TastyTrixie.com

Archive for the ‘feet’ Category

I had some intense shows on cam with my big new dildo tonight including a taboo role play that produced this:

My squirt puddle on the floor next to big dildo

I know I’m cheating with the “nudie” part, but it’s pretty rare that I squirt so I want to show it off (not because I’m trying to advertise it for webcam shows since I’m not sure if it was even visible to the viewer on cam — I don’t have a lot of volume or . . . distance — but because it’s interesting). I didn’t have an orgasm (the show wasn’t conducive to putting a vibe on my clit), but it felt really really good, the buildup and gushing over and over.

Bizarrely enough there were a few moments where I thought I might have an actual orgasm too, which has never ever happened just from dildo fucking.

I think sometimes when a customer is in a show for a long time and wants a lot of fucking, I’m not trying to force an orgasm out of myself and can experience different sensations that I wouldn’t ever waste time on or be excited about while masturbating by myself, for myself. It’s pretty cool!

Note: in case it wasn’t clear or if some people don’t know, female ejaculation is not the same as orgasm. You can ejaculate without having an orgasm and vice versa.

PS – My favorite part about the above picture is how the dong is so much bigger than my feet.

FYI: I was fully nude when I snagged the picture.

I just posted a new set of pictures for members we shot this morning at the cabin:

Cool spring morning at the cabin in my nightgown.

I’m enjoying developing my little mommy-nightgown niche (little niche, not little nightgown) and very slowly revealing pictures of the cabin (which is actually kind of painful for me, eroding the secrets of my alone-place, but it’s too good not to share, which is kind of too bad . . . not trying to make anyone feel guilty here, just trying to emphasize how intimate some things are to me that perhaps other people view as mundane).

Warming my hands on my cup of tea, watching birds.

Why it’s too good not to share: because I know that my fantasy overlaps with other people’s fantasies, and if it’s good to me, it’s good to other people. If it’s good and important enough to want to keep it to myself, I know that other people will treasure it, too. That it will inspire and stir up longing. On the other hand I know I’m compromising all of the things I need the most from The Cabin. Especially right now. Or maybe always, but more and more obvious right now.

What's this?!? Am I NAKED under my nightgown?

Ultimately there is a limit to how much truth I can show and tell about the cabin before it loses its charms for Trixie fans and conflicts with their fantasies of it. So is it worth it for me to undermine the privacy of my hidey-hole by exposing it at all?

One of my favorite pictures in this set.

I sure do know how to ruin some perfectly good nudey pics, don’t I!?!

122 pictures in this gallery for members!

Say you love me anyway, fuckers!! And that you know there’s an enchanted circle of protection around the cabin so that nobody but Delia and I may penetrate it. OR EVEN SEE IT WITH THE NAKED EYE!! God, I wish I had that kind of a magical prophylactic bubble to disappear into.

NOTE: these feelings of longing for a giant invisibility cloak have been exacerbated by some bad stuff that’s taken away a whole bunch of people’s privacy and threatened their safety recently. Ours included.

Let me know if this reads as terribly off-putting and I will delete the text, all except for the happy I’m-a-hot-mommy-type-taking-off-her-nightgown suggestions like I’m all barefoot and eager to be impregnated in my rusticated shed by any old semen-shooter.

There’s another opportunity to worship women’s feet in Seattle on Thursday, September 9th (day after tomorrow) but this time I won’t be there. Hope to catch you at the next one! I’m *sure* you’ll have fun without me, though.

My end of summer beach feet with sandy, wrinkled soles.

I sort of promised myself that I’d only commit to another Foot Night if I had time to a) make peeptoes.com active, and b) schedule a few truly private sessions on top of the party to make the trip out there worth the investment of time and money. The times I’ve gone I was relatively busy but really only made enough money to cover the expense of the long drive + ferry ride and the cost of my pedicure and cheap shoes. It’s hard to be practical and say no to a foot party, though, when I love interacting with guys who are on the floor beneath me, pleasuring my feet!

Also, it’s just a lot more profitable and cost effective for me to stay home and do private shows on cam which I’ll be doing quite a bit more than usual to help pay for the cabin rental. It’s a good way to hook up with me (AND my feet, if you so desire): trixie.cammodels.com

Speaking of camming more often, Delia is available even more often than I am: deliats.cammodels.com

Nipple slip? I'm about to flash my big naturals on the beach!

Check out more preview pics from this beach gallery full of boobs, upskirts and toes!

On Thursday evening, April 1st I’m going to be at Seattle Foot Night if any of you locals want to spend quality time with my feet:

Take off Trixie's shoes at Foot Night!

