I am shooting some more photos today, especially for my heel lovers and my ass worshippers. My ass is gathering quite a following. It's pretty interesting.

I have gotten compliments on my ass since I hit puberty. It's strange--it's never seemed like a particularly special ass to me, but it makes friends very easily. It's a very amiable ass.

I guess it's notable for it's size--small I am not in the ass and tits departments. Thighs. Little potbelly. The whole roasted chicken, as they say. But my butt has really gotten more than it's fair share of compliments.

My legs I understand (even if that's egotistical to say, I would be a liar otherwise). But my ass?

Whatever. All parts need/deserve/desire worship and adulation, delived through word, deed, whatever. If my ass deserves the praise and dollars thrown at it (not to mention cum-spatter and attentive tongues) so be it.

Adventures With Little Dick

Last night I got a call from a customer that has contacted me via e-mail before. I didn't know if he was a bluffer--he professed to be a femme, but I didn't know if he was just a mailer. Fetishes come in all stripes.

So get this--the guy called, and he'd been running around in his house all girled up for HOURS. I could hardly keep myself from laughing--I told him to go and dance on the tile in his heels, and HE DID. Swishing his ponytail around. He trotted around--clickey clack clickety clack--it was ABSURD. And then he tells me all about his adventures with his tiny cock--the highlight was him hiring an escort in Boston. She took one look at his teeny weenie and made him drop another HUNDRED because of his little man-clam. He's a dribbler, to boot, so he ended up basically dry humping her thighs and drooling juice out of his little cocklet for 500 BUCKS--Please tell me someone understands why I laughed so hard my face hurt by the time I got off the phone with this girl--Marie, my little porker bitch! She put her little pig-tail dildo in for me and called herself Miss Piggy--the image of him squeezing that little pecker (he can't stroke it...even his Doctor noticed how small he is) makes me LAUGH MY ASS OFF! Jesus, my ribs hurt--I want to feel bad, but I can't! The second time he came I made him bark like a dog the whole time...Classic. Just fucking classic.

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Outside, Inside

I definately think that yahoo is the worst of the 3 available options for instant messaging. MSN seems to work really well, but I hate the interface; Eyeball is obscure and most folks don't have it (not that I talk on IM alot, any wa). But yahoo does this freezing thing...sooo not good to be in the middle of a fairly intense conversation and not be able to read what the other person's response is. It's like those television commercials about the "long pauser" with dropped calls. Did I say something wrong? Are you there? Is yahoo from the devil?

In other news its gorgeous outside. Yet another one of those days I wished desperately I could sit outside and take calls, because it is just too beautiful to be holed up anywhere. But that's not the design of life, it looks like, so I'll keep adjusting my mic and looking yearningly towards the windows.

BUT--I got my glass dildo! It's called the "Aphrodite" and despite several obvious flaws (it's not really quite big enough for me) it is hands-down the cutest thing...It has a read heart painted on the bulb. So my ass will have a nice little heart popping out of my assgasming pooper. I have such a way with words. I bought it at GV, but I am a little dissapointed with their methods; they didn't tell me they were re-stocking the Aphrodite until after I'd paid for it, in the "shipping date" part of the set up. So I'm guessing it will be here soon, but between that and the other problems I may have just gotten my heart set on a more accessable dildo.

Oh well. I have never said I was practical, and I'm definately looking forward to making friends with my beautiful little Aphrodite.

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I have a couple of men that love feet who will occasionally give me a call. We have a fantastic time together--being the texture hungry animal that I am, I love the idea of rubbing my stocking feet gently across a twitching cock, or having my toes sucked while I get fucked. I love the rarity of that appeal, and the fever pitch it gets to...It amazes me more women don't actively seek men that love feet. Free foot massages, guaranteed sensualists...I told one of my callers about the boyfriend I had who loved feet--I would get out of the bathtub, soaking wet, and walk through the house. Leaving little foot prints everywhere.

That's just mean, he said. But he appreciated it enough to keep stroking his cock, as I elaborated what would happen if those little footprints were found.

I like men with fetishes. They are usually creative, articulate, sensitive, intuitive, self-aware...and shy. It's the shy that gets me. A man who knows what he wants but has to the have invitation of a willing audience really makes me melt. I, of course, am aggressive, so any opportunity to get someone out of thier shell--or pants--is never lost on me. And with shy men, especially...if they desire you, it's usually intense and powerful.

Not that I turn down aggressive men...;) But I appreciate the attention of someone who really reserves it for a woman they think is worth it.

I missed one of my regular callers again. He usually calls on Sunday nights, and I know he's a busy guy. But I like our little head trips--he's fascinated with my mouth and I love torturing him about it. He's also got that whole Rich and Powerful thing going on that makes me want to act even more like a little brat than I normally would.

