Paying For Orgasms

I’ve become a john.

I know that’s a pimp… but YOU try finding a picture of a female john!

A jane.

I’ve now paid for orgasms.

I totally get it, men. I get why you sometimes find it easier to just pay for what you want.

As I’ve discussed on here before, I think it’s absolutely revolting that prostitution is illegal so I won’t go into that again.

But what made me take the leap from being an advocate of prostitution to a paying customer?

Here’s my story…

I’m a whore for massages. I fucking love them. I’ve had many regular spa massages and they’re great, but I’ve always found them lacking.

I know all the health and therapeutic benefits to massage. I know that for LMTs and CMTs, it’s all business and not a sexual experience.

But, for me anyway, anytime anyone is rubbing on my naked body, even if I’m beneath a sheet, it’s sexual for me. It’s sensual. It’s delicious and decadent and naughty.

And I’ve always left the spa feeling that the massage shouldn’t have stopped where it did. It’s all about relaxation for me, and I’m never more relaxed than when I’ve just had an orgasm!

This is nice…

So I’ve paid for my massages and gone home and diddled myself to oblivion.

I’d rather have someone else do that diddling for me.

As you may know, I’ve been a long time member of AdultFriendfinder. As a woman, I’ve had great luck finding sex on that site because the numbers are something like 20,000 men for every 1 woman. Not hard to find a man willing to fuck me.

A couple of years ago, a gentleman contacted me that was a masseur. Licensed, had his own business, the whole nine yards, and he offered me a sensual massage for free. I took him up on it, went to his business and he gave me everything I wanted. This relationship went on for a while but it was flawed… I found him completely unattractive and it started to feel very wrong to me. I wasn’t paying him so I felt that I had to reciprocate. And I didn’t enjoy it. Instead of being relaxing, I started to hate thinking about the time when I would have to suck his cock at the end of the session. He was small and hairy. And I hated it. And his personality was very, very bland.

Not only that, but the massages changed. Instead of giving me a full body massage, he began skipping all of that and going straight to jamming his fingers in my twat and my ass. The sensuality was gone. I couldn’t even close my eyes and pretend he was someone I enjoyed. It was ludicrous of me to continue seeing him for as long as I did and I stopped.

He emailed me for months, begging me to come back. He eventually got the hint and stopped.

That was about a year ago and I hadn’t had a massage of any sort since.

Blah.

If you’re one of my Twitter followers, you know I’ve been going through a dry spell. My libido took a hike. Not only was I going without any sort of sex, I quit masturbating and having orgasms, too.

I tried to make myself feel sexual again. I set up dates with guys from AFF and backed out at the last minute when I just couldn’t be bothered to want sex. I tried masturbating, unsuccessfully. I lost something.

Since embracing my sexuality several years ago, it’s been a huge part of my life. Losing that has been devastating.

I talked it through with a couple of close Twitter friends and finally realized that it wasn’t sex I was missing… it was intimacy.

And that, in and of itself, is troubling. I really, really don’t want a relationship. But I do want to be touched. And not by a stranger that is only looking to get his rocks off without really taking the time to learn my body and learn what turns me on.

I was at a loss. I absolutely didn’t want to go through trying to find a lover that needed the same things I did. Call me selfish, but I like my life. I don’t want a lover or boyfriend intruding on it. And I didn’t want to take the time to vet 10,000 guys to find the one that didn’t just talk a big game.

It led me back to thinking about massages…

…but THIS is better!

In pretty much any city of any size, there is at least one rub-and-squirt massage parlor, usually Asian, that caters to men. Check out Craig’s List or Backpage and there are hundreds of ads for massages. For men.

Thai massage, table massage, shower massage, jacuzzi massage, Swedish massage, tandem massage, etc., etc… it doesn’t take a genius to know that they all come with happy endings.

But what about us women?? Even the men I found were only performing massages for other men. God damn it, I wanted a massage with a happy ending, too!

Finally, in a sea of hundreds of other ads, I found one. Men, women and couples welcome. All masseurs. No masseuses.

I quickly fired off an email to see if they were serious about accepting female clients. I love gay men… but I didn’t necessarily want some 19 year old twink trying to act like he enjoyed touching my naughty bits.

The gentleman that responded to me assured me that women were most definitely welcome. After exchanging many emails, I set up an appointment.

Bless his heart… I was trying to find out if the massage really included a happy ending without sounding like a cop, while at the same time trying to find out if HE was a cop and ended up sounding like a harpy. He answered all my questions as best he could without actually saying “I WILL RUB YOUR PUSSY UNTIL YOU ORGASM”.

I’m also very impulsive. When I decide I want to do something, I don’t want to wait. If I wait, I’ll talk myself out of it.

This was a problem as I’m broke (payday is tomorrow) and the earliest he could get me in after tomorrow was next week.

EEK! I absolutely would have chickened the fuck right out if I had to wait that long!

He had time free yesterday and I explained my money situation to him and he agreed to either give me an IOU or a post-dated check.

What a sweetie!!

So, I had my massage scheduled. And I was pretty sure, though still not entirely, that it would include the happy ending I so desired.

I left work three hours early. Came home, shaved my snatch (just in case) and primped and polished myself like I was going on a date with Colin Firth.

I left an hour before my scheduled time as I wasn’t sure what traffic would be like. So I arrived in his area a good half an hour before my appointment. The AC in my car is broken and it was in the mid-90s yesterday so I was sweaty and wilting and feeling like a fucking idiot.

