Posts tagged procrastination
I don’t like to depend on “luck” as we call it, or think we know it. I live in Las Vegas, and I don’t really enjoy or feel compelled to gamble. It’s really ironic to move nearly 2000 miles from Louisiana to Las Vegas and not want to gamble.
I blame it on my cheapness, and my weak but solid knowledge of math, statistics, and odds. I make one assumption when I walk into one of those massive super store type casinos. The odds are in the house’s favor. Beyond that, I realize that any money lost would be a natural consequence for betting against that house.
The cheapskate trait that I have noticed most of my life comes in when I realize all the things I could do with money rather than gamble it away through some lottery or machine. I also make subtle calculations on how much money I would lose over time if I continued with a regular gambling habit that seemed small.
As cheap as I am, and as aware of odds as I am, I still smoked cigarettes for a few decades on and off. I had managed to quit before, for over a year, but something would eventually trigger me into going back to it. I’m only at day 17 and I’m acting like I have beat smoking already, but I am used to using patches and now there is the “emergency e-cig” too.
After just a few weeks, I’m already having dreams about smoking, but instead of fulfilling a fantasy of wanting to smoke in those dreams, they are more like nightmares, because of the feeling of disappointment after taking that first drag on the “dream cigarette”.
I have been in some kind of inner conflict for the longest about if luck is something that really exists, or if an old cliche’ is true about the more you work towards a goal, the more luck you happen to run into. I don’t test my luck in a casino because just like the psychics like to say “it doesn’t work that way.”
When I consider where I am right now, and how things are going, I am forced to remember what it was like when things were so different, and I was so different. My “growth” was hindered by the abuse of just one drug, alcohol, for months at a time, and I didn’t seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation I was placing myself in.
Now, I have only taken a baby step towards being somewhat “fixed” in quitting smoking. That is just one little habit in a long line of impulsive behavior I have to gain control over. In quitting smoking, I have given myself another level of confidence in what I can achieve when I put my mind to it.
The truth is, I was merely procrastinating from quitting smoking because the withdrawal is such a bitch. I would have done it long ago, as I have a few times before, but I just didn’t feel like the hassle of a few weeks in first world misery. Once I started using expressions like “first world” more often, I started to realize the arrogance of this concern over such a minor inconvenience.
I was only so “lucky” to get to smoke in the first place because I had the extra income to blow nearly $200 a month on the drug that would probably end up killing me eventually. It seems so simple, when you think of the assumed logical equation of smoking = death. Maybe people who smoke have a death wish. Maybe people who eat themselves up to nearly or over 500lbs also have a similar wish, but it has been modified to abuse a substance that provides life. Food.
I don’t usually post music videos, but I had to give credit to what I chose to listen to while I attempt to finish this blob post without hitting 5000 words, but then again, there is no way I can predict where my stream of consciousness writing will go.
I’m only 2 weeks into quitting smoking, but I already know I will be successful, because I have been reminded in what could be called a “nightmare” that I have to quit, “right now” apparently. There is some sense of synchronicity in this realization, because Candy experiences such breathing difficulty that she is on 2 different medications now.
I never smoked inside after Candy quit smoking, I started smoking outside before Candy ever quit actually. I made it a habit, because I always knew I would quit smoking, and I didn’t want my apartment and everything in it to be polluted with that horrible smell after I quit.
After I quit for just a week, i started to experience my true sense of smell again as well. Now I can taste better, and I can detect so many things in the air around me with a sense that had been dulled for years by this dreadful habit.
I can detect a female that is heavily “scented” from quite a distance. I can also detect when someone is smoking a cigarette in a very wide area. I can smell someone close to me and know if they are an alcoholic, or a smoker, or a pot smoker, or a crackhead.
With that realization alone, I am motivated to stay far away from inhaling burning matter on purpose, except for weed of course. I went to the trouble of getting a card at the DMV from the state of Nevada to get legal permission to smoke fucking weed. What a rigmarole.
