Evolution of a Perverted Woman

I’ve been thinking about my early sexual experiences (or lack thereof) and my first family fantasies. I’ve been able to make a few interesting possible connections between those and my current perversity. I thought you might be curious about the results of my self-exploration.

As I’ve said here before, my taboo fantasies began with dirty thoughts about my brother (starting when I was about 15). It began with thoughts of seeing him naked, and him seeing me. I then zeroed in on seeing his penis naked – which before that was just a vague “thing” that was “down there.” I was woefully undereducated about sex when I began having these fantasies, so how I envisioned things was extremely naïve and, frankly, childish.

I was ashamed and embarrassed by these fantasies, knowing that they were wrong. I would try to force myself to think about other boys when masturbating. It would work most of the time, but about once a week I’d fall into fantasizing about my brother. It was those days (or nights) that I always seemed to orgasm quicker (and better). After a while, I gave up and just let myself fantasize about whatever was making me horny at the time. This gave me the freedom to think about all kinds of scenarios with my brother. Me catching him playing with himself. Him walking in on me getting out of the shower. Me spying on him with his girlfriend. Him rescuing me after I went skinny dipping and someone stole all my clothes left on shore.

So, yeah, nudity was a big feature. Kissing was my idea of major sexual expression, so that was often a centerpiece of my fantasies. Then, as I grew and bit-by-bit learned about the realities of life, things became more sexual. It was a lot about seeing my brother’s cock getting hard. I was fascinated with the concept of a penis going from small to big, and from soft to hard. I often wished that boys in school didn’t try to hide it when they had a boner. I’d have loved to have seen them walking around with big bulges in their pants! (Yes, I was an inveterate crotch watcher – then and now.) It was also so different than the more subtle changes a woman’s body goes through when sexually aroused. Sure, there are signs, but nothing as conspicuous as a big ol’ hard-on!

It wasn’t right away, but eventually my Dad began to infiltrate my fantasies. It started as him catching me doing something naughty. Sometimes by myself, but often doing naked stuff with my brother. He’d be angry and he would scold me for being a dirty slut. The definition of a slut for me back then was a girl who liked sex (either with boys or alone). It was weird, but I would often make myself cum to fantasies of my father yelling at me. In my mind, I was always naked as he did this, and his language was very graphic. “I come home after a hard day at work and find my daughter playing with her pussy and acting like a slut!” Or, “This is how you spend your day? Walking around naked in front of your brother showing off your ass and tits? I bet if I didn’t interrupt you’d be in here spreading your legs and letting him see your twat!” (Only later would he begin liberally using the word “cunt” with me.)

This either confirms that I was wired to get turned on my dirty talk from the beginning, or that my fetish for hearing dirty talk springs from these types of fantasies. Anyway, it wasn’t long before the fantasy evolved to Dad catching me and yelling, to him catching me and joining in. He would pull out his cock, say something like, “If you like being a slut, then you’ll like this.” Then he’d stroke his cock, making it hard while I watched, and he’d make me go on playing with myself while he watched and stroked himself. Funny thing is, it actually took me a while to add in the cum. I thought guys had orgasms like girls did – where nothing comes out. I thought they could control their sperm like they do with their pee. Orgasm and cumming were two separate biological functions in my dumb little head for a time.

Bringing Dad into the sexual mix brought on a new round of guilt and shame. About once a month I’d vow never to masturbate again. I was a disgusting slut and had to stop being a degenerate pervert. Why was I the only one in my whole school like that? No one else ever said anything about masturbating, except when a boy would occasionally call someone a “jerk off.” I was a not only a freak for touching myself all the time, but I was a super freak for thinking about my family that way!

The guilt and shame, however, weren’t enough to overpower my filthy urges. I could manage to go 3 or 4 days without touching myself, but then I’d give in. I know girls are supposed to be able to resist temptation easier than boys, but not this girl. I’d be up late into the night thinking naughty thoughts, trying not to, and convince myself that if I just press against my pussy I could make that insistent ache go away. Of course, the pressing just made it worse. But if I just rubbed it a few times, and stopped thinking about penises, then it would okay and I could fall asleep. Next thing I knew I was kicking off my bed sheets, pulling down my PJs and panties, spreading my legs wide, and ravaging my little pussy to thoughts of hard cocks coming at me from all over the place.