These pictures are from my St. Patrick’s Day/birthday gallery in my members-only area (you can see some more previews here):

Trixie's sexy shiny metallic green toenail polish

I hope it’s not too late to entice you into meeting me and my feet; I know there’s still room to register for the party so if you can make it please do! I’d hoped to FINALLY get up our website with information on how to get private time with us before this so I could schedule one-on-one time with folks the next day, but alas . . . didn’t quite get there. Foot night is a non-nude, foot-worship only event so you won’t be seeing anything like the upper half of this picture, so stare hard while you can:

bare feet and bald pussy

When we eventually do get around to doing private sessions with people, it will be easier for people to get time with me (and/or Delia) if we’ve already met at an event like this.

From the new gallery I'll post this week for members

If you *are* going to Foot Night and you know you want to spend time with me there, let me know if there’s something special I can bring (pantyhose, stockings, boots, shoes of certain styles, colors, etc.). I’m not going to bring a whole closet-load of fetishwear, but I’d like to fulfill as many requests as I can especially if they have to do with kicking dudes in the balls! JUST KIDDING . . . I will probably refer all CBT types to other women there who know how to do those delicate kinds of things properly/safely .

Meet me at Seattle Foot Night!

Note: I’ve got a few more free foot pics here conveniently arrayed on one page.

*****

Note: I know it’s been WEEKS since I blogged and I hate that my most recent post sounded so gloomy and was just left up there for way too long, raining on my indie porn parade. There’s so much other stuff going on, both good and bad in both mild and major ways. It’s hard to keep up with all of it and portray life with any kind of accuracy.

The best news is that after about a month of not having a single uninterrupted full night of sleep, Delia finally moved our dog’s bed OUT of our bedroom and every night has been putting up a little big barricade (huge vintage guitar amp and a big cardboard box) so she can’t come traipsing down the hall and pushing against our door to be let in.

There has been no crying and she hasn’t given us any depressing sad glares of accusation like we’re traitors. In fact, I think she’s as grateful for the change as we are. She can pace around all night if she wants, eat food, drink water . . . whatever. By the time morning comes she’s exhausted herself and sleeps all day.

I’m just IMMENSELY grateful to be able to sleep through the night once again. It was a really good reminder to be extremely thankful that we never wound up pregnant.

If you follow my twitter you know I went to Seattle for FootNight on Thursday thanks to AmberLily giving me a heads-up about the event and encouraging me to apply with her to be a “foot model”. It was a good opportunity to get out of my nerdy hermit bubble and enjoy having my feet fondled (something I’ve always enjoyed).

It was also a good excuse for me to get a pedicure: an expense and investment of time I rarely can justify since I don’t specialize in foot fetish porn (though we do try to include at least a few shots of my feet in most of my galleries).

99.99% of the sexually stimulating work I’ve done has been on the internet or over the phone, starting out with private shows on iFriends in 2000. Even though I enjoy private shows and phone, I have almost no time to do one-on-one stuff anymore (especially since the camworld is so much different from when I started) but I *miss* it, so attending FootNight was a way to get back to that a little bit while also experiencing something new in a safe environment with an emphasis on something I love: feet.

The rules were very clear for the event (no nudity, foot worship only, no direct sexual contact, no leaving the party with customers and coming back in, etc.) and all of the women were dressed to attend a nice cocktail party or fine art fetish shoot: black turtleneck dresses, shiny black corsets, etc. In my estimation, I was the only one dressed in a way that said, “it’s all for sale, boys! I’m a total hussy!” with my blouse buttons bursting, my skirt way too short and my boobs bouncing all over the place. I was also the most nervous person there, I think, next to many of the guests with my knees practically knocking trying to walk up and down the stairs in my unimpressively practical (but still challenging for me) heels and very unsophisticated sweat stains accumulating under my arms. The truth is that I don’t have any classy party garb that’s also sexy/leg-baring that I can still fit into.

Besides, I didn’t want to go to great lengths to “fit in”; I figured it was better to stand out looking like a tramp than try to blend in. On top of that I love upskirts and panties and have much more of that kind of thing than feet on my site so I was excited by the idea of having men on the ground below me able to see right up my skirt to my hot pink and black panties. Even if it wasn’t THEIR thing, it’s MY thing; I don’t get out much and planned to milk the tease for all it was worth.

I don’t actually think I have great feet; the only thing I have going for me is that they’re exceptionally small, but at the party there were A LOT of women with small feet. Maybe not quite as small as mine, but there were plenty of size five and six chicks there. All that small-foot competition gave me yet another reason to be glad I had a corner on the market for the super-slutty look.

