Archive for August, 2013|Monthly archive page

More Fun — and Toilet Paper.

In Adventure, bullshit, dominatrix, Golden Showers, Public on August 23, 2013 at 8:09 pm

So earlier in the week a wanker contacted me with a seemingly real proposition. We made a plan to meet up Thursday afternoon, but I was dealing with several other thursday appointments that I was trying to squeeze him in the middle of. No real shocker — wanker turned out to be a phony time wasting ‘I’m gonna fuck with this dominatrix when she is clearly having a hard time’ type. Whatever.

The magic that manifested itself because he flaked was worth dealing with the nonsense.

I met up with a sugar daddy from the horrendous website. This man was old and ugly, but he could keep up his end of the conversation. When I asked him what type of sex he liked to have he blushed like a school girl. After another glass of wine I took him to the bathroom and used him like the dirty bitch he wanted to be. I felt so lucky.

I bent him over the toilet and rammed his ass. It was a little dirty so when I was done fucking his rump I turned him around and used his face. I made him lick the shit off my cock. Then I fucked his mouth till he gagged. He was a fucking mess.

When my little dildo game was over I had to pee. He told me he had never consumed piss before, so I made him open wide and drink every drop. He slurped at it, wanting more. I took his shower virginity in a fancy ass Boston bathroom and then I put on my chucks and went to catch my train home.

I was glad the night was not a total wash. I’m not sure if I am gonna see this dude again though. He seemed a little freaked out that I was willing to move that fast. I think he was prepared for something a little more vanilla with a touch of kink — not the full fledged ‘fucking you in the bathroom and making you drink my piss’ experience that he will no doubt jerk off to for months and months and months.

I came home and looked at my finances. I hope I see this sugar daddy again, even if he seems to be a little more on the saccharine daddy side.

The good news is that I finally had a little fun. The bad news is that his accounts would not withdraw enough money for me to actually pay all my fucking bills.

I’m out of everything and trying to not feel sorry for myself. I am doing a lot of things that most people could not pull off, so I need to pat myself on the back. But I still need food. I’m about to run out of toilet paper again, my surplus of extensions on bills is exhausted, so I’m looking at the fact that I have to pay this huge bill about two months ago and if I don’t get it paid this week my whole world will implode. To say nothing of my rent. This bill trumps the rent.

I need to hire two seperate lawyers. One to sue my bitch neighbor for vandalizing my automobiles, and another because some wanker (possibly someone who is reading this) is potentially stealing my content and making a profit on it, claiming to have the rights to do so.

Oh, why?

My life needs more fun. More times like last night. Fewer bullshit encounters with trashy bitches and internet wankers and thieves.

I wish I could go to lawschool. Not a month goes by when I don’t wish I could pull off a law program. I constantly find myself needing more information abbot legal encounters. I just have shit for money to hire lawyers on top of everything else tight now.

I’m gonna try to not run out of food and toilet paper first. Well second, after I pay this impossible bill from hell.

It would be awesome to have a couple public sessions before I leave New England for good.

If we have had sexy times while I have been in the region, now would be a good time to contact me (by email) and come play. I’m feeling reckless and want to push some limits.

Also you will have to buy me toilet paper. Just saying.

Bondage for Fallopian Tubes!

In bondage on August 20, 2013 at 2:42 am

After my experience of suggardaddie dot com this month I am even more excited to get my tubes tied tomorrow. While searching for a sugary old dude I was asked to get hitched and pop out babies by over 70 percent of the people who I communicated with. Most of them were over 68 years old.

I find breeding to be distasteful. There are too many people on the planet and if you really want to do something to stop the planet from going to hell, stop popping out children. Want a baby? Adopt one. If it matters to you that it is not of your blood line you need to to reevaluate your interests in having a child. This bloodline shit sounds incredibly selfish to me. Who are you, the fucking queen? Will the world end if you do not spread your seed?

I was utterly disgusted with the creepers who asked me if I would have babies with them before I even met, and often times before I even spoke to them. Who asks that in an email — are you looking to start a family? I’m looking at this dudes profile and I’m thinking dude you have one foot in the grave, if you don’t have great grandchildren by now you never will. No, I don’t want to start a family.

The world needs to reduce population growth. I’m not having any of this breeding shit. Tomorrow I get my tubes tied. And it comes with drugs. Yep, I get drugs, so I’m kind of excited about that. I’m not gonna work. I’m not gonna turn on my phone. I’m gonna come home from my drug coma and sleep it off. In theory I might not even remember the whole thing.

