SEVENTEEN YEARS of TastyTrixie.com

May Day is special. For a lot of reasons, but a personal and professional one is that on May 1st, 2002 I opened the members-only area (the paysite/for-money part) of this site, TastyTrixie.com. So I have been making money on my indie porn site for SEVENTEEN YEARS today!

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Happy anniversary to me, and thank you to all of you who’ve supported and enjoyed me and my work over the years. :)

Today I celebrated by launching my very first NON-ADULT (non-porn) website.

I’m keeping it completely separate from all of our naked, sexy and pornographic stuff, so I can’t tell you what it is. But you can read more about my new site (and why I’m excited about it) here on WebWhore101.

 

Written in the Sand

Last year I committed to spending more time at the beach. AND I DID.

My priorities and my visions of normalcy and success shifted with every minute I spent at the shoreline.

My intention was to continue regular beach visits in 2019 — multiple times every week — but so far this year … I haven’t gone much.

Today I didn’t even want to leave the house. Like most days this month. February is the worst month of winter in Washington (even without the snow that piled up last week); even though the days are getting longer, it’s not nearly enough sunlight after months of reduced daylight hours. It feels like darkness falls way too soon every day.

But I had to get one of Delia’s checks in the bank. It seemed like a waste of gas and putting-on-clothes to turn right back around and go home, so I made myself go to the beach, telling myself that I could just sit in the car and read. Just GO. Just GET there.

And there it was … proof that THE BEACH IS FOR ME, written like a personalized welcome mat:

Without planning it, the tide is often low when I get there. Especially on days like today when I had to ease myself into just the idea of being upright.

Funny coincidence: last night I read a story featuring sandwriting that was also like a personal bridge, but between where I picture the author Emma Donoghue and here in the Pacific Northwest. Starting out reading Slammerkin and The Sealed Letter, she has always seemed SO across-the-pond and decades and centuries ago from where I be, but in Touchy Subjects there she is writing about JESUS and TACOMA and the word COCKSUCKERS in the sand.

So far this book is full of stories I would never have imagined her writing, but I was totally surprised by Room coming from her, too. But maybe she was just making fun of us for that big JESUS CARES ABOUT YOU sign you can see from the freeway that you can imagine was an inspiration for it. It makes me miss Tacoma, actually. Lots of things make me miss Tacoma. But then I go to the beach here and don’t give Tacoma another thought.

Anyhoo … I had very tender feelings for “The Man Who Wrote on Beaches” when I read it last night.

“…he had a home with a view of Puget Sound and a good job and a great collection of German steins and a lot of laughs. Above all, he had Margaret, who was twice what he deserved.”

The older I get and resign myself to being My Authentic Self, I have to accept that even though I’m capitalizing those words like I’m in on the ridiculous joke of myself, I’m honestly NOT joking. I’m earnest and can say with my whole heart that I love The Man Who Wrote on Beaches. With recognition, relief that I haven’t taken it QUITE that far (but only because I got the idea of asking Jesus into my heart out of my system as a teenager), forgiveness … and no measurable amount of irony.

Merry Christmas!

I hope your Christmas is wrapping up on an insanely jolly, cozy note … and that it smells as good as my hair after I laid it on these boughs of fir.

 

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Easter Goodness: Cute AND Cummy!

Last year I painted Delia’s balls like Easter Eggs and took pictures and video of her doing a holiday-appropriate fertility kind of thing, culminating in creamy egg-filling landing on a dandelion.

You know dandelions are edible, right? And so is creamy egg filling! Cum-eating is one of my wife’s specialties. I’d say she does it in over half of her videos, and I think this is the PERFECT time of year to combine cuteness with cumminess!

This year she posted the Easter Bunny picture set; we shared thirty of my favorites over on her blog if you want to see more!

My shadow is not in ANY of those thirty pictures, by the way … but this is definitely my preferred format for making appearances these days: barely visible. Just a hint of Trixie. SHADOW Trixie! Man-behind-the-camera Trixie. Sunshine-on-my-shoulders Trixie.

As the days get longer I do feel more like coming out. More hopeful I’ll feel more visibly radiant one of these days soonish.

Staying off of social media helps. Easter is actually the one day I specifically resolved a few years ago to never look at what other people are saying or doing. I may not need to do anything to celebrate Easter myself, but I do find a lot of joy in a wide variety of Easter stories, rituals, traditions, etc. Including the story of the resurrection of Jesus.

While I appreciate and understand criticisms of Christianity — like how paganism was co-opted, perverted, criminalized and lethally punished by Christians, and Easter is a particularly good example of that — I’m still fed by some of those stories I grew up with. When you’re a kid, those things are real and bible stories are some of the first paranormal stories you hear and see PICTURES with rays of sunshine breaking out in all kinds of tragic places. The image of the stone being rolled away and the mystery and hope of his body being gone, and of him appearing to people who loved him afterwards are beautiful stories that most people need in one form or another.

While the Christian stories are understandably stupid and/or too inextricably tied to ugliness and horror for many people (and nobody should be forced to honor or respect what is just pure scary bullshit to them), some of us still love simple aspects of those stories and want to bask in the rapture of them. The stuff that old songs are about that have made people throw their heads back and arms into the air for centuries, craving love and relief and for magic to be real, or at least to suspend disbelief long enough to enjoy the stories that tell us they are so. It just feels more powerful when you participate in it with your voice and body.

On Easter I don’t want to be around or listen to people who tell me not to fuck outside like rabbits or not to believe in Jesus. Neither one of those peoples do I want to listen to so much, or share my voice or body or suspension of disbelief with. Which is part of why I’m being invisible a lot lately. And it is good.

 

Woods Walk: Week 6

Fulfilled: promise to myself to walk in the woods weekly (at least).
Even though I haven’t been blogging these walks right away, I’ve been doing them … and feel happier because of it. Super happy to have gotten this one promise to my body fulfilled early this week / today. It’s been a long time since I visited this favorite local park for woods-walking.

These paths — especially where they are narrower with lots of roots, hairpins and other obstacles to navigate (not pictured here) — make me want to run run run run RUN.

I ran a little bit. Even though I felt clunky and ran out of steam fast, my body still remembered how to do it and reminded me how fast rhythm and euphoria can be mine. All mine at my own varying, self-pleasing, self-pushing pace.

It doesn’t feel like winter. It feels like spring with a very depressed sun that wants to stay under the covers and sleep a lot.

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Woods and Water: Week 4

I squeezed in a combo woods-and-saltwater walk before this week ended!

Yup – that deer was only a few feet away from me when I lumbered down the trail. I should’ve done more to scare it instead of taking a picture, but they’re so habituated to humans here it’s a lost cause.

Bluff and beach erosion are problems here (especially for people with houses built on them). I definitely worry more about rocks and earth and trees sliding down on me when I’m walking the beach than I do about tsunamis. We had a Tsunami warning in the middle of the night a few bedtimes back, but we kind of laughed it off. This time.

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