To make up for my shamefully slow return to regular posting after getting kicked off of Blogger last Fall and moving to being hosted by Tasty Trixie, I am returning with a series of picture posts to celebrate getting back in the pornographic groove. What better way to celebrate than an adventure with anal beads? The pictures this week are just an introduction to my new toy from Babeland. Come back next Sunday morning to see what I did with them next.
I can’t believe it’s been a month, and I’m still not settled in here, ready to get back to posting every Sunday morning. What can I say? The move from Blogger to Wordpress (hosted by the lovely, generous, hot and smart Trixie) was not by choice. Blogger shut me down. Why? — I’m not exactly sure. Their current content policy reads, “Do not use Blogger as a way to make money on adult content. For example, don’t create blogs where a significant percentage of the content is ads or links to commercial porn sites.” I think they may have changed their content policy a bit from when I started blogging, and I think my blog got locked for having what was arguably a lot of affiliate links for porn sites. But I don’t think I had that many. And even more important, I like my porn links, artistically and politically — if you read my “About me” post, you know that making a few bucks off of my naked pictures is part of my schtick. (Note: if you haven’t read it, I could hardly blame you — both (!) of the links to “About” right now point to Wordpress’s example of an “About” page.)
Anyways, I had to scramble to figure out moving. Except then, as important as Feminist Pornographer is to me, I realized I just didn’t have the time and energy to scramble. Blogging with my affiliate links is not anything close to being a regular income — I have a serious professional day job, completely unrelated to anything sexy, unfortunately. Which is one of the reasons I’m teed off at Blogger for shutting me down — I think I am in line with their policy. But I gather, from other’s discussions of Blogger, that perfectly innocent blogs get shut down there, due to the imperfections of Blogger’s automated anti-spam measures, and that prompts a lot of moves from Blogger to Wordpress. Plus, I’d like to get more serious with Feminist Pornographer, so here I am, hopefully free to do what I want.
Well, I have made some progress on moving, though, no? All my blogger posts are up. Except, I thought I moved my pictures over, too, but I just now saw that they are no longer up. So, ugh, I have to go figure that problem out … moving is a pain in the ass. Hopefully, I’ll get the pictures back up and you can admire C giving me some real ass pain here and here. In the meantime, I think it’ll be another month before I get things running smoothly here and start blogging regularly again.
feministpornographer.com is currently migrating to a new host. But in the meantime, I have a new folio out at ishotmyself.com — see below for details.
Check back soon for more pictures, erotic stories, and essays. And head on over to ishotmyself.com to check out my new collection of nude pictures, called “Du_Jour” by “Philomena.” Here’s an unpublished sample — not included in the final folio because it shows no exciting naughty bits — the ones at ishotmyself.com are much much more revealing 
… Click the link for %10 off a membership
You may also want to check out this cool blog by one of my favorite feminist pornographers: tastytrixie.com
www.feministpornographer.com is currently migrating to a new host. Check back soon for more pictures, erotic stories, and essays. And in the meantime, check out this cool blog by one of my favorite feminist pornographers: www.tastytrixie.com
I was paid a lovely tribute on this blog. Here are a couple still shots from Parachute999’s compliment:
But really, you should go watch the video (!).
I really enjoy his description of his cumming-on-pictures videos as “tributes.” I find it clever and totally hot – the renaming of something that some would call degrading. Debase, objectify and worship me – yes!
Picture from spermcocktail.com
Background: I have a story to tell. It’s a story about body image, porn, sexuality and relationships. Its main characters are myself; my aunt; the internet; its technological cohorts; and D, J, and M – three men I have, for lack of a better term, dated – in that order. Stories told in chronological order are nice, but I don’t want to tell this story starting from the beginning and proceeding to the present. I need to tell it in bits and pieces, not necessarily in order, with breaks in-between for essays on related topics that aren’t at the heart of my (our?) story, yet are topics that also compel me to write. Hopefully, the collection of these vignettes about my lovers, cybersex/porn and the deceased aunt I miss – hopefully, they will form some sort of coherent whole.
When he called and told me I had an hour to get over to his condo, I thought we would be alone. But there were two other guys in the living room. One kicked back on the couch drinking a beer. The other looked slightly bored while flipping through some porn on M’s computer.
M told me to take my overnight bag upstairs to the bedroom, and then come back downstairs for a drink. His voice and his body language was upbeat, warm, just like I’d remembered. And he flashed me one of his easy smiles. That smile had made me feel giddy yet calm the few times I’d seen M in person. But it wasn’t quite working this time. I felt really nervous and a little upset while walking upstairs. The first time he agrees to see me in 4 months, and there’s two guys I’d never met! And that one of the guys was looking at porn—that added to my nerves. Porn makes me feel uncomfortable, prudish, jealous and inadequate as often as it turns me on. My lingering worries about whether M would ever be pleased with me as a submissive—whether I could please him as much as the porn models do, despite my refusal to get any implants, despite my problem with being, as he put it, rude—those worries had also set me on edge about this visit.
