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What’s a smile turned upside down? Something much jollier than a frown, I think!

Just finished paying the bills, balancing the checkbook, assessing money stuff . . . thinking we’re doing all right. January was an expensive month (like, thousands of dollars more than what we budgeted), but we survived it. We stayed warm, ate well and I feel optimistic about February and very focused.

Thank you to everybody who supports us (currently or in the past or will again in the future) as members to our sites, camshow customers, and/or contributing donations, gifts, kind words, or telling other people online about us. You help make our lives dreamy and affirm my excitement over what we’ll be able to do with ourselves and our porn sites next year if we keep our noses to the grindstone in 2012.

*****

Links to check out:

• this sexy post from Delia about how my feet excite her (including pics of my toes and soles)
• Lightning Allie’s super-interesting post about how being right feels nice, but being wrong is better (I hope some other people comment so as to distract from the long-winded self-centered comments I left)
• pictures of Rugaru and his friends; I hate talking on the phone so I’m really glad I can see a little of what he’s up to on his blog. He’s new to blogging and twitter and stuff so if you have feedback or tips (don’t leave me in charge of showing him all the ropes!) or just some time to let him know you’re checking out where he’s at & going (if indeed you are/want to), I think he would like that.
• I deleted, added, and fixed links to some of the blogs in my sidebar. Still seems insufficient exposure to lots of our friends (and I know I’m probably missing a lot of people) but anyhoo. I really love a lot of those people!

Here I am, mowing the lawn naked in January/winter with a really bad cold:

Mowing the lawn naked in January.

It felt great to wake up this morning with my cold five times worse than it was yesterday. I’m not being sarcastic; it truly felt great! I almost never get sick with colds or flus, so when it happens I appreciate the excuse to just stop everything and take care of myself. Not sure why that manifested as mowing the lawn today, but I think it’s a home and hearth thing, and wanting to enjoy the yard and remind myself what a blessing it is to be out there, interacting with the ground and the trees and the birds and all the little nooks and crannies flowers and green things might pop out of, and that I can take part in that and witness it. AND BECAUSE IT’S SUNNY TODAY, and too beautiful to resist.

I pushed my boundaries and found the place where, for now, my body and instincts needed to lay the line down. Geographically I’m in the same place, but I have a renewed appreciation for the spaces and body I inhabit and for the expansion of my concept of what my life may contain.

*****

Rugaru is back at our house for a few nights with a plan to go home this week, many states away from us. I am so happy for him and his kids and thankful for the people who know and care about him back there.

I’m incredibly grateful for the crazy and beautiful things the three of us have learned and experienced together (and have learned experienced alone, too, BECAUSE of each other) over the past five+ weeks.

I’m also super grateful for the people — friends (including Roog’s friend, T.) and near-strangers and fans and even family (like my mom who popped up with a comment here) — who read our blogs and care about us and generously and genuinely PULL for us and celebrate our happiness with us . . . and worry for us when things get wobbly. We are so fortunate to be the recipients of so much love and well wishes – THANK YOU!

I also feel tremendously lucky to have close family and friends who bestow blessings and acceptance without unbearable loads of judgment upon the unconventional choices I’ve made in life and that Delia and I make together. I don’t know if I would be brave enough to allow myself to experience all of these things without their open-mindedness and support. I wish everybody were at least as lucky as we are – the world would be a better place if everyone were surrounded by the kind of love we’ve been privileged to grow inside of from people like my mom, my sister and her husband, Delia’s sponsor, my sponsor, Lightning Allie, and a host of other friends who root for us online and off and are patient with my many mistakes and enthusiastic wanderings.

I’m excited about spending the rest of this gentle winter with Delia and seeing what pops up for us to experience with and by each other in the springs to come.

*****

Note: I was actually done mowing the lawn by the time I stripped off my clothes for Delia to shoot this for fun. But I really did mow the lawn today/right before this snapshot and it really is winter and I really do have a bad cold.

The story(ies) behind this helmet are precious. Thanks to Lightning Allie, H. Rugaru and DeliaTS. I may always wear a helmet to do stuff like take out the garbage, play playstation, and drive around.

Playstation 3 controller, helmet, and my pussy

Maybe we’ll tell you more about it one of these days.

Wearing helmet at home with hands down my pants on our spycams

Oasis and Jen just launched a new blog carnival that posts on Sundays. Here’s this week’s theme:

Our theme for this week is: Tell and/or show us your first naughty naked picture.

Everyone with a cell phone nowadays seems to be snapping off (and sxting) naked pictures of themselves – teenagers, celebrities, politicians. When did you take your first seXXXy naked pic? Who’d you bare it all for? And maybe most importantly, what was their reaction? And hey, if you’ve still got it, go ahead and show it!