I texted him about 20 minutes before my scheduled time. He texted back that he’d just finished another client and to give him a few minutes and then to come on over. I drove around for a bit and then finally pulled up to his place.

I was a nervous fucking wreck. I had no idea what to expect. Do I pay first, or at the end? Do I have to explicitly tell him what I want, or will he just do it automatically? IS HE A COP? I was absolutely expecting to be thrown up against a wall and cuffed (and not in the fun way) the minute I came through the door.

Luckily, that didn’t happen.

He answered the door and I knew right away he wasn’t a cop. He was a bit older than I was expecting which is fine since I prefer mature men. Maybe a bit shorter, but who really cares about that? The thing that struck me most was that he immediately set off my gaydar.

But how do you ask that? And does it matter? I was going to pay him to perform a service. If he was willing, why should it bother me that he’s actually gay? (Note: I’ve since learned… because I finally got up the nerve to fucking ask… that he’s done both men and women due to the nature of his work but he’s “mostly straight.” I never said my gaydar was perfect!)

The whole time I was thinking this, though, in the back of my head I was thinking, “pleasebebipleasebebipleasebebi” because, if you know me, you know that I fucking love bisexual men. My ultimate sexual fantasy involves having a hot, sweaty threesome with two bisexual men. Oh. FUCK. Yes.

He led me to a room… a bedroom that also had a massage table. Just like any other massage I’ve ever paid for, he instructed me to strip down to whatever I was comfortable with and get on the table under the sheet, face down. At this point, I was beginning to wonder if I wasn’t just going to get a regular g-rated massage.

Still… a massage is a massage. I would enjoy whatever I got!

I got naked and slipped under the sheet. As soon as he came back to the room and started on me, I knew it wasn’t going to be a regular massage.

I had the sheet pulled up nearly to my shoulders… the first thing he did was lower it below my buttocks… a big no-no in the world of legitimate massages.

YAY!

He began with my shoulders and back. Nothing sexual. Just like any other wonderful massage. He moved lower and lower. Massaged my arms and hands.

And then he gave me the best damn butt massage ever. But it still didn’t really feel sexual… he didn’t spread my cheeks, didn’t touch my asshole. No delving deep between my thighs.

And… YES!

I thought I felt him brush himself against my hand a couple times, but I wasn’t sure. I was face down, so I couldn’t see anything. So I just relaxed and enjoyed. He moved to my legs and feet and it was fabulous, though I was a little embarrassed because I’m a bit overdue for a pedicure!

My inner thighs are particulary sensitive and when he massaged me there, I thought I knew what was coming… but, no… it was just a tease. When he didn’t touch me then, I really started to think that I was going to get the g-rated massage.

He asked me to flip over and kept me covered… from shoulders down.

Huh. Wasn’t expecting that. Maybe if I’d opened my eyes instead of being a big chicken and keeping them tightly shut, I wouldn’t have realized what was in store for me!

He massaged my shoulders and neck… arms… then finally, FINALLY lowered the sheet to below my breasts, exposing my stomach as well.

Now, you folks know I’m fat. I felt a little shy knowing that all my blubber was on display for him. It was different when I was face down. I don’t know why, but it was. I didn’t feel quite as open and exposed.

But he was wonderful. He never made me feel like a beached whale lying on his table. He massaged all around and between my breasts, never really touching them. He massaged my sides and my big fat belly but made me feel cherished while doing so. And then he finally massaged my breasts… my nipples. It was sensational. He didn’t try to pinch or twist my nipples off as so many men do. He was sensual and his strong hands were wonderful, the way they squeezed and caressed my breasts.

He kept widening his circles, rubbing lower and lower, pushing the sheet down a little further each time until he was massaging my pubic bone and mons. The anticipation was decadent.

He pushed the sheet down my thighs so I was exposed. He began massaging my inner thighs again, getting closer and closer and then… YES! Finally! He was there. I was so wet.

With one hand he massaged my pussy and my clit while the other continued to massaged my breasts. My hands were at my sides and I felt a slight wetness on the hand next to him. That’s when I finally, stupidly, finally, realized that he was naked. And hard. And seeping precum.

Yay me!

We all know how I worship the cock!

Was I allowed to touch? I mean, it was right there… it seemed perfectly natural to wrap my hand around him and stroke him as he stroked me. So, of course I did! Nice and thick, but not too long. Perfect, really. Tight balls… I really wanted them in my mouth but didn’t get that chance.

I continued to stroke him as he brought me closer and closer to the edge, using his hands and subtle words to encourage me to let go… and I did. I had a glorious orgasm that left me breathless.

Oh, how I wanted him to fuck me then. But, alas, that didn’t happen.

After I came, he got a towel and a spray bottle of alcohol and rubbed me down… I was covered in oil, after all, and maybe a bit of sweat after that orgasm and the cooling sensation of the alcohol was delightful. After he cleaned off my breasts, he bent over and sucked on my nipples for a few… fabulous!

Just like this…

And, well, at that point his cock was pretty much right there… right in my face. What’s a girl to do?

Taste him, of course. I took his cock in my mouth and licked him from top to bottom and would have loved spending longer doing that but he moved away from my mouth, stroked himself a few times and came on my shoulder. Nice, thick, white cum.

He cleaned it off with the towel before I got to scoop it up and play with it… taste it. *pout*

Alas, my massage was over… happy ending and all!

