asked me to describe my "wildest fantasy".
I told him paying off my credit cards is my biggest, wildest fantasy.
You really need to qualify a question like that if you want to corner me into hot talk during a free group show otherwise I'm going to tell you THE TRUTH. Before he heard my answer he told me that he was my man and all I need to do is go to Georgia to have my "wildest fantasy" fulfilled. By him. By a Bob. Then he gave me someone's phone number for over 500 people in the chatroom to read. I should have called it and said, "that will be $42,621.05 to fulfill me, Bob."
On a *slightly* more erotic note, one of my fantasies is to lavish friends and strangers with gifts. I am particularly fond of fantasizing about gifting former female friends I'm currently estranged from. I want them to know that I love them even though I'm not a good friend. And yes, I do also fantasizing about giving presents to the women I share in-tact friendships with.
I would write a beautiful, detailed list of some of the gifts I want to give some of these women but at least a few of them read this blog and I don't want to ruin the surprise; I intend someday to fulfill these fantasies, wild as they may be.
Fact: Big Kenny of the band Big and Rich had $140,000 in credit card debt when they were making their first album. So don't give me any shit about having all that baggage!!! Debt seriously doesn't kill everyone and anyway, it gives me something to fantasize about that's rife with the thrill of danger!
Okay . . . we just got back from a productive shopping trip and I'm granting myself permission to postpone my update. We have COMPANY; you wouldn't want me to neglect Kris, would you?
Some of you may be wondering if we've been spending our time together eating box lunches and giggling about how much we love cock, but there's been none of that, nor do we have plans to shoot anything like that. Plus, Kris doesn't do hardcore anymore (and yeah, I think licking carpet qualifies as hardcore). She does want to try to get in some fetish shoots, though so we might get around to something erotic (yet inexplicit) tomorrow. If not tomorrow, next time.
It's been fun just to talk and hang out. I mean, REALLY fun.
I bought 25 pairs of panties tonight for Delia and I. We went to Ross ("Dress for Less" - if you're a poor bargain-hunter on the west coast you know where I'm talking about) so for $250 we were able to get a cartload of stuff that qualifies as costumes for our sites. We got Delia some shoot-worthy dresses (example: we got THIS DRESS at Ross awhile back) and I got some tops that make my boobs look TOTALLY GINORMOUS.
FYI: we are still enjoying the presencing of Kris Madison in our humble abode, so we've been making the most of our time to socialize, which means I've been neglecting my other "duties". Tucker's update is late, my update might be late tonight, and you know . . . we're having fun. We have been turning off the audio quite a bit on our cams so that we can speak frankly about our lesbian love for each other without having people pressure us to do more than watch American Idol in bed together. It's really personal so I hope you understand our need for a little auditory PRIVACY.
Our plans for today are to go SHOPPING! And I hope we eat Indian food, too! Aren't you jealous of our wild webwhore lives?
Our house smells faintly of Lapsang Souchong. Mmmm. . . . if you're a fan of that smokey tea, I'm in love with the Russian Caravan we can get at our local hippy store (not sure if this is the same brand we've gotten, but it's worth checking out if you're into tea).
I'm a little hyperaware of the scent of our house right now because Kris Madison is coming over to stay with us for a few days; I'm afraid the dominant notes in our domestic bouquet won't be smokey tea leaves, but instead will be damp, sweaty, unwashed laundry, wet dog, and heated vomit from our vaccuum cleaner which our brother-in-law used to clean up after our Nico puked while we were gone when she ate a chicken carcass.
Speaking of aromas, we ate a lot of refried beans last night; I'm on the verge of becoming the first human hovercraft. I wonder how many people cancel their memberships to my site after hearing me moan, fart and giggle over the spycam audio one too many times? Or is that part of my distinctive charm?
The other night I dreamt I was Dick Cheney's mistress. I morphed between being myself and being my friend Mia. Dick was morphing between himself and a variety of covert operatives (who looked nothing like the real Dick Cheney) wearing a suit that was too large for him. Our roles morphed between me chasing him while he was on the lam, and him chasing me while I was on the lam. Escalators were involved. It was hard -- TOO hard -- for us to "connect" and he was often chaperoned by lawmen, either because he was a crook and about to escape or because he needed extra force to take me down for my own crimes.
