Back to my normal life. I wake up early to prep the twins. Coffee and breakfast come as the main ritual of the day. Followed by fitness exercises for my legs, then by sex in bed or on the coach. Even if Don says that he’s exploring yoga-like meditation ways to orgasm, I still need sex to get me there. Good that I can pick it when, where and as much as I desire.
After all the physicals, with the kitchen chores presumably done (these are never done), leaving the pots under steam, I retreat to my intellectual corner. To read, to listen, to write, to sing, and read some more.
What about my public erotic hobby? This week, I posed, I played, I danced for the camera. I even devoted two days (yesterday and the day before) to sugar waxing my bush. It’s an ongoing process, smooth but suffering. It’s all recorded.
The insiders keep telling us that the porn industry creates fantasies. Well, almost like what you’ve seen in movies such as The Lord of the Rings, or The Fast and the Furious, or Guardians of the Galaxy, right?
A truism in any industry, porn and movies included, is that you’re given to watch a show collated out of so many cuts. Like putting confetti together. You’re not given to peep into the kitchen of things, down the sink hole, to see the dirty dishes, to stumble on the garbage, etc.
The fetish, one of them, of my little porn hobbies is to allow the camera film whatever runs in my kitchen and then allow my Fotomann to post the uncut footage on the web. What I show you tends to go as reality, rather than fantasy. But then, I’ve got my man and he loved comics when he was young. And why not indulge, with him together, in a fragment of fantasy. Just for the sake of playing in it.