At this stage I wasn’t fantasizing about fucking. That was for if you wanted to make a baby. My fantasies then revolved around masturbating. It was the only sexual experience I had, so that’s what dominated my fantasies. It was mostly guys jacking off and me diddling myself (and some occasional kissing if the situation warranted). When I was feeling especially horny, it would go so far as me touching the penis in question, and stroking it off to a dry orgasm.

This, I suspect, is the main source of my masturbation fetish. I spent so much of my early sexual life focused almost exclusively on masturbation – both my own and that of others – that masturbation has become the foundation of sex for me…and a never-ending source of fantastic pleasure. Masturbation orgasms still feel like a kind of magic to me – no matter how many times I do it!

Obviously, the next player to appear was my mother. She was a pretty woman, with a good figure (for a mom), and fairly big boobs. She was not, by my way of thinking, sexy. She didn’t wear tight clothes, never showed any cleavage, no short skirts, and never spoke in any kind of a provocative way. She was affectionate with my father, but not so much in a physical way (at least not around the kids). My mom came across to me as very anti-sex. The Talk she gave me was mainly about all the bad things that could happen when you had sex. And letting people see you nude was a huge no-no (bordering on a mortal sin).

I guess this is where my fantasies of nudity came from. The strict ban on nakedness in my house was similar to the negative portrayal of sex, and so I conflated the two. Nudity became inherently sexual to me, and thus very arousing. Maybe that’s why I’m addicted to looking at naked people on my computer whenever I get the chance!

It took some time, but Mom did work her way into my sexual fantasies. Much like Dad, she began as an angry foil, catching me in the act and lecturing. It wasn’t as big of a turn on for some reason as Dad catching me and pulling out his cock. She soon ended up taking a softer role – that of the understanding teacher. As I’ve mentioned before, one of my major fantasies of that era revolved around my mom teaching my brother about sex. She would call me into the room where they were having a lesson and she would instruct my brother how to please a woman while he used me to practice on. Mom would tell him to undress me, kiss my nipples, touch my pussy, and gently rub his cock on me to get it hard. She would give him explicit instructions about putting his cock in my mouth and fingering my pussy. I carried on developing this fantasy well into my college years. By then it ended with my mom telling my brother to fuck me. While she urged him on with encouragements, she would become so turned on that my mom would strip and masturbate while she watched us fucking.

My other primary scenario during this time was being caught spying on my parents having sex. Instead of being mad, Mom would invite me into their bedroom to watch. She and Dad would strip off my clothes so I’d be naked like they were. She’d then invite me to get a close look at Dad’s cock and her pussy. I was more interested in cock at that period, but the idea of my mom acting like a slut and opening her legs in front of me was a big turn on. They would then proceed to have sex. It was usually Mom who would tell me it was okay if I wanted to play with myself while I watched. Dad would often compliment my tits and pussy – looking at me with a leering smile while he fucked Mom. They’d tell me to get a close look, and I would get in there with my face only a few inches from where Dad’s big cock was plunging into Mom’s wet cunt hole. I got off so hard on that image! Not just the raw sex aspect of it, but about me being there and being a part of it. Of seeing the adult mystery of sex playing out right in my face.

As far as wanting to see my Mom and Dad fuck, it was a simple matter of them being the only two people close to me that I knew (or at least believed) were having sex. I always felt weird when other people would act all grossed out at the thought of their parents “doing it.” I was very intrigued by the thought, and so there must have been something wrong with me – right? I started off with a very “clinical” understanding of what sex was and how it all went down. When I got the facts of life, I assumed sex was just for making babies. And since you both had to be naked (ew – naked in front of a boy) then I imagined sex took place in the bathroom. That’s the place in the house where you usually get naked to take a bath or shower, so naturally that’s where you’d get naked to make a baby. I also pictured it as a standing up procedure.

It wasn’t until later that my concept of what sex had matured enough over time to where I figured out it was a bedroom activity and could be done just for fun. Having my first real orgasms went a long way toward understanding what the fun part could be. As I mentioned, before that I thought it was all about the kissing. Once my ideas about sex became more sophisticated, I was both very interested in being a part of it but afraid to be the one doing the sex. I think this is why I resorted to more voyeuristic fantasies. I was very often playing the role of voyeur – picturing myself watching and playing with myself as I actually played with myself. This kind of reality/fantasy parallel really seemed to work for me then (and to a great degree, now).