I might be “lucky” to have quit smoking when I did, or in the long timeline, it’s already too late and the real tragedy is that I don’t even know it. Either way, I’ll take a higher quality of life while it is granted to this old, abused body. I am still trying to become more “enlightened” even though I realize that because of my age and my old ways, it will be much more difficult than a much younger version of me.
There was really no way to break through to younger me though, as it is, I didn’t become a full fledged alcoholic until after hitting 40, and I am already backtracking at 46. When I gain control over alcohol though, I won’t need to abstain, I will just use it sparingly when the desire arises to reconnect with this aggravating part of myself.
I have had access to more pharmaceuticals than I can pronounce, and I don’t abuse those at all. I know where that road goes, I chose to start using alcohol when I already knew how fucking serious it was and dangerous that particular compulsion can be to people like myself who have issues with impulse control and procrastination and anxiety and depression.
I lost so much while I chose to experiment with alcohol. Candy didn’t even know the full extent of her ability to emotionally disconnect and withdraw when exposed to a “typical alcoholic”. She had family issues going way back with alcoholism, and me being “that guy” brought her back to a family situation that she fled from as a mere child. There was no way she would tolerate that behavior from me.
I don’t think it’s too late for me though, I started reading “Be Here Now” and it gave me an insight and perception that I had not thought of or realized for a very long time. It was like reading that first Dianetics book and realizing that there were a lot of statements in there that I “knew already but never thought of in that way.”
I realized as I was reading Be Here Now by Ram Dass how similar his ability to recall things everyone already kind of knows in a different way is to L Ron Hubbard. The severe difference is that L Ron Hubbard doesn’t write from the perspective of someone who has done LSD.
Ram Dass also traveled India extensively and met with many gurus who made a profound impact on his perception of this reality. The influence of being on LSD a lot of the time could have impacted or biased that experience, but when you think about it, it would bias it in exactly the direction he was meant to go.
Be here now is all about figuring out the simple truth that you are exactly where you are supposed to be at any given time, given your desire to either find enlightenment or hide from it.
Everyone is on a path, and some people ride that path with blinders on, protecting them from seeing the potential branches that they could take which would change their lives for the better, forever.
I have used “drugs” to open my perception beyond what my bias and upbringing and limited education would allow. I have expanded the very experience of my reality by opening my mind up to alternate states of consciousness.
People who are all like “drugs, ew” are so “white and uptight” that it kills me. I can easily see why so many Caucasians will reject the race that they happened to be assigned at birth in favor of one that isn’t so fucking uptight!
I have spent a great deal of time in waiting rooms, getting the much needed and neglected medical attention for myself and “The Candy” simply because the opportunity was provided by this thing “Obamacare” that so many “fake conservatives” are all worked up over. I dread another “republican in name only” getting into office to destroy any chance I have to get medical care while at the same time creating a moral panic over “obscenity” to appeal to the religious right. 🙁
I have read a great deal of spiritual material in those waiting rooms, and I feel that I am very very far from total enlightenment, but even the very first step towards it is enthralling, exhilarating, and beautiful.
I have realized that no matter who I was, or have been, there is room in my heart for change, for the better.
I know that no matter what beliefs I have stubbornly held onto in the past, I can see the “big picture” just a little clearer now. I know that my dependence on any substance has been some kind of false idol that I worship and make sacrifice to in order to maintain my personal status quo of procrastination.
If the first step in solving a problem is admitting there is a problem. I passed that little nugget of self awareness months, if not years ago. I just needed a reason to grow emotionally. I needed to find hope and salvation in the potential of a future I really wanted in order to make myself prepared and available for that future to occur in this reality.
Now, as I take the baby step of quitting smoking, I realize that there is something in my distant future that requires and demands that little positive change in order to allow a chain of events to occur. I am thinking of time a little differently now. Instead of thinking of time on a straight line, I can see how the present intersects with the future due to consequence in ways that I could not see or did not want to see before.
The simple act of quitting smoking has caused me to begin to realize a whole set of new future realities, that never would have occurred to me without having had the experiences I have had, good and bad.
