Wednesday, June 18th, 2014 at
For a lot of folks, I have one of those ‘dream jobs’. One of the major income streams I have is watching porn and writing descriptions for the actions involved. I’ve watched and written about a number of different porn genres, some of which falls into the ‘taboo’ realm. I’ve worked on revenge porn (scripted and consensual porn flicks designed to look like the non-consensual and often illegal version), rape porn (again – scripted and consensual that looks otherwise), and prolapse porn. Your kink is not my usual kink, and it kind of intrigues me, but your kink is certainly something I’ll work with.
Then there are certain niches that I outright refuse to work on. I won’t do anything with children (even the computer generated child movies), dead bodies, animals, or consumption of blood, scat or urine. Luckily, they are ether illegal or difficult to get payment processing for, so I don’t get much demand for them. Your kink is not my kink, and your kink won’t ever appear on my invoices.
But – there is a grey area for me. Where your kink is not my kink, I’m actively turned off by your kink, but I will still work on that material. I’m not talking just a dislike for the material. I’m talking about working with these niches gives me a physical reaction that is not only unpleasant, but constantly makes me question if I’m charging enough money for my time. There are three that hit the top of that list that seem to come into my inbox on a somewhat regular basis.
Keep going…I want more…
Monday, April 28th, 2014 at
I was actually going to go in a completely different direction with this post, but I had a conversation this morning that reinforced the concept of ‘full circle’ in my head much more than the original relationship I was going to discuss.
Back in college, I had a crush on a guy, who I’ll call Ethan for the sake of this discussion. Ethan and I lived in the same building for two years – the first year I spent crushing on him from afar, and the second a more direct flirtation on both sides. A two year crush-build was pretty much unheard of for me at the time. My relationships moved fast, so the back and forth I had with Ethan was pretty intense, mentally. I hated that ‘I don’t know if you like me or not’ thing – still do now. It was during the third year, when he had moved out of the dorms, that we finally ‘hooked up’ – after I had enough of waiting for him to chase me and took control myself.
At that time, I was working and living the BDSM lifestyle. I was actively poly, had other Tops and lovers, and Ethan knew that. He knew I was kinky, and tried to satisfy that side of my sex life. He wasn’t what I would consider an established Top. He was dominant, but didn’t know what to do with it. The problem I had throughout this relationship is that I never knew where I stood. That same ‘I don’t know if you like me or not’ thing that I hated during our flirtation before fucking continued. Mixed signals are hard for 35-year-old-me to deal with. For 20-year-old me it was just a huge mindfuck.
Keep going…I want more…
Wednesday, April 9th, 2014 at
“Room 309. See you soon. xxx”
My finger hovered over the ‘send’ button for a few minutes more than it really needed to. He announced his arrival with a quick “I’m just pulling in now.” that set off the small butterflies that had taken up residence in my stomach. They’d been living there for what seemed like ages – ever since that moment we both started developing that mysterious connection we still can’t quite figure out, but were both eager to jump on.
Just press send. This is what you’ve been waiting for.
My nightly dreams had been slowly moving from full on sex scenes to the more mysterious shapes and shadows. He had transformed from the figure I lusted over to more of a memory. His kisses turned into connections, his strokes into emotions, the raw sex into a bond. It was sweet and romantic, but I missed the fucking that once played out in my head. A week beforehand I had lost his image in my mind – probably due to the fact it had been months since I’d seen him. This morning, though, that memory had returned. I could see every inch of him in my head. Every. Inch.
I tapped the send button, and watched as the progress bar moved to ‘sent’.
The butterflies were gone, replaced with vultures flopping wildly around, hungry for flesh. His flesh. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I crossed the room to unlatch the door. I looked pale – why was I so pale? You’d think I’d be bright red given what was running through my head at the moment. How would he come in the room? Would he kiss me first, or just throw me onto the bed, covering my mouth with his hand and cut the shirt off of me? Was I expecting too much and he’d shake my hand and we’d wonder off for a coffee and a chat? He’s always guarded his thoughts so well. Half of me wondered if it was to keep me guessing, half of me just assumed he wasn’t interested in me…at least in the ways I wanted him to be.
I knew why I was so pale. This was the moment that would change everything.
The three knocks on the door broke me away from my own thoughts.
Wednesday, July 17th, 2013 at
She was about as innocent as they come. Fresh faced 19 year old English girl in the US for the very first time. Hell, out of her parents’ home for the very first time. Unspoiled by anything adult – ever. She was the ultimate virgin, untouched, unaware, unspoiled by anyone’s hands or minds. She was also painfully in the closet. Not just hiding her own sexuality from others – she was hiding it from herself. She later told me she came out to her parents once, and when they told her she was wrong, she went back in even further. She was delicious looking, to me, although she didn’t quite know how much she turned me on with her butchy demeanor, quick whit, English accent and the way she held a cigarette.
I…how can I say this tastefully…wasn’t so innocent. Four years living in dorm rooms with other women, four years of being a professional submissive a few nights a week, very much aware of my sexuality and what I wanted in life. I had no issues with fucking anyone I worked with, and did it quite regularly. It was summertime, and my usual D/s fixes were done for the time being, as I had stepped down from performing, going to munches, swinging, parties and all that style of life to my routine summer job as a lifeguard. I’d not been with another woman steadily for some time, just a few one nighters and extended weekends here and there. To say I was hungry for pussy would be an understatement, and at this particular workplace, it was a virtual all-you-could-oogle buffet.
Keep going…I want more…