An Amateur’s Week

Monday, 15.
This week starts with a first: early in the morning, as early as we were home alone and as late as we had breakfast consumed.
And because the Atelier is still in the works (construction site dragging, did it happen to you?) we had to go upstairs in our bedroom. My Fotomann brought a laptop with a new kind of camera connected to it, fixed on a tiny tripod. That’s the web-camera, so tiny, so cute, self lighted! I was creaming myself, in bed, while allowing my toes to play in front of the webcam. This is the moment, the hour, when -they say- I became a camgirl. Or did I?

Technically yes, confirms the Fotomann. What if you’ve only spent a couple of minutes on ModelCentro –exquisite features, allowing for individual shows– and few more minutes on ManyVIDS –nice intuitive interface, yet a public room, everyone browsing could peep in– and then a couple on Nexocams –no one on the horizon: Monday morning in Europe, Sunday night in the States– and finally the MDH experience –where I spent the smallest amount of time, not sure if two minutes, there I had the feeling of having my bed on the street.

This camgirl experiment succeeded to: a. give me some extra courage to dare live shows in the future (heck, we gotta finish that Atelier); b. make me feel strange, like an animal in the zoo, waiting for the next meal in her cage while passersby stare at her; c. have me consider wearing a wig because, dunno why, I’d feel safer with a wig in front of the webcam.

Camming gives you an adrenaline hit. So I’m already taking lessons in the JOI fetish thing — another new experiment.

Shortly thereafter, I pack my stuff and run to catch the bus to the city. I’ve got afternoon classes, like any respectable camgirl would have, nowadays.

Tuesday 16.
Did I mention adrenaline?

Sure I did. This is what I ordered my Fotomann this Tuesday, early on.

Flashing & Peeing: 106 Public Fields Photos

Inspiration hit me with a moment’s impact.
Hey? Have I roamed the fields this year?
Such a long and warm,
sunny and beautiful autumn.

Pastel colors whispering
on every tree around.
Round straw bales waiting
all over the fields.

Told him
to drive me,
over to
the fields!

Tractors and other big green
machine monsters on the fields.
Speedy cars and slowy trucks
and buses on the roads.

You’ve gotta dig for an intimate corner.
In the middle of nowhere.
In the Puszta.
A place where I can feel safe.

I’ve discovered a few bushes,
rosehip bushes.
They made me happy.
Red! Just like my trench coat.

Farther then, the bales.
Spread all over an open field.
And I mean open!

Had to make more courage,
to spend more time among them.

I’d love to dare more,
to spend more time,
disregarding the busy traffic
on the road nearby.

A hot noon, exceptionally
hot for mid October.

Back downtown,
my man-hub-pimp-fotomann-driver
bought me an ice cream.
Because I was such a good model.
Said he.

And I want back to the fields,
maybe to the hills.
Next time flashing.
And peeing in nature. Yes!!

Back home, we convert to mom and pop, minding our daily duties.

Tuesday evening, I get notified about a new video that had just been uploaded on Youtube, this one

Psalm 96:12
The fields will be lush and all that is in them and all the trees of the forest will sing

Aramaic Bible in Plain English

During that night, Tuesday to Wednesday, I’ll learn the next day that Youtube suffered a major outage. The jury is still out on it.

Wednesday, 17.
Learned all morning. Had a test in the afternoon. School day, tiring.

Thursday, 18.
Farmers in the village next had brought all their pumpkins out, in front of their houses, edging the road with attractive orange blankets. I’ve been seeing this from the bus for several days.
Today is the day when hubby’s taking me there, in his vintage Volkswagen, so I can fill its trunk with pumpkins, lots of pumpkins, and potatoes, and onions, and garlic. When I go shopping, then I go shopping!

Back home, I tell him to make an arrangement, while I change my jeans and my top, for the next photo sitting.

Riding the potato bag, all pumpkins around. Ah, there’s the onion too!

Then we go out, to do more shopping, because we gotta get ready for a double long weekend, with kids coming home to visit. There is funny shopping and then this kind of shopping: forced!

The evening, I chime in on the Southern Charms open forums, adding my two cents to a topic debating who’s to be taken as a pro or as an amateur in porn.

My two cents here again.

Don’t know who said it first, but I’ve heard it from Dieter Bohlen (the Modern Talking guy, remember?). He said that “the pros had sunk the Titanic.”

He was congratulating a group of musicians, I guess, after their perfomance at the Super Talent show.

There’s a sparkle with amateurs. One can be ridiculous, one could be brilliant, one could be both. It’s an amateur, who cares?

There are no ‘standards’ and no ‘expectations’ from an amateur. So no pressure. What a wonderful day!

Friday, 19.
About every dying night, before the dawns would crack with a cock’s crowing out there, I get to feel the cock, his cock, hard as wood, pushing the crack between my legs, from behind.
It sticks there and it stays there, throbbing, like a stubborn comer that wants in.

Sometimes I’m not in the mood, or I can’t be. Some other times I wish to be, and I am. But every time I am pleased by his cock closing up to my crack, even with a touch, a caress, a casual gesture of affection.

Today I was in the mood. Wanting it, I realized that I need it. And I took it all inside me. Oh, that was wonderful!!

Not sure why words stumble when I wish to write about it, even if taken as a writing exercise. How should I put it down into words, this so simple, natural, quite trivial matter of my morning fucks. As a matter-of-course.

I am grateful for this, like I do my best to be grateful for so many other things.
Waking out of bed, starting my day, doing my exercises, preparing the kids for school, preparing myself for my French classes on Fridays, I am grateful to begin it with a couple of wonderful orgasms.
He slept a bit over, as he comes to sleep quite later. He’s gonna finish himself watching some porn.

Oh, how rude of me. Not at all, just practical. He never minds masturbating to some porn. Men do that. But what many women don’t –or at least won’t speak out about– is reciprocating with anilingus as they receive cunnilingus from their man. Well, seems that keeping his cock in my mouth during the sixty-nines may give me a double chin effect, which is a definite no-no! But if I stretch my neck to kiss the ceiling (as recommended by the doctor), I’m returning the favor by kissing and licking his ass, right above the prostate. This makes him tickle and shake. I’m afraid that I’m turning him into a woman, more and more.

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