Archive for November, 2012|Monthly archive page

Eye Candy

In Uncategorized on November 30, 2012 at 7:35 am

In The BedroomWidow Centauri's AssHold The DoorWidowRockerHeadsneek peek roller widowbathroomassgunshowKinky Fun!© Andree KehnIMG_6619Widow Centauri with Rubber Chickens and Whip

Stood Up By A Little Boy. Maybe His Mother Will Comfort Him.

In BDSM, bullshit, dominatrix, drama, Widow Centauri on November 30, 2012 at 7:12 am

Why do people stand me up?

I have been in the smut business for so long. I like the connection that I get from people from real intimate interpersonal connection, but then people do stupid shit and stand me up. I have little patience for my time being wasted.

I am going back under my rock soon. Very soon.

Tonight I was expecting to have a very fantastic time with a little twink from boston. He said he likes smelly things and wanted to wash my laundry. I got way too excited. But then he didn’t show. And eventually he send a message about some sort of emergency at work, and then he said he was on his way, and then he just didn’t come.

An I put on make up and waited.

And I put on clothing and waited.

And still he didn’t come.

I am so over bitches who seem to not understand that this is rude and that they are not going to get anything more out of me.

I’m kind of sad, cause I wanted to like this one. I want to find cute ones who have skills I can use.

But being late and flakey and standing me up — this dude was clearly just fucking with my time. Why would he want to mess with my time like that? I have no idea. Maybe his girlfriend has something against me. Maybe I offended him at an event, maybe he is a pointless spineless cocksucker who has no sense of how to treat a lady right.

I’m blocking him and chocking it up for a good night with wine and chocolate. I’m not gonna deal with this shit again.

But he would have been the first person I met on fetlife for the reason of potentially making something good happen. And he has restored my distain for this website.

Also, I’m going back to my old policy of not seeing clients under 30.

You can thank this dude.

He seemed so nifty. I’m a sap, a sucker, and I’m gay. So why do I give two rats asses why some silly boy in a bow tie stands me up?

It still makes me sad. Time wasted, feeling hurt.

What a knucklehead, he had a chance to get into my world. That happens to very few people.

My Tits

In corporate america, sexual politics on November 30, 2012 at 6:06 am

My tits

Today I am writing about my tits. I love them. They are so very sensitive. They are soft, they are large and look amazingly like a fake set if placed in a push up bra, but they droop. Like grandmother tits they are saggy fuckers.

When they were growing in, at age nine, they were itchy, so I scratched and pulled on them. I became of a fan of titty torture really early in life. I pulled on my little nubile breasts and it felt so good, it relived an itch.

By the time I was 12 my tits were droopy, like I had given birth. I had droopy tits before I even realized that this was a thing to avoid. They just grew that way from my pulling on them. But they made me feel so good. I loved the way that squeezing them, pulling on them, pinching them nipples made me feel. I loved the sensation in them.

So now that I am not 12, I am an adult and I am a stripper I wonder: should I have my tits done? I struggle with this.

The mainstream concept of beauty and perfection in breasts makes it difficult to embrace a saggy set of knockers that bring me an amazing amount of pleasure. My tits are more sensitive than my clit.

I can have orgasms from having my tits played with and sucked on. But society claims that they should point north. That the saggy nature of my boobs is indicative of my less than perfect status as a sex symbol.

Do I care? Not really.

Do I need to work? Yes

So if I am still wanting to work in an industry that demands perky and surgically altered baobabs, do I alter them? What if the sensation dissipates? I do so get off on them.

Well, I’m pretty sure that the sensation is at least eighty percent mental. I’m not sure that my tits feel good as much as I enjoy having them played with, and that stimulates my mind and thus I have pleasure. But, that could change if I have them done.

What if I like them played with now, but after the work what if I over react and I get all bent out of shape and think: don’t pop them, what if you mess them up?” …

I’m not sure what I will think, what they will feel like, or if I will still be able to have orgasms through them. And that is the important part. The orgasms. SO, do I have them done?

I really do need to keep this open as an option. Since I might be able to afford a boob job right now (or have someone pay for one rather) and I have the time to do other things while I am recovering maybe I should, but how big, how high profile, am I looking for a porn star rack? Do I want them to look natural? Do I want the biggest ones I can get?

Saline or silicone?

