Hi everyone who has found my story, hope you'll enjoy the reading.
Fetish porn, particularly racial fetishism, has gotten a bad rap. It’s just one of many subversive topics that are currently battling a massive dichotomy in discourse. But like many of the other fervently divided topics on the docket for 2020, Asian porn, and other pornographic content centred around racial fetishism, has its share of proponents. And it’s not just the people watching it.
When the advertisement for a free session with a local boudoir photographer came across my feed, I clicked it without hesitation. My reason was two-fold, a way to procrastinate the white pages I was writing for a client, and because I was trying to push myself out of my comfort zone.
With every generation comes new aspirations and it appears today's generation aspire to be Content Creators and Social Media Influencers. Not a bad inspiration goal but does it matter how you do it!
The media often talks about men pleasuring themselves – by which I mean there’s a lot of jokes made about masturbation and genitalia, but only for men. This is because there are a lot of men in the media, they are all over television shows, movies, politics. Sure, there have been improvements over the years, but we still have a lot of work to do. That said, when remarks about the area between one’s legs are made, they are often about men, and not about men. In fact, the closest thing to comments being made about female genitals is a John Oliver sketch featuring his Catheter Cowboy saying, “and that little feller there is what we call the clitoris,” mispronouncing that final word.
Women over the age of 30 are either feeling really sexual, or suppressing it. And I’m talking to the ones that suppress it. What’s wrong with the word sexy anyway?
Shame; noun, a painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior.
I lost my virginity before I had sex, and I'm sure I'm not the only 22-year-old woman who can say the same.
Growing up, I had a very Jane the Virgin mentality. Sex was for marriage and that was it. Never did I think that I would lose it on the verge of becoming 19 years old. When I was younger—around the age of 15—I wanted to be a nun. I had wanted to finish high school and then head to a convent to dedicate my life to God because I didn't see myself happy with a man and children.
A whore is defined as a prostitute in the dictionary. Go ahead, look it up on Google, I can assure you that this is the definition. The word being around for many years has passed from mouth to mouth, as either a greeting or an insult. Take it as you will, but I see the word as a misunderstanding when targeted out of spite. If I get called a whore, no matter what situation, I see it as a compliment because I know for a fact that I am a whore, a proud one at that. I mean, give me a cock and I will suck that shit dry. My friends do not know of my endeavors and I would never bring them into that lifestyle if I had a chance. They know that I am not a virgin and that’s all they need to know. It’s not seen in a good manor and part of foreplay for me. It’s a rush trying to hide guys from my roommate and lying to my friends on what I’m going to do for that night. Just to make it clear, I am not a prostitute, but I do like my sexuality. I will admit to anything that I have done within confidence and will even share the juicy details without hesitance. The funny thing being is that me talking about all this, you probably think I am a skinny porn star with giant boobs and bleach blonde hair. You would be wrong for the most part, but the boobs would be right. I’m a 36DD, bitches! To tell the absolute truth, I am a 230lb girl with a big nose and a normal sex drive that I pay attention to. You don’t have to be “skinny” and “beautiful” to have sex and have guys interested in you! It’s all about your confidence, babe. If you need to, throw all your mirrors away and just enjoy your life without you attacking yourself. YOU. ARE. BEAUTIFUL.
"I had a conversation with the Universe," He said to me, underneath the voices of many on the crowded bar patio, twinkling with lights and lit beer signs. My friend and I had stopped in that night after work. I wanted no more than one drink. The weekends rarely leave room to think in this place, but something inside of me said to wait, and so we ended up in a conversation with two easy-going men. They were visiting our mountain town for a reunion with a group of their friends. They had come to the bar to get away, get a drink, and instead we sat around the table outside chain-smoking and having a good time, until their friend showed up to take them back to the guys.
Though we may deny it publicly, many of us have grabbed our phone or laptop when our plans get cancelled and we find ourselves alone in our apartments with nothing to do but get ourselves off and binge watch The Office. (Just me?)