The unfortunate part is that although I fantasized about spying on my parents having sex, I never had the guts to try this for real. I suspect at the very least I could have listened at their door and overheard them getting frisky. I was too afraid of getting caught (by them, or by my brother), and I couldn’t stand the levels of humiliation this would bring about. I wish I’d been braver, and was able to realize that a little humiliation was worth the risk. I often wonder if I had simply asked my brother back then, that he would have jerked off for me while I watched. If I’d thought of that back then, I’d probably be too scared that he’d ask to see me naked.

So, returning to my parents. To me, back then, it was all about the woman “letting” the man put his dick in her pussy. That element of it felt really dirty to me – like the woman was giving in to something she shouldn’t do. The idea that my proper, uptight mom would do something so nasty was a big turn on for me. Again, when I didn’t understand sex, I thought sex involved the man putting the penis into the woman’s vagina, then releasing his sperm (like the way he would pee), then it was done. When I learned that there was in-and-out humping involved to make the sperm come out, this really upped the excitement.

I got more involved with my parents sexually in my fantasy as I got older and became more knowledgeable. At first it was spreading my pussy open to help get Dad hard. Then it was sitting on my father’s face (at my mother’s insistence). Mom would also offer to let me play with and suck my father’s cock. Back then I didn’t do any lesbian stuff in my fantasy, but (like in my brother/mom fantasies) I did often think about seeing her masturbate as she watched me play with Daddy’s dick. It probably wasn’t until late in college that I started imagining mom eating me out (while Dad watched and jacked off). Ultimately, this fantasy climaxed with Dad fucking me. And, somewhere along the way, my brother would get caught spying on the three of us. Mom would invite him to join in. From there, several variations came about. My brother would fuck Mom while me and Dad fucked next to them. Mom would tell Dad to fuck me from behind while I sucked off my brother. Or, she’d fuck and suck them both while I watched and finger fucked myself. Then, of course, my brother would fuck me as they fucked next to us. Yeah, most combinations were explored as I let my imagination run free. I eventually became secure enough in my taboo perversity to imagine Mom and I doing a messy 69, and also watching my Dad and brother sucking each other off. The gay stuff did put me off, but for some reason I couldn’t help thinking about it. I suppose it was about the dirtiest, most transgressive, thing I could imagine at the time, so there was a certain nasty appeal to it.

My fantasies back then never involved any butt stuff, although they sure as do now. It’s still true that when I entertain these masturbation fantasies today, in my mind they still take place back in the day – when I was an innocent teen, my parents were young and vibrant, and my brother a hormonal fuck beast. I do have a few contemporary fantasies about my brother as we are now. The most recent being us doing a Skype call, with me being here overseas, and somehow our conversation becomes flirty to the point where I confess my teen crush on him. One thing leads to another and we’re soon naked and masturbating for each other – both trying to be quiet because our spouses are home and could walk in any second! Again, the whole getting caught element – I guess my kinks will never change…

Well, those are some of my sexual origin stories. When I lay it all out in writing it becomes very clear where most of my sexual proclivities came from. Mysteries solved. I often say that writing porn has been a form of therapy for me – and here’s further proof of it. Unveiling the roots of my perversions goes a long way to helping me understand who I am and why I think the deviant things I do. Instead of adding to the guilt and shame, it goes a long way toward alleviating it. More so, it gives me permission to forgive myself and accept my dirty little thoughts as natural, and even to a certain extent as normal. Instead of judging my nasty thoughts based on an outside set of standards, I can simply take them as they are and enjoy the intense pleasure they bring to me in the privacy of my own mind…oh, and here in the open with you at my debaucherous blog.

Maybe you can give it a try! You might surprise yourself with what you discover…

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A.W.O.L. (Absent Writer Overthinking Leave)

Let me start with an apology for going AWOL on you all for the past few weeks. I’m sorry to have worried many of you, and to have disappointed everyone checking in with genitals in hand hoping to find something new to stimulate the aforementioned naughty bits. My quiet little life was thrown into a bit of a whirlwind recently – nothing bad, really, just very disruptive. This resulted in my favorite naughty hobby falling to the bottom of my “To Do” list. I kept planning on posting something to let everyone know what was going on, but it kept getting pushed off to tomorrow.