We made small talk for a few minutes while I stretched and purred like a big, fat satisfied pussy cat, but I didn’t ask him all the questions I wanted to know… Was he gay or bi? What other extras could I get? Could I pay him to fuck me? He works with two other men… are they gay or bi? Could I pay them to make my ultimate sexual fantasy come true?

And the more mundane questions my curious mind wanted to know… how he got started? Was this his only  job? How many clients does he have? Male, female? Does he enjoy it or does he, like the rest of us, moan and groan about having to go to work?

I absolutely loved it and can’t wait to go back again for more. But I also have to keep reminding myself that this is something I’m paying for. It’s a job for him. This isn’t a FWB situation and if I want to see him again, I have to pay real cash money.

I’m a girl… I missed kissing and cuddling, especially afterwards.

So, was it everything I wanted? Yes and no. Or, yes, but I wanted more. I really, really wanted him to fuck me. And I really wanted to push him back on the bed and spend some quality time giving him head, because I do so enjoy that. I wanted to suck his balls into my mouth and I wanted to lick his asshole.

Because I’m a dirty girl. 😉

But again, I have to keep reminding myself that he’s not a lover. I’m just a client. A john. Or… I guess in my case, a jane.

The cost was the same as a massage you get anywhere else. But I’m not a rich girl… I would back weekly if I could afford it. Unfortunately, this is going to have to be a monthly appointment, if that. I’m going to have to figure out how to work it into my budget. Oh, yeah, I’m going to go back next week because I’m incredibly horny and thrilled to have my sex drive back… but in the future, I’m going to have to pace myself. I wonder if he gives volume discounts?!

A couple of other notes… we’ve been emailing back and forth since yesterday. First, for me to thank and also to ask his permission to blog about my experience and I hope he’s reading this and enjoying my retelling of yesterday’s adventure (Hi!!). Also, he’s let me know that next time, I can get the “inner muscle massage with his massage stick” for no extra cost. WOOT!

I will continue to keep you all updated on my adventures… thank you for reading!

Ladies, if you ever have the chance to experience what I experienced yesterday… go for it! It was well worth the angst and the expense! I cannot wait to go back again. It’s my own, private dirty little secret that no one in the real world will ever know!

Penis Envy

All of my life, I’ve been surrounded by men.

MEN! All with PENISES!

Since the day I was born, delivered by a male doctor, right up until today. Brothers, friends, coworkers… driving cars, walking down the streets, sitting in restaurants, flying on planes.

I’ve encountered thousands upon thousands of men. Everywhere.

And one thing I’ve  never been able to wrap my head around, can’t even comprehend in the slightest way, is how men go about their everyday business without touching their penis constantly.

THIS.

I don’t get it. How do you not touch it all the time?

If I had one, I feel pretty certain I’d never do anything but touch it. Not necessarily wanking it all the time… just touching it. Tugging it. Twisting it. Pulling on it. Stretching it.

I love the cock.

I think I’ve actually blogged about this before, but it’s a subject worth visiting twice.

The cock.

A Fine Specimen Indeed

It’s absolutely marvelous.

I can’t get enough of it. Love to see cock. Love to feel cock. Touch cock. Taste cock. Love to watch men touching themselves… jerking themselves off.

The weight of a cock is one of my favorite things. It’s the very best sort of heaviness. Lifting a cock in your hand isn’t like lifting anything else. It’s attached… yet feels completely different from any other part of a man’s body. So soft and hot. Pulsing with energy. So full.

I like sex.

Okay, I love sex.

That’s not a secret.

But if I’m being totally honest, I really think I’d almost rather just get to play with a man’s cock than have actual sex.

That’s how much I love cocks.

My favorite part of any sexual adventure is that time when I’m allowed to just worship the cock. When he just lies back and relaxes and I’m free to crawl down between his legs and just play. Tug, tickle, stroke, suck, massage, twist, fondle, lick.

I Have To Choose?!

Soft cocks, hard cocks, uncircumcised or cut. Thick, thin, long, short, veiny, smooth, purple, pink, red, bulbous, mushroom-headed, pulsing, throbbing, sleeping and yes, even pissing.

Cocks fascinate me. All shapes and sizes. It’s even a fun word to say… cock. It’s impossible to say without wanting one in my mouth, in my hands. Cock, cock, cock, cock, cock.

Okay, Maybe Not This One...

Perhaps that’s why I insist on my lovers been shaved… More access to that beautiful cock. Nothing getting in the way of all that yummy deliciousness!

It’s more than just the physical appearance, or the aesthetics of the cock. It’s the masculine pleasure center. Touch a man anywhere on his body in just the right way and it manifests through his cock. Perhaps just a twitch… a little jump… but there it is.

Form A Single File Line, Please.

And there is no greater feeling in the world… nothing more powerful… that using my own body, my hands, my mouth, to bring a cock from that soft, sleeping state to the raging, testosterone-filled, semen-spewing epitome of manliness that is an ejaculating cock. To spend hours sweetly torturing it over and over again, from soft to hard, then soft again.

I love the cock.

My James Deen Conundrum

I am, admittedly, late to jumping on the James Deen bandwagon.

Who's yummy? James is yummy!

I discovered him quite by accident a few weeks ago and was hooked like a fish… and like so many other females before me. There’s something about this guy. He’s cute, but certainly not drop-dead gorgeous. A bit shorter than I like my men and definitely quite a bit younger than I like. And he’s a skinny little shit. His cock is gorgeous, but he’s not extremely hugely well-endowed. And he has an incredibly lickable little butthole. If you’ve read my blog, you know I enjoy all things anal and would love the chance to tongue his bum.

