So you know how I mentioned that Taurus’ girlfriend (I feel like I should call her his wife) was coming over? And then I haven’t said anything about it here since?
When I don’t post about somebody or something, it doesn’t mean I have nothing to say, or that somebody or something that happened wasn’t/isn’t special or interesting or awesome. It usually means I haven’t had time to do somebody or something justice or something got complicated or more loaded with details and I want to unroll it in a sensible and sensitive manner, or I’m afraid someone will read it and feel bad or left out. Or I just don’t even know what to call somebody. Like Taurus’ woman/wife/girlfriend. So sometimes I never even get around to saying anything at all.
She and he are coming over Thursday night. I don’t think it (whatever “it” is) will be on the spycams. But I think it’s going to be good. And special.
Over the past few years, more than one wife (including my own) has been extremely generous and loving and open to me, and brave and optimistic and doggedly-determined to do all kinds of work to insure their partners have as much love and security and happiness as possible. They are a powerful wonder to me, and a privilege I have never deserved.
Women are such fierce lovers, they bowl me over. It’s as hard for me to talk about how I feel about them as it is hard for me to talk about how I feel about “God”. Because, you know, that’s who they are.
Woke up to another beautiful morning:
I ruined it by tormenting myself with guilt over sleeping in, forgetting that it’s okay if I want/need more than seven hours of sleep.
So far I’ve listened to music, had a good long stretch, masturbated a couple of times, and not eaten enough. I don’t want to waste the few daylight hours we have sitting at the computer. I can do that now that the sun’s going down. I might be up very late tonight I think. Editing pictures and/or videos and/or blog drafts. And/or maybe learning how to use lightroom so our photo assets can be found and utilized more easily for lots of different projects.
I feel overwhelmed and afraid I’m incompetent and we’ll never get ahead and everything is going to fall apart and I’m letting Delia down. Only because reality is such sharp contrast to how excited I am about all kinds of POSSIBILITIES and POTENTIAL! I’m exhausted by imagining how to make any of it come to fruition when just checking my email takes an hour. Without even responding to any of it. I’ve been working on managing my time more closely and working with my brain, but it’s gotten a little depressing because . . . my attention is extremely difficult to manage.
I’m worn down and PETRIFIED of how much time and resources we need to invest in buying new tools and learning new things and developing better procedures (like learning Lightroom / adopting a whole different way of editing and managing our photos for more robust marketing and selection and building galleries, and hiring people to help with such things which means managing them and being interrupted by them) that are not really creative.
Like . . . how am I ever going to make a ridiculously ambitious (and just plan ridiculous) XXX movie like Death Metal Mommy when just doing a half-assed job of managing our bills and money takes me four hours a week?
Now that some of my unrealistic romantic-porntastic attachments to Taurus have been checked AND I’m physically healthier AND I’ve refined my approach to shooting with new people (nutshell: not going to shoot WITH them first time), I’m picking up some of those threads I let drop and also making some new contacts. Like . . . why in the world did I not respond to the guy in the kilt a year ago. WHY?????? Who as it turns out is totally switchy and into doing anything I want him to with my wife ON CAMERA FOR THE WHOLE INTERNET TO SEE. Oh . . . I know why. Love. And secrets. And my mid-life crisis. And trying to suck up life without exploiting every morsel of it for our porn sites.
What a crock of shit.
From now on I should only be in love with 1) my wife and 2) money.
Just kidding. Sort of. I’m a little depressed and feel like we need to be rich enough a year from now when our Seattle studio lease is up for Delia and I to have the living/working spaces we need to be productive AND to not be spending this much fucking time apart. I don’t need or want a lot of interaction on a daily basis, but not seeing my wife at all for up to a week at a time this often is really not enhancing my productivity. Need healthy balance.
I’m just trying to remember that doing something is better than doing nothing. Even if it feels worse to try and make so little progress. So many things started and left undone. Sigh.
Man, I really fucked shit up a lot last year/2013. REALLY FUCKED IT UP.
