My Favorite Modeling Experience Ever

I have a good friend who also happens to be one of the more fantastic photographers I've known. He's really good at catching folks in candid moments where they just look really (photogenically) themselves. He has taken all of my favorite pictures of my dog and my husband, and the two of them together. Also most of my favorite pictures of me. In fact I had him do our wedding photos for this very reason. I have also had him shoot me for my various sex projects a couple of times.

To give a little more background on our relationship; we had a very flirtatious friendship for about a year or so after he called me a hipster one night and I realized I liked him. Eventually we got around to fucking a few times, here and there, but for various reasons a long-term fucking situation couldn't work for us. Since our initial spurt of fairly casual sex dates, I think we had sex a few more times over the years. Tried to set it up other times and it fell through. By the time we did a shoot about a week ago, it had been a little while. I always remember our sexual experiences very fondly and thus think about fucking him pretty much every time I see him, but there's just enough awkwardness and uncertainty between us that I never know if it's actually going to happen, and I usually don't pursue it too hard. A little too used to be being the seduced rather than the seducer, I suppose.

He was house sitting a place not too far from me in Denver, so we decided to do a little secret shoot there so that the backgrounds wouldn't all be the same old nonsense of his place or mine. He had some wine, I had some weed, things got pretty hot. The shoot ended up being one of the better foreplay experiences of my life, and I think he had fun as well. And the best part is that some of the photos turned out excellently, so I am sharing them below! Witness the photographic results of months/ perhaps years of sexual tension!

But before we get to all that, I have a secondary thread to bring into this story. I have been seeing a friend of mine in an even more friendly way lately, especially since he moved from Boulder to Denver. He is subletting the room of a male sex worker friend of ours while he's out of town for 3 months, and we discovered a very lovely little porno mag in his collection:

This vintage classic, this Ass Master, has left quite an impression on us. I am not usually a huge fan of gay porn because I am a huge fan of pussy and find it sorely lacking in most male on male action. But Ass Master has a certain je ne sais quoi that cannot be denied. I believe it may have something to do with the captions that accompany the VERY EXPLICIT images. They are horribly, just horribly, written... but the fact that they are so poorly written is part of what makes it so hot. It feels like a very dirty porn magazine found under an uncle's bed, the imagery shocking and alluring and the words simple enough for everyone to understand. Ass Master has, indeed, inspired me to create a similar sort of spread here on my blog. Not that the images are actually all that hardcore- but some of them are a little more hardcore than I usually do. And besides, it's really the look in my eyes that feels so dirty about these photos.

Enjoy!

 Kitten wandered into the photoshoot and found the photographer manly and strong. He unclipped her hair and played with it a little. He adjusted her teddy so that her ass showed better. He liked her ass, said the bulge in his pants.

She stroked his face and gave him her best 'i know what you want, baby,' face.

 The photographer took Kitten to the bedroom and asked her to start pulling her teddy down. She was wet, and then her pulled her hair. She loves having her hair pulled.

 

He grabbed her tits and told her to play with herself. Then he pulled her hair so hard that she screamed (and maybe laughed a little)

 

She sucked his dick but then he cropped it out of the final photo. Still, she looked hot.

 

It probably looked a little bit like this.

Eventually all of Kitten's clothes came off and she needed to be fucked real bad. He fucked her with his hand first, and then with his cock. But the photos were blurry after that point.

A Message From The Dark Side

Unfortunately, I don't mean the Dark Side in the Darth Vader sense. I'm not really using my powers for evil right now- in fact, I'm hardly ever using my powers for anything.

You see, shit has gotten really real recently. I've had some difficulties with work, which has led to questions of my purpose on this planet and lots of doubt. To say I am dealing with depression is a bit of an understatement I think. It's more like I'm dealing with fear, panic, and self-doubt. All of which lead to depression, but for me can be much worse emotions all on their own.

I'm not sure if I've talk much about my issues with anxiety, OCD and depression much on this blog... but my life is not always easy. I have often turned to sex and exploration of my sexuality (and others) as a method of healing and letting go. So it really causes me to go into crisis mode when I feel like sexuality isn't even helping anymore, and that's what I feel like right now. Needless to say, these feelings don't exactly help me to want to write my optimistic little sexuality blog. I decided today that it was OK to write a post that isn't all that optimistic, and here it is. I do have a feeling that this entry will end on an optimistic note, though, because I can't help it sometimes.