What drew me in, though, is the obvious fact that he really enjoys women. Likes women. Of all shapes and sizes, colors and varieties. I’ve seen videos of him fucking tiny little waifs and women that are bigger than me… and I’m a cow! Black, white, Asian… he likes them all. And I don’t mean “likes” like any normal hetero guy… he really enjoys a woman’s body and enjoys doing whatever it takes to get them off, whether it’s kissing, holding hands, whispering dirty sweet-nothings in their ears or smacking them in the face.

What? Smacking them in the face?

Yes, Mr. Deen has quite the Dom streak in him as well as the boy next door.

Angel

And this is where my conundrum starts to kick in. James Deen, through no fault of his own, has become a teenage girl’s wet dream. For me, it was Shaun Cassidy (shut up). For many girls today, it’s James. I’d venture a guess that for most of these teenagers, their first introduction to him was through one of his vanilla scenes. The ones where he’s seduced by his girlfriend’s mom or plays the innocent delivery man that is conned into fucking the sultry ingenue. Imagine their surprise when they click a link to one of his scenes for kink.com!

Devil

Now, I love me some kink. I’ve been there… I’ve experienced subspace and know what an exhilarating feeling it is. But I was in my mid 30s when I experienced it. I don’t know that I could have handled that when I was a teen, just learning about sex.

Teenage girls have low self-esteem. Being a teenage girl is hell on earth. It’s a miserable time. Hormones are all wonky, peer pressure… and teenage girls are just fucking monsters. Mean as shit.

It’s a self-defense mechanism, yes. We girls are so down on ouselves when we’re teens that the only way we can cope is to lash out at others. It’s terrible. I was bullied… and I bullied others. As an adult, I feel like shit about the way I treated one particular girl in high school. She didn’t deserve my wrath… and I didn’t deserve the wrath I received from other girls. It’s a vicious, evil cycle. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for girls today… Facebook, Twitter, texting. We know it’s driven more than one teen to suicide.

I wouldn’t trade places with them for anything.

The point to all this is that it would be very easy for girls, who feel lacking in every way anyway, to allow themselves to be treated like the girls in the kink.com videos that they see James acting in. As adults, we know what is actually happening in those videos. We get that in the BDSM world, the submissive is, in actuality, the one with ALL the power.

The submissive controls the action and can call a stop to it at anytime, in a safe, sane and consensual setting. But unless you’ve studied this world, how can you know this? A 16 year old girl and her 17 or 18 year old boyfriend aren’t going to know the rules. And even if they do read up on it, can their developing minds truly grasp the importance of the rules?

I wouldn’t have been able to. As a teenage girl experimenting with all things sexual, I didn’t understand that I was supposed to enjoy it as much as the boy did. I put up with anything and everything my early partners did and never uttered a word, even if I absolutely hated it. Calling stop to the action would have ended up branding me as a cold fish. And “prude” is just another label that no teenage girl wants to carry around.

So what’s to stop these girls from going from the cutesy James Deen porn to the rough James Deen porn and pulling that into their real lives and getting seriously hurt… physically AND emotionally? Have any of these kids read the contracts on kink.com? I doubt it.

And as a woman, that scares me to death for these kids.

A true Dom respects his sub above all else. And that is key. A true Dom knows when the scene ends. And that isn’t knowledge that most teenage boys have… Hell, a lot of adult men don’t get it, either.

I don’t want any girl to think that they deserve anything else than 100% respect from any man. That lack of self-esteem all teenage girls feel can easily stretch into their adulthood. And that is the road to living life going through one abusive relationship after another. In my work, I see this everyday. These kids have lived with abuse all their lives… it’s all they know and they repeat the cycle.

Breaking that cycle can be almost impossible.

Now, none of this is anything James Deen has asked for. He can’t control who watches his videos. He’s an adult acting in an adult industry. The internet makes his work accessible to anyone who wants to see it. He has no control over this so I’m not blaming him in any way.

Yes, please. Sir.

I adore him… both in his role as goofy boy next door and his role as a Dominant. I want to hold hands with him and kiss and cuddle and whisper sweet dirty things to him. I also want him to tie me to a rack, attach some nipple clamps and spank me so hard I’m bruised for weeks. Depending on my mood, I want him to call me either “sweetie” or “cumslut”.

Because at 42, I understand from watching his work and reading his words, that in the end, he would be a gentleman and respect me as a sexual woman and I should expect no less.

Can these 16 year old girls make that same distinction between the fantasy of James Deen and the reality of the boys who just want to get in their pants?

Need It Now

That feeling. 

You know the one I mean.

The one that hits when you first meet someone that you click with.

When the chemistry is there. When just the thought of that person gives you butterflies and that stupid grin that won’t go away.

When you check your phone 1,000 times a day to see if there is a new text or email. And there always is because they’re feeling the same thing you are.

I’m not talking about a potential date… I’m talking about a new lover. Sex.

Someone who makes you wet, or rock hard, with just a word.

When it’s all  new and fresh and you don’t know any of the bad habits or obstacles that may prevent actually getting together to fuck. When it’s all about potential. And fucking…

Sending a million texts back and forth detailing all the naughty, filthy things you want to do to each other. Learning each others desires and kinks. The dirty pics exchanged.

It’s been a while since I had that. A few months.

