Thought that I’d left this territory back in the late century. But no! Studies in linguistic competence (that I must read and understand) have the power to bring me back in time. Not only in the past but in the future as well.

In the past, from ancient ages to the late century, there were leaders, as in humans. Most of whom were villains (look at our history). Those individuals had the ‘word’ as their primary weapon of command and control. Groups and cults, masses and classes; tens, thousands, millions; all taking this or that direction, this or that approach to life, this or that love or hate for this-or-that. The word of the villain went beyond its regular meaning. They called them languages of steel, of iron, of wood; the double speaking, the ‘truth’ –as in PRAVDA– serving the morning myths, fabricated the prior night by Radio Yerevan; the meaning of the verb ‘is’ according to Bill Clinton.

Fake news is older than today’s young guns –tapping their phones– might imagine, back from the future. Γ€ propos smart phones, computers, networks, wi-fi, the cloud and whatever relationship between a soft client (the gizmo in your pocket, or the TV-set spying on your room, or the laptop lid where you’ve gotta stick a strip of insulating tape over the web camera) and the algorithmic lords of the mainframes. Today, my dear ones, the villains are not even humans. AI — as in Artificial Intelligence. A faceless, soulless, yet more and more self-conscious instrument of dominion. How could this happen to us?

The classic villains have chased, killed or muted wordsmiths of yore. The few left in present times are excessively labeled as nuts, crazy, psychotics, insane, crackpots, etc.

Competing for ever wider powers, the wiseguys perverted languages, stripping the originally meant meanings off of words. Anything came to be nothing and the epoch riped up for the machine to take over. Do you know how Alexa arrived to laugh at you from the nightstand in your bedroom? Have you asked why?

My man is asking this type of questions all the time. Every second-hand computer in the house, refurbished and bought without an operating system, has been installed with this concept in mind. But there’s a trade, like with all other aspects of life. Or else we’d go too crazy, too narrow, too entrapped –thus paying homage to paranoia.

Between ignorance (being a clueless lemming under the system) and fright (living under a long-standing suspiciousness and generalized mistrust of others), we make our choices in the middle field — handpicking from a multicolored palette of experiments –some riskier than others.

One such experiment is webcamming.

From my six years of amateur porn (I don’t care anymore about the distinction between softcore and hardcore, why should I?), I learned to be most familiar doing nude modelling (because this feeds my narcissistic side); gradually, I’ve got quite comfortable with sharing my most intimate moments in videos (because this builds my self confidence). Yet I’m still cautious about becoming a camgirl. And here’s why.

Still cautious about becoming a camgirl.

Wednesday morning, I’ve spent an hour on livecam – on MDH, where one can have only public chatrooms. The theme being ‘My Feet Are Hot’ and the place being the bed in our bedroom, because the Atelier is still a work in progress. I’m pretty sure that you’ve already connected the dots here.

For me to sit in one place for an hour, waiting, doing nothing, is not exactly the definition of fun. But you’ve gotta have fun while camming, right? So I tried to read, to blow some balloons.

Trying to play the gaming gal fetish – if I’d only knew how to use that thing.

There were not many casual peepers in transit anyways. Perhaps because at 10 o’clock in the morning, most German guys are at work. But this is when I could insert a window in my busy mom/student schedule.

After some time, a dude MDH-ed in (the computer speaks an EHM-DEH-HAH when a user pops into your public room) and likes my feet, wants to see my breasts, then my pussy (oh, hairy, lovely), then all naked, on my knees, then asks if I’ve got toys.

Damn, it all jumped too fast from one to another command, that I tried to execute of a timely manner. Toys? Well, if you’ve seen my erotic videos, then you know that it takes me quite a lot before I get warm and wet enough to DESIRE playing with a toy, other than my man (who is also my camming assistant, manning the machines and the wires around for me).

I had no toys at hand. Could bring, I said. CLONG. The dude checked out. Faster than he got in.

It’s all about entertaining the audience.

I can understand that camming is all about entertaining the audience. Where by entertaining, on a public cam, you’ve gotta sit there for hours, rubbing yourself, waiting, or trying to execute commands from ‘anonymous’ (sorta) people.

Not my thing.

I repeated the hour on Thursday around 11am because so it was announced. But moved downstairs where Don got another machine ready, to make it more expeditive without hauling lots of hardware to the bedroom, back and forth. The ‘new’ settings fell victim to his security maze, the Flash plugin was forbidden or something, so what we’ve been presented as ‘live streaming’ on the screen was not going out on MDH. Like we never went live on Thursday.

A sign. This is a sign! — I repeat myself.

I repeat myself.

Public camming is not for me. Because it doesn’t help my spirit in any way: to stay and wait, then to jump and execute commands. I’ve been doing this enough as a mother for decades. I am in porn because I wish to escape executing commands in real time, under pressure. At least this is how I perceive them.

Live shows? One-on-one? Most likely. Once the Atelier will be finished and a couple of corners turned into studio sets. Besides the new rooms in a separate building, there will be new scheduling options to broadcast in the evenings –this is impossible now with two kids studying on the same floor.

Still, my love for posing, my indulgence in real sex filming where you arrive to just ignore the camera, and my inclination for art porn where you can shoot, cut, shoot again, cut again, etc. prevails over the instant gratification concept of this young century.

Art porn anyone?

And because we really hate sitting and doing nothing, my Fotomann took some photos and filmed some deep dildo (in my ass) intimate masturbation scenes. Where I came, at my leisure.

I enjoy posing, with or without a mask, with or without a pair of panties.

Watch my Intimate Moments — as seen on MDH

Intimate Moments

I wished to feel something entering my ass. He obliged and then turned the camera on. Relaxing, watching the other screen, I began to touch myself, to caress my breasts, my belly, to let my fingers down on my clit, and then lower on my pussy.
I masturbate with one hand, as the other keeps pushing the glass dildo up my ass.
This is a very intimate video. For me.

Doris Dawn
Screen capture from the short erotic video ‘Intime Momente.’

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