If I had not gone through so much bad shit, I would not have had the motivation or inspiration to continue to get better, and continue to grow spiritually. When I say grow spiritually, do not confuse that with the whole fucked up and contradictory phenomenon known as “religion”.
They are not the same, and can’t be, because current mainstream eastern religion inhibits personal growth by keeping women down and restricting sexual behavior. It will always seem back woods and “redneck”. Just look at any given argument against “same sex marriage”.
I have to laugh when I see what bigoted fools the highly reverent and religious are making of themselves to this current, slightly more enlightened generation.
Maybe I am so lucky, because while in one of my altered states of consciousness, I had this crazy idea of leaving everything I knew so well to travel west and land in allegedly fabulous Las Vegas. I followed some sense of what I know will happen in the future. I know that Louisiana will be one of the very last hold outs to legalizing marijuana.
I know that as voters turn down medical marijuana in the deep southern state of Florida, voters in Nevada approved medical marijuana over a decade ago, but the state of Nevada is pussyfooting around because they are so scared of being hassled over “gaming”. Dicks.
I think that I realize just how lucky I am, to have moved to where I did, just when I did, and follow a highly disciplined regimen of living on next to nothing for over 3 years. It sounds totally crazy, even to me, but I seem to know what’s coming, and I am planning every step of the way before I even realize what I am planning for.
Everything just happens as it is supposed to. I take limited risks in tiny micro social environments, and I create an outcome that I really want. I am faced with a challenge larger than I have ever attempted in all my life in the future. I have to make everything exactly the way I want it, in a way that is even more perfect than I have set it up in the present. The scary part is, I know I am capable of doing it, and it will be done.
I am just that lucky. 🙂
The title might be misleading, because I am not talking about anxiety on a ‘hardcore’ level. That would become apparent without explanation, but I was compelled to use that title before thinking of how it would appear to have a different meaning than what I wanted to infer, simply because the story of why it exists would clear it up without this ‘disclaimer’ being used to clarify.
I found this unusual feeling of anxiety come over me just before posting the last clip on the store. It is a hardcore clip, and I really like this one because I had been practicing some mental exercises to regain a much higher level of climax control.
It had been a long time since getting back in front of the camera myself, and the previous time, there was more time spent waiting for climax to chill the fuck out instead of doing some serious continuous porno style pounding.
I don’t have anxiety about getting in front of the camera, because in the end, I choose what to release and what not to release. At the same time, I still ponder releasing content that shows me passing out drunk while trying to have sex with a ssbbw and she’s texting people on her phone.
I think that shit is awesome. I find the reality sense of flawed work more interesting than something that looks plastic, fake, and magazine cut out. I find it funny when I am failing in front of the camera as I look at it afterwards. While in front of the camera, because I have been doing this for over a decade, I don’t feel anxiety at all about it. I can’t, because if I were to let that creep in, I would have difficulty in maintaining erection AND controlling climax at the same time.
That is the worst too, because if there is ANY effort being put forth in order to maintain an erection, one has to continually skate the edge of climax. If there is ANY issues going on with maintaining control of climax, you are just fucked, and not in a good way.
Just wanted to add some music, if it stays there, but this is a stable channel. I almost laughed as I typed that. I have had 8 youtube channels deleted because even though Candy was not nude in any of the clips, they were considered “obscene”, according to the standard terms of service note that let me know they were digitally murdering 8 of my fucking channels.
There is probably more anxiety about doing hardcore video on Candy’s side than mine. I don’t have anxiety because again, I can just delete the clip, or distribute it for free somewhere as if it got “leaked”. I use EVERYTHING though. My first porno was on VHS tape, and I got it mail order by lying about my age by signing some bogus form, after saving up from mowing lawns to buy my first VCR just for this purpose.
The first porno was not edited at all. There was a disembodied voice of a producer in the background telling them what to do. There was also a lot of laughing and messing around that was probably supposed to be cut out. Some guy literally paid a couple of people to fuck in front of a camera, then placed a tiny ad in the back of a porno, and sold this shit probably out of his house.