Oh, then I think of the health risks of silicone seeping into the body. Even the saline ones have silicone bags. It is really bad for the body.

I wish that society had a fluctuating standard of beauty. I like my boobs the way they are. I thing that with a bra they look all porn star E and without they look like the boobs of a Greek goddess. So why can’t we all love my tits?

I do need to be able to work in the smut business for the next five – seven years.

I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Why is a bra not enough?

one session from tuition

In Uncategorized on November 30, 2012 at 1:58 am

oh yeah. I have most of it. I’m one session from having all of it. Shit is due at noon. Who wants to play with me in Providence? I’m all wound up and in a crazy mood. Let’s rip the town up, get tossed out of a few places, have more fun than everyone else out there in this strange 90s town.

I’ll let you wear my neon leg warmers!

Call me if you are feeling the urge to do something bad for a good cause.



An Office Job

In Adventure, deviance, drinking, fun, Massachusetts, Public, sexual politics, Widow Centauri on November 29, 2012 at 10:47 pm

So, yesterday I had a totally booked day, then one client canceled, and another took his place, booked an overnight, then my earlier client canceled, and I figured I could sleep in, but then I woke up to the phone ringing and Mr. replacement canceling. I was sad and a tad worried. I need money, I need a lot of money and I need it now. Three cancelations in one day. Fuck. This was not looking good.

I made a pot of tea and looked at the internet, hoping to confirm something profitable and imminent.

The phone range and it was a boy who sounded as horny as I was. So I drove my ass deep into the suburbs, got lost and a tad freaked out by fascism, and then I got to have a very sexy time toying with someone.

I only just met this person and I strolled into his professional and medium security office, dressed in what I consider professional office clothing, but with fishnets and nice shoes. I don’t own ugly practical office shoes.

As I walked in I noticed that everyone was looking at me like I was Joan on the show Mad Men. I have a certain strut to my walk. I have hips, I can’t help it. Yes I am good at it, but without the hips I might be able to prevent it. There is nothing I can do. I walk like a sex goddess.

He escorts me in past the geeks and office faced hags to an office with glass doors. People can see into our little private party. I love it. I unbutton my blouse and show some cleavage. I can see him start to panic a little. “Oh my gawd, stop that” he says. “Why, no one can see me, I have my back to the glass.” I ask about the beer behind him, he tells me that it is a special brew that only gets made twice a year, I tell him to open one, he gives me some line of shit about people seeing and I remind him that this is why I am here, so he might get caught.

I say something, I’m not even sure what but the word fuck is involved, I swear like a fucking sailor. I don’t even notice how mush I fucking swear. He says something about “the F bomb,” I think that is so funny, I’m like “what the fuck is the f bomb? Are you not an adult? Can’t you say fuck?” I’m amused by his concern for language, we are in his private office, but I’m a little too loud, a little too vulgar, a little too sexy. And his colleges have taken notice.

But that is why he called me, he wanted to push the boundaries and toy with getting caught. He didn’t want to get caught, and we didn’t, but he looked wicked nervous about the situation.

We went into a different office, a dull office, we turned out the lights, I was border with that office so we went back to his office but when we came out of the dark office there was some ‘office face’ there. A woman older than her years with the face of an over worked office employee. I made some comment about the company and the office environment and whatnot, but who knows what she heard. She was staring me right in the face, looking into my eyes calling me a whore without words. ‘Yeah, that’s right bitch. Take a look at the fun we are getting away with.’
We went back to his office and I sat down with the beer. He looked for an opener and I told him I was an expert beer opener. I can open a bottle with nothing. I looked around for fixtures first. He got impatient and went to the kitchen. I found a staple remover and popped the top. He came back and I was sipping beer with my legs on his desk.

I got out a dildo and put it on his desk. “Oh, my goodness, what if someone sees?” “No one is going to see, most people have gone home, but not Leslie, that bitch with a stick up her ass. He tells me she is noisy. There is nothing worse than a noisy office bitch.

I keep sipping the beer right out of the bottle with my leg up on his desk. I rub my stocking covered cunt. I act totally inappropriate for an office setting. I can tell he has a huge hard on, even though the barrier of the desk he is sitting behind. He looks terrified and turned on, like he might duck under the desk if anyone should approach his door.

