Breaking Free

I was living under the impression that my first nude photo sitting took place in 2007 — as my birthday present to hubby’s 40th. “You are my birthday present, and my everyday muse,” says he whenever I try to buy him something, like a gadget. “Objects and stuff are for jobs and needs, but you are for joy and blessings,” notes he, involuntarily puffing up my dormant narcissistic neurons.

Then he proves me wrong. I don’t know if it’s carved in his memory (memorable moments) or the archives. Turns out that I was doing crazier things many years before. In 1994, he buys his first video camera, a bulky VHS Hitachi, as a development to his journalistic work. The voice recorder and scribbling and typewriting were all the rage, ever since the eighties. But he already managed to connect our PC to a BBS so we’ve got access to dial-up internet in a time when this word used to be a neologism.

After my second birth, later that year, among the so many concerns all mothers have, there was the desire to get back in shape, or within the slender shapes prior to my first birth. We used to kiss and make all the way love in front of the mirror. He never hid his porn from me, comparing and complimenting me with this or that.

Looking at Seka, less interested in her performance, was wondering how these porn stars stay in shape. Competition! That’s the motivating word here. One night, the mirror was not enough, not anymore. I don’t know if telepathy played a role in it, but almost instantly he asks me if I won’t mind we make a sex tape. What an expected surprise. Let me see. Humm, why not?

I silently desired to see me naked inside the tv screen, to study how I look and to compare with the others. Then he wished for close ups (he’s way crazier than I am, that’s why I took him for me), detached the hulking thing from the tripod, filmed me from below, as I was riding him, and asked me to film him down in return. It somehow ruined the lovemaking: the black buzzing object weighting a couple of kilograms, needed a shoulder, an eye and an arm, plus the other hand because I didn’t know how to zoom just with a finger from the handle. Two Borgs having sex. Resistance was futile!

Before dawn, every trace of our nightly naughtiness had to be erased. We could not, under any circumstances, jeopardize our social status. This had to stay our most intimate secret! Looking in retrospective, I feel sorry for those fearful times and maybe, just maybe, I’d somehow wish to watch again one of those sex tapes. We played this record-and-remove game for about six years, randomly.

Moving out, then having the twins, kind of turned our lives upside down. Challenges make you stronger. Gardening helps with your sanity. A new (second-hand) digital camera, way smaller, brings enthusiasm back to your man’s mind. Twas the autumn of 2006 when I resumed my short porn plays in clips that remain private. Why? Because I’m not sure about sharing how ‘old’ I used to be then.

Starting with his birthday in 2007, I got myself younger again. The photos I’m sharing in this post (more of them going live on my site this afternoon) were taken in mid July 2009 and have been used mainly as screen backgrounds. Still in the private sphere until 2012 when I disclosed it all, one step at a time.

Stretching for a fig.
Summertime indeed.

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