So, here’s the deal. My dear hubby has been offered a promotion at work (which we are very excited about). This promotion, however, is contingent on him doing a stint for the company overseas. A relatively long stint, at that. We began with discussions about it, which evolved into debates, and in a few instances turned into disputes. After all that, we’ve decided that he’s going to take the promotion and that me and the kids will be going along with him into the foreign unknown.

I’m very excited about this (in a non-panty-soaking sort of way) not only for his promotion, but for the opportunity to experience a new culture, and for the girls to expand their horizons at such a young age. But (you had to know there’d be a but!), our destination country is one that isn’t what we would call porn friendly. Ugh! Of course, this wasn’t exactly a viable argument for me to work into our discussions, though it probably factored more into my willingness to go that I’d like to admit.

We’re due to go in a couple of months, and I only have about a million and six things to do before that happens. I’m going to try to do a better job with updates and such during that time, but I’m probably going to be spotty at best. Then, once I get where we’re going, I’ll have a lot to figure out. Will I be able to safely circumvent the technical hurdles to accessing porn (including sites like my own blog)? Will the foreign secret police try to hunt down and punish an incest-adoring smut peddler like me? Plus, our internet access will be provided by my husband’s company – will their IT people notice that there is a lot of taboo traffic heating up our internet connection while my husband is supposedly working? Even if I’m just being paranoid, it feels like the risks are just way too high to be worth chancing it.

I don’t know. Maybe it won’t be as bad as I’m imagining, but at this point I’m assuming I’ll be restricted in what I can do online for one reason or another (perhaps trying to figure out life in a country where I don’t speak the language!). I keep imagining my husband being called into the boss’s office one day…”Hey, Dave, we need to talk about the erotic story your wife posted online the other day using our internet account that, according to the local unit of the Perversion Police, contains bisexual incestuous butt sex that takes place in front of a classroom of masturbating high schoolers…” Yeah, none of those imagined meetings ends up good for me.

So, I’m still completely unsure about how things will play out for my writing and blog (and masturbation material) at the moment. I figure the worst case scenario is that I will have to contain myself to offline writing (and wanking) while I’m on porn-hostile foreign soil. If I’m able to find the time, I can finish all the stories I’ve started and have yet to conclude. I can also, maybe, focus on my goal of writing an erotic novel (or two) that I can publish when I get home to the States. I just don’t know how much filthy freedom I’ll actually have, so I can’t say for sure what I’ll be able to do.

Either way, I should have posted all this a lot sooner and I apologize again for leaving you hanging in the meantime. I hope you can forgive me for being in a tizzy over this and not knowing yet how things will turn out. Your support and love over the years (can you believe it’s been YEARS!) has meant a lot to me, and know that I’ll be making every effort to keep our naughty fun rolling as best as I can while I embark on this adventure with my family.

Maybe I’ll just have to get better at multi-tasking…

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Wanton Potatoes: Movie Reviews for Perverts

I don’t know a lot about movies, but I consider myself fairly well-versed when it cums to perversion. This gave me the idea that perhaps I could exploit both my ignorance and expertise in an occasional movie review feature here at the blog designed to evaluate movies with a special focus on nudity, kinky situations, and all things sexual.

I have to imagine others have been doing the same thing for years, so I’m not under any delusions that I’ve come up with a wholly original concept here, but I figure as long as I’m watching these lousy movies in hopes of seeing some naughty stuff, that I could do you a favor and either warn you away or let you know if it’s worth checking out (oh, and whether you should be watching with or without pants on).

I haven’t done a lot of planning in terms of how I’m going to format these reviews, so we’ll just jump into it and see if it evolves into something viable, or goes extinct due to some very unintelligent design.

Below is a sample of what I’m looking at doing. Let me know what you think (or don’t think)!