I’m on niteflirt for a few more hours, then I’m gonna give myself an enema, take a nap and head to the end of my ability to pop out a screaming monster. I have wanted to do this for years. I’m nervous that the whole thing will be really painful, but I’m glad that it is time to get it done.

I never want some creeper trying to get me knocked up. I don’t really have that sort of sex with men, if I did I would never do it without a condom, but I can see how shit could go horribly wrong. Given the current political situation surrounding abortions an unintended pregnancy could totally ruin my life, bring another life into the mix, and make me want to shake a baby.

I’m doing the world a favor. Bondage for Fallopian Tubes!

140,000 Nickels

In Booty Gonzales, facism, fetish, porn, Public, video on August 13, 2013 at 4:19 pm

I need to make 140,000 nickels in the next ten days. Yes, nickels. You might be wondering why I am calculating my financial needs in nickels. I signed up for My Free Cams and they pay out in ‘tokens’ — each token is worth a nickel. I have so many mixed opinions and bad jokes about the situation but I’m just gonna say on the topic of needing to get this bill paid.

I have been trying everything in my power to make money.

I was working the clubs, but I’m too old and fat to be a stripper. Plus my health makes working in the clubs rather dangerous. Given the way the cops flooded the last club I worked in (which was the cleanest club I have seen in ages) I’m kind of hesitant to imagine that I can gather up a hundred and forty thousand nickels in a titty bar in the next ten days. And if I get arrested in some bullshit raid it totally defeats the purpose I went to the clubs in the first place, which was to provide myself a layer of separation from anyone who may want to cause me harm, expect illegal things, or try to trap me in a sting. I don’t have the health reserves to deal with legal bullshit right now. I have enough on my plate.

I signed up for suggardaddy dot com and was able to write a new 15 minute stand up set. I was asked by several men over 70 if I would marry and breed. NO FUCKING WAY. I need money but I’m not breeding, certainly not with some old man who I have never even met. What has happened to people’s manners? I mean I get that these guys are old and don’t have much time left, but asking a stranger on the internet if they are willing to pop out a baby for them — I’m utterly horrified, mystified, and entertained at the mere concept that there are so many 70 year old men wanting to have babies, and the young women who will agree to do this with them sight unseen. Who knows maybe it is just a way to ask for bareback sex. Either way I actually had to put NO BREEDING, NO MARRIAGE in my profile. Needless to say, it has not panned out very well. Last night I had a very normal conversation with a would be sugar daddy and for 20 minutes all he talked about was his dog. I know everything I never wanted to know about english bull dogs. He told me he would rather have this dog hump his leg than neuter the animal because he through that neutering it was cruel. Then he told me that this beed can’t just breed, in the traditional sense, because of the physical difficulties involved. Apparently english bull dogs need to be artificially inseminated, and then have cesarian sections because their heads are too large to pass through the vaginal opening of the inbreed bitch. This guy said he would not want someone to neuter him, in relation to why it was a bad idea to neuter the dog. Then told me it would mess with his hormones. I just let him talk about this nonsense until I had to say goodbye.

Then I had a dream that my brother in law died in a jet that crashed into the Connecticut river.

I generally think that my brother in law is the sort of man who would fail to neuter an animal because it would somehow offend his masculinity. But I’m sort of under the impression that my brother in law actually got a vasectomy. Now I have to call my sister.

Neutering an animal that is physically incapable of having sexual intercourse, is sexually frustrated and humps legs, and if it somehow did breed would require surgical intervention because of many many years of inbreeding — neutering this animal is humane, not cruel.

But this dude was by far the smartest, most polite person who I have spoken to on sugardaddie dot com.

And people wonder why I’m so misanthropic.

I’m open to sessions with repeat clients but I am not in a place where I can cope with seeing new clients right now. Additionally Eros raised their rates again and the only time the ads ever pay for themselves is when I get the most expensive upgrades that cost over $500 to post for a month.

I keep thinking that I will go to the fetish night in Providence RI and troll for a slave. Fetlife is a joke. This fetish night happens once a week in a bar, a loud smelly bar. Creepy dudes will hit on me. I might be able to convince a sexy friend to go with me, but I don’t drink in situations like that. I drink alone, with very good friends and with family. My body has been processing alcohol in very different ways over the last few years, so I have to be very careful. When I am not careful I have blackout drunk weeklong adventures in the sunshine. Somehow I keep putting off getting sexed up to go to a bar iso a useful bitch. The internet will provide.

I have been signed into niteflirt every waking hour of my days. Usually weekends are not great on that site, this weekend was good. If niteflirt was consistent for me I would be thrilled to offer phone sex as a way to afford my writing, just keep the line on and take calls. I would be able to pay my bills with niteflirt if it was consistent, but it is really hit or miss. Too bad, cause I dig phone sex.

