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Archive for the ‘body parts’ Category

Best day of the year (when we get an extra hour of sleep), made even better that we prepped for it by fucking last night. If we got an extra hour added to every night, I’ll bet we’d have sex way more often.

And then we woke up to frost and bright sun:

morning sun through our window

Not exactly true. DELIA woke up to frost and bright sun.

I stayed in bed in our dark little alcove and woke up later to the smell of bacon frying downstairs, stumbling down to an offer of french toast.

bacon (fried this morning by Delia)

Last night I came after she moaned/gasped when I added some teeth to sucking on her big left tit:

Delia's perfect big boobs

And even though she gave two loads of cum to her customers in live shows that day, she came again when I started spanking her while she fucked me. I love feeling her ass in my hands.

Cacti in November in Washington

The sun is so bright today and it sounds like an airplane is going to crash into our house, like everything is different and about to burst into a million beautiful tragic pieces. Like I don’t know if it’s about to be winter or heaven.

I can’t believe I’ve been sitting on (haha) this entry in draft form since December! Please leave comments if you have answers to any of my butthole questions:

I ran out of toilet paper at the cabin (or I almost did, and it occurred to me this detail could prove interesting and worthy of reporting to you).

If I run out of toilet paper, if I forget to bring more next time, I will not immediately run out to get more. The first priority is The Cabin, and the LAST priority of the cabin is personal cleanliness. Of course I still want to be comfortable, and I recognize that I feel more comfortable when I’m not COMPLETELY foul between my legs, so here are some of my options if I run out of toilet paper at the cabin:

For pee I can use kleenex OR just let it moisten my panties OR wipe with the front hem of my shirt (I do this on walks and really, having a few smears of urine on my t-shirt feels kind of fresh and natural to me).

You probably think the main problem will be what  to do if I shit at the cabin when I run out of toilet paper, but shit is not such a big problem. I have soothing moist generic hemorrhoid pads to cleanse my butthole & asscrack which I can follow-up with  an absorbent pat-down provided by a used washcloth I left hanging to dry after my last shower.

Some people keep baby wipes on the toilet tank for that purpose but I think they are overkill: too large, too horribly scented – really quite irritating to sensitive skin. Hem pads are better. Thriftier and more therapeutic. Plus I was always fascinated by those Tucks commercials where they snuff out a burning match by wrapping it in the damp circular pad. To get rid of the BURNING and ITCHING of swollen hemorrhoidal tissue.

I think once I even asked my mom or my dad, possibly my grandparents, if people really did TUCK the pads up in there. Nobody ever answered me with the specificity I desired, but my grandpa told me to NEVER EAT BLACK PEPPER! BECAUSE YOUR BODY DOESN’T DIGEST IT AND HE HAD TO HAVE AN OPERATION BECAUSE OF IT! They weren’t prudes so I don’t think that was why they avoided answering me. I honestly believe it’s because NO ONE REALLY KNOWS.

It seemed like a very interesting adult mystery, the proper application of Tucks. Did people simply tuck them between their ass CHEEKS or did they tuck them INSIDE their assHOLES, leaving petals of white hanging out to pull them out later (I imagine this looking very much like a container, rather than a box, of baby wipes, where you pull the wipe out of a plastic butthole-like opening).

Was I taking the name “Tucks” too literally? If grown-ups really were TUCKING them INSIDE, how long did they leave them in? Did they hang out in the bathroom for a couple of minutes to derive the benefits of the tucking, extracting the pad before exiting, or did they tuck one in there and KEEP it tucked while driving to work, doing laundry, greeting clients, playing bridge, etc.? How many Tucks could you tuck at one time? Or did you use them as a barrier between your finger and your ass to push severely hanging hemorrhoids back inside? Could you apply Tucks in a public restroom or was the process too intimate with telltale sounds, shifting body weight and sighs? Was there an applicator involved like with certain petal-soft tampons? AND WHAT ARE HEMORRHOIDS, ANYWAY?