And in fact, here comes the optimism: yesterday I had a very cathartic experience involving sex. And I'd like to share it with y'all because it was very beautiful, and really proved to me that I am on the right track. It's just really fucking hard sometimes.

I was feeling particularly discouraged about how I relate to sex lately; particularly I felt like my sexuality is often on the terms of my partners/ clients and that I don't often get to have sex on my terms. And when it comes time to have sex on my terms, I often find myself confused and paralyzed, uncertain what I actually want. My feelings of doubt and fear about my own sexuality and feelings that I am disconnected from it reduced me to tears and wracking sobs. Lots and lots of despair and uncertainty about the future and the one thing that is most important to me in my life.

Sometimes it helps me to just face my fears though, and my lovely husband helped to convinced me that what I needed to do in this situation is exactly what I feared. I needed to have sex, and I needed to have it on my terms. My terms were that I just wanted to cry and feel sad while we did it, and so I did. I cried and sobbed and blubbered while he ate me out, and it was just very... nice. It was wonderful to feel so loved an accepted despite my emotional distress. Then we made love and I had this really... I don't know, kind of just a super release of orgasm and emotion all at once. It felt like I was just letting the emotions all drain out of me, almost like ejaculating actually. I could feel the orgasm in my face and in the tears, and I could feel the fear slowly leaking out of me for the time being. I was still sad afterwards, and I'm still sad today. But I knew it was all going to be OK because sex still has the ability to heal me that deeply.

Ultimately, I feel that life is about coping rather than curing yourself. Sex is one of the many tools that can used for this... just like meditation, exercise, spirituality or drugs. There is a tendency in our society to say things like mediation, exercise and spirituality are valid ways to deal with mental wellness issues, and sex and drugs are not. But I say that a person should use whatever tools work for them. Life should not be about second guessing yourself because you use tools that others frown down upon- it should just be about doing what WORKS for you. Sex works for me, so just deal with it, society. And sincerely, from the bottom of my blackened and dark heart: fuck you for ever making me think that might not be the case.

Sex Jam Session

Beautiful video by Sex Educator Karen B.K. Chan that pretty much sums up all my thoughts on sex:

My New Tattoo: An Explanation

All of my tattoos have a little story behind them, a reason for why I decided to permanently alter my body in that particular way. Some of the stories are kind of stupid, but that doesn't make me any less fond of the tattoo or proud getting it or aware of what I was going through at that point of my life. I feel like the one I got a week ago, though, is the best tattoo ever. It kind of puts all my other ones to shame.

It is a heart made out of rainbow colored Tetris pieces (aka Tetriminos), which on it's surface may seem a simple "I love Tetris" tattoo. And frankly, I do love Tetris. And a lot of other video games. And that's partially what this is all about.

However, this Tetris heart is also a bit of a metaphor to me. It also represents my commitment to the various types of relationships in my life, be they romantic or friendly or platonic of anywhere in-between. Fitting these relationships into my life is like a game of Tetris in many ways: you have to think fast, you have to fit the pieces together... it doesn't always go right and you accidentally drop your long piece in the wrong spot right when you were about to drop it in to clear 4 goddamn rows and get a TETRIS! The rainbow colors (though they didn't turn out quite as rainbow-y as I wanted) represent my pride to not only be queer/pan/bi/sexual/whatever, but the great pride I take in my ability to be openly and lovingly slutty. The spot on my chest is the spot where people typically get "sacred heart" tattoos, and so the placement represents the fact that I hold love/sex/relationships in a spiritual place in my heart. I worship at the alter of hedonism and respect for my fellow humans.

That was actually a terrible spot to choose, though. It hurt like a motherfucker.

With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

Maybe you haven't noticed, but I have been suffering a little from writer's block lately. It's not that I don't have anything to say so much as I don't really have the words to put to it. I feel like I am really hitting a positive stride in my life; I'm comfortable in my body, confident in my relationships, and loving my work. When I think on my work, I keep coming back from the quote from Spiderman. It may only be from the movie, but it may also be from the comics. I don't know, I'm not that big of a geek.

"With great power comes great responsibility," says Peter Parker's uncle Ben. Or Stan Lee. Or Voltaire. Whoever.