I know that doesn’t sound like a long time, but it’s been an eventful few months capped with some pretty serious disappointment.

And I need it.

The problem is that you can’t go looking for it. It just happens.

Love For Sale

There is another way that women are being victimized in the United States other than in bad porn.

Prostitution.

And you know how to fix it?

It’s really easy… almost too easy…

Legalize it!

Legalize that shit NOW.

If a woman could legally sell her body for sex without fear of being tossed in jail to rot, she wouldn’t need a pimp offering her “protection”. And let’s face it, prostitutes are victimized by their pimps. Or they have to ply their wares in completely unsafe neighborhoods hidden away from polite society where they can easily be drugged, raped or killed. If it were legal, pimps would be a thing of the past. Almost instantly. I think most men, the johns, would prefer dealing directly with the woman they were planning the sex with, knowing that 100% of their payment would go directly to her.

Sure, there would be brothels… but, with legalizing it, there would be oversight and regulation. And whoever is running the brothel would have a huge reason to keep things running above board- if it gets shut down, his or her business is gone and the employees would simply go work somewhere else. Where they were treated well. And, believe me, there are plenty of people who would happily open them and run them extraordinarily well.

And let’s not forget… it’s my body. I can use it for damn near anything I want, except sex for money. And that’s bullshit. Puritanical bullshit. Old white men bullshit. How dare they tell me I can’t have sex with a man and charge him money for the pleasure! Of all the stupid, illogical, nonsensical horseshit. Every job we do for a paycheck involves the use of our bodies in some way. Typing on a keyboard, painting a wall, modeling clothes, preventing crime, counting pills for a prescription, performing surgery… everything. I can’t think of any jobs that don’t require you to use your body in some way. And, yes, most of them require you to use your brain, too.

And what is more sensual that a smart woman using her brains as well as her body during sex? Can you, gentlemen, imagine? I know there are plenty of high-class escorts out there now that do this very same thing, for thousands of dollars. Bless them. But they still have to operate their business under a veil of secrecy and that’s just stupid.

If prostitution were legal, the drug and alcohol abuse that is so rampant in prostitution would, partially, go away. There will always be women with low self-esteem and addictive personalities that can’t avoid it, but for the most part, if women were in control and could say no… choose the men they want as clients and not have to fuck and suck every scuzzy, smelly, fat, dirty, dangerous freak that waved a $20 in their faces, they wouldn’t have the need to deaden their senses to get through it.

Oh, and sex trafficking? There would be a terrible industry that would suffer a huge blow if prostitution were legalized.

When is America going to finally accept that sex isn’t dirty? That it’s nothing something to be ashamed of? It’s part of who we are… it defines our very existence. We areanimals. And we have needs. Sexual needs. Itches that need to be scratched. It’s not going to change.

There has always been sex. Always and forever. And it’s always felt good. It’s always been done for pleasure. How else did our species ever start? Think cavemen knew that fucking led to babies? Hell no… they knew it was the absolute most pleasurable thing they could do!

It’s not going away. And prostitution is not going away. It’s time to throw the archaic laws off the books and stop governing the way we women use our bodies. Women will never be equal until this happens because these are laws created by men that forbid us control over our bodies. It’s legal slavery.

It’s just one more way for women to be told we’re not as smart as men. They know better… Silly women wanting to sell their bodies. It’s for our own good. Trust them. They know what’s best for us.

You know what pisses me off? ANYONE telling me what’s best for me.

I’m not going to get into the moral arguments about prostitution. Different people have different morals. Some people still believe in God. That’s their thing and they can do and act however they want, so long as it doesn’t impede on me in any way.

My argument is regarding the law. Which is, theoretically, supposed to not be based on that silly book (the Bible). If our courts are not supposed to take Sharia law into account, then they shouldn’t take Christian law into account, either. Yes, the Bible condemns prostitution. And haircuts. So that tells you how much weight it should hold when deciding what is good or bad.

Our lawmakers need to grow the fuck up and stop thinking they know what is best for me and for my body. And they have, in lots of ways. I can vote now. And, yes, I can also have an abortion.

But I can’t have sex with a man of my choosing and charge him. That’s imbecilic.

Would I be a prostitute if it were legal? Probably not. Mainly because I’m a middle aged fat woman and I doubt I’d have a lot of clients. But, seriously, I’m broke. If someone wanted me? Absofuckinglutely. I could use the extra money.

I’m very lucky. I have a job that I actually love. It pays next to nothing. I work in the nonprofit world and haven’t had a raise in three years. Our money is supposed to go to funding our programs. But I love it and that’s a trade off I made. I could either have a job I hate that pays well, or a job I love that doesn’t and I chose the job I love. I am looking at an empty pantry and an empty gas tank and $100 to get me through the next two weeks. And I have no desire to pick up a crappy second job for minimum wage with a boss with a Napoleon complex.

But if I could be my own boss? A couple nights a week? Doing something I already love? Why the fuck not?

And not all johns are looking for prostitutes because they can’t find another woman to sleep with them. They are thousands of reasons and a big one is that they want sex without the hassle of dating. I get that, because I do, too. And, yes, I have considered paying for sex myself. In a way, I already have. By paying for a membership to AdultFriendFinder. As a woman, I have my choice on there. In my area, there are over 20,000 men that are members and just over 2,000 women. And that’s not taking into account how many of those women are actually real. So, in a way, that’s me paying for sex.

So, yes, if I had the chance, I would… if the demand was there… sell my body.

