Writing without vaping is a bit more challenging than I expected. Well to be honest, I never really expected to be writing without vaping, so my expectations were skewed accordingly. Yet here we are. I've lost count of how long it has been. I am pretty certain it has been over 100 days now. Please note, when I say it is a challenge, I am not sure that's the best word for it. When I quit smoking cigarettes, I experienced moments of depression so intense that I felt unsafe. Writing without a vape feels like when a gnat is flying around you at the beach. It's not causing you any harm at all, but you can't seem to just not notice it even though you're at the beach, otherwise having a wonderful time. I am very aware that I am typing and that there isn't a cloud of strawberry scented vapor over my head. I'm not sad about it, not even stressed, I just can't seem to ignore that I am aware of it.
Someone asked me recently how I quit smoking. I spared them the minutia. We all know the tools that are available, if you really want to a soup can will work as well as a hammer. The only part that matters is the part where you really want to. I quit because the version of me that lived in my top's imagination was somehow cooler than who I imagined myself to be. No easy feat, I think I'm the bees' knees.
The other day I stumbled across some angry posts about the realness of porn. I don't wish to be shown more angry posts debating the realness of porn so I didn't engage. But of course, I have opinions, and it's your lucky day.
In the quibbling twittering I eavesdropped on, the OP remarked that porn is fake. To which another little bird said that that's why they like amateur porn. Then many little blue birds chirped that amateur porn is fake too. If the scene when Alan Rickman plumets to his death makes me wet, does that mean Die Hard is porn and not a Christmas movie?
I don't know why realness would be a component of factoring quality or value. And if it is to be a factor, what do you even mean when you say real? I have never heard of a porn star using a stunt pussy. I mean I make amateur movies, perhaps on big budget sets that's the norm, what do I know. I have heard people devalue porn because it doesn't showcase how people really have sex. I suppose that's pretty accurate. Lights off, wrapped in blankets and thrusting may or may not feel good but it definitely isn't visually stimulating.
I think amateur porn, like any commercial art, is some imprecise ratio of this is what I enjoy creating, this is what I imagine my audience wants to consume, and I hope it pays the bills.
I was curled up on and around my top. He had just paddled my feet, at my request, on camera. I was crying hard. I was professing my love, confessing my fears; an uninitiated observer may have thought I was intoxicated. My top was stroking my hair, rubbing my back, I heard his light bulb spark and then he said this is what we should be recording, and he turned my camera back on. Then he started <censored> while reminding me to look at the camera.
Our angry twittering friends probably have never had sexy time that looked or felt like this. Perhaps one can't miss what they have never had, and it's all for the best. But never have I ever faked an O or lived a life that wasn't authentic.
