Tag: F

Bad Boyfriend! No!

This @redditships thread about a guy who sneakily drank the pee from his girlfriends pregnancy test is really quite something. Even speaking as a fan of watersports, I think that’s a definite yikes. Most of the comments seem to be fixed on the idea of it being a kink, but I’m not so sure. I think for most kinky people into piss play it’s the dynamic and the act that matter, not the liquid in isolation. So while it’s possible he’s acting out some deep seated kink in the worst way possible, maybe he just read and believed something stupid on the internet about how to test for pregnancy via pee tasting.

I believe I originally sourced this image from the twitter feed of Lady Mephista.

Hustle

One thing I’ve come to respect and admire in sex workers is their ability to hustle. I use that word in the most positive sense. Our legal, economic and political systems are slanted against them, but they constantly keep moving, looking for new ways to work around the system and run a profitable business. As someone with pretty much zero hustle, it’s something I greatly admire.

I’ve therefore been surprised by what seems (to me) like a missed opportunity with face masks. With everyone at home and not doing sessions, why hasn’t the market being flooded with used items of clothing being turned into face masks? After all, this is a group of people who have sold used panties, smelly socks, toenail clippings, bathwater and even their own poop. With the right panties you could probably make a pretty effective mask that wouldn’t immediately scream “I’m a colossal pervert” to everyone who saw it. Or just stitch something used and scented into the interior of an existing mask and sell that.

So far I’ve only come across only two examples in this niche. Servitor sent me a link to this tweet, which features an offer by Miss Paris to turn smell socks into a mask. The other example isn’t even a sex worker – it’s from NYC artist Hannah Bates – whose selling $950 masks made from her used panties.  The masks are priced at the average cost of an abortion, a procedure that GOP lawmakers use any excuse to try and limit, including the current pandemic.

Have I missed anyone else exploiting this niche? Used clothing, subtle exhibitionism and the risk of public humiliation aren’t my kinks, so I ask this purely on behalf of my readers.

The image is one of the non CDC certified masks from Hannah Bates. This might get you a few funny looks in the grocery store. If you’d like to buy it or any of Hannah’s other masks, the information on them is here.

Fundom Mask

If yesterday’s fetishistic latex mask wasn’t quite your thing, maybe I can direct your attention towards this rather more playful take on a kinky mask. It’s by Pen & Ink and is available to buy here. I like the design, but think it might be somewhat counter-productive. At this time you want people to stay away from you, and I think this’d just encourage people to get closer to check out the amusing mask.

You can find more kinky arts and crafts from the same creator here.

Masks

It’s funny how fast social conventions can change when they’re pushed hard. When I first started seeing people wearing masks in response to the coronavirus I thought they were being excessively cautious. Now when I see someone without one in a grocery store or busy urban space I think they’re being a selfish asshole and trying to kill me. It makes me think of the George Carlin quote about driving “Have you ever noticed that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone going faster than you is a maniac?”

Incredibly the US has somehow managed to suck masks into their endless culture wars. You’d think reducing the risk of death via a horrible virus would be relatively non-controversial, but apparently not. If only everyone looked as good in a mask as Mistress Alice does then I’m guessing it’d be a different story. This particular mask is a latex one from Rubber Dutch.

You can see more images from this shoot in this tweet.  Details of other Rubber Dutch products are available on their website. Mistress Alice’s professional site is here.

Dreams

I’ve reached that stage of kinky deprivation and social isolation that my dreams are starting to get strange. I’m probably just a few weeks away from storing my urine in jars and replacing my shoes with tissue paper boxes.

Last nights dream was particularly special. I’d rented a big holiday home for my friends and extended family. In reality the idea of holidaying with my extended family would be insane, but that’s dreams for you. Everyone had gone on a daytrip, and I’d used the opportunity to hook up with a local domme at the house. It wasn’t any specific domme I know, just a generally hot, fun and kinky person my crazy brain dreamed up and put a big ‘domme’ label on. Our shared energy was great and my anticipation was almost unbearable.

She’d pulled on a strap-on harness over her regular clothes, attached an enormous white dong and then headed downstairs to get a drink of water. Pegging is thirsty work. I was running around getting towels and lube, when my cousin walked past the bedroom door. With a horrible sinking feeling I realized my family had all returned ahead of time. I rushed downstairs to find my parents talking to the domme in the kitchen. They were having one of those happy, chatty ‘It’s lovely to meet you, heard so much about you….’ type conversations, while the domme is standing there with an enormous white dong bobbing on her crotch. Everyone is being very polite and very British, while desperately trying not to look at it. Then I woke up.