Eventually we move to his bosses office, turn the lights off and hope that the busy body doesn’t notice that we are in there. I put on a strap on, he tells me he doesn’t like to suck dick. I figure he has put up with enough for the day so I don’t push it, but I really want to grab his hair and fuck his face till I come on his bosses desk. I love to have my dick sucked and I drove all the way the fuck out there to get a blow job. I wanted a good dick sucking, but no, whiny little bitch doesn’t like to suck cock. So I bend him over his bosses desk and slide my dick right in his ass.

Yep, right on his bosses desk. And he lets out a tiny little whimper, but he does not scream or shudder, or clamp down, he wants that dick. He takes the whole thing and I begin to pump, I’m just getting worked up, getting into it, the sexy time has just begun for me and bam, he comes, he is done, he is scared, he wants to get out of his bosses office.

We carefully clean up, I make him remove the nasty shit covered condom from my dick. We leave through the back door. We stop and use the men’s room. I use the urinal. I make a mess of it but enjoy my little piss party just the same.

Then I drive away. I assume he went home to pass out and tend to his ass.

I had a really awesome adventure. I hope I get invited back for a second interview or whatever fucking story he told his office mates.

Love me some office games.

Lonely at the Lounge

In Uncategorized on November 28, 2012 at 3:53 am

I’m at the lounge and shit is lonely. I have to piss. I’m horny as a teenage boy. Gawd, where are you pervert? You could be here with me having an epic time.

Sadly this is likely my last trip here for a while. This club is dead and I’m gonna wander someplace else.

If I can’t find a dirty sexy place that generates income I’m gonna save my knees from the stripper shoes.

save me from my hell and get your pervy arse in here. We’re open till 1:00

Then I’m either gonna get my freak on or watch porn.

This should not be like selling root canals.

Scramble to Make Tuition — Cadillac Lounge Tonight

In bullshit, Cadillac Lounge, drama, paying for it, Widow Centauri on November 27, 2012 at 8:44 pm

Captain Save A Ho —

Where you at?

I suck at being an adult. I just can’t bring myself to work hard enough. It never seems to get me anywhere I want to be. Stressed out, early grave, no fun, bills paid predictable life. Where is the fun in that?

Oh but I struggle with it. I want to have it together, just a little. I want my loans to come in this very minute so that I don’t have to bust ass and make five thousand dollars for the university before Friday at noon.

Yep, I’m in a bitch of a situation, again. I don’t mean to be a sustenance sex worker but sometimes shit happens, sometimes I’m working and working and I get burnt out so I spend a month in my bathrobe watching bad TV. And why shouldn’t I? Well because I’m gonna get thrown out of school if I don’t have the money. Yeah well there is that. But I was trying to get it all. I was I was working and eating beans and rice and then last week when I was going to give them everything I had they told me they couldn’t take a partial payment and that I need to have all of it.

That is part of the reason I went to SoCal. It was a good time but it wasn’t really a vacation.

I’m trying to gather funds. I’m still about five grand short. I don’t want to be in this situation where I need to scramble to make money to not be tossed out of school. My school work has gone to shit because it is now all about the money.

Oh gawd.

And the things I like to do, sometimes other people want to play with me. Sometimes I have really nice gigs that pay really well, or not at all. I’m always feeling like a person on the edge of good living and the abyss of ‘oh shit.’

So where in the fuck is captain save a ho? I can’t ever catch these bitches because I am way to above this pity hussle game that some girls use. When I am making money I am saving and investing and something always comes along to gobble it fucking up, so I start over and it is thins never ending trap of financial servitude.


So if you have been wanting to see me, serve me, play with me, do something dirty — this week is a great week to make that happen. All the money I make this week goes directly to my education. If you want to donate, or pay it all, that is fine too. I’m game for a trip out of town right now so we can have a sexy adventure and you can pay the rest of my tuition.

Or I’ll just hit the strip clubs and hope I can make that kind of cash. I’m not sure it is possible but I’m not sure it isn’t. I need tuition and I need it now.

Where are my tuition bitches?

Censorship in my smut bubble

In American Dominatrix, Booty Gonzales, Bunny Monroe, censorship, Comedy, dominatrix, Golden Showers, paying for it, Photographer, porn, whores, Widow Centauri on November 27, 2012 at 1:25 am

Bullshit Changing All The Time Censorship

Dealing with porn sites is really getting to be a huge pain in the arse. These ‘censorship’ rules are largely self imposed based on the website. This post is about my frustration in dealing with these silly power tripping censors.