It would be my decision. If the guy squicked me out, I’d simply say no.

Because, oddly enough, I can do that. I have that ability. I have a brain and I’m not afraid to use it.

And maybe that’s what they are afraid of…

Women IN Porn

I learned tonight that one of our local girls is, or was, a porn star. Her stage name was Cody Lane. Her real name is Carla Rushing and she’s currently an inmate in the Bullitt County Detention Center.

Every once in a while, I poke around on Topix. Topix is easily the gathering place for America’s vilest rednecks to gossip anonymously. I had heard about it, in relation to my home town, and checked it out a few years ago. It was so disgustingly horrible that every couple of months I take a look at it just to see if it’s really as bad as I think it is. And it always is.

Anyway, someone outed the fact that Cody/Carla is sitting in jail on a bench warrant relating to numerous drug charges and they posted a link to her mug shot. Pretty girl. I’d heard her name, but I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen her in action, so to speak, so I googled her. The first (and only) video I watched was apparently one of her first scenes and it can best be described as… well, rape.

She called herself Cody Star in the video and said she was 19. The clip started out the same way all cheaply produced porn is now days… starlet and unattractive actor sitting on a couch staring blindly into the camera before pretending to be overcome with lust for each other.

Then came the gagging. Seriously, guys, what the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK? Please explain to me how this is something you think is sexy? A girl with tears of fear running down her cheeks, nearly vomiting and hacking up stomach bile? Really? That’s sexy? It’s fucking gross and cruel and watching it happen to this terrified young woman was disgusting.

Next was anal. Dry. She screamed the entire time he was inside her. Not moaning, screaming. With his hand either covering her mouth or choking her so she couldn’t breathe.

This wasn’t a staged BDSM with experienced players filmed by the folks at Kink. This was two actors and a cameraman/director.

After the money shot, the actor sort of tossed her down and stalked out of the room. To show she was okay, the cameraman/director started talking to her and she smiled and said she was fine and lied through her pretty little teeth.

The troubling part, as if the rest of it wasn’t bad enough, was the dude asking her if the actor was a better fuck than her grandfather and she said she didn’t want to talk about that anymore. This kid had, allegedly, been raped by her grandfather. Her grandfather!

And it’s pretty damn naive of anyone to think that her childhood abuse didn’t have anything to do with this kid from Kentucky ending up in the San Fernando Valley shooting a live action rape scene.

I’m a big advocate for porn. I like porn and watch it frequently. I think it’s natural and normal.

I’m also a big advocate for women.

The porn industry has always been dominated by men. Controlled by men and made for men.

And that’s just fucking stupid. If the women would band together, this shit would stop happening. We have the pussy! Without the pussy, there’d be no porn! Not straight porn, anyway.

There are enough women in positions of power in the porn industry to start taking a stand and banding together. There are respectable and reputable companies and directors that a handful of the women in the industry are treated well. But those aren’t the folks hanging out at the bus depot waiting for these fresh-faced girls to arrive. And if you think that doesn’t still happen to this very day, you’re insane.

During my brief stint at the erotic museum in LA, I met a few of these women with some power. One was Sharon Mitchell… Dr. Sharon Mitchell, actually. Former porn star, rape victim, and founder of the Adult Industry Medical Associates, the organization that tested adult actors for HIV and STDs. Seriously, a brilliant woman. I met her in 2004 during the height of the HIV scare that shut down the industry for nearly 2 months. This is a strong, intelligent, well-respected woman. There are others… Samantha Lewis, Allison Vivas, Jenna Jameson, and many more.

Yet they do nothing to stop the abhorrent treatment of these young girls. Women should own the porn industry. Or, at least a big chunk of it.

Anyway, back to Cody Lane. What happened? Don’t think I’m not tempted to travel to the jail and ask her myself. I can’t help but think a lot of it has to do with the proliferation of free porn on the internet. You get what you pay for holds true… a good portion of what’s available for free is poorly produced crap and that’s fine for you guys who only need a brief clip to get your rocks off. Who sits through an entire lavishly produced pornographic movie? Nobody. I don’t even know who the market for that type of porn is anymore.

As a woman, I miss it. I actually enjoy some kind of a story line. It helps me fantasize. I liked it when there was at least an attempt to hire men who were not only well endowed, but somewhat attractive, too. The porn you see on YouPorn or RedTube clips are chock full of really misogynistic, unattractive assholes. Personally, I like European porn, mostly French. If the guys are assholes, I can’t tell because I don’t understand them and the sets are all beautiful and the actors are attractive, clean and the women are not all completely surgically enhanced.

What’s going to happen to the American porn industry? It’s like McDonalds… cheap, fast, easily consumed, soon forgotten.

And this is the type of sexuality that our teenage boys are being weened on. It’s not finding Dad’s stash of Playboys and Penthouse magazines and seeing these beautiful airbrushed women with soft lighting and men playing the part of the suave, debonair lover. These kids are seeing crackheads pumped up on Viagra chocking women and slapping them while calling them bitches.

Any man who’s had sex knows this isn’t real. Try that with most women and you’ll end up with (black and) blue balls for the next year. But it’s what young men are starting to expect. Don’t believe me? Check your local Craig’s List casual encounters under men seeking women. Here, let me pull it up now…

• Bored. DTF? Horny? (23)
• Looking for girl who likes it rough (23)
• Nasty NSA Fun (22)
• Bowchickawowwow (18) Seriously.
• Im Horny Fuck Me!!! (20)

And they wonder why they don’t get any replies…

Let’s face it, these guys sexual awakening has been courtesy of free porn on the internet. And these guys are the same ones that are making the sleazy free porn. Anybody can produce porn. Hell, there may even be a little clip or two of me out there on the internet and I’ve certainly never taken any cinematography classes.