I'm not quite so ego-maniacal as I would need to be to assert that I believe I have "great power." But I have seen the positive effects of my powers on many of my clients/ fans/ friends recently, and the quote feels apt to me because it is both wonderful and overwhelming. I got into sex work because I wanted to help bring happiness and positive energy into other people's sex lives, and I hoped to provide a little healing and love as well. The feedback that I have been getting is that I have done all of this for people, and more. It is so wonderful to have accomplished my goals already, and leaves me wondering what else I can do. How can I take it to the next level? How can I sustain this positive energy? How can I continue hone my craft and perfect my art until I could legitimately claim to have great power? How can I remain humble and continue to learn and grow?

What is my great responsibility?

Spiderman, and many other mythical superheroes, often feel the need to completely abolish crime and to help every "good" citizen to live a peaceful life. I don't think that I alone am capable of abolishing sexual shame, nor am I capable of touching every individual or creating safe sexual space for everyone. In fact, while my sex-positive attitude is the soothing balm that heals many a person's wound, it has also come to light for me lately that it has hurt and alienated others in the past. For all the times I have helped someone to feel less ashamed, more free or loved or cared for, there have been others who I dismissed or judged because they couldn't get with my sexual program. For all my wins I have an equal amount of losses.

I don't want to alienate anyone, ever. However, I have yet to figure out how to do my work without alienating some. My responsibility to my fellow humans is almost as murky to me as when I began my life's journey. Sometimes it feels even further out of my reach as my responsibility to myself becomes even more clear.

Ah, the ramblings of a writer with writers block. As I said, the words are still not forthcoming for me. But I do know one thing: I am here to help, and this is the simplest way to state what I think my life's work is.

Lesbian Erotica round 2

This story is only partially true... OK so mostly fictional. But I imagine it will be fun to try and figure what is true about the story, and what I made up:

In some ways she really is the girl-next-door stereotype. She just moved in next to my husband and I at the beginning of this month, and we only move here a month ago ourselves. I thought all of our neighbors were surprisingly quiet until she moved in, and I realized we just didn't have any neighbors on either side before her. Her bedroom is right next to mine, and I can hear her play songs on her laptop, talk to her friends on the phone, and cough late at night. I can only imagine what it must be like for her to hear us fuck at approximately the same time almost every night. Or what it's like for her to hear me- or us- fucking our friends, or our groups of friends?

I met her the other night on the elevator. She is much younger than me, in her early 20's, and in the medical industry in some way because she was wearing scrubs. She's very petite and even loose fitting scrubs made her figure look thin and tiny. Other than a big pair of tits no scrubs could hide. Long blonde hair, obviously meticulously curled in the early morning hours before work, and lots of black eyeliner and mascara. I somehow knew by the way she looked at me that she was the new next door neighbor, and she had already seen me at some point and identified me as the kinky group sex swinger next door. She and I were basically almost in a porno in the elevator, but luckily we live on the 2nd floor and the trip up from the garage was too brief for me to prey on her in some lesbian cougar fashion. But even if we lived on the 6th floor, I actually wouldn't have. I never come on to women.

However, tonight I was sitting here answering emails and I heard her and a female friend chatting and giggling. When I hear her talking in her room, I can't make exactly what she's saying; just bits and pieces and the sort of overall feeling in her voice. I can't really hear what her and her friend are saying, but it sounds flirty. And maybe a little drunk? I admit that I was surprised when their conversation became quiet for a time and then quickly turned into sex. I didn't peg her as being into girls, exactly, though when I thought back to the elevator I wondered if I missed the hint of a signal she may have thrown my way. Did she maybe even wink at me?

Their moans start out low and soft, and mostly together, punctuated every so often with a giggle or a statement. Soon it progressed to only one girl moaning, and I began to think about what might be happening. Likely one girl was going down on the other, and I imagined it was my towhead friend in scrubs between her coworker's legs, the coworker's scrubs pulled down around her ankles. I wondered if her coworker was brunette, thus creating the stereotypical hetero-normative male-fantasy girl-on-girl porn scene I always play in my head. Long haired, femme, lipstick lesbians with fingernails way longer than anyone in a medical profession should have. I find my hand down between my legs, fingers dipping into my pussy while I imagine blondey slipping her fingers deep into brunette's pussy.

Hearing them is driving me wild, and now second guessing my interaction with blondey on the elevator, the idea forms in my head that they might like hearing me too. I begin to moan softly, then pinch my nipple and moan loader. I don't hear them for a moment and then continue my moans, suspecting that they have stopped and are both trying to decide if they heard someone else moaning. Eventually the suspected brunette begins to moan again. 