The funny thing was that my waking emotion wasn’t embarrassment or frustration. It was anger. I was incredibly pissed about everyone coming back early and ruining my scene.  Those inconsiderate bastards. It took me a couple of minutes to center myself and realize the whole thing was just my brain screwing with me.

This isn’t quite the dong in question – the dream one was  a lot bigger and more obvious – but the general outfit and attitude lines up. This is of course the great Nina Hartley shooting for the crashpad series.

Contact

This week gave me my first physical contact with another human being in almost three months. On the plus side, it was with a woman, unusual outfits were involved and she hurt me. On the downside, it was with my dental hygienist and getting my teeth scraped wasn’t exactly the kind of physical contact I was craving.

It also wasn’t the kind of in-person conversation I was looking forward to after many months of isolation. She wanted to know how my quarantine had been. I wanted to know why she was asking me questions while she had her fingers in my mouth and was repeatedly jabbing me with a metal spiky thing.

If you have a fetish people dressed like extras from the movie Outbreak, then I suspect the next few months are going to be quite fun for you. It really felt like I was potential Ebola patient, rather than someone who might have occasionally exaggerated his flossing habits. Personally I’m more old school when it comes to medical outfits.

This is of course Daryl Hannah as Elle Driver in Kill Bill.

Mood Killer

A week or so ago I wrote a couple of posts on happy memories of dialog and sound effects from past sessions. I thought it’d be interesting to follow those up with a verbal interaction that didn’t go so well. This example is from a few years back. It’s rare that I have a bad memory of a session but this particular moment has stuck in my mind, partly because it seems so trivial. Odd for a small thing to make such a big difference to a dynamic.

It was my first session with this particular domme and part of it involved a whipping scene. I’m generally not a fan of doing whipping with someone I don’t know well, as the intensity levels can vary dramatically and it requires a certain amount of trust to relax into the headspace. However, I am a fan of being flexible and open to how a domme wants to compose a session, and so as long as it’s not a hard limit, I tend to go with the flow.

She had me tied facing a wall and the warm up period was relatively short. That already meant we had two strikes working against us. Not being able to see a domme, particularly when I’m playing with someone I don’t know well, always makes a scene harder. The pain becomes disconnected from the dynamic and simply becomes something to tolerate, rather than being channeled through my desire.

It wasn’t the most intense whipping I ever received, but it certainly wasn’t light. By the time we’d finished I was feeling pretty proud of myself for taking it all. At which point the domme said “Hmmm. Not bad I suppose. For a first attempt.”

That comment totally drained the energy out of the scene for me. Maybe it was intended as a combination of compliment and encouragement, but it had the opposite result. I felt like the scene had been set-up for failure, I’d powered through to make it work, and yet couldn’t even get a ‘Good Boy’ out of her. We didn’t play together again.

As I said at the start, it was a trivial thing. I’m sure the domme didn’t think anything of it. Yet for me, with the endorphins churning in the heightened emotions of subspace, it was a mood killer that I remember years later.

This is very much not the domme in question. Both her whip and her smile are a lot bigger than in my scene. I believe this is Mistress Ama K from the Latin Beauties in High Heels site. I’m not aware of a personal site for her.

Online Skills

Yesterday’s post had me angsty with not having played recently. For me it’s mainly a sense of frustration. For sex workers the current situation is obviously a much more serious one. Daddy An Li was featured in a KQED recent article talking about how she’s been dealing with it. I was kind of surprised to read this comment…

Also, An Li said many of her clients are older men. “They’re a little bit more reticent to learning online skills,” she said. “Which is fine. At some point, they’re going to have to learn depending on how long this quarantine situation goes on for.”

That a lot of her clients are older men isn’t surprising, but the lack of online skills certainly is. Isn’t everyone savvy with skyping, zooming and messaging these days? Even my parents – both in their mid-70’s – can set-up video conferencing now, and that’s just to chat about gardening and the weather. I’d assume the idea of a kinky online session with An Li would be far more motivating to a frustrated older gentleman client.

This image is from this blog post where An Li talks about some of the options she offers during the present coronavirus crisis. You can also follow her on twitter.

Shiny!

I went for a drive today. There’s only so long I can stand staring at the same view. I figured if I could combine a grocery run with a spin around Lake Washington it’d count for practical and mental health purposes. Plus, I was  socially distancing myself from people very effectively at many mph.

The image below is Natalie Mars, looking particularly fabulous in a shiny latex catsuit and with her own bike. There’s something very sexy about a woman on a motorcycle, particularly a fast sports bike like this one. It’s a heady blend of power, control and risk. A modern car coddles its driver, automating almost everything. In contrast, there’s no hiding on a bike. It’s the rider versus the world.

Image is from this tweet, photographed by Tom Moore.