So I’m moving to the webcam scene. It is my last stop in the smut business. At least my last stop in the business where my looks are a factor. As my health continues to decline I’m less and less inspired to put on something pretty and have fun. Customers want young fun girls. I’m not young or fun anymore. I woke up old and bitter a few years back. But I do remember how to be young and fun, so I am gonna play a young fun girl on my free cams. It might kill me. Performing with high levels of energy really takes it out of me.

Since anyone who knows me or reads this blog realizes that I am really running with the old and bitter thing I have decided to use a different character on MFC. I’m guessing you think this is a good choice. Me too. I am not going to post my new identity here, though it is a character I have played in the past and really love so I’m glad to be bringing her out for a run. I hate to say that my motivation for opening up this character is based mostly on financial need — it is, but it is also based on the fact that I have a HUGE collection of costumes and sex toys that I never have any reason to wear or play with. I have not had sexual intercourse in years. Nothing larger than a tampon has been in my vagina since I became ill. My sex drive mostly disappeared. Not gone, just grumpy. Having masturbatory sex on the internet for hundreds of nameless, faceless, people is not really something I want to do, but I think it might reactivate my sex life. I know it will give me a reason to dust off these costumes. I don’t want to haul them around for no reason anymore. Unless my health improves I’m not going to open another ghetto theater. I can’t think of anything better to do with all this gear. I can use it to pay my bills and have some fun (gawd I hope I can relearn to have fun) or I can sell it.

First I’m gonna play with my toys. If MFC is a bust, if I don’t like the game, if it is not the thrill and profit that I need — I’ll sell the stuff and lower my overhead as much as possible.

I already have some stuff I’m just gonna sell. I’ll take photos and make a page here ASAP. The good stuff: ErosTec312 with vaginal probe, Custom Stocks, A Projector, That custom red patent leather corset you have seen me in so many times. Lots of shoes and boots (mostly very used). I also have about 20 DVDs of me doing something strange and funny that I would like to sell in a little package with a couple photos and whatnot. There is a ton of other stuff, so watch for the page.

Every year I say ‘if I’m not making money by the end of the year, I’m out’ and then I repeat the same sentiment the following year. But I have been using the sex business to get myself out of financial pinches for years. I need my 140,000 nickels. I need them now.

If you want to know who I am on MFC send me an email. I hope that you come play with me in the new fun world I am going to jump into. There are a million political minefields involved with this new venture. From my raging paranoia of sypware to the fact that I’m over the commodification of my sexuality. Inside my head there is a lot of noise about how Orwell was right, fuck fascism, kill the machines, don’t sign that amazingly corporate entertainment contract that MFC has models sign (it is really bad), yada yada yada. But I’ll save my Marxisit ways for another day for it’s money money money makes the world go round.

Come give me money to play sexy games with me. Help me find my sexuality gain. Help me have fun again. You stay totally anonymous (or tell me who you are if you want) and I make hot sexy bad choices that I might regret next year. Toss me some nickels and watch me dance!

Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention that I have a double dicked fucking machine. I’m making a sign — will ride dildo for spare change.


In Uncategorized on August 11, 2013 at 2:04 pm

Due to my serious health situations I am rarely available for in person sessions. I am on niteflirt offering phone sessions pretty often and as of today I will be offering cam play too. Follow the niteflirt link and call me, after we speak I will let you know how to connect to my cam.

Today I will be playing dress up. I am going through a lot of costumes and shoes. If you want to watch, call me up. Many of the things I have been dancing in are available for purchase.

If I feel inspired I might get a little dirty.

cam with me and see what happens.


I should be ready to play by noon EST.

Asshole Tax

In bullshit on August 10, 2013 at 1:32 pm

After I post about needing a little bit more for rent, someone sends a text, says he wants to shoot pool and have a beer. I get ready and go to the expected meeting spot. I’m on time, which is kind of amazing considering the round the way adventure I had getting there. He sends me a text and says he is running 5 minutes late. I order two pints of stout so they can settle, figuring he is about to walk in the door.

I see someone staring in the door and seeming nervous. Refusing to believe that this is the dude I came to meet I continue to chat up the person who is next to me in this very crowded and totally male filled put. When I got to the place I went in search of captain-save-a-ho and noticed that there was one other woman in the place, well aside from the waitresses. The patron was in her late 40s / early 50s and kissing all over the dude she was with.

The guy I planned on meeting was sitting in his car across the street texting me about not being able to come in. “There is someone I’m trying to avoid in there” — Great Drama!