Eros guide is what pushed me over the edge today.

They won’t let me use this photo:

Because my crotch is the main focus of the picture. Doesn’t matter that I am fully dressed, no I have my legs spread on a site that allows the adverts of the Porn Star Experience, oh for shame. I can’t have my legs spread.

Last time I dealt with this shit they would not let me use these photos:

Because I have something covering my face. A mask, oh no! Masks are out but face blurig is fine. Explain this?

Previously it was ‘no bondage’ in any photos, and no mixing BDSM and escort ads but now they have a series of check boxes that inquire about your domme / sub status that you can select if you advertise in the escort section.

Yeah, self imposed censorship laws will not protect them, it will only backfire. These sites are trying to mix it us so that the feds don’t shut them down. But eventually the feds will shut them down.

Another website that I am peeved at for this sort of thing is niteflirt. The rules about what you can and can not talk about are bizarre. Since this is largely an erotic fantasy line it seems that saying things (in the states where speech is protected) would not be a problem. And you are allowed to discuss some pretty edgy things there, whoring people out, financially ruining them, blackmaiing them. These are acceptable for this erotic phone sex line but having a discussion about drinking piss is not. So I am forced to write my ads in some strange cryptic code. Only the cool kids know what I am taking about, but apparantly the censors don’t.

I’m not the edgiest porn producer in the world. I’m a comedic pornographer. So why do I feel like some of the mild things I am into are out of the question?

Other things I like but can’t advertise include: Adult babies, age games of all sorts, toilet games, public humiliation, making you suck glory hole dick, needle play, fisting, knives, and other good times.

I can’t ever find an acceptable place to put these:

Because weapons are too much for the porn world. Not the culture at large, just the porn world.

So this is just a message suggesting that I’m kinds peeved at the ‘censors’ and their silly little power trips.

I’m going back to the Mae West style of dealing with censors. Give them a few things they will have to take out so they don’t fuck with your art. This is a paraphrase, obviously.


In advertisements on November 26, 2012 at 5:57 pm

Never Ask If You Can Sleep With Someone’s Friend

In Adventure, bullshit, drama, friends, friendship, Lovers, politics, San Diego, Sex, Widow Centauri on November 26, 2012 at 1:23 am

I fell in lust in San Diego


Oh gawd this shit almost never happens to me.  I pride myself on not liking people.  I really can’t ever get into some dude.  Why would I?


I knocked on my friend’s door but this big buff dude came to the door in boxers, a neon green sock, a neon pink sock, and flip flops.  Nothing else.  “Is Cassandra here?” I asked.  “I would have called but I lost her number” I followed up “Are you her boyfriend?” Dude was built.  I wanted to know what the score was.  Why did Cassandra have a mostly naked body builder answering the door?  “No” he assured me “I’m her new roommate.”  “Ahh, I see” I said, sounding like I knew the full back story.


“Come in, come in” he said.  We chatted, I told him I was in town on a whim and that Cassandra had been holding onto a possession of mine, for me, since I left, years ago.  Sadly Cassandra was not around.  She was at the university and not expected back for many hours.  I got his number, and hers too.


I went to the beach.


Later when Cassandra suggested that I crash at her place I drank with the two of them.  He was surprisingly pleasant.  His persona was one part BRO and one part subbie.  He brought us things, made us tea, shut the fuck up while we were chatting.  I was almost not offended by him at all.  That is saying a lot.


The next day I was planning on going into Tijuana alone.  Though a series of ‘you shouldn’t go alone” and “how long are you going to be there” I invited Mr Mussels to come to TJ with me.


The next morning MM and I drove to the border and walked across.





It was Friday, we spent several hours shopping, drinking, eating, wandering around and having fun.  We expected a lengthy weight at the line (as the crossing is called).  When we were ready to leave, and expected to have time enough to do so we headed to the border crossing only to discover that there was not a wait.  It took five minutes for us to cross at 10 pm on a Friday night.  Um, wtf?


Seems as if the fear mongering is actually working.  When I was a teenhole I would go to Mexico on the weekends and get trashed, walk back across and have no problems save for a few hours wasted waiting to get back into the states.  I am very sad that there are not any tourists waiting to get back across the border, this could not be good for the Mexican economy.


