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Archive for the ‘perfume’ Category

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.

A DARK CELEBRATION OF PARIS

From my *favorite* place to browse and shop online, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has this limited edition:

For a limited time, the following scent will be available on our Limited Edition page:

PRIVILEGE
Polished party-girl sleaze. This is a shameless scent, devoid of caution, regret, or introspection. This perfume reeks of tabloid glamour, and has no substance whatsoever. Armoise, tuberose, white citrus, rose absolute, oakmoss, tiare, tuberose, vanilla, linden, and lemon tree blossom.

Although this scent originated with fine plants and the pure essences, the final result is a grotesque, eerily empty caricature of a debauched, narcissistic would-be debutante.

PRUNO
Jailhouse hooch. Distilled in toilets, this vintage is comprised of chow line droppings, including oranges, apples, ketchup, and sugar.

Is it cruel to commemorate someone’s jail sentence with a festive set of fragrances? Maybe. But it is far fouler to drive drunk, endanger the lives of others, and expect to get away with it because your family has cash.

It is our opinion that everyone should be held accountable for their actions. Period.

These scents will be live for as long as Paris Hilton stays in jail.

Money shouldn’t exempt you from basic human decency, and it certainly shouldn’t shelter you from justice.

(By the way… Candy Spelling, we love you!)

In addition to being a celebration of one irresponsible, horrid person’s comeuppance, these scents do go to a good cause… albeit, in BPAL’s crass, snotty fashion. A portion of each sale of Privilege and Pruno will be donated to Southern California women’s shelters.

- In the interests of privacy and at least a sliver of good taste, the specific shelters are staying under a veil of anonymity. We hope you understand.

Nice!

I confess, I’m a Paris hater, too. I think she’s a sociopath who’s too stupid and vacuous to come up with any creative way to be criminal. I do like looking at her, though, in spite of her asymmetric eyes (bizarre and unattractive only because people seem blind to it and willing to pay her buttloads to model for them — I will never forget some of the full page headshots I’ve seen of her in magazines that seemed to play up that weirdly exaggerated feature of hers). I also have images of her burned in my brain where her head is tipped over to the side and she just looks mentally VOID with her big empty head weighed down by extensions, too heavy to hold up on her weak spindly neck.

*****

I’m super sleepy but trying to crank out some work. We had a long drive today for a two-hour therapy session in Tacoma.

Tomorrow our top priority is FUCKING.