You'll be surprised to find that I WAS DEEPLY IN LOVE WITH DICK in my dream. At the beginning (when he was paying me for sex) I didn't like him so much but then our "relationship" developed, and in the middle of all that chasing up and down escalators and trying to find a moment alone I realized I just wanted . . . to hold him in my arms.
I'm SO embarrassed and sickened by the strength of a dream to develop a crazy soft spot for sugar-bear Cheney. Ugh!
You'll notice that I was finally able to switch to the new Blogger and am now adding post labels! Yay! It's going to take awhile to finish that project and finally add the category links to the sidebar, but I'm *excited*! The pervs will be able to just go directly to the PHOTOS and SEX entries -- life will be a dream.
Full Gallery appearing in my Members-Only area with Sunday 2/9/03 update JOIN NOW for full set of photos I took on the day Bunny & I made love!
Wow. I spent hours today going over the pictures I took of Bunny the day we "got it on". The pictures were taken before I had any idea we would wind up rolling around TOGETHER on her bed. Anyway -- I could stare at them all day and the way they she looks so utterly feminine. Wearing this soft pale blue slip on her white white skin and with that beautiful cupid's bow mouth of hers . . . mmmm . . . it's hard for me to describe how timelessly she embodies "woman". I swear, anybody looking at her in these pictures, regardless of their age or background, has got to recognize immediately that she is a classic sex symbol -- not in the jane russell kind of way, but in the neighbor-lady-who-let-me-come-in-when-she-was-barely-dressed-when-all-I-wanted-to-do-is-see-if-she-wanted-a-newspaper-subscription kind of way.
Knowing I have so much to share about the Vegas trip, I've been withholding more current events. Like the great phone sex I had the night we came back; houseboy stuffed my mouth with his cock while my phone sex guy told me how much "Daddy" wants me to suck it. I came using my hitachi magic wand (vibrator) with houseboy jiggling the knob of his cock in my wet mouth. I haven't been doing enough private shows and phone sex . . . that little episode was a reminder of how fun and fulfilling it can be. Having houseboy around when I'm doing phone sex makes me feel extra shy and self-conscious -- but somehow the couple times it's happened I've wound up demanding he get in on the action. It's like having a very safe threesome and/or mixing up your fantasy with reality in the most sublime/surreal manner. The best part about it is that I'm the one getting paid to have the MOST stimulation (the auditory stimulation coming from my client AND the real life stimulation coming from houseboy and whatever other toys I rustle up).
Night before last houseboy took about 130 pictures of me (along with some self-timed shots of us together). I'm starting to feel a lot more comfortable "posing" for him. The best part about it is that he seems to enjoy it -- he totally motivates me to do the shoot and helps hook up the voyeurcams, move computer, lights, etc. around -- all those tedious things that are so time consuming.
Full Gallery appearing in my Members-Only area with tonight's Sunday 1/12 update JOIN NOW for access to the entire gallery!
In sad news, since I moved from Tacoma I have been reading The Irish Think Tank's email every so often (it's amazing that a pathological liar feels safe telling everyone his hotmail password when he should realize that will give us the opportunity to more clearly see his inconsistent stories and lies). Now that he is no longer a threat to me it distressed me to find out he is homeless. He finally got kicked out of his apartment and everybody seems to be discovering that he's a soul-sucking opportunistic bad person. One person told him, "Its scavengers like you who leach off of caring hard working people AND think its OK ..that gave me the inspiration for my Scavenger series of seagull compositions".
On one hand I don't feel sorry that he's getting what he deserves. On the other hand I hate thinking about someone who is not completely evil and *does* have good qualities (fun, good sense of humour, when he *does* have money he's extremely generous with it) living on the streets in fucking cold rainy-ass January. I hope that this makes him a better person or that he just dies. Otherwise his destitution could make him even more of a liar and psycho.
Thanks to my cool, encouraging fellow chathost FuzzyBunny, you're going to have an opportunity to read this blog, an irregularly kept journal detailing some of the pertinent details in the life of a VCH (video chathost).