All this was bad enough, but joining them for a drink? I thought I had told M that I don’t drink. Didn’t he remember? Would he try to make me drink with them? There were so many things I had either resisted or outright refused to do for him—would he put up with another boundary? Would I put up with it, if I felt like he was pushing another boundary? And drinking was yet another issue I felt self-conscious but adamant about, just like I felt about breast implants. I’m really not interested in drinking, but when I find myself in social situations involving alcohol, it can be a bit awkward to be the 32-year-old who has never had even a beer or a sip of wine. I sometimes feel like a child among adults.
I tip-toed back downstairs and poked my head around the corner of the stairs. M was sitting on the bottom steps, saying something about how “they’ve both been hard to train. Sometimes I want to slap them silly, they frustrate me so much.”
M looked up at me, smiling warmly again, “Go sit on the couch next to Jeff.”
I glanced up at Jeff and then the guy at the computer as I sidled past M and across the living room. The guy at the computer was looking me up and down with the same bored facial expression he’d been giving the images on the screen.
As soon as I sat down, M piped up again, a little smirk in place of his warm smile, “What would you like to drink, Marilyn?”
I flushed bright red and stammered, “Um, I don’t drink. Could I just have some water?”
M chuckled a bit, “You can have some water, but I think you need to drink something more substantial, too. Something that will relax you. Something that will make you feel good.” Jeff and the guy at the computer smiled, too, wolfish little grins that simultaneously scared me and made my pussy tingle.
M got up and went to the small kitchen off of the living room. After I declined his offer of ice, we watched him run a glass of tap water, get an empty wine glass out of the cupboard, and then two opaque bottles out of the fridge.
He sat the four items down on the coffee table in front of me. It occurred to me then that the table looked really clean, and before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Hey, the coffee table is all clear. It was really messy the last time I was here.” I meant to sound sweet and impressed because I was—I didn’t keep my house so clean. But M shot me a look.
Jeff spoke up, “Dude, cut her some slack. She’s right, and it’s not like you’ve been cleaning up around here. You’re letting Amy do that, aren’t ya?”
Amy? Who’s Amy? The other sub he’d been seeing?
“That’s not the point. Marilyn has a real problem with being rude, and I’m not letting it slide.” He looked straight at me, stern but forgiving, “You’ll make up for that smart-alec remark later. But right now, we’re going to give you a treat and show off some of your new skills to my friends.” He paused, “You’re a smart sub, Marilyn. What’s in the bottles? It’s not alcohol.”
I knew now what he’d served me. I’d been so resistant to the idea when he first asked me. I thought it was totally disgusting. I said as much when I said I would never do it. That was my first rude comment back in the beginning, back when M really liked me and hadn’t decided I was rude and took too long to cum. But the idea started to intrigue me, and soon, I was back-pedaling on my “never.” Fuck, soon I was masturbating to the idea. No wonder he pushed my boundaries—I wasn’t very consistent about this one.
I thought about all this as I replied, “Cum?”
“Yup, good girl…smart little sub…smart-alec little sub. The grey bottle is the cum from when Amy jerks me off. Do you want to try some of that first?”
I nodded slowly. I was excited, but I was also jealous that this Amy had gotten to jerk him off enough times to fill up a whole bottle with his cum, while I had only gotten to suck his cock and fuck him once. And I was still nervous. The idea of drinking his cum out of a glass had become a hot fantasy, but what if the reality was more like my initial gut reaction: totally gross?
“Pour yourself half a glass.”
I uncapped the bottle and poured some, thick and viscous, into the wine glass. I’d never drunk any actual wine out of a wine glass, but I was about to drink cold sperm out of one. Was I a childish abstainer or just a hardcore sex fiend at heart, preferring perverted adult pleasures like cum shots over standard adult pleasures like fine wines?
I glanced up at the guy at the computer. He looked interested in me now … he’d unzipped his pants and was stroking himself. The sight of his rock hard cock—that made me feel the calm that M’s smile normally made me feel. I knew M would like it that I was turning on his friend. I knew then that M would be rock hard, too, and that Jeff was probably hard as well. That was a good thing—M always said that hard-ons are a submissive’s only responsibility.
“Marilyn, you’re going to drink my cum in 8 sips. The last one might be more of a big swig than a sip,” he smiled. Then he added, “Every time you swallow, you’re going to come.”