You might shrug off these questions as obvious overthinking, but I don’t think I was/am. For a course on child abuse in college, I read a story of neglect involving an obese junior high age girl who was a pariah, in part because she smelled horrible. It turned out her parents weren’t mean people, they just were NOT competent and the girl had always had to fend for herself for the most part. Someone had to intervene and teach the girl stuff her parents had not, like how to shower (and how often), how to use shampoo, etc. They sent her to a doctor and it turned out she had many applications of TOILET PAPER AND PAPER TOWELS IMPACTED IN HER BOTTOM. The text didn’t use the word “bottom”, but it did use the word “impacted”. That story has stuck with me all these years and I often wish I could find it again to see EXACTLY what it said, because it’s still so unbelievable and yet rings so true, like I wonder how often this happens to people (there are SO MANY people who aren’t able — for all KINDS of reasons — to teach their kids how to take care of themselves first world stylee, and unless you get to watch someone do it who knows how, how would you learn?). Anyway, if it did say where/to what extent the toilet paper was impacted, it was strange enough that at the time I looked up the word “impacted” in the dictionary to make sure I was really understanding the condition being described, but I still feel uncertain about it: how much paper product can one girl carry around on/in her person? I think there was even a painful extraction process. Anyway, the reason I bring it up is that there are modern conveniences at our disposal to tend to our asses and separate us from feces that some of us actually need to be taught how to use. Some people simply intuit what to do, but for some of us the standard operating procedures are less clear. It is also not always obvious how far you should stick things up your butt or how long you should leave them there.

My girlfriend is getting bigger boobs!!

Yeah, old news to some of you, but I don’t think I’ve blogged about it yet so I’m taking this opportunity to celebrate and share the news with you. We’re taking a trip next week for Delia to get consultations with a couple of out-of-state surgeons so the reality is setting in that THIS IS REALLY GOING TO HAPPEN and I’m getting very excited about it.

Yes, I love the puffy-nipple hormone titties Delia has now and I was very VERY excited about those growing in, but I surprised myself by feeling sort of conflicted about her little puberty-boobs. And you can kind of see why, can’t you, when I go into dirty-old-man-speak like that, right? You know I am a sucker for taboo role plays and the idea of pert buds of breasts, but sometimes I gross myself out getting off on that when they’re so REAL. It feels like I’m doing something criminal when I fondle them and I haven’t had the time or courage to really work that out yet. And now? I DON’T HAVE TO! Because my girlfriend is getting implants!! Unambiguously GROWN-UP boobs!

Underneath the cherry excitement of having a girlfriend about to get big fancy titties, there has been a foundational experience making it possible: having a special donor/philanthropist/able investor/friend come forward and send Delia THOUSANDS of dollars. And when none of the Pacific Northwest docs friends referred her to would do boob jobs on transsexuals and seeing that things were going to cost more? He stepped up and sent THOUSANDS MORE so we can make this trip and find the right doctor and make sure she gets the beautiful jugs she deserves and I dream she’s dreamed of.

I feel like I’m exploiting Sweet T. by publicly talking this way about the money he sent, but trust me, I do it with adoration and a wriggle of shivery delight (and imagine the words “adoration and a wriggle of shivery delight” being spoken in his delicious accent). I know this is the kind of story that makes chicks feel excited, happy for each other, and not just a little jealous. It’s the kind of story you WANT to read in a webwhore blog and know that it’s not a lie or crazy fantasy someone made up.

Some of you might be too jaded to appreciate this with purity, but it’s honestly an experience that reminds me (again) that there are people with money (some more, some less) who really want to use it to make people happy and give someone they admire something she longs for. Yeah, there’s the bonus of seeing the new boobies and having a hand in crafting an element of someone else’s experience, but with something as straightforward as boobs . . . I don’t know how to describe it without using the word pure. It’s very tangible and direct.

It’s exciting, because of the gifts AND because we’re sharing the excitement with someone else . . . it’s magnifying the experience, drawing it out of the mundane of doctor appointments and personal responsibilities and worries that would otherwise bog it down. Knowing that Tom is excited about the outcome and taking care of the most worrisome aspect of it leaves us free to enjoy the process and look forward to the results. It’s like a fun movie or fairy tale or something . . . more like what I think people outside of our internet porn world IMAGINE our lives are like all the time as chicks with our own porn sites. It’s affirming and a relief to have a story we can tell friends and family that actually lives up to their more positive expectations and wild imaginings (people mistakenly assume having your own internet porn site means fortune and large numbers of fans).

Note: I do not want to discount all of the people who send us smaller gifts and contributions — you are appreciated and definitely not forgotten, and there were many of you who helped with Delia’s boob job fund. The amount of people who support us and our work is profound in our lives, even if it hasn’t made us rich. All of you have made us want to keep doing it. And getting thousands of dollars at one time from one person? Just helps solidify our commitment / the feeling that it’s worth it. Again, though, I don’t want you to think we don’t notice some of our long-time members who have spent thousands of dollars on us over the years. Thank you!