SCARY BUT TRUE!: I like chathosting so much I requested a two month leave of absence from my real "work". I have been there over five years and am BORED. I need to do something wild . . . bohemian. . . scandalous. So I've got two months to see if I can support myself (pay for health care, taxes, etc. . . ) by "working" on iFriends. If I can make enough money chathosting (and other related ventures), I will quit my job. If I can't, I'll go back to the mundane uncreative life of a middle-manager in a manufacturing environment. Blech! If that happens I will probably not continue chathosting but will devote myself to pursuing an MBA and climbing up the corporate ladder. Oh well, at least I will have something fun to talk about at my 10 year class reunion which will be rearing its ugly head in a matter of months.
"So what did you end up doing with *YOUR* college education?" "Me? Well I juggle phone-sex with stroking my snatch in real-time on the internet!"
My goal is to make fed ex. Every week. (for those of you out-of-the-know, iFriends Fed-ex's our paychecks to us if we make a certain amount of money).
CONFESSION: this goal was not made completely for practical ecomonic purposes. Ahem. It's actually because the Fed-Ex boy is fucking gorgeous. I thought he was going to invite himself right into my apartment last time he came over. Hehehehe. He kept standing on his tiptoes and bobbing his head up and over to peer around me and try to see into my den of vice. "I love your beaded curtains!" Wet and weak-kneed, I wanted to croon back at him, "and I love your jaunty uniform, big boy!".
NIGHT PERSON: I love working at home. Mostly because I'm a night person and I can't *STAND* waking up early in the morning. . . when I have to wake up early NOTHING goes right! The timing is all wrong! For example, right after I take a shower I have to take a dump. I have no coordination in the morning either. Curling my hair with a hot iron is *disastrous*. It's like my nerve endings haven't warmed up yet so I end up with faux hickeys on my neck where I accidentally held the curling against my skin because I was too tired to hold my arm up that high for too long and I didn't have fast enough reaction time to get the fucker off my skin before it burned me.
Or maybe I'm just uncoordinated. I was standing naked in my bathroom curling my hair the other day (it wasn't morning so I can't use that not-a-morning-person defense) and just DROPPED the curling iron right onto my tit. Yelp!!! Now I have a lovely burn on my upper breast. Beautiful. But as long as my boob isn't blistered I guess it's okay. Not aesthetically pleasing, but okay . . .
LAPTOPS & COFFEE HOUSES: Designing a pornographic website while seated in a coffee shop can be . . . difficult, to say the least. And it can be downright humiliating if the nude hooters flashing on my monitor obviously belong to MOI!
Working from home can be somewhat . . . confining . . . and LONELY! So why not drag the laptop out for a caffeine fix and do some work while people watching? Well . . . the answer is simple . . . *I* ended up being the person of choice to watch. Despite my best attempts to be inconspicuous, the seating arrangement did not allow me to have my back to a wall with no possibilities of laptop spying from either side. So I chose to huddle down into a cushy chair with the monitor pointed, well . . . towards the street-side sidewalk-bordering picture window. I swear, I thought the angle would make it impossible for any of the people outside to gawk while I dragged my T&A around on the screen.
I was SO wrong!!! An Arquette-ish tall gent in a trench coat approached me and crouched down to cushy-chair eye-level to diplomatically begin telling me with a certain amount of halting discomfort, "I'm uhh . . . . not saying you have to *STOP*, but ummm. . . I'm the assistant manager here and well . . . you did seem to be *trying* to be ummm. . . well . . . discreet but ummm. . . we can see what you're doing from outside. And I just thought you might be more comfortable if ummm. . . you moved over ummmm. . . over to a different spot? I'm not saying you have to stop but I thought you'd want to know . . ."
After being branded the slut-with-bad-judement or a complete exhibitionistic pervert, I was a little defensive. So when my glance lingered later on a cute poet-like young man and he responded to my eye contact with a sweet compliment, I fairly roared back at him, "WHAT????!!!!!". Certain that he had wandered in from outside after getting an eyeful of my nudie pics, I felt sure he hadn't said what he re-stated, oh shit, "You have really nice eyes." Still defensive, I said "Oh!!! Well I thought you said I had a really nice ass!"
The poor guy was perplexed and no longer interested in my nice eyes and apparent lack of enculturation in the subtleties of coffeehouse come-ons. He put me right in my place, "No!. You're sitting down!" Obviously all he could see of my ass was that it was sunk into the cushy chair.