In honor of another new addiction of mine, Penn & Teller’s Bullshit, I am introducing a new category of posts.  This category will be devoted to the stupidest, most nonsensical crap that I hear people saying every day.

Today’s bullshit is that classic gem which concerned (i.e. white, middle-class, religious) folks are always using to try and convince women to avoid sex work:  “don’t you realize you’re worth more than that?” 

Bullshit.  More than bullshit, it’s bull-fucking-shit.  Say you’re a young woman with minimal education and no connections.  Your choices?  A just-barely-above minimum wage job in a lovely establishment like Wal-Mart or some such, where the customers are reliably obnoxious and managment considers you a wholly expendable cog in the machinery?  A service-sector job like housecleaning maybe, something with a little less in the way of employer/customer crapola but even more physically gruelling and every bit as low paying?  (Have you ever tried making beds & scrubbing toilets for a living?  I have - it wears your body out fast.)  Or you can go to work for somebody like Joe Redner down at the Mons Venus, making as much money in a few nights as you would in a whole month at one of the other jobs available to you.  Putting up with a lot of crap, but, I repeat, making ten times the money.

Stripping, hooking etc for a living has it’s downside to be sure, but it seems to me (and to many, many others) that the shit you have to put up with to amount you earn ratio is pretty damn good.  And anybody who can’t comprehend this reality is, IMO, either a complete idiot or has never worked at the kind of crap job most people are condemned to.  The disingenuous exhortation ”you’re worth more than that!” can be roughly translated as follows:  “ *I* believe whores are worthless scum, and I would rather have you sell yourself even more cheaply to a big corporation than examine just why it is that I find sex so dangerous and disgusting.”

Sometimes I get into a real horny spell, where all I want to do is get off, and I have been having one of those for the past couple of days now.  Two nights ago I was totally desperate with desire and (as is pretty common at such times) I asked Sgt to tie me up and “abuse” me.  The general idea of the game is that after he has me “helpless” he is free to use my body for his own pleasure, roughly or gently, without regard for my desires.  In fact, the meaner he is the better I like it; I’ve got him well trained by now in the precise degree of name-calling and smacking around to drive me crazy.  *grin*

I could go on about how this is all pre-negotiated, Sgt’s spent fifteen years gaining my absolute trust, I know that his greatest pleasure is usually to make me cum and if I express any real discomfort he’d stop immediately…but as I said, this is a game, one that I asked for, and all that stuff ought to be understood without saying.  Those people who have such a hard time comprehending how anybody could actually enjoy being “degraded” in this fashion really need to examine their understanding of the difference between fantasy and reality.

Anyway, back to the titillation…he started off by just watching tv, for what seemed like forever, with me lying beside him.  Of course, he was pinching and pulling on my nipples the entire time, and I was a puddle of goo by the time he decided that the midgets were down for the count and he could proceed to stage two.  Stage two consisted of him pulling me to the edge of the bed and repeatedly shoving his wonderfully fat cock (he gets so hard when we play these games!) into my mouth.  After a very few minutes of fucking my pretty face the phone rang - it was his mom, lol!  So he stands there chatting on the phone for like half an hour, alternating between fucking my mouth with slow, deep strokes, lingering long on the in stroke and making me gag over and over; and rubbing his rod all over my face, smearing spit and precum everywhere, poking it in my eyes and mashing it against my full wet lips.

*I enjoyed this so damn much I just can’t stop thinking about it, and have requested a repeat asap!

After the phone call ended and he’d had his fill of fucking my face he pulled my legs off the bed, so that my ass was hanging over the edge, and asked me if my pussy was wet.  The answer came a few seconds later as he slid easily into my dripping snatch.  He pushed my legs up toward my shoulders, bending me almost double, and pounded into my pussy for a few minutes, until I begged him to let me cum.