So WAS there a market for it? Not so much, I don’t think, but wearing something less conspicuously trashy wouldn’t have made a difference. There were a couple of guys who expressed quite a bit of appreciation for the upskirt action, but as far as I know I didn’t have guys waiting in line to spend time with me and my feet at $20 for ten minutes. I kept busy and had fun, but probably only gained one new die-hard fan for the future.

The first guy to give me money wasn’t even there because he liked feet. He was there on a mission with a bottle of Scotch to try to get back into Lady Lydia’s good graces. He told me he’d been rude to her on the phone so she’d stopped talking to him and all he could hope for is that she would accept his gift, if not his apology.

In the process of relating this to me, he reached into his pocket with defeated contrition, pulled out a twenty and assured me that he KNEW the ONLY reason we ladies were there was to make money. “I know it’s all business and I don’t want to waste your time.” I told him that if he was going to pay me, we should at least retreat to a more private area (ie a different couch farther from the door) so I could make sure to give him the time that he paid for even if he didn’t care about my feet or really anything besides Lady Lydia. He and I also agreed that our move and the open exchange of money for time would serve as a model early in the evening for the other guys to take similar steps to secure special attention from the “models”.

After forty dollars worth of talking he felt compelled to resume his tortured quest to adequately humble himself to Lady Lydia. Even though it was the first face-to-face transaction I’d made like that, it felt very familiar . . . very natural to the point where I’m sure I’m forgetting a whole lifetime of doing exactly that: being the whore that men pay just to listen. Of course there’ve been a few other times I’ve gotten money from men face-to-face for certain things, but the circumstances were less formal and the terms not at all clearcut. No, I don’t think I ever blogged about them even though they’d make interesting reading. Much of my limited experience with photographers felt exactly like sex work too, even though they took great pains not to call it that — not to even call it porn — and they didn’t pay me with money; all factors that made it MORE compromising and awkward than work that’s commonly labeled as sex work.

Anyway, Lydia’s guy probably only wanted to spend twenty dollars on me out of obligation because I’d practically forced him to tell me his story simply by introducing myself, but my timer’s battery wore out making it difficult for me to keep accurate time. I’m still not sure if my unreliable timer worked in my favor or against me; on the one hand I wound up giving people more time than they paid for before I realized the timer had no intention of beeping. On the other, they sometimes paid for more since I would discover this too late for them to turn down the next ten minutes since they were already in progress. We were advised by the party organizers to keep a discreet eye on the time but my timer was NOT discreet AT ALL; I pulled that fucker out at the beginning of every session and beeped in ten or eleven minutes in a very obvious way, nerdily assuring them this would help me NOT be distracted from the fun we could have by worrying about the time while they raised their eyebrows and mumbled that I certainly was . . . prepared. If it had actually worked and sounded an alarm at the end of those minutes, I’m sure it would have annoyed a great many people so maybe it was all for the best.
/>I felt busy the whole time I was there, but didn’t really make enough for the trip to be worth what I put into it between the pedicure, ferry, gas, and time that I could have spent doing more lucrative things (like finishing the years-overdue redesign on my site and Delia’s and this blog and . . .). Still, it was worth it to me because it was FUN, super-erotic (I’ll elaborate on in another post) and a reminder of how good it feels to connect with customers individually.

It was also worth it to have BigD snap his suspenders at me, “work” with AmberLily to doubleteam a guy with our feet (again, I’ll elaborate in another entry), and to meet Lydia (I only realized when I got home that she’s the one Ron has told me so much about with so much admiration), Reyja (a fellow Emma Steel), and Mistress Matisse. We women didn’t have much time to stand around chatting with each other, but after so many years of reading Matisse’s blog and communicating online even the little bit we have via email and blog comments it felt to me like we were cousins at a reunion. You know how there are people that feel like they’re in your life — that you’re related to in some way — even though you only see each other face-to-face a couple times in your life and rarely interact? That’s what it was like being in the same room with Matisse: totally uncommon but still irrationally familiar. In fact, that’s what being with customers face-to-face is like. There wasn’t anything weird or new about it that I didn’t recognize as the same as a million other interactions I’ve had and kinds of work I’ve done which is probably what made it so hard for me to accept that I couldn’t just climb on top of a couple of these guys and fuck them dry for a few dollars more. Not that any of them asked for that (everything was very above-board, no-pressure, polite, and legal), I’m just saying it’s hard for me to accept the stigmas, restrictions, and separateness attached to sex work and all the little subtleties built into some of them so that they can avoid being labeled as such.