Yesterday marked a very special occasion on the girl-getting-breast-augmentation journey; Delia bought her first dress especially to go with and show off the bigger boobs she’s getting. Oh good lord, that was exciting. Maybe more for me than her . . . I was practically fucking salivating thinking about how gorgeous she’ll look in that dress and what her tits are going to look like in that flimsy fabric and WHAT THEY’LL LOOK LIKE AFTER I POUR WATER ALL OVER HER AND GET THEM DRIPPING WET AND YOU CAN SEE HER HARD NIPPLES THROUGH THE FABRIC and then Delia started laughing at me because I was pawing at the air in circles, middle finger tracing her erect nipples in the sky, as I described my enthusiasm for these near-future visions of hotness.

So yeah, buying the dress to go on the new boobs definitely amped up my giddiness. Weeks ago I actually wasn’t sure if I wouldn’t rather be able to go to Disneyland instead, but the dress clinched it — boobs totally trump Space Mountain.

*****

I don’t know if posts like these surprise people who think I’m all “NATURAL BODIES OR DIE!!” (and take the culture thieves at Disney with you!) I do wish for more acceptance of and appreciation for natural bodies (and especially less open revulsion/disgust) and I do think cosmetic surgery is very problematic and dangerous and worth thinking/talking about critically (meaning with your thinking cap on, not just negatively shredding apart) and overall WAY WAY WAY WAY TOO COMMON, like it’s fucking endemic to being a first world woman over thirty, but oh man, I do love some artifice and craftiness, too. I’m not saying it makes all or even most women look “better” (not at all), I am just acknowledging that it makes them look different and I am not bothered by those differences as a default. And sometimes I really admire the differences and appreciate that plastic aesthetic (and would a lot more if it weren’t so fucking ubiquitous).

What I mean to say is that when Delia got her first (and only so far) Botox injections a few months ago IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME. Even though I was there when she did it and should’ve made the connection, about a week afterwards and for a month from then I was blown away whenever I looked at her, like OHMYGODyou’reSOlovely I COULD WEEP! And I didn’t recognize it as “that botox is really working wonders”, it was just that she looked like she always does but with a special softer glow. It was like a really subtle, masterful, living-and-breathing photoshop effect. She only got it around her eyes, brows and bridge of her nose and it was really cool. I don’t know why they’re saying Botox is going out of style, because it seems quite splendid to me.

But I know it’s really terrible to spend money on that when there are children starving in Africa everywhere. On the other hand, it is our job to be attractive and Delia never got to be a young woman while she was young, so fuck that guilt.

*****

I was also going to blog about Delia’s internal penis bumps, but this entry got out of hand length-wise so I’ll save it for next time. I know, I utilize the most erotic turns of phrase to keep you checking back for more.

A quick post to share a couple of my favorite 12-second booty-shaking videos of our friend AmberLily:

I like U2, what about you? on 12seconds.tv

G’morning bootie shake! on 12seconds.tv

I do not have the athletic ass-shaking skills, but I *did* get some very nice feedback from a couple in Finland about one of my cutest and least appreciated assets: my jiggly TUMMY! I love our European members and I love reading compliments that are charmingly ESL (English as a Second Language, or probably one of many):

Hi Trixie,

You have a lot of great pics in members area. Your body is very beautiful and you have cute face, also without make-up. It´s also really sensuous to see your hairy twat and armpits, especially. As well your tits are just perfect such as your shiny, slim 10 points legs. Butts…they are so incredible…and hips miraculous womanly. But guess what…? Best part of your perfectness is belly. Frankly i can say it´s one of sexiest and pictoresquest belly that i have ever seen. My wife also like to watch your pics, and she thinks that your wonderful woman.

Thanks for making my day with that email (and to everyone else who writes; I just happened to be struck by the loveliness of this one today and felt like sharing)!

Ever heard of Half Nekkid Thursdays (or HNT for short)? Well, I’m *years* late to the party, but Oasis reminded me it’s never too late, so here goes:

May Day flowers & the side of my boobs.

This photo is from one of my favorite sets of 2009 (or really EVER), a May Day gallery celebrating the seventh anniversary of my members-only area opening. I meant to blog about it at the time, but it slid past me.

You can check out more HNT pics here on the host’s most recent post. I love that most of the people doing it are amateurs showing off very rare and precious personal photos.

Yesterday during my webcam show I decided to use one of my small(er) dildos, the Tantus Sport in conjunction with my Hitachi Magic Wand. I figured I’d start out with it for show then work up to something bigger for visual effect and for orgasmic efficacy, but instead I was reminded how sometimes smaller is actually BETTER.

Naturally nude, sitting on the Tantus Sport dildo.