Baywatch (2017)
Starring: Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, Zac “The Twink” Efron, and hot girls.
Rating: R
Format: DVD

The latest exhibit entered into evidence in the ongoing case of “Has Hollywood Run Out of Original Ideas?” is another remake of an iconic TV show from the ‘90s. Full disclaimer, I never watched the show, but I feel I know everything I need to know about it: 1) Pamela Anderson, 2) David Hasselhoff, and 3) Boobs bouncing in slow motion as sexy women run.
Did I miss anything?

The movie pits Lt. Mitch Buchanan (The Rock) and the lifeguard crew of Emerald Bay, along with a few untested new trainees, against Victoria Leeds, an evil drug-dealing hotelieress out to privatize the beach through shady land deals and several high profile murders. Matt Brodie (Zac), an Olympic swimmer who earned 2 individual medals, but failed when it came to doing his part to help win any team medals, has been sentenced to the Baywatch crew as community service. Will he be able to put aside his selfish tendencies and learn to work as part of a team before the 3rd act climax? I think you already know the answer to that. (BTW, I don’t know (and/or don’t care) where spoiler alerts are supposed go, so you’ll just have to read these reviews at your own risk!)

I rented this one in hopes of finding some decent campy comedy (and lots of bouncing boobies). The film only mildly delivered on both counts. I got a few smiles out of it, but no LOLs that I can recall. There were at least three, maybe 4, slo-mo bouncing scenes (usually done as throwback gags). They were nice to see, but nothing I would consider as bonerific as the original TV show opener. All of you who were horny, hormonal boys during the ‘90s will have to confirm or contradict me on this.

I’m not the kind of lady to go ga-ga over bodybuilder type muscle men, but The Rock is one such fellow who can make me squirm in my seat when he takes off his shirt. His sweet, funny personality is such a contrast to his hunky body that it just does something for me. I’m more attracted to the gymnast type body – lean, solid muscles, but in proportions that I think I can handle. This is where my little nugget Zac comes in. He provided some tasty eye candy, especially in his American Ninja style try-out scene.

Not to fear, gentleman, there are plenty of female cuties to get your trousers roused as well. There’s a generous helping of cleavage in this movie – both tit cleavage and ass cleavage – to keep you at least at half-mast much of the time. The bad news is, there’s no female nipple action at all. I didn’t even really notice any of the girls rocking a decent pair of pokies! Very disappointing. This movie probably would have been rated PG-13 if it wasn’t for the naked dick scene.

Don’t get excited, the naked dick belonged to a dead guy in the morgue. Tsk, tsk, tsk. It seems about the only way we girls get a dick shot these days is if it belongs to a corpse. It happened in Game of Thrones recently, and also in another movie I saw not too long ago. Not the least bit erotic, and more of a turn off than anything else (especially since you can’t avoid looking at a naked dick, no matter if it’s alive or dead). There was a little bit of cock fun at the expense of the chubby “comic relief” character, who apparently has a huge dick, but we only ever saw hints of it through his swim trunks in a couple quick shots.

The Hoff’s cameo was amusing and tastefully quick. Pamela Anderson’s cameo treated us to a brief oasis of MILF cleavage, but otherwise added nothing of value to the movie. There was no worthwhile nudity (we did get to see the comic relief guy naked from behind in the shower), and no sex scenes at all. This is all the more frustrating since the setting and characters provide so many opportunities for naughty stuff! I suppose the Baywatch copyright holders were eager to preserve the family wholesomeness of the original TV show. With this being the case, I’d liken watching this movie to going to Hooters when what you really want is to go to Scores.

Jerk-Offability: Mid-Low (a few slo-mo bouncing titty scenes)
Diddleworthiness: Upper-Low (shirtless Rock and Zac running around)
Nudity: Very Low (fat guy’s naked butt)
Sex: None (not even any off-screen sex, as far as I could tell!)
Naughtiness: Minimal (a few sexy ass/boob references)
Perversion: Minimal (light homosexual necrophilia)
Watchability: Medium (mindless, but not overly annoying)

Recommendation: Something to watch if you don’t have to spend any money and want to kill an hour and fifty-six minutes (long plane ride?). Keep your pants on – at most, you’ll want to grope yourself a time or two.

My Director’s Cut: The Rock fucks everyone with full intensity…including Zac Efron.

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Come and Cum

Slippery Tip #8: Know your cum.