Is it any wonder that these young starlets all turn into crackheads and alcoholics? They couldn’t shoot the scenes they do without it. And they have to do it… they either come from truly miserable families, or have been kicked out and can’t go back, they have bills to pay like you and me. They have rent due, need to feed themselves and, trust me, LA is not hurting due to a shortage of waitresses. Most of them are poorly educated and lost. And end up addicts before they even realize it and then they’re too haggard to do anything but scat and piss porn.

I’m not really sure where I’m going with all this. It just makes me sad that in 2012, when women have fought for equal rights for years, there is still this gigantic industry that isn’t going away where women are nothing more than props. I thought, when I worked at the erotic museum, that I could maybe help enact a change of sorts… I had all these big ideas for celebrating women’s sexuality and having lectures and classes and starting a movement to help us all take control of our bodies and be these incredible sexual creatures that were equal to men in every way, shape and form and I left there after six months disillusioned and saddened.

I hope Cody/Carla pulls her life together and finds happiness and peace.

On Trust, Part Two

I’ve posted about trust before… but as I like to do, I’m going to delve in even deeper.

I like to brag about how I give second chances and understand all those gray areas that make people tell lies, etc.

The truth is, now that I think about it on a deeper level, I’m not sure that my trust is ever really fully regained after I’ve been deceived.

I’m thinking about two particular situations. I’ll go into the more boring one first.

It’s a relationship I have with one of my coworkers. This woman and I have had an interesting friendship/working relationship. We are, in most ways, nothing alike. She’s married with a child and she’s one of those women who post on FB all the time about how wonderful her family is and how in love she and her husband are and how everything is perfect.

I know it isn’t. This couple are two of the most financially irresponsible people I know. They’re in their 40s, but they are both children and they have no one to tell them no. So while she’s talking about how happy they are, I know that they are inches from foreclosure at any given moment, they have no savings, a special needs child who they’ve made no future plans for his care after they’re gone.

Also, she absolutely sucks ass at her job. She is the laziest, most entitled person I know. She won’t lift a finger unless she absolutely has to.

Having said that, though, she’s got an incredibly huge heart. She and I are on the bottom rungs of the team we’re on, both making next to nothing. And we forged a friendship out of this. We’re constantly loaning money back and forth… we make a joke that we have about $200 that we just swap. One week, she needs it to pay bills… a couple weeks later it’ll be my turn.

A couple of years ago, we had a falling out at work. It actually had little to do with me… I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got dragged into a situation where it appeared that I complained to our boss about her. In retaliation, she went to my boss and told her every little thing I’d ever said in exasperation, some things that other people said that she attributed to me and, in general, did everything she could to deflect attention off herself and on to me.

It took months before we could even look at each other, much less speak, and even longer before we all patched things up. Now, people at work say we’re like sisters. She apologized for what she did.

Now, though, even two years later, I still don’t trust her one damn bit. When her ass was in the frying pan, she didn’t hesitate for one second to stab me in the back as hard as she could. And I’m positive that if something like that ever came up again, she’d do it again in a second.

So… no… I won’t ever really trust her again. I love her to bits, but I can’t trust her.

The second situation involves a man I met online. We hit it off instantly… instant, amazing spark. White hot. And then, without going into all the sordid details, I found out that he had lied to me about pretty much every damn thing in his life except his name.

This was far bigger than oh, he’s married and said he wasn’t… which is bad enough… this was lie upon lie upon lie. I blogged about the situation in my post On Trust… about how he’d come clean to me and how I understand why he felt he needed to do the things he did.

And, yes, I do understand. And I do forgive. And I do think he’s a good man that got way the fuck in over his head, in real life and online, and his situation spiraled out of control. I do love him.

But… I can’t trust him. Everything he says to me now, I take with a very big grain of salt. We’re not together and we don’t live close, so I’m not in his world to see if he’s being completely open and honest with me. I like to think he is…. but I thought he was before and he wasn’t.

It’s such a shame. We’re still close and we still talk a lot. I still want to know about his life and I want to share what’s going on in mine with him. I don’t know that I can be intimate with him again, though. At this moment, those feelings are dead within me. I don’t want to give that part of myself to him again. He doesn’t deserve it and I can’t get into it unless I believe my partner is in it just as much as I am… and I can’t be sure of that anymore. Such a damn shame.

I think about how I felt about him before all this happened. How I would have felt about him if I’d known the truth of everything up front. It wouldn’t have mattered to me… I was interested in the man, not the other material things. But now… I don’t know if the man I knew is still the man I know.

And, fuck, I hate that. I hate that he did that to me.

Romance in the internet age is a bizarre thing. It’s so, so easy to lie online. And I think that’s part of the reason I keep it so honest. I may hide details of my real life, but I don’t lie. Maybe I think that if I’m brutally honest, it’ll make up for some of the others who lie as easily as they breathe.

I don’t know, and that’s a subject I’ll get around to blogging about one day soon.

But for now, I’m  just thinking about trust and if it can ever truly be regained once it’s lost. I’m not sure it can be. At least, not quickly… maybe not without years and years of working on it.