With a smaller penetrator I was able to move it RAPIDLY in and out without pain. Not something I always want (rapid movement, that is), but yesterday — I did. And the range of motion is wider, too; I can move it in an arc – like 3/4 of a circle or maybe a hook/switchback? — jammed upwards an inch or two inside me than stroking out and even sliding it up over my peehole then back down/around/in. While I did that I imagined I was a very uptight guy getting my cock sucked, super shocked & excited by the idea that a girl’s tongue was on the place on where my pee comes out. I got really excited whenever her mouth got specific with that area.

I had two absolutely ecstatic orgasms that way today during my show. A couple of minutes after the loud finale I heard a weird tinkling noise that wasn’t part of the music I had playing. I turned off the song to isolate the sound and discovered it was one of my music boxes. It started playing all by itself. I guess in response to my orgasm? I don’t know, but it was pretty magical and trippy.

One thing I’ve noticed about my body: the more time I’ve spent directly stimulating my clit and relying solely upon it for my orgasm, the more it gets burned out and sick of it; it gets more difficult to climax rather than easier. Totally not so with my g-spot. The more action it gets, the more it wants and the better it feels. When I’ve been fucked with something big I don’t really get to take advantage of that because I usually wind up sore and the rest of my pussy can’t handle more, but with smaller cocks and toys that’s not a problem.

NOTE: I AM STILL USING A VIBRATOR TO STIMULATE MY CLIT/NOT *JUST* MASTURBATING MY G-SPOT.

ANOTHER NOTE: I HAVE HAD SEX WITH A NUMBER OF MEN WITH PENISES NOTICEABLY SMALLER THAN THE TANTUS SPORT AND WITH MOST OF THEM IT WAS STILL *GREAT*. In fact, I’ve probably had more easy orgasms per session with the smallest penis I ever “had”. So there. I’m not stating a preference here since I do love handling, sucking and looking at large cocks and average ones are great too (and my idea of the *perfect* cock is Delia’s), I’m just saying that when it comes to actually using them to get off, the little ones work really really well. Unless, of course, they’re attached to idiot titnards I don’t like, but sometimes even then they have a good practical application.

Last night we shot a bunch of fun, costumey, Halloween porn. Here are samples from each of the photo sets:

Me, dressed up as a maid in vinyl (we’ve never done the maid costume so we’re WAY overdue for this one):

Busty in PVC french maid costume.

Delia, dressed up as the Queen of Hearts (with cool feathery eyelashes, I’d like to point out):

And a sample from my “Scary Hairy Pussy and Halloween Hemorrhoid” set, one I’ve wanted to do for a very long time (well, not the hemorrhoid part — that was just a happy accident):

After we did all of that, we got into bed and fucked. It was sweet. And juicy. And also fairly well-lit and audible for our voyeurs watching on our spycams, so there! Our photo shoots are pretty tame by today’s porn standards — very tease oriented, usually — so we often build up excitement during the process.

I masturbate differently in webcam shows for a large group than I do for myself or for private shows.

During group camshows I have a whole hour to draw out the experience. I put on a little makeup and usually wear something that allows me to do upskirts – little nighties, slips, miniskirts, etc. If I have enough time, I love wearing hosiery, especially opaque thigh high socks which is what I wore today: long, tight, stretchy, dark brown socks under a hippy-style sundress with a smocked top which is great for showing off my cleavage and tits.

Because I’m not being paid by the minute to fulfill requests by viewers, the “action” in my group shows is aimed to please me (and, incidentally, other people who have my particular tastes), all slowly paced to fill out the hour. I’m not super-entertaining, I just slide into a groove and enjoy looking at myself doing things I wouldn’t otherwise do: smiling at myself in the camera, and just making myself do shit that makes me hot, like exposing myself in taunting, mostly-softcore ways. I get very mesmerized by myself, like when I show myself (and everybody else) my creamy thighs parting to expose my hairy cunt with that beautiful contrast of the dark socks. I don’t know what it is about that contrast, but it’s fucking irresistible to me. I can watch myself do that over and over again.

We had more time than usual between shows this month so it’s been about three weeks since I enjoyed one of these long sessions; doing these long shows every other week or every three weeks is perfect for me because, without knowing it, I really build up a desire for them. My clit’s had a break from extended time with the hitachi magic wand and it’s been awhile since I really took a good look at myself.

Today I decided not to shower, putting my dirty hair in pigtails instead. It’s been four or five days since I had a shower and maybe only two baths (last night and some other time) during that time. For three days I wore the same pair of sticky, hot-smelling panties. My bush is getting really filled-out again, and every time I go to the bathroom I sniff the crotch of my underwear and play with my cowlicks that come together and curl up where my lips meet. The musky smell of pussy-hair steeped in cunt-sweat is part of what I love about not shaving.