There’s an ongoing debate in porn grammar circles about which is “proper” – come or cum. The short answer is both. The long answer is either. This is one of those style choices I’ve mentioned before, where there’s not hard and fast rule that presides.

Cum is a slang term, not an official word, so some writers dismiss it on these grounds. Come is historically the original term of art, but I’m not going to bore you with the etymology. All that really matters is that for each story you write, you chose one form and stick with it. Consistency is the key to all the best orgasms! (I’m pretty sure I’m paraphrasing Einstein or Aristotle or MacArthur with that statement, but I can’t be bothered to look it up right now).

My preference, as you may have noticed, is to use cum. It feels dirtier to me, and just oozes sex! “I shot my come all over my mother’s face” doesn’t look right to me. Which I find distracting. Which causes my fingers to go still. Which doesn’t make anyone happy!

A good hybrid solution is to use “cum” only in the context of the noun form to represent the physical substance of the ejaculate, and use “come” as the verb for the act of ejaculating. Billy yelled, “I’m coming!” then shot a big wad of cum deep inside his sister’s cunt.

As long as you don’t switch back and forth between different forms, readers won’t much care which one you use if the story is otherwise turning them on. Although, I have one little caveat, which (again) is just my own personal preference. I use cum, cumming, came. I don’t like cummed as the past tense form. It just sounds dumb to me. But, if you want the climax of your sex scene to sound dumb, that’s up to you!

Also, as long as we’re on the subject, keep in mind that cum itself has discrete components. I sometimes see writers mess up the technical details of this – which, again, may not bother most readers, but the closer you can get to being accurate when you describe bodily details in detail, the better. Remember that semen is the whole package, same as cum – all the goo that shoots from the cock at orgasm. The semen contains sperm (those little wiggly fellas). You can get away with calling a guy’s ejaculate sperm (which I’ll sometimes do when it makes thing sound extra dirty), but it’s technically off the mark. Another good thing to note is that the sperm is produced and stored in the testicles, whereas the seminal fluid is produced by various glands scattered throughout the male reproductive system. Just keep this in mind next time you’re describing her “draining his balls” or “sucking his balls dry.” All the nasty ingredients that make up cum are magically brought together in the explosive process of orgasm to produce the delicious concoction that we all love so much.

Oh, and one more thing, a pet peeve of mine…cum isn’t sticky! Not at first. I’ve handled a lot of cum, as I’m sure all of you have, and the last thing you think when you play with a handful of the stuff is that it’s sticky. It’s gooey and gloopy, yes, but not sticky. In fact, it’s the exact opposite! Cum is slippery (which is how my tips got that way in the first place!). The main function of pre-cum is to help lube things up for penetration. One of the key functions of seminal fluid is to lubricate the pathway for those hard-swimming little sperms to get to where they’re going (which more often than not is your belly button). It’s NOT sticky! Now, give that cum a few hours pressed between the pages of a Playboy magazine hidden under a mattress, and that’s a whole different situation.

Bottom line: Decide which form of cum/come works for the story you’re writing and stick with that form throughout. Also, if you’re going to write about sex, it wouldn’t hurt to study up on the human reproductive system (and, guys, some of you need to pay special attention to the “womb” and its role in the normal course of sex and being a woman. Hint: I’ve never felt my womb “clench” upon seeing a sexy man cross my path).

Whew, now I’m in the mood to whip up a nice batch of my very own homemade lady cum. And I suggest the rest of you pull down your pants and do some research yourselves!

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Finding My Niche (Damn, that sounds dirty!)

At the risk of annoying many of you, I’m going to use this post to “think out loud” about my upcoming project to publish my first eThing for sale at Amazon (and possibly elsewhere). I’m still in the research and planning phase, but I’ve found myself hung up on a couple hurdles that should have been fairly easy for me to clear by this point.

As you know, my favorite themes to write about are unacceptable to the broader publishing world. Incest between blood-related family members is, at best, frowned upon, and more often outright forbidden. Also, I can’t write about characters even slightly under 18 exploring their sexuality and discovering the delights available to them right in their own backyard (or, right around the corner in their sister’s or parents’ bedroom). I’m not that hung up on the 18+ thing when it comes to commercial publishing, but what I’m having trouble with is the genre/niche issue.