Which brings me back to my previous post, Sex And The Married Man. If this gentleman cheats on his wife with me, I’ll be playing a role in the destroying of trust. She will find out. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or even five years from now, but someday, she will find out that he cheated on her. Maybe not even with me, but I’ll have been the first one that led him down the path of infidelity. And then these two people, mostly this innocent woman that I don’t even know, will be stuck in a marriage without trust.

I know how it’s hurt me to have my trust broken and it’s never been by someone as close to me as a spouse. I just can’t imagine. I can’t be a part of that. That’s not the kind of person I strive to be in my life. I don’t want to be that person. I won’t be that person.

Because trust, once broken, is hard if not impossible to mend.

Jane, You Stupid Slut

What is a slut?

Really, ladies and gentlemen… I’d like to know. In your minds, what is a slut? Promiscuous? Easy?

This is something I struggle with a lot. I keep my sexuality hidden from those in my real life. And it’s because I don’t want to be labeled a slut.

There is still such a huge double standard when it comes to sex. It’s still perfectly fine for guys to go out and get laid every weekend. Different women every night. Not a problem. Men are genetically predisposed to spread their seed, right?

Well, what about us woman? Is it biological for us, too? Are we programmed to spread out legs and accept the seed to propagate the species? If so, why are we considered sluts when we do what’s natural?

It’s because we’re supposed to be evolved, right? As humans, we’re supposed to have the ability to fight against our instincts? Unless we’re men… If we have a penis, we’re unable to fight those instincts, therefore it’s perfectly alright to fuck around as we wish?

No… see, I don’t buy any of that. The spreading the seed thing.

I believe strongly that our sexual preference is something we’re born with. Gay folks are born that way. It’s not a choice we make. At no point in my life do I recall ever deciding to be heterosexual. I was born straight. Some are born gay. And, yes, I do believe that some are born bi.

Following that belief, the seed spreading theory doesn’t hold water with me. Because homosexuals don’t feel that need to mate in order to create a child. That doesn’t mean that they don’t feel the need to parent or raise a child. Or, maybe, they do feel that need to procreate but it’s not necessarily tied in to sex or sexual desires.

So… where does this slut thing come from? History? I’m not going to delve into the history of gender and gender roles. Do your own research on that. I want to talk about gender roles in today’s world.

We’re supposed to be equal, right? Women have been fighting for years to be recognized as gender equals. We can work the same jobs, get paid the same (HA!), vote, drink, drive, wear pants, etc., etc., etc.

What we can’t do is have sex solely for pleasure with partners that we don’t have any intention of forming a lasting relationship with. Men can, and do.

Women do, and they’re sluts.

Why haven’t we women fought for THOSE equal rights? Who and where is this coming from, this huge inequality? Men?

Nope, I don’t think so. Ladies, this is all on us. We’re the ones that point fingers and call each other sluts. We’re the ones holding ourselves down. Holding ME down. Keeping me from proudly displaying my sexuality for all to see.

Women have been so sexually repressed for so long that, it seems, we’re still not ready to embrace it. And when a woman does break free and realize that sex is enormous fun and doesn’t have to be about making babies, other women are very, very quick to gang up on her and slap the big SLUT label on her. And men will go right along with it because they want to stick their penises in vaginas and those vaginas will be sealed closed if men were to respect and accept those few sexually open women as equals.

I belong to Generation X. We came after the baby boomers… those lucky folks who got to drop acid and do the whole free love thing back in the 60s. It was perfectly fine to be a wild child, as long as you got it out of your system and married and made the babies and lived a perfectly respectable life. They got to have it both ways. Children in the 50s, in the days of Ozzie and Harriett, teens and young adults in the 60s and 70s when everything was groovy. Then they made their money in the Me Decade and settled into mediocrity and middle age in the 90s.

My generation missed those fun years and went to straight to the AIDs epidemic when we were teenagers. It was all about keeping your pants on unless you wanted to die a horrific death. Came out of that into the 90s… it was about, to me, acceptance and political correctness. I really don’t know if the 90s have been defined yet, but I recall them being about everything being extremely PC and no one having very much fun. Certainly no sexual revolution. It was all about playing it safe. Being safe, speaking safe, acting safe. Safe, safe, safe.

Don’t say anything to offend anyone, don’t do anything to offend anyone. We became a generation of liars for the sake of propriety. In some ways, it was very, very good. While there is still WAY too much bigotry and homophobia, I think that most sane intelligent people have banished those differences. We don’t automatically see color and we don’t really give a damn about someone’s sexual orientation unless we want to bang them. We learned a lot about how we’re basically all just humans trying to make a life on this planet.

Except that sexually open women are still labeled. And by each other. This needs to stop. We women are never going to truly be “equal” to men until we can accept that sex is natural, and good, and that nature has given us a clitoris, which is in no way tied to our reproductive organs.
The clit exists for pleasure, and only pleasure. It’s to make sex feel good. And that is nothing shameful. And it doesn’t have to be tied to a relationship built on marriage and making babies.

And a woman who is aware of this is not a slut. She’s a human being, equal in every way to men. Sex is about pleasure. Yes, a baby might be created during sex, but it might not. Sex has never been a guarantee that a child will be the result.

It’s time to realize and accept that sex is more than penile-vaginal intercourse. We use our entire bodies when having sex. We can orgasm from a variety of different types of stimuli. And orgasms aren’t required to make babies. An orgasm is for pleasure. Sex is for pleasure.

Stop shaming women who desire that pleasure without the constraints of a relationship. Just stop.