My first naughty naked picture was taken right about the time I started growing pubes, so I definitely cannot post it here. Plus right about the time I was growing pubes was in the early eighties so we didn’t HAVE camera phones or the internet (or wishlists to get paid on the internet for our naughty pics). So naughty naked pictures were rare and unphotoshopped and glossy.

Around 4th or 5th grade I was pretty excited to get a Kodak disc camera (I told you; it was the 80’s! When disc cameras were fucking STYLIN’ and new!). I stayed excited about it until my friend Irene got one, too.

Copycat. She already had everything . . . why’d she have to get the one cool thing I had too?

Sleepovers only happened at Irene’s house, not at my house. My mom rarely let our friends spend the night, but we could go to other girls’ houses. So one night we were in her fancy girly bedroom – four poster bed, matchy-matchy furniture, etc. – and decided to play model & photographer. I didn’t have my camera with me, but Irene had hers, of course.

I pretended to be the photographer first while Irene modeled. I didn’t press the button to take pictures, I just made a clicking sound with my mouth and encouraged her, like “good . . . CHT! More . . . CHT! Very sexy . . . CHT! CHT!”

Then it was my turn to be the model. I took off all of my clothes while Irene played photographer. BUT SHE PRESSED THE BUTTON AND TOOK A REAL PICTURE!

We looked at each other all shocked and scared. When Irene gets scared and ashamed, her eyes get so big and her mouth so open. “What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do??” She was quivering with fear, and it was ME naked in the picture!

I was like, “here, just take out the disc and we’ll break it up and throw it away – make sure your mom doesn’t find it!”

Irene held fast to her camera and told me I didn’t understand.

“No! We can’t throw it away! I’ll get in trouble!!”

“WHY? It’s *your* camera.” You’re the rich one, Irene. You have tons of stuff and probably half a dozen discs of film waiting to be used.

“I have pictures of our family camping trip on there!!”

Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.

“I have to tell my mom”

Fantastic. I should have known better than to play model and photographer with a girl who thought we were gay for humping each other and confessed to her mom when she stole candy.

*****

Irene’s mom was actually pretty cool about being woken up by her tear-stained daughter to  hear this particular confession in the kitchen with just a light from the pantry on while I just STOOD there. Irene’s mom said something reassuring about how little girls sometimes do these things and play with each other and she’d done it too (like, ONCE or something). And then she had us pray to Jesus about it. It actually wasn’t as freaky as it sounds even though Irene’s mom definitely was/is a conservative Jesus freak.

I was not soothed by the unfamiliar prayers (or by Irene’s mom being in agreement with her that the film with the precious camping pictures should NOT be destroyed), but it calmed Irene down and she went right to sleep after that while I was embarrassed and annoyed there would be no humping that night.

*****

Allow me to remind you again that this was the early eighties, and apparently totally normal / not a crime for a family to take a disc of film in for development that included a picture of a young girl’s bald naked front-crack.

So like a month later we were playing I-don’t-know-what on her Atari (I probably wasn’t even playing, but just WATCHING her play, because it was HER Atari and HER fancy house and instead of playing Pac-Man she’d opt to demonstrate a bunch of games I didn’t know how to play because she just wanted to show off and knew I didn’t have an Atari) and she got all serious and told me sotto voce that they got the pictures back.

I really wanted to have my picture, but she said they cut it up with scissors into itty bitty pieces. Because it was evil.

“What did I look like?”

“Really REALLY white. And skinny. Your head wasn’t in it, but we could see your crack. You looked gross.”

*****

So! That’s how my friend and her mom and dad all got to see my first naughty naked picture. And I didn’t.

Read more posts on FIRST naughty naked pics!

Would you be surprised to hear that I’m genuinely INSPIRED by some women’s personal stories of swinging and/or just seeing them fucking and sucking? Here are a few on my mind lately:

*Our friend Sabrina’s blog, Swinging in the Suburbs. I’ve mentioned it before, but she’s been posting more frequently lately and has the perfect balance of honest reflection and erotic titillation (hello bad boy cop story!), plus some provocative questions to ponder.

*Janet Mason’s site and blog: Janet Exposed. I’m not sure why I’ve never explored her site before – she’s been around online since 1998. Today I dove in and read a lot of stuff on her site and LOVE what she has to say.

Janet Mason loves big black cock!

Janet loves the way dark skin looks against her white skin.

I think reading her FAQs page is the reason why I got very excited about the fat, long cucumber Delia brought home from the store tonight. Yes, it’s a far cry from the giant black cocks Janet loves, but she got me so tuned into craving the phallus that I couldn’t help it. On top of that it’s good to read personal stories from women our age about the effects of stress on maintaining a sexy web presence for over a decade. I don’t mean that I’m happy other people have challenges, it’s just a relief and comfort to read people being honest about them.