It's funny--callers want to know what I look like, and I always want to say, "Have you seen my pictures?" I promise, they speak a 1000 words--that's a lot that I don't have to say. I don't know if I'm quite comfortable yet saying something like, look, trust me--if you saw me in person, your dick would get hard. But I think for a lot of callers (not all, by a long shot...there I go again...) that's probably true. Not that I'm necessarily the most beautiful woman on the planet, just that I think they would be able to see how sexual I am. How much I enjoy being watched, admired, desired. How I get off on teasing. That's what I want to say when they ask...but instead, I say: "5'7, long legs, big tits...long dark hair, big brown eyes." All of which is true. But none of which paints a picture.

That's a difficult thing to convey--the origin of desire is largely being desired. Nothing gets my pussy wet like hearing your breath quicken, especially if I know the caller well enough to really get in to it with them...to cum over and over. I have a few regulars that when they call I already know that they are going to make me cum, several times. That makes my nipples hard, puts my hands on the insides of my thighs, makes me impatient to get to that place with them.

Some people think I am beautiful or pretty. But most people connect me with sex, and once they do--once they verbalize it, or their eyes give it away--the game is on.

Good Morning

I'm not a morning person--I won't lie. But I had a show scheduled for this morning (schedule isn't quite the right word...suggested? Arranged? Hoped for?) and it ended up being a totally awesome experience. The downside came down to my toys--I need some new ones, and fast! We got busy with a cucumber, but it was a good 4 inches in the middle and I just couldn't get the hump in to my ass. I need a nice, long, glass dildo, 2-2.5 inches in diameter, and that would make every show an eventful one. I have been wanting a glass dildo for about a year now, and I think the time has come. They're pretty expensive but I think my asshole has earned the right to be treated like a princess once in a while ...

In other news, I saw 28 Weeks Later and both loved and hated it...love the scary movie parts, hate the wierd disintegration of chronology and sensical storytelling about 2/3 of the way through. I still think Danny Boyle is a genius though.

The zombie genre has become really popular in the last couple of years...I suspect it has something to do with a backlash to the simaltaneous rise of corporate culture (american idol, pimp my whatever, etc.). I'm not a social scientist though, just a phone sex operator, so I'll never collect enough data to understand why. But I like zombie movies the best--they can always be counted on for some interesting social commentary...unlike, say, vampire movies, which are usually just erotic spectacles, and those can be hot, but I like to think :). The first 28 Days Later was pretty remarkable for lots of reasons, none of which I'll go in to here...but the sequel is a pretty heavy-handed parable about Iraq. The Green Zone, the inability to tell the infected from the civilians...it's ok. Not a bad sequel, just not quite as good as the first.

Maybe, to compensate, I'll watch Trainspotting again or something. Nah...maybe I'll find some soft-core porn and call it a day :)

Once upon a time, two or three (?) years ago, I was a part-time camgirl for one of the largest camming sites on the wide world of the internets. I had no real prior experience with computers, or webcams, or even, really, the adult industry; I was a student with another job and a lot of bills. I was also myself: sexual, niavely honest, seeking same. I believed my customers when they told me I they really wanted me to be happy and that we were friends. I developed several long term friendships (with a financially beneficial aspect for me, true, which has developed into one my personal kinks) on the site with several men.

One of them persuaded me to call him off-site. Like I said, I was trusting, and we had a good time together. He was a very powerful man, in his part of the country, and had a great sense of humor and a keen mind. I said okay. Specifically, it was St. Patty's Day, and he wanted to sing me an Irish song.

Long story short, he was crazy. Very crazy, and very cruel because he was crazy, and more powerful than me. So please--I know how well we get along, and I do really like you, and I know how good you make me feel (phsically, and mentally). But remember this story before you ask me to call you, ok?

It's hard--I have a boyfriend (kinda--he calls me his girlfriend...and we love each other very, very much) but I am not a monogamous kind of gal. I like fucking and being freaky and free. All that hippie stuff, I guess. I'm not so good with boundaries all the time, but no, I will not call you. It scares me to death. On the other hand--if you ever, ever need to get in touch with me? It's guaranteed you can.

Remix

I was planning on camming today--I think I've already detailed how much I love it. Such a spoiled little slut. But I think I'm going to by-pass it because of how crazy the site has been the past week and a half. It's a pity, but it would be just my luck to have someone call the wrong line or have us get cut off or who knows what all.

In more positive news: I found one of my favorite little outfits, a purple velvet stretch thong with black inlay, matching top. The top has halter ties. It's comfortable and cute.