It's clear she's putting on a show for me now, so I try to put on one for her too. She's getting all theatrical and saying things I can't quite make out, other than that they're typical sex things like "oh yeah," and "fuck me." I start saying things like "yes," and "oh God," and totally getting off on this whole interaction. I can't see them, but their sounds are just enough to really make what's happening in my mind seem real.

They switch it up a bit, now their both moaning, then the other one, then both moaning again. I keep rubbing and fingering myself, imaging them fingering each other, 69ing when their moans are muffled, grinding their pussies together when their both getting really loud. I can't take it anymore and I make myself cum, which I express is happening to them very loudly. 

They keep going for a while after that, and I decide to write this because I can't sleep with all their stupid sex noises now. Lesbians have sex for such a long time! 

the Celebrity Vagina Paradox

One of my few guilty pleasures (as in I actually feel pretty guilty about it) is celebrity gossip on the Internet. This is not a plug for this site, because I think it's disgusting* but I frequently read a blog called The Superficial. This blog is just about the rudest, most misogynistic piece of crap... and kind of funny sometimes. I just got addicted to it when I started desk jockeying and still can't stop myself from looking at it on an almost daily business, even now that I don't have a "real job."

One of the weirdest double standards I've seen thrown at female celebrities, not only by this blog but by pretty much any entertainment "news" source, is something that I will called the Celebrity Vagina Paradox (this is just a working title, so don't make fun of me for this not being the correct usage of paradox, or vagina, or whatever). We live in a world where women, and yes occasionally even celebrity women, will go commando under a nice piece of evening wear in order to avoid panty lines. Or perhaps they just go commando because they like it. WHO GIVES A SHIT? Now, even more occasionally, a paparazzo will snap a shot female celebrity who has gone commando in an undignified moment getting out of a limo or whatnot, flashing her nether bits for the whole world to see for several seconds. The horror, the shame, think of the children, etc etc ensues. All over one little shot of beaver that's even more ambiguous looking than Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct. "Are those pussy lips or just tan panties?" We often find ourselves asking as we dissect these voyeuristic tidbits of possible vagina.

This happened to Anne Hathaway recently, and when everyone felt it appropriate to post the photo, dissect it (it's pretty much just a picture of her pubic mound, I will point out, and not her vagina or genitals at all) and talk about how embarrassed she should be, Anne was embarrassed (here's a post on it on Perez Hilton to illustrate my point). Which is too bad (I hate when people are embarrassed to have a vagina), but I have some sympathy for her. She also stated that she felt saddened that we live in a culture where someone catches another person in a vulnerable moment, and doesn't just delete the picture. And that our culture commoditizes (this may or may not be a word) the sexuality of someone who isn't consenting to it. Guess what, Anne Hathaway? I totally agree with you.

However, I am also in the business of commoditizing my sexuality, so I can't help but feel that an opportunity is being missed by all the female, and even male, celebrities with photography stalkers. A chance to make a real political statement not only about privacy but also about shame and sex-positivity. Anne Hathaway, you should make this idea a reality. Although I can't help but feel like this is really more of a Rihanna move.

Why not, the next time you're hanging out in on your private property and you notice some asshole taking pictures of you... why not just masturbate? Or better yet, grab someone and fuck them. Or a group of people. Even better if everyone involved is a celebrity. Make sure to really put on as much of a show as you can. Cheat toward the camera. Wink at the camera. Flip the fucker off! Hold up a sign asking people to support your favorite charity.

Frankly, I'm shocked that a celebrity hasn't thought of this yet. Sometimes I imagine myself as a celebrity, and I being interviewed by Conan O'Brien because really he's the only one of those jokers I do an interview for. Though I know I wouldn't actually have a choice (but remember, this is my fantasy world, so I do have a choice in fantasy world!). I imagine Conan asking me all the hard questions about being caught in this awkward moment (I think that's the wording he would use), and I would calmly and rationally explain the pure and simple fact that I am not to blame for unleashing these images upon the world, but actually it's the fault of the asshat who took pictures of me on my private property during a private orgy moment. And then, to top it all off, I would calmly and rationally explain that orgies are nothing to be ashamed of. Especially when they're with the like of Anne Hathaway, Rihanna, Johnny Depp and Rutger Hauer (my celebrity orgy dream team).

Once again, I have solved the big issues facing America today. I should win a Noble Prize.