*Angelique XXX (also a swinger): I just posted a guest gallery of her in my members-only area after finding some of her photos from her recent pregnancy.

Angelique XXX in tight white tank top & jeans.

Pregnant Angelique squeezing her swollen breasts.

I’ve always admired her French Canadian brand of beauty and was really happy to see the pregnant stuff after hearing awhile back that she initially hadn’t felt sexy pregnant. Again, it’s not that I celebrate the idea of her doing something that she didn’t enjoy; rather I enjoy thinking about the process she might have gone through to arrive at a place where she DID feel sexy (and of course the resulting porn is just HOT, especially to someone like myself who has always had the hots for her — seeing her transformed and expanded like that is erotic and potent to me).

I know, all of these words are very dorky and old-manlike, but they’re part of the truth. The part of the truth that just wants to share some hot mama porn without overthinking it to death.

It’s interesting how excited I get about these women’s portrayals of their sex lives even though I wouldn’t want to have their experiences myself. Not exactly, anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever want to be “filled up” and “stretched” the way some chicks (like Janet) do (I find deep penetration painful; I come faster and more often fucking guys with small cocks), but I do relate completely to being extremely aroused just by the sight of a really REALLY big cock. I’ll never be someone who specifically seeks out “black cock” to fetishize (but yeah, I might have a tiny little bit of an agenda in wanting to have sex with black WOMEN). I don’t think I’ll ever want to invest the amount of time in arranging to meet and fuck so many people (and be all clean and gorgeous and multi-orgasmic while doing it) but I do want a little bit of what they have one of these days, for both Delia and I.

But mostly for Delia. I am more of the husband-with-the-camera type.

Honestly, I *have* meant to write more about the whole open-relationship/swinging thing and my idea of what kind of openness is desirable/ideal to me (and what kinds are NOT). And discuss the whole subject of having stunt cocks/guest “models” to fuck on camera. And what I liked about having multiple sex partners in the past. And why that’s not a big priority for me right now, but I anticipate will be again. Someday . . .

I thought I’d be blogging a ton and going to museums and reading books and singing on streetcorners to make money to blow on sexy new outfits to clothe Delia’s new boobs while she’s recovering from her Friday surgery, but I haven’t done any of those things (surprised?).

Well, I *have* read some books.

Anyway, her fresh new boobs are looking big and . . . FRESH (that pic was snapped mere hours after surgery/the same day), in the way implants look when they’re new, plus a little gory underneath because of her stitched up incisions lined in blue marker and shiny/wet-looking with silagel steri-strips (I’m always confusing dildo materials with medical supplies).

Anyway, we’re flying homo tomorrow (these typos are what happen to you when you’ve been in San Francisco for a week, apparently) and we will resume our usual schedule of being boring on our voyeur cams, especially now that I can’t touch Delia’s boobs. That’s the part all of the proud husbands and boyfriends don’t tell you about, the way you only get to look at them for weeks or months while the little woman heals.

They’re awesome, though, and I’m so glad that I got that Ativan prescription for the plane along with an Ambien bonus. Even with the anti-anxiety meds I was a little skittish. I only wish I’d have thought to take it for the terrifying cab rides to and from the hospital. I am really just a frightened country mouse and this city is like a big piss-spattered blanket of concrete offering no solace except in the form of expensive foodstuffs. I like it, but after a week my nerves are frayed by all of the people and bustling and the alternating aromas of hot aged urine, delicious grilled meats, and skunky weed. Even the rotation of our room’s ceiling fan in the corner of my eye when I’m trying to read and block out the sound of the hotel’s pigeon mascot is about to give me a fucking seizure. But don’t feel sorry for me, I’m having fun and Delia is the one in REAL pain, not I.

I’m not complaining, just trying to make up for all of the crazy I haven’t been sharing during my period of blog silence! Because that’s what you come here for, right? To laugh at my hypersensitivity to stimuli that the rest of the civilized world tunes out? And the silliness of me feeling this way but denying myself the Ativan instead of using it during situations like this?

Seriously, it’s awesome being here I’ve just been having a hard time FINISHING blogging anything worth reading and if I don’t post something reflecting my curmudgeonly PRESENT, I may not post anything at all. Because it’s hard to do quickly-written justice to the sex dream I had about the frenetic pit bull and the way I almost passed out after I woke from it trying to jerk myself off standing up in the bathroom without letting Delia hear what I was doing.