Then it was down on the floor, with my cheek pressed against the carpet and my ass in the air as he stuffed my black rubber butt plug into my tight, resisting asshole.  Grabbing a handful of my hair he pulled me up on my knees, and rubbed his hard dick, wet with my juices, in my face.  My cue to take him in my mouth once again, and to try and relax as he stuffs his full length methodically down my throat.  It’s not too difficult when he goes slowly, but when he starts thrusting into my face as if it were a cunt, shoving all the way down each time, the feeling of his cock slamming into the back of my throat over and over makes me gag really hard.  The convulsions in my abdomen push the butt-plug out of my body and I whimper, drawing his attention to my transgression.  He shoves me down again, face to the floor, and jams the toy back inside me.  He smacks me a couple of times, hard, and tells me I better not lose it again, then another yank on the hair and I’m on my knees gagging on his dick once more.

When I lose the butt plug the second time it’s “Ok, cunt, you’re gonna get it now.  Get your ass over here and sit on my cock.”  He perches on the edge of the bed and pulls me into his lap, spreading my fat cheeks wide apart as I sink down onto his erection.  “Ummm, I love watching my dick go into your ass.  Ride that cock, you fucking whore.  You’re a fucking slut aren’t you?  You love having my dick in your ass, don’t you?”  he says, stating the obvious.

He hands me a vibrator, and tells me to stuff it in my pussy.  It’s not easy to balance, reaching underneath my belly to fuck myself with the vibe while continuing my rhythmic bouncing impaled on the stiff pole in my ass, but his groan of pleasure is worth it.  Just a few moments of this and he pushes me to the floor.  He grabs my hair again and pulls me to my feet, pushing me hard face down onto the bed.  And then he shoves his cock deep into my ass, in one hard fast vicious stroke, and I explode into a mind-blowing orgasm.

When I come to my senses again he’s hammering wildly at my ass, swinging his hips from side to side, stretching my anus almost painfully.  I’ve been quiet so far (was gagged, with cock or with a ball-gag, most of the time anyhow) but now I start babbling “oh, god yes, I’m your whore, fuck my ass, fill my ass with your fucking cum, make me your fucking cum-whore, you know I love it…” as I thrust back against him.  I can feel my sphincter clenching around his hardness, still pulsing from my orgasm, and when I feel him start to shoot inside me I clench down as hard as I can, milking every last drop of jizz from his throbbing cock.

The scene ends in the traditional fashion, with me fetching a hot, damp cloth from the bathroom, kneeling before him and lovingly washing his cock and balls.

Is this terribly degrading?  Well, consider this - if Sgt refused me these sessions, at these times when my lust rages so wildly, I would be FUCKING PISSED.  If he neglected to “humiliate” me verbally, to “hurt” me in all the little ways I take such delight in, I would be frustrated and disappointed.  I would, in short, feel abused if he did not do these things.

So Sgt and I were squeezed together in our tiny bathroom this morning, and I was taken with a hankering to suck his cock. I considered it for a moment, dismissing the notion with regret…our little daughter was sitting in our bedroom watching cartoons, and even if she didn’t come knocking on the door he’d have to walk out in front of her sporting a stiffie.
Moments like this must happen to all parents but they have a particular relevance for somebody who works in the porn industry because of the constant threat of prosecution. It’s (hopefully) not likely but if I were ever to have to defend myself in court how would something like that look? If we ever, even for a minute, display any sexuality in front of our kids…if they ever accidentally get into my work files…if they’re ever present in the house when I’m doing a webcam show, or taking pictures…just how long do you think it would take the legal bureaucracy or the media to turn us into a couple of child-abusing pedophiles?
I try not to let these thoughts rule me too much, and in the end Sgt’s cock did get a few minutes of attention (after the little one made her obligatory intrusion, lol!). It’s a real bummer for my sex life though.

