Smut, scrapes, and scraps…with teeth
I’m trying out a new series devoted to my wide array of kinky, lurid fantasies.
Each blog post in the Fantasy series will delve into a scene straight out of my filthy, depraved mind and will sometimes include eroticized content that some may find upsetting. Watch out for content warnings, which I will use liberally.
Today’s fantasy features nipple play, manual sex, and vaginal fingering. Kink rating is low.
In sex work, it’s good business to gravitate toward where the money is. Or, rather, where the money flows most easily toward you.
By that, I mean that when I started filming fetish videos, I filmed for a bunch of different fetishes as a way of testing out my market. When it became clear that a handful of fetishes were selling more than the others, I focused more videos featuring those fetishes.
You’d probably think, as I did, that videos would sell best when I’m genuinely interested in the subject matter—fetishes that I share, concepts I’m excited about, and so on. Right?
Nope. Quite the opposite. The fetishes I do best in not only are ones I don’t share—they’re ones I actively dislike.
I read a lot of romance novels, particularly queer romance novels, since the publishing companies I copyedit for primarily publish those sorts of books.
I also go through phases where I read a lot of fan fic in my spare time, the highly erotic, kinda weird stuff that people usually have in mind when they say “fan fiction” with derision in their tone.
I’ve learned a lot of things from both of these activities, but one has been standing out a lot this week: people are very, very interested in sex work despite clearly not knowing anything about it.
So, to all the authors who decide to include a sex worker in their novels, let me give you a few tips based on my experiences.
This week I got a Twitter DM from a small, newer sex toy company looking for bloggers to help them build their customer base. At first it was kind of exciting, like it was evidence I was starting to “make it” as a sex blogger, but then I checked their website.
Their products were separated into two categories: “For Him” (penis sleeves and prostate massagers) and “For Her” (dildos and wand massagers).
Oh. Oh, no.
I end up thinking about random compliments a lot, oddly enough. In part because I’m a woman in the #MeToo era, but mostly because I’m an online sex worker. Weird, gross comments about my appearance are a normal, expected part of doing business.
Also, because I have social anxiety, compliments sometimes have a huge effect on me, whether I want them to or not. Positive, pleasant interactions with strangers give me a high I float on for hours, while especially negative, unpleasant interactions can send me down a spiral that lingers for days or even weeks.
So I find myself often pondering what makes a compliment good to receive and what makes one lackluster or outright upsetting.
Here’s what I’ve come up with.
The other day, someone on Twitter asked her followers for their first kiss stories. I read the responses—some cute, some awkward, some wistful—and wanted to offer up one of my own.
But I couldn’t, and didn’t, because I don’t really remember my definitive first kiss. Nor, for that matter, do I really remember what constitutes my big first time.
We’re fast approaching Valentine’s Day, one of the many holidays when my email inbox and Twitter feed fill up with ads and lists for sex toys to gift to your friends, partners, and other loved ones.
As I’ve mentioned before, I’m usually against buying other people sex toys as a general rule. The number of ways such a gift could backfire—and oh so spectacularly too—seem like a pretty decent deterrent.
There are obvious exceptions, of course, such as if you know the person really well or they’ve expressed a desire for a particular toy.
Then there are some situations where, I would argue, you should never, ever purchase a sex toy as a gift. Here are some of those.
Continue reading “When you should NOT buy sex toys as gifts”