Delia is just beginning to feel up to the challenge to venturing out to dine (just walking is painful after having 650 CC’s of silicone inserted under the muscles on each side of her chest) so we’re about to head out. All I’ve really accomplished over the past few days is 1) refilling her ice packs, 2) putting her hair in a ponytail when she asks me to, 3) helping her in and out of her button-up nightshirt and inspecting her incisions, and 4) taking her hair OUT of a ponytail when she asks me to. And making food runs!

Allow me to say another thank you to Tom for making these boobs and this trip possible, and for us not having to worry for a moment about how to scrape together the money for not just the surgery, medication, bras and stuff, but also the expense of the trip and food and everything for BOTH of us. Delia is a trooper and it sounds like I haven’t been doing anything very helpful, but it would have been really hard for her to be here alone and/or have to fly back right afterward. I don’t know how people manage on their own to deal with surgeries or broken bones, or even more challenging, how single women with children manage such things!

On a more serious note (speaking of ordeals and moms and stuff), AmberLily’s mom was hospitalized not long after having surgery (of the non-plastic/non-fun kind) and I don’t think they know what’s wrong with her so send positive vibes their way. So stressful, in ways that are much more worrisome than the effects of pigeons and ceiling fans on my fragile little mind.

Tomorrow Delia has her first follow-up appointment with the surgeon. I wonder if we should bring him flowers or a box of chocolates or something? I’m not sure what the etiquette of plastic surgery is in terms of thank-yous to doctors. I know presents aren’t NECESSARY or obligatory, of course, but very little in life IS (I mean, we’re dealing with something highly optional anyway, right?). One of the nurses told us he and his wife love pickles, so maybe some of those. That would be totally funny, to walk into his swanky office dripping green juice from one big, wet state-fair style pickle. Totally an uncitified way of giving thanks.

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)!

Back in 2001 there were more teasey story-porn pictorials around; I loved them for the buildup and wish we had time to make all (or a lot) of our porn like that.

Here are a couple of 2009 examples from a couple of my favorite web chicks:

Sequoia Redd with Brandi Belle in the Penis Pump Challenge

Poor Cinderella

*****

I’d *love* to do a brain dump here of all the blog-drafts in my head, but I’m starving and trying hard to stop feeling guilty and worried about mistake(s) I/we made. I feel like we don’t have enough time or money to do anything RIGHT, but the truth is we do a lot of things right and fucking up every so often and doing some things half-assed a lot shouldn’t erase all of that. Plus I need to stop kidding myself that perfection is attainable with time and money. It’s not. It never will be. We could have all the time and hired help and money in the world and we’d STILL make mistakes. In fact, we’d probably have the resources to make even more of them with more embarrassing consequences.

Reminding myself: progress, not perfection. Promptly admit when I am wrong. Make amends. Use my own mistakes as a reminder not to judge other people so harshly.

One of my best (and former camgirl) friends just started blogging about her and her husband’s adventures in Swinging in the Suburbs. I knew from talking to her they’d been exploring and playing around more, but there’s something extra delicious about reading her BLOG about it with lots of juicy details and careful thought about different approaches to swinging and what feels right for her.

It’s  hard to describe how excited I got reading her stories; they’re exciting all on their own, of course, but because I am so fond of her (and maybe because I had a threesome with her and her husband) it’s extra gratifying to have this voyeuristic window into how much fun they’re having. They are beautiful, really nice people who deserve to have a good time and are role models to me for their strong and sexually healthy marriage, among a great many other traits I admire.

Reading stories like her latest puts a huge smile on my face because I *know* what her gorgeous smile looks like and how flexible her legs and hips are and exactly what her big boobs feel like and what she sounds like when her pussy’s getting eaten. You might know a few of those things too if you remember her as Prettyface/Sabrina back in her camming days!

From a more generic perspective, I also really appreciate that she isn’t one of these people making up a bunch of bullshit about her exploits or pretending that everything is perfect and totally orgasmic all of the time; being in a healthy relationship(s) doesn’t necessarily mean having tons of sex all of the time. I also think it’s important for people to know more in a general way about the varieties of sex people are having — that are POSSIBLE to have — in committed, straight relationships. It’s funny to compare people’s expectations and perceptions of couples like Delia and I — making porn and being viewed as sexual deviants for a whole host of reasons while being very stay-at-home monogamous in practice — with people’s expectations and perceptions of couples like Sab and her husband who look like (and are) your typical white bread suburban family. At a glance, they would be conservative America’s poster children for marriage and indeed they ARE, but for kinkier, more open reasons that the casual observer could see with a superficial glance.

Anyway, it’s one of those things giving me pleasure lately and helping me feel connected to people I adore that we live too far (half the country away) from to see often. I’m looking forward to reading more posts in the weeks, months and years to come!