One thing I definately love about camming is dressing up: heels, stockings, the whole bit. I found one of my favorite red garter belts the other day but all the hooks are broken...guess I got a little too excited the last time I wore it...lol ;) The flip side of that is the up-keep! Wow...I have got to start putting aside some money to get my shtuff waxed, because it is really work to shave all those little crevices and corners every day (not to mention razor burn...yikes...and I do get it badly. Sensitive skin and all that.), plus eyebrows and make-up. If you know me, you know how lazy I am. All of my callers get to listen to me explain which ridiculous tv show or horrible horror movie I am watching when they call, naked under the sheets. Ah, a low maintenance life of modest luxury is for me.

Blue skies go a long way, and here in the NW that is sometimes asking too much...so then I settle for mulitple orgasms and a bad movie ;)

I think yesterday I had a record number of orgasms. Which is saying something. I also got to talk to this a guy that has come to terms with his sexuality, a topic of converstaion I could yammer on about all night. I am bisexual--the "good" kind, as my friend used to say, because I debunked the theory of bisexual women as duplicitous vampires...although I do nibble, and I have been known to tell white lies. If it comes at the expense of feelings, sometimes the truth is negotiable, and sometimes its not. I think being able to tell when is the right time to negotiate the truth is an art that comes with maturity. But I digress--as a young woman looking to fuck and fall in love with other women, I didn't worry about that stuff. I just chased long legs. All kinds of trouble, all kinds--so I have been on hiatus for a while. But it's always interesting to go back to that time and think about the winding path my hormones have taken me on.

One of my most vivid memories is of the first time I kissed a girl. I was terrified. So many rules broken at once, and because I was so young I didn't really know much about sex to begin with. It was so soft--I distinctly remember how different it felt from kissing men or boys. She was so, so soft. It made everything seem fragile, and more precious.

I am a bonified anal queen; I love anal sex, love ass play, ass worship, dirty talk, butt fucking, the whole bit. A minor trajedy in my life right now is that most of my toys are either packed up in storage 3000 miles away or broken and in the trash. Sadness. I have a very pretty little purple butt plug, but it's not the variety I'm used to.

But damn I love that little purple butt plug. It's mobile--can go on trains, planes and automobiles; it's cute (purple, did I say that already? It's purple); and it's slim enough so I can keep it in for extended periods of time. Like, say, when I'm talking on the phone for an hour or so. Or in line at the grocery store ;)

Love it. I want about five in different colors to match my lingerie sets.

I have a listing that is specifically for anal sex. I'll talk about all kinds of things on it, obviously, but what I love is a raunchy long talk, a nice scenario, with an enthusiastic butt fucker. I pull out my butt plug, work it in, and cum as much as I can. I love my job.

Le Cam and Other Notes

I had so much trouble deciding what to do about rates. I finally decided to raise them--but I raised them too high, and in conjunction with all the problems NF was having. It turned out to be a bad decision. Two of my regulars buoyed me through, but now my rates are down again to almost what they were. I'm sad, because I know it alienated more of m customers than I wanted it to. But I figure it also trimmed out some of the guys who were just in to messing with new girls (we're more susceptible to do illegal stuff, like age play or whatever).

Such is life. Fortunately, I do have a couple of guys that will call me regardless. It's strange--I'm in a loving relationship, IRL, but I adore my regulars. They are some of my favorite people, and cumming with them/watching them/whatever really makes my day better. Slut at heart, I guess ;)

Anyway, this month is going to be much harder, but I think I've settled on a reasonable rate and I'm going to keep having my .99 Saturdays. Should keep the fun coming!

Other than that minor catastrophe--Verizon and Remax are so unsympathetic--it has been a good weekend. One of my adored bought a webcam and I swear to god, it's making my pussy wet just thinking about it. So fucking hot.

I got the cam up and running, and plan on camming consistently for a while. A new customer told me all about how much cum he gushed looking at my pink pussy, and that was delicious. I love camming, as long as the cammee loves me!

I heard something recently about taking a "complaining fast," from an on-line acquaintance. I dread to mention it, but I think she heard about it on Oprah. I don't even own a tv, let alone get down with televangelism...I think she's a nice lady and all, but the reverence she garners freaks me out. Anyway, I was doubly freaked out when the idea of taking a fast from complaining really appealed to me.

I'm not usually a woman of extremes; I find them to be typically less useful than a careful and deliberate exploration of whatever might be in between the extremes. So going cold-turkey on bitching seems like it might be out of my league. But it could be so useful! It could really get me out of this slump I've had the last two days with work, for example. :p

It's an interesting notion. Maybe I'll just try to pay attention to how much complaining I do, and start thinking about whether what's coming out of my mouth is really what's coming out of my head.

Hello All...

I'm probably just going to cross post between my blog here and the one in my xpeeps profile. :)