I love Mexico.  I grew up spending as much time there as possible. I still feel like Baja is part home, the part I go to in the dead of winter, when I cant stand not having anyone to make love to on the beach.  Porto Nuevo, Rosarito, Ensenada — Home. Why is the line so short?


People are scared of getting killed.  I didn’t get killed.  I got good service, I was invited back.  The chicklet kids even split when the elders told them to get lost.


Going into  Mexico is not a scary thing to do.  Baja is the land of tacos and margaritas, the land of hot springs on the beach, of hiking and eating, and peyote, and straight up fun.  Where are the people?  Why are people here so willing to believe that something bad will happen to the average American citizen?  What the fuck ever happened to a free trade agreement?  Mexico got fucked by US policies, free speech, and republican racism.  My heart breaks for the Mexican people who put their faith in nafta.  There was never anything that stopped the US from scaring their citizens into NOT crossing the border, there was never anything that prevented the states from hiring private police to patrol the border.  I saw more guards with bullet proof gear than I did civilians crossing.  The place was littered with La Mira.  Fuck that shit.  I want an open border.  The people of Mexico were promised an open border.  Why are we killing them for trying to come into the states to get jobs and feed their families?


My family is part Mexican.  All of my immediate ancestors lied and cheated and stole and hustled to be in the states.  I am as white as they come and I am horrified at the policies that govern the us Mexico line.


Build a wall at the Canadian line.  Stop the funny people from taking MY Job.


And oh yeah, the dude with the mussels.  Yum.




The whole weekend I wanted to fuck him, I wanted to play.   We flirted, we made jokes, we walked a strange line of Cassandra.  She is one of my sweetest friends and I would never do anything to hurt her, including fucking her roommate.  Did she like this dude?  Would it be alright to hump him and split town?   I didn’t know.


I wasn’t going to make any moves on him at all, but then I realized that it has been way too long since I have had sex.  I’m so horny I’m finger fucking myself ever time I take a piss, I’m trying not to drool while I eye his mussels.  Yeah, I want some of that.  So I decide sometime before my flight out that I’m totally goanna fuck him at the beach before my flight, like an hour before my flight.  But as I’m always running late for shit, I missed my flight out of SoCal.  I missed it cause I was flirting with this dude, I was getting into the idea of jumping on him, but then, yeah I was behind schedule, so we rushed to the airport and I had to call him to return for me.


While he was returning I called Cassandra and asked her if it would be all right for me to fuck the living daylights out of her roommate or if she would be hurt or something.  I’m used to dealing with sex workers, not civilians.  But Cassandra is not a sex worker, she is a nice normal woman with no frame of reference for what I was asking.  For whatever reason she cock blocked the whole thing.  I have no way of knowing if she realized that that she cock blocked this little party, or if she knew what she was up to.  Asking after the fact might just invite drama.


Mussel boy returned and Cassandra started wanting to know what was going on.  I was running on very little sleep and a simple need to fuck.  I feel like my question was out of left field, Cassandra had been working all weekend while I was kicking it with Man Meat.  So, when we returned to Cassandra’s home we went for a walk, we danced on street sign poles, I took a couple pills and got a little loopy.  We groped each other like a couple of friends who want to fuck but one of whom is a mutual friend’s bf / go so we don’t fuck, but sort of pet and grope and kiss and tease and get REALLY into each other, as to develop a major lust.  A lust that would have been cured if a good hard pounding had come from this.  But no, we molested each other through our clothing.


Even when I took my pants off to attempt to climb a stop sign, even when he bent me over a white picket fence, even while we were on the foggy beach and no one would have known, there was the reality of Cassandra’s mental health.  So we groped like a couple of Christian teenagers, but sadly we never got it on.


And I really needed it.  Really a lot.


I’m at home and I can’t stop jerking off.  I’m having a masturbate-a-thon, not a blog-a-thon.  I can’t stop imaging the way his hands felt on my arse, the way he dry banged me as he help onto my big juicy hips.  Yeah, I now have the hots for some random dude who I will maybe never see again.  He is in California living with Cassandra, I’m here thinking about fucking the two of them at the same time.


Oh, if only we had fucked I would not be all needy and pathetic.  I’m gonna go to the strip clubs this week.  I need to fuck a stranger.