He said that he measures his orgasms by his own slow-pumping heartbeats, and this one was abnormally long.
I said I usually don’t find the way guys measure things (their dicks in inches, my boobs in bra sizes, etc.) very interesting or useful. But this heartbeat-measurement is very compelling and romantic. He then found a way to provide the word he must’ve known I was reaching for: “poetic”.
But there actually *are* some other units of measurement I do find very compelling . . . like the big huge oil containers we used as burn barrels when I was growing up — when I couldn’t come up with the name myself, he then supplied “50 gallon drum” in a painful story which let me know he knew what I was trying to talk about — anyway, I like to imagine how many of those have been filled with cum guys have ejaculated thinking about me over the span of my career as a webwhore. I don’t imagine it’s a whole truckload of them, but just imagining one of them being filled up, a cover placed on it, and a new one being added to excites me. I’m intrigued by the idea of comparing my containers to other people’s.
As a member to my and my wife’s sites (you get both of them when you join either one), you could have been watching Taurus and I fucking in the cabin on our live voyeur cams.
You would not have watched a threesome though because Delia’s back hurt so we just watched Project Runway. You also could not have seen Taurus and I fucking near midnight (this happened after you might have seen him killing moths in the loft: part of why we turned off the light and did it in the dark, which probably helped me “finish”, even though I rarely want it to be all done).
I spent some quality time on this day masturbating to videos of Taurus on my phone.
There’s this one I made when he thought I was just taking pictures so he was moving really slowly and seductively, and I didn’t tell him I was taking video so I felt kind of guilty about it and stopped after only half a minute which left me with this painfully erotic little stroke video with no cumshot or anything. My phone doesn’t loop videos, so I started getting really frustrated wanting to come to it (if it were just 15 or 20 seconds longer gahhh!) and found a “select player” option which then gave me some crap about connecting our wifi network which I didn’t understand because I just want a different PLAYER on my phone that would REPEATEDLY PLAY THE VIDEO WITHOUT STOPPING but I checked the box anyway and then all of a sudden it said TV-numbernumbernumber and ALL OF A SUDDEN (well not quite that suddenly) THE VIDEO WAS ON OUR BIG HUGE TV!!
Taurus on the TV
Just the concept of the video magically appearing on the tv without any wires or setup or anything made the thirteen-year-old inside me just about spontaneously combust.
I love lazy masturbation when I’m having my period. I came three or four times . . . it was lovely.
It’s interesting to me, all the different mediums for porn I’ve gotten to employ and kinds of media I’ve used as masturbation material over my forty years. ON-DEMAND PORTABLE MASTURBATION FODDER and CAMERA are the two greatest things about mobile phones. And that is why *I* will not download the new Facebook messenger app. Simply because I don’t want to use my phone for painful slow swipey communication . . . MY PHONE IS DEDICATED TO EFFICIENT JACK-OFF MATERIAL.
I wish I could get that video to loop. It’s probably as easy as downloading a special player or something, but in the heat of the moment I never want to stop and find something like that.
Looking at Taurus looking at a book of pin-ups:
Looking at Taurus looking at a book about queer pulp:
My favorite part: the hello kisses that felt full of love and nothing outside of being so happy and excited to see each other.
Not long after that I forgot that I don’t know how to not be an asshole, even with an alarm clock that should have reminded me not to be. I don’t have the skills. And that I have waaaaaaaaaaaay more babyish emotional needs and demands than I feel proud of.
I want to be loved with impractical ferocity and patient reassurance. I want the way I devour you with the full force of my gaze to feel good, not scary.
I want to be good at all of this, and I’m not. The past year has taught me that. I fucking suck at it. And pretty much everything else. Which is something I need to work on alone. Or just not . . . inflict myself on others. I want to be safe and reliable and healthy and admirable. And I’m not. I want to be NICE. And I’m not, except very inconsistently, which is just cruel. Unpredictable people suck ass for people who need more safe happiness.