I nodded slowly again, “Yes, sir. But…?” I hesitated, torn between the risk and the rew
ard of what I was about to do.
“Oh, I know what you’re wondering you little worrywart. I was tested 3 weeks ago, and Amy was tested last week. My friends may want to add a shot to your glass, so I made them go see the doctor, too. We are all clear. This is as risk-free as you’re going to get without sticking to a safe little latexed and monogamous sex life, Marilyn. Are you prepared to risk it?”
I was. I lifted the glass and smelled it. God, it smelled good. M’s cum. How I had longed for months to taste it.
First sip … it was thick and salty in my mouth, still cold from the fridge. That was oddly refreshing. Cum was normally warm when I tasted it. It wasn’t gross at all like I’d feared—I savored the salty flavor.
The guy at the computer stroked himself harder, marveling, “She likes it. No wonder you keep the little bitch around, M. That ain’t an easy thing to find, a chick who digs cum like that.”
And then I swallowed. The orgasm overtook me. It was small but immediate. I cooed and shivered slightly.
“Good girl. Very good girl. Next orgasm will be harder.”
Second sip … I noticed a subtle flavor I hadn’t detected in the first sip. A tang you don’t appreciate when going through the motions of swallowing after a standard blow job. God, I know I sound a bit like some of those pretentious wine buffs that bore me and make me feel dumb at parties, but what can I say? I was developing my palate for cum. M was turning me into a cum connoisseur.
I swallowed again. The second orgasm went through my body in strong waves. I moaned. I felt light-headed.
Third, fourth and fifth sips went by in a blur of orgasmic contractions. I was no longer savoring the flavor as much as I was enjoying feeling intoxicated … drunk on M’s cum and the multiple orgasms he could force out of me by mere suggestion.
Before my sixth …well, I was swigging the stuff more than sipping it by that point, so before my sixth swig, the guy at the computer couldn’t control himself anymore. “Girlie, you’ve got another shot you’re gonna have to do. Bring that wine glass over here and finish me off.” I jerked him off into the cup, which was really exciting but I wondered when I’d get to stroke M’s cock.
Picture from spermcocktail.com
The nameless guy came, grunting and snorting a bit as his warm cum dripped into M’s cold cum, and then he watched me intently. M sure was succeeding at turning me into quite the slut, jerking off some guy whose name I didn’t even know. But I felt like I had gained some upper hand over anonymous guy, or maybe the intoxicated feeling made me cocky. At any rate, I had his full attention, and it seemed appropriate to milk it. I took my finger and stirred his cum into M’s. Slowly. Deliberately. And then, just as slowly and deliberately, I licked my finger. Oh, but being so cocky about it was foolish. I was so focused on trying to impress him that I forgot to set the glass down before I swallowed. As soon as I swallowed, I came hard, harder than before because the mix of two guy’s ejaculate was even more powerful. I almost dropped the glass as I writhed around, shaking all over my body. After I was done cumming, M took the glass from me and pointed out some of their cum spilt on the carpet.
“You’re not going to let that go to waste, are you?”
God, I was out of control. I dropped to my elbows and knees and licked their cum off the floor, doubling over with lengthy orgasmic contractions spreading out from my pussy to the tips of my toes and up to my face.
M pulled me up onto his lap, stroking my hair and squeezing one of my tits as he told me how good I was doing, showing off my talents and his training to his friends, how orgasmic I had become from months of practice at his orders, showing him how devoted I was to pleasing him by developing a hunger for cum.
“You’ve got one more sip left. Can you handle it?”
“Yes, I can.”
“Tonight’s been a big night for you so far. We’ll give you a break after this, but we’re not done yet, ok? We’ve got another bottle filled with something extra special, and you still need to make up for that rude comment.”
“OK. I’ll do my best.”
“Good girl. Your dedication is why I’ve kept you around. You always show improvement. That pleases me.”
He held the glass up to my mouth, and I slurped up the remaining cum. His pep talk and lecture had brought me back down to earth a bit, enough for me to enjoy the taste again. Tangy. Salty. M’s cum with a hint of the anonymous guy’s mixed in.
I swallowed, and it seemed like the cumming went on forever. I was wrapped up in M’s lap. He continued to squeeze my tit, making my nipple get hard before squeezing the other. As the orgasm died off, I still felt the pleasure in my nipples as he played with my tits, and my pussy kept on throbbing as I went limp in his arms.
“Good girl. We’ll let you take a break. Go sit back on the couch.”
The anonymous guy stood up, shaking hands and thanking M, saying how he wished he could get Becky to drink his cum like that and he wished he could stay to watch me drink the second bottle. I guess whatever was next, it would just be with M and Jeff…