I go outside and let the pints sitting there. There is a squirrely looking dude sitting in some sort of shiny black generic thing. Nissan maybe. Something that looks like it wants you to notice it but is so totally nondescript that all I saw was the turtle wax. Whatever, he is sitting in this car and through a course of texts and calls and hushed ducking low and waving at the same time I decipher that this is the dude I am supposed to meet. I approach the vehicle that is parked in the street. I go up to the window and put my hand out ‘money first” he hands it to me. Then he tells me that he is avoiding a Puerto Rican lady with long dark hair. I said, what is this your wife or something, yes he says.

We decide to go someplace else. But I have some errands to run so I tell him to go wait for me, like I waited for him, and I would be along in a few. I went to the post office and while I was in there dealing with post he sent me several texts and then he called. When I left the post office I looked at the texts only to discover that he was whining and asking me why I was not there yet. It had been seven minutes since I left him in the street. He was told to go and meet me at this new place, somewhere where his wife would not meet up with us. But he thought it would be a good idea to drive around the corner when I came out of the post office. He pulled up and tried to talk to me wile I was crossing the street. I guess he thinks that women want to be engaged in conversations with men who should pay attention and drive. I told him to have some patience and I asked him if he was following me. He assured me that he was not a creeper, a wanker, nor any sort of weirdo. I walked away from his car, he did what people in cars do — he drove.

I found a super secret shortcut to where I was going but in the mean time I processed his story, his behavior, and wondered what he must think of this. If I am totally off base, why is it that this behavior seems totally fine to him, and others who pull this sort of shit.

The thing that struck me was that there was only one other woman patron in the pub, a blond who was all over some dude. Anyone who could be described as Puerto Rican with long dark hair was working there. I remembered the experience I had ordering the drinks. I was confused because there were so many long dark haired women in the same stupid uniform with their hair in a ponytail. They looked like clones of one another. But there were no women there drinking. None. I know because when I got there I went around and looked for him, I saw everyone in the pub. I sat facing the door, waiting for him. He showed up 15 minutes late with some strange story about avoiding someone who was not in the pub.

He parked so that the most logical thing for me to do would have been to get in his car. While I was at his window I almost got run down by not one but two busses. Yeah.

Then when he should have been warming up a stool at the top of the hill he just happened to pull out of the post office parking lot, just at the time I was crossing the street.


This guy seems like some sort of creeper to me.

Maybe he has some totally legit story to point to the fact that I am a paranoid person. I am paranoid, because I need to keep creepy men away from my world.

I don;t know if this dude is a stalker, was trying to get me in his car, if the guy is a pimp, or a wanna be pimp, All I know is that his squirrely actions and his shady story add up to equal ‘stay the fuck away.’

But this is not the first time he has seemed like a creeper to me. He has been sending me random texts since April. He would not tell me who he was. He assumed that I was writing about him. I’m not sure who he thinks he is. Either way he managed to act like a creeper asshole.

So I decided that I was not gonna meet him at the place I told him to go, which had been my intention. For the reasons I have just laid out I opted to charge him an asshole tax.

For a few minutes I felt like the bad guy. Taking his money and not meeting him for a drink. But I did meet him for a drink, he was just to chicken to come in and drink the drink. His story about the woman was the most suspicious part of this little encounter until I examined the unexpected arrival of his vehicle at the post office. He was clearly following me. I don’t feel the slightest bit bad about the situation. He is up to something.

This happened last week. Tonight he sent me a passive aggressive text. I asked hime ot please go away and never approach me again.

Every time a fan tries to become a friend it gets creepier and creepier. I really hope he goes away.

Thanks Captain, Fuck You Creeper, Getting Ready to Relocate.

In Uncategorized on August 8, 2013 at 6:28 pm

First I want to thank Captain Save A Ho for bailing me out at the last minute. Someone I have known quite a while sent me some money and presto change-o, rent got paid. Thanks Mister.

But about 20 minutes after the electronic money was sent my way, a local called to tell me that he had some cash for me, so I went to get it. He acted creepy in ways that I will have to describe in detail in a future post. Seems every encounter I have with fans gets creepier and creepier.

Right now I am busy having a panic attach that is making it hard to update things. I have been having a full blown panic attack for several days now. And though I am writing I am not posting as posting generally requires editing. editing requires thinking. this panic attack is not conducive to thinking.

A bunch of really bad shit is going on. My problems are mighty white. Mostly money. Health is coming in second. I’m out of toilet paper and beer. I have a $10000 payment due in two weeks and I have $20 to my name. I’m about to drop it in the post so I can get my mail forwarded to me.

