The Pornstar


So, today I met a pornstar, and I told him he was beautiful.

He liked that, his fans are usually psychotic whinging male dominants and weeping teenagers who are consumed with guilt about their love of having their blood supply replenished via whip or belt.

He is, not surprisingly for my current schtick, Indian.

I have narrowed it down to nice hands, old fashioned English phraseology and body hair. I do love a furry chap. It is a bit like wriggling about with a large and unusually exciting cat.

I have quickly gathered a following of my own, not for porn production I hasten to add, but I had a fascinating chat with a lovely man from Northern England during which I explained a few thoughts which were hitherto not pinned down.

I do have a deviance, but it is linguistic, and my interest in DS is an interest in the audio, rather than a fascination with actual pain, which is OK now and again, but I am not that fussed about delivering or receiving it in comparison with a lot of verbosity.

I am finding this niche quite hard to locate, but it is amusing looking.

I did produce some pseudo-erotica over a decade ago, which was sufficiently far out to attract some unwanted international attention, so I quickly buried it.  I am not planning on bringing it back to life, however I do think a lovely short story in honour of the porn star is in order, so I will be taking care of business and freeing up some time for that this week.

I also met a charming naturist, who would like to hang around in the garden naked, so socially things are looking up, so to speak.


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