First nudie pic of the day taken yesterday by the new guy right after he pulled out of my pussy and came all over my butt cheeks (which I rubbed in so unfortunately you can’t see it, though you could have been watching it on our voyeurcams):
Later I creeped him out by staring at him as he slept. He woke up saying he was dreaming that I was conducting experiments on him.
I had nervous dreams about him too but I didn’t tell him what they were.
From the first video shot with a new guy using my camera phone, and just posted for members:
Sitting down on his lap/dick facing away from him:
It’s just a barely-visible camera phone video, but my fucking god I’ve probably masturbated and gotten off to it more in the past three days than I’ve *ever* masturbated to any one thing in that brief of a time span.
The biggest turn-on about it is hearing him — I love hearing guys when they’re feeling good and getting off, and the sound of this new guy is imprinting on me fast and hard.
The other huge turn-on: HIS HANDS. The way they feel on me, and getting to see that pressure from his touch squeezing in on my body — even in a poorly lit video like this — is so fucking hot.
I love hands in general, and because the frame of my body is small, it makes big hands look even BIGGER when they’re placed on me which makes their visual impact and effect on me even more profound.
JOIN MY SITE to watch and hear me fucking!
I love men’s bodies. I love men’s hands. I love men’s hands on my body. I love those hands moving around to different places on my body, pulling me and pawing me, or being gentle or inquisitive or senselessly in love with touching. I love the fucking hair on men’s bodies.
I love when I can see the boyish face shining out of a grown man — unabashed new joy and wonder, like I’m ice cream and puppies and the first time you realized touching your butthole felt good. I love when I get to see this boyish face shine out of women, too.
I love the way men sound when their dick is starting to feel really good inside my body, and the way they sound as they start feeling even BETTER, and the way they sound when it feels like the best thing in the world. Happening inside my hand or mouth or pussy or ass, or in their own hand onto my tits or feet or belly. I love feeling their bulk bumping up against me. I love the ways they are soft, and where they are bigger than I am.
I love that I have the luxury of choosing when and if and for how long and how many men I get to wallow in. That I am not bound by anything to any one man or any JUST ONE person in general or to men at all if I’m not in the mood for one.
I love nestling myself in under a man’s arm, head on chest, along his side with his arm around me and my hand playing with his cock. This is a place I love seeking out more than I ever could being married to one or being limited to just one “boyfriend”.
I love how generous men are with love, and having (some) stereotypes about them proved wrong every time I’m with them, or you hear them singing songs. I love all of the different shapes and sizes and weights of penises as long as the men enjoy fiddling with them, and all of the faces that are alive behind the eyes and care to see me and are vulnerable to desire. I love scared limp dicks and fast sudden cums.
I love chub and girth and mass and solid walls of chest and shoulders.
I love hearing Daddy talk about work, and I love when they become my sweet pretty eager-to-please big boys. I love when their faces light up grinning from ear-to-ear or their eyes just get real big at a simple offer to touch my boob that I’ve lazily pulled out.
Talking is hard. You wanna touch my boob? My top opening up or coming off: the greatest story ever told.
I love how easy it is for me to love people. It is a gift, to be able to feel and express love easily, and it crushes my heart to think of all the ways the world (and undue attention to it) throws unnecessary obstacles up in the free path to sharing it.
None of this is true all of the time, but this is all true enough.
I love all of the people who have survived the shit of the world with the incredible capacity to love and be kind. You are all motherfucking miracles.
I love the girl whose favorite doughnut is lemon-glazed, and I love my mom. I love that my wife almost had an assgasm shooting porn with a big-dicked guy in a funny wig and condom who was having a difficult day.
Life really has its ups and downs.
Delia and I after some sweet Sunday-morning sex:
Here she is in her tight bikini briefs, bending over to unload some laundry she’s doing in preparation for her trip to Vegas:
She’s going to be shooting exclusive hardcore and solo content for another site (she doesn’t like to tell until the content is for sure going up and being released), and while she’s there shooting some more hardcore and solo stuff for her own site, DeliaTS.com (also not announcing who her co-star[s?] might be until it happens for sure).
I’m staying home and have a date tomorrow to, ummmm, INTERVIEW a new potential stunt cock. Which is pretty degrading terminology I’m using to try to get you excited and curious about a HUMAN BEING I ALREADY REALLY LIKE and a whole personal (AND professional) process that we hope results in more hot homemade porn.
While our small handful of friends-and-lovers who are open to shooting with us has grown slightly in the past couple of years (and a bevy of really hot possibilities are open to being “interviewed”), I guess I have to admit to myself that I’m looking for people — maybe even just one person — who will fit the bill in many more ways than one or even a dozen. While I like the idea of having lots of “stunt cocks”, I love that our sites showcase our real relationship to each other, to ourselves . . . to our work and our bodies and where we live and what pleases us. It’s really been an unexpected recent (past two years) and challenging thing for me to even understand that I want not just sexual encounters, but also romantic and creative relationships in addition to Delia, and/or between Delia and I and another person or people. In coming to understand this, I have made a lot of mistakes and perhaps “wasted” a lot of time and energy, and added a lot of stress and sometimes heartache to the lives of people I care about, including my wife’s . . . but I think all of it is growing us and our visions of how we live and work and what we share in the directions we are meant to go — are in line with the journeys we want and are meant to take and that are worth sharing, and are unique in porn and this space and time, even if for no other reason than our longevity as indie pornographers with autobiographical personality sites.
I’m actually still not clear on the best way to approach this kind of thing and am really gunshy at this point. But happily not so gunshy that it will stop me from looking forward to tomorrow. Then again, I wonder if I should even post stuff like this . . . I’m afraid I might jinx it. Also: it sounds totally fucking corny. But thanks to the people who take the time to write to us, we get just enough reminders that THIS IS THE STUFF THAT MATTERS TO PEOPLE and adds value and context to our porn that transcends what they initially expected to get out of it.
And now instead of focusing on this wonderful side of indie-porn-making, I have to deal with someone who’s trying to scam us for hundreds of dollars by sending us fraudulent sales.