I am currently fluctuating between throwing things in the garbage (because I am in the heat of a break up that has been a long time coming — more about that later too), sobbing in the shower, trying to make my gadgets work, feeling way too old for life in general, and watching porn.

The porn is research. I’m about to turn on a webcam and I need to figure out how this game works.

I can’t believe I ever came to New England. Maybe one of the worst decisions I ever made. I’m getting out of here as soon as I possibly can. I’m over feeling this alone in the world.

Now I’m sobbing. I think I hate everything about this place. from the fact that everyone who talks to me is a creeper to the fact that the beach has no waves.

Save My Fat Ass

In Adventure on August 1, 2013 at 8:13 pm

Most of July I spent inside, suffering from the first real migraine I have had in over a year. It was brought on by stress. I fell down. I was sick. I could not cope with the smells and sounds and lights. July was a miserable month for me. Consequently I worked three days. I have no idea how I managed to not run out of food. I found myself eating a lot of popcorn.

Last week I figured I should really go to work, pay the rent. I summoned up the strength to get out of bed. It took me a week to get ready to go to a strip club. I shaved on day one. On day two I did my nails. On day three I packed my gear. On day four I stretched. On day five I gave myself an enema. On day six I shaved again. On day seven I went to work.

Money was decent. Not what I needed or wanted. Not the spare change it could have been. When I got home I felt like a truck had hit me. Everything came smashing back in my face. The headache was not a horrific migraine but it was a nagging constant pain that consumed my whole body. I slept for huge stretches. My sleep cycle got more dicked up than ever before. I was sleeping from 2PM till midnight. Try as I might I was stuck in a loop of perpetual exhaustion.

Last night I looked at my situation. I needed $200 to have my rent. Against my better judgment I went to the Gold Club. When I got in there were a few guys in the place, I got out there with the intention of making a measly couple of benjies. It looked like it was gonna be a long slow clawing to get the rest of my rent out of this club.

The last train leaves the region at 10:30 PM. At 11:30 I was fired from the gold club for having too much ass. I assumed it was gonna happen sooner or later. But it was really bad timing. I had made a little over $40 and I had no idea where I was gonna chill for the next six hours while I waited for the first AM train. I figured I would take my shit and sit in front of the club, make some sort of choice about my situation and get on with it. Just as I parked my big fat ass on the bench in front of the club a dozen or so cop cars rolled in. They pulled a drug dog out of one of them. The dog was going nuts. I decided I needed to get the hell out of there and went to the dunkin donuts and called a cab. While I waited it seemed like the club was getting raided. My cab came and whisked me away from what looked like a real bummer. I was never so glad to get shit-canned. They fired me at the exact moment that I needed to go. My big fat ass really came through. Going to jail would have been way too much for my system. It would have totally ruined my night and several days. The fact that I only made $40 and was told to not pop my booty in this town again — yeah whatever. I’m really glad I skipped out right before the raid. Thanks Booty.

The cab ride was $20. So was the one that I took to get to the club. I spent the whole night waiting for a train. It finally started to get cold. I was lucky enough to find an accessible power outlet and made myself a cup of tea. Yes, I have an electric tea kettle in my stripper gear. I like tea. I sat reading and stretching and drinking tea until the sun finally cam up and the train pulled into the station.

By the time I got home I was determined to go and work day shift at a club that I have been terrified to go to. I’m a pretty seasoned old bitch, titty bars don’t scare me. This one has been haunting me. I keep thinking the money will be better in what I have labeled ‘The Scariest Dive in the World.’ This place was in the news a few years back because they had minors working in the club. It is rumored to be the skankiest club in all the land. But it is also rumored to have money and no schedule and a show up and work policy.

I got to my flat and it was daytime. I took a shower, did some more yoga, ate some eggs, put on another coat of stripper paint, and forced myself to go to The Scariest Dive In The World — right in the middle of the day. My landlord is all up my ass for the rent and I’m still a tad shy. I went to the dive. I assumed I could just stroll in and work, but I called first, and they confirmed this. They told me to come in. When I got there a person who looked like a big square building told me that he would take my number and call me. I was kind of livid. It was full bright sunshine out there. They were gonna send me away, make me go back out into the light. FUCK.

I didn’t really know where to go, so I came home. I wasn’t prepared to try any upscale clubs. The few nasty dives that I could get to were at least an hour away in the opposite direction. I just came home and made a pot of tea. In a few hours I’m gonna call my landlord and explain my situation.

Unless I can find $200 in the next four hours via the internut.

Wanna be my captain save a ho?

Yes, yes you do. Email, call, text, whatever. Just come save this big fat broke ass from the hell that is my life. No one can save me but you captain!