I was thinking this morning, when I was furtively sucking my husband’s cock in the bathroom and he was saying “oh, yeah, that’s my good girl” (more on this later) about the alarmingly prevalent notion that porn is horribly degrading to women, and that women only participate in the making of it because they’re forced to.
This pisses me off because, speaking as a slut, what they are saying to me is I can’t really be a “good” girl if I like to fuck. If I actually enjoy having dicks stuffed in all my holes, getting dirty and sweaty and messy and used and even having pictures taken of the experience, then I must be either so damaged I’m incapable of reasoning for myself or else I’m a vicious bitch who’s working with the enemy, exploiting her sisters for personal gain. Either way I become not morally worthy of, say, teaching children or possibly even raising my own.
This is offensive in the extreme, and betrays the very basis of feminism - that women should have control over their own bodies and lives. The so-called liberals who espouse this devious mentality are in reality forcing women back into the madonna/whore cage we struggled to escape from forty years ago.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060331/ap_on_fe_st/sketch_pad_nudity_1

Christopher Teague, owner of titty bar “Erotic City,” thumbed his nose at Boise, Idaho’s restrictions against nude dancing last year by handing out sketch pads and pencils so the patrons could draw the dancers, who presumably had left off their usual required-by-law pasties and g-strings. Predictably, authorities aren’t buying the ploy and he now faces a minor fine and six months in jail.

He has a point though, when he says “What are they doing on stage? It’s dancing. Is it an art form? Of course it is.” Humans have made artistic expressions (including dances) to represent and provoke emotional responses throughout the history of the species. Some would say that it is the defining characteristic of our species. In the recent past however, we have allowed artists free reign to incite every emotion but one - sexual arousal. A work can be aimed at frightening us, enraging us, making us laugh…but if it’s aimed at arousing us, it’s considered “obscene” and unworthy of being called art.

Ya’ll remember what I was saying about the girls gone wild t’other day?

Check this out

Undercover police are now going into bars in Texas and arresting people for public drunkenness, the rationale being that:

“We feel that the only way we’re going to get at the drunk driving problem and the problem of people hurting each other while drunk is by crackdowns like this,” she said.

“There are a lot of dangerous and stupid things people do when they’re intoxicated, other than get behind the wheel of a car,” Beck said. “People walk out into traffic and get run over, people jump off of balconies trying to reach a swimming pool and miss.” - Carolyn Beck, spokeswoman for the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission

Maybe I should have titled that last entry More Practical Prophesy.

So I’m reading in the news about how the AMA has done a study which revealed a lot of college women like to get really drunk and have less-than-careful sex on spring break trips. The AMA, naturally, feels obliged to warn young women about the health risks involved in these activities and to urge college administrations etc to endorse “alternative” activities.

Now, leaving aside the small detail that only 27% of the women surveyed had even gone on a spring break trip (which shows that no matter what the perception of these trips is, they are definitely not the norm for college women), what troubles me is how, in our society, the “powers that be” seem determined to stamp out every occasion that gives license to carouse. Back in the day (and I’m talking about really back in the day, through thousands of years of human history - not just the last couple of industrialized centuries) there were publicly sanctioned occasions for riotous celebration, often involving drink or drugs and promiscuous sex: May Day festivals and harvest fairs, courtship processions and Saturnalias celebrating the pagan gods of every culture.

I would not deny that there are risks involved in the modern celebration of spring break, and certainly it’s commonsensical to urge young women to take care of themselves at all times. Still, in today’s world a public health warning is a small step away from legislation (how many states have passed laws against public smoking, even in bars?) and I have to wonder what harm we are doing, to our culture and to the human spirit, by denying the need to cut loose. It seems to me we’ve always had these occasions because something in us needs that break from good sense, that opportunity to disregard the rules of respectability.

When my little girl snatches away her brother’s toy and runs with it he often retaliates by whacking her upside the head with something. I invariably scold him for this, reminding him that beating up his sister is an inappropriate response to the provocation.

There’s lots of inappropriate responses in the news, but most recently there’s this immense brouhaha over some editorial cartoons published by a Danish newspaper. A brouhaha which includes burning embassies and killing people. Now folks, I’m sorry - it doesn’t matter how offensive you find those images, burning buildings and killing folks is an entirely inappropriate response.

This, however, is an entirely appropriate response:
Iran Daily Holds Holocaust Cartoon Contest

And to all those folks who are now bleating about what a dastadly trick this is, listen up. The rights to “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” are, I know, an American value-set, but they are also ones with which most people would agree. Please notice how in there there’s no “right” not to be offended. Getting miffed by the things other folks say is the price we pay for having the freedom to say what we like ourselves. Deal with it.