Anyway, it smelled so good today during my show, I just kept petting it and bringing my hand up to inhale, over and over again. Deep breaths, totally drugging myself on that woman-sex smell of myself. I fucking could not get enough of it, smelling it, and watching me on the monitor, stroking myself with my light-pink clit poking out between my dirty-blonde fur and those SOCKS pulled up on my thighs making everything in the middle look so fucking naked and whorey.

I remember the first time I ever rode on Highway 1 through Big Sur, not being able to get enough of that hot sage smell. It doesn’t smell like pussy exactly, but it’s addictive and elevating, like ascending to heaven and being on some other unearthly level in between the ground and meeting God’s secretary while He’s away. I feel the same way about the smell of my musky bush, like if I were to immerse myself in it far enough I would wind up in some other place of knowledge and luxury and a decadent form of peace.

Today while I inhaled I realized the scent on my fingers reminded me a whole lot of crayola crayon wrappers. Not exactly like that, but similar. I always wonder where that Really Perfect Pussy smell comes from, like what the secret recipe is for it to be that perfect all of the time. Was it steeping my hair in dirty underwear so long? Was it the hot apple cider and cashews we had before bed? Was it the flax seed and evening primrose oil? Was it having PMS? Was it the mingling of a favorite lotion with the cunt smell to create a perfect pussy-church combo?

I came three times today with one of the orgasms augmented considerably by the call and response of me being ridiculously horny for myself and crooning, “oh yeah” to myself right before Jimi Hendrix said “oh yeah” at the beginning of Red House. Then . . . brilliant guitar and that was all she wrote.

*****

Right after my show I still felt a little hypnotized. I took a powerful piss, then stumbled into the bedroom where I felt a hot gush of liquid burst through my cunt. I reached down to touch it and came out with beautiful, crimson blood all over my fingers with more than enough left over to streak down my right thigh. I haven’t had such a dramatic start to my period in years.

I went on a google adventure and discovered a guy who loves enormous clits and uses the word “hermaphrodite” to describe women endowed with them. That’s his definition of hermaphrodite: women with prominent clits. It was all worth being exposed to his weird-ass opinion, though, because I got to see a photo of Linda Might, “The Queen of Clits”, who I’d never heard of before.

Jesus, I’d love to have myself a three-inch clitoris.

Anyway, I can’t stop thinking about all of this hermaphrodite bullshit and wishing I could grasp EXACTLY what is so fucked up about these rumours (and people’s responses to them) and articulate that fucked-upedness accurately.

I can’t stop thinking about being in our local candle store and hearing three people engaged in a discussion about Ann Coulter in which one person “informed” the other two that Coulter was “born a man”. Yeah, she’s a tranny! The two women gasped, one declared she’d always SUSPECTED as much, the other asked if he was SURE . . . and he WAS. He was SO FUCKING SURE. He insisted it was true. He backed it up with things he’d heard on Air America.

I wanted to interrupt and tell them they were wrong, but went home to check JUST IN CASE. Because there also seems to be something wrong with just ASSUMING those tales are false. Is it a growing acceptance/awareness (or heightened fear/paranoia/continued ignorance) of transgender that fuels these bullshit stories? Is it just a contemporary expression of misogyny / new way to express or justify hatred and disgust of genetic women people find contemptible or disturbingly sexy (ex. Jamie Lee Curtis)? Maybe, but there’s a weird ambiguity about the way a lot of people talk about these urban legends, like teenagers who WANT to believe in ghosts. One part wishful thinking, one part pure bullshit, and another part pure fear.

Standing in the store I mostly just listened even though they said some stupid shit that made me want to say, “HEY — my girlfriend is transsexual; maybe you should watch what kind of moronic crap you let stream out of your mouth in front of strangers.” Instead I called the store after I got home and verified that the Ann Coulter as Tranny story IS INDEED a myth, told them WRONG. But that seemed to miss the point, too. Even if she HAD been born with a dick, that doesn’t explain her away or make sense of her. That knowledge, if it were true and we could attain it, wouldn’t somehow put her in her place the way people seem to want it to.

Oh well. I’m sure more brilliant minds than mine have got this sorted out and published somewhere with a lot of fancy words and complicated double-talk that will never do anything to help make the average American get it. Someday maybe it will all get straightened out, but in the meantime women-who-confuse-us are the new Richard Geres and Rod Stewarts, with bellies full of cow semen and hamsters up the ass. The tabloids have proof that Obama’s birth certificate is a fake, and we think if only someone would publish that photo of an infant Ann Coulter sporting a pre-op malignant penis, we could win this argument!.