My loose plan at the moment is to come up with a sexy pen name and write in a particular sexual niche to build up a reputation/audience in that world. From what I’ve read, it’s important to be consistent in terms of what kinds of stories you write under any given pen name. If I write four interracial cuckold stories as Mimi LaRue, when readers buy my fifth story expecting more of the same and instead find that it’s a FFM BBW BDSM story, they’ll feel duped and run me out of Amazon on a rail. If I want to write and sell that story, I’d need to publish it under a different pen name, e.g. Deedee Delite. So, bottom line, you need a different “brand” for each genre you write in. No biggie, I can manage that.

My real problem is that I can’t decide which niche I want to start with! I know that writing for money means I’ll be appealing to a completely different audience. I’d prefer to write something that would directly appeal to my existing loyal followers (that’s you!), but I know you’re all too smart to pay for your porn (ya cheap bastards!). To be honest, I wouldn’t pay for it either when there’s so much erotica out there for free. I guess it ultimately comes down to a matter of how much you value your private one-on-one time with your genitals – I know I’ve spent hours looking for a hot story to get off to and often ended up with a dry pussy, frustrated at not finding something that tickled my kitty in just the right way. All the porn I’ve sampled on Amazon so far has been stuff I’ve downloaded for free, and, to say the least, I haven’t been impressed (with the quality of writing or the storytelling).

Choosing what niche to write in shouldn’t be as much of a problem as I’m making it. My first tip to new writers is always: “Write what turns you on.” For me, blood-relative incest tops the list. Everything after that is a close 2nd or 3rd. The problem with me is that I can get turned on by whatever I put my mind to. As part of writing custom stories or doing role plays for hire, I found that knowing I was turning on my patron was a big part of what got me off while doing that kind of writing, even if the topic of their fantasy wasn’t something I was particularly into for my own sake. If the pregnant feet niche is where the action is, I feel like I could apply my personal take on it and have readers of that genre beating off just as hard as any seasoned pro in that niche can. (Or am I being too cocky for my own good?)

I guess one of the real reasons I’m doing my thinking aloud here is to hear what some of you think. I’m open to suggestions, either based on a fetish you have that you’d like to see me tackle in an eBook, or on where you think I’d fit in when it comes to the commercial “mainstream” world of erotica. The obvious choice would appear to be for me to write pseudo-incest (non-blood relations, such as steps and in-laws), but this niche as a consolation category annoys me. If feels very hypocritical, and the whole idea even though in many jurisdictions such relations are legally still considered incest, the publishers pretend like it’s okay because they want to dodge the moral distaste many have with raw incest, but still profit from its unmatched popularity. I don’t have a problem with writing about a girl lusting after her step-brother, or a man seducing his mother-in-law, if that’s the story I have in my head, but I hate feeling like I have to take my pure daddy/daughter story and force it into being a step-daddy/step-daughter story for the sake of someone else’s sensibilities (someone, btw, who is never going to read my stuff anyway!). For me, there’s more to it than just plugging in a “step-“ in front of whatever the familial relationship is.

Sorry for soapboxing about all this. #firstworldsmutpeddlerproblems

Anyway, I’m open to suggestions, criticism, or just free-floating comments on my possibly ill-advised endeavor and the stumbling blocks I’ve created for myself. Keep in mind that I’m not so much going into this for the money. As I have been from the beginning, I want to do my part to inspire people to orgasm, and have fun with myself while doing it. That being said, I define the success of my stories in large part by how many readers see my work. The more people that read my story, the more orgasms I’m likely to help generate. If this also just so happens to translate into some extra spending money for me to buy exotic, motorized sex toys and slinky lingerie, so much the better for me (and, maybe, my dear hubby)!

Thanks for putting up with me bitching and whining about all this, especially if you’re one of the many who hate the whole idea of me “selling out.”

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P.S. One thing that I’d really like to try my hand at is the hard-boiled erotic detective story. I love reading Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler, but the whole time I’m dying for some hardcore fuck scenes between the gruff detective and some of those drop-dead sexy femmes fatale! My worry is that I might be the only one who feels this way. Even though this is a type of story I’d really like to attempt, I don’t want to start with a flop right out of the gate due to a poor/fringe genre selection. (But, hey, the whole twist in Chinatown was based on incest, right!? Giggity!)

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