A lot of people are obsessed with the notion that working in porn, prostitution, or anywhere else in the sex industry “degrades” women. Mostly, I think, this is because they deeply believe that women oughtn’t to be slutty, but that’s not what I want to talk about today. I want to look at the flip side - how sex work empowers women.

Most folks (like here at the WebWhore Manifesto) who would dare to suggest that working in the sex industry can be empowering for women look at it in an economic sense - sex work is one of the few fields where a woman can really be in control of her work, and make decent money, doing something that isn’t exactly a chore for those who choose it.

(Please note that I said for those who CHOOSE it - women who are forced into sex work deserve the same protections and right to redress that ANYONE forced into ANY kind of slavery deserve.)

The economic argument is a good one, but I want to make a more personal one. I am coming to this field as a 35 year old mother of two - that’s a pretty long way from our society’s stereotype of a sex goddess, and when you add the fact that I weigh close to 250lbs, don’t exactly have perfect skin or features, and have more than my share of scars and wonky bits, the distance between me and desirable, in mainstream terms, widens to something like the Grand Canyon.

I could (and have) fall into the trap of thinking of myself as unsexy, as ugly even. I still get nervous about every little flaw before I go on cam, and I consider the touch-up tool to be the most vital element of my photo-editing program, but once I get in front of an audience of a hundred…two hundred…even three or four hundred men (and women!) who are continuously telling me how hot I am, how excited watching me makes them, all that falls away. I feel powerful, exalted, filled with a confidence that carries over into everything I do. Now that’s empowerment.

Even if my endeavor never turns a profit I will consider it to have been valuable for that reason. Becoming comfortable with and confident in one’s own body is a treasure not to be lightly dismissed, and I can think of few better ways to accomplish that feat than to masturbate for an audience. Beats the pants off joining a health club.

One final thought:
In every show there’s always one dipshit who thinks it’s funny to make the same lame-ass fat jokes, and to that person I always have the same thing to say:

I’m turning a lot more people on here than you are.

My husband is a wonderful father. I never had a father myself, and all my friend’s dads were such cretins that it never occurred to me a dad might be a good thing to have until I saw how great he is with our kids. He’s patient, playful, and obviously loves nothing better than bringing joy to their little faces.

He also, frequently, tells me how awkward he feels - how distrusted, disapproved of even - when he interacts with other children in public places. Even when he takes our kids to the playground, so it’s blatantly obvious he has a legitimate reason to be there and to be involved with the kids, he says he’s hesitant to help another child use the swings or climb to the slide. Most especially, he avoids touching them.

Now think about that. In our cultural obsession with pedophilia we have created a climate where a man who is already a father struggles to be seen as “safe” for children. Imagine how much worse it is for a single man. Men are seen as having no legitimate reason for wanting to be with children, to play with them, to (God forbid!) cuddle them.

This is wrong in so many ways. Kids need cuddling. Kids - boys especially - need to interact with men as well as women. Denying men the chance to interact affectionately with children passes the message that men aren’t caring, that daddies should play little or no part in kid’s lives, that all men are a hair’s breadth away from being sexual predators. Is this true? Is this what we want? Is this the message we want our little boys to grow up accepting?

The battle against porn - phrased as it is, in America, as a battle to protect children - only exacerbates this. Don’t believe me about how the US equates porn with pedophilia? Check out this link for a layperson’s estimation of the new USC 2257 regulations, or this one for a more comprehensive legal evaluation. These regulations were sold to the public as important measures to prevent the “exploitation of children by pornographers” - the very fact that such a tactic could work shows that pornography=pedophilia is a notion already firmly implanted in the public psyche! And naturally, as the primary consumers of porn, men bear the flak of being suspected of closet pedophilia.

You know what I think we have here? An underhanded, despicable attempt to reintroduce the idea that women should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen (what the Christian right would no doubt call family values). Women’s work can only include things like CEO of a Fortune 500 company or President of the United States if Men’s work includes caring for children, and as long as we continue to think of male sexuality (which includes their liking for porn) as something dangerous this situation will persist.