The actors in that first porno were not fat. I wanted to see “porno” because I had been exposed to it “at a friend’s house” at probably the age of 14 or 15. Once I got a taste, I had to keep watching it sooner or later. I believe one of the first films I ever saw was “taboo”, but I can’t be sure if it was that movie, or if that was a preview that was shown before the cheesy crap that was being put out at that time.
I eventually tripped across fat porn by literally calling every 1 800 number associated with every porno ad in the back of every porno mag I could get my hands on. Long before the internet, I was doing research by literally cold calling porn distributors asking them for fat porn.
Using that technique, I eventually came across a few fat porno tapes, but a lot of them were from Europe, because back in the 80’s, nobody thought of using fat models for porno until some creepy guy started calling all of them asking for fat porn.
I remember “wrinkles and ripples”, which was probably made in the UK, because there was no dialogue, only shitty music, but there was a scene where two guys walk into a building, and the architecture is unmistakably European, and early 80’s. One or both of these 2 guys walking into a fat prostitute’s apartment were not circumcised either, which is a sure sign that they were not in America.
I am circumcised because it was forced on me, but I’ll take it, because a lot of women seem to prefer it. I still don’t think it’s cool to just do it without permission from the male though. People bitch about genital mutilation in Africa while they do this shit to every male born as a standard in the USA. Anyway…
That first porn with fat women actually had old people too, hence, the “wrinkles” part of the title. Back in the 80’s, they were combining fetishes in these combo tapes because nobody assumed that fat could stand on it’s own. As the years passed, and we get into the 90’s, I remember going to a few adult book stores that were destined to be closed down by shitting fake religious Louisiana politics. Those book stores actually took the leap and had a “fat section” that was separate from “weird and freak” type stuff.
I could almost feel relief that for once, the BDSM and D/S stuff was considered “freakier” than fat porn. Maybe I wasn’t a total freak for being attracted to super sized women after all. No, I am a fucking freak and a half.
So, there is zero anxiety about performing in the porn coming from me, but Candy might be concerned about having a complexion that exists in reality rather than having a magic wand that could photoshop her ass in real life. I know that some of my work could be criticized because I don’t touch up complexion or use filters to hide shit. I have always considered my work to be “real”, and then this shitty “reality television” crap came along.
It’s ironic that people don’t see the connection between the content I create and “reality tv”. Maybe because my shit is “porn” so it can’t count as “reality”. It’s really ironic because porn is about as real as people can get, when they know each other and have been doing this shit for over a decade. When you toss 2 people in a room with a full crew and a producer yelling out instructions in between takes, I’m sure it’s not as real as my shit is. The corporate stuff is so fucking *pretty* though, so it has it’s own following. My shit is gritty, and sometimes literally ugly, and that’s what I like about it.
When I look around at fat porn, I am most drawn to the content that features more realistic models, with actual real life flaws, who act like real people. Heavy duty faking is annoying, begging for cum and then reacting to it like it’s nuclear waste is annoying. Two people acting really attracted to each other while they actually can’t stand each other is not going to translate very well with people who are “porn stars” and not “actors”.
My shit is real, flaws and all. I almost think about it like some kind of perfectly balanced equation. Nothing can be perfect. If perfection was a requirement for existence we would not fucking be here. It’s wild that as I get older, I start to see porn like MATH. In fact, I am starting to see this entire reality being broken down into common denominators and simplified fractions. It’s almost like how the characters in The Matrix were able to see what was going on from streams of numbers and characters across a screen.
When Candy is worried about a flaw or imperfection, I try to remind her, that she is thinking with her brain, and not my customer base’s collective brain. When I saw imperfection, I feel some kind of common ground with people who are literally “out of my league”. If a woman doesn’t have a perfect complexion, or she has some obvious flaw, it makes her more “real” in my eyes.
Imperfection doesn’t seem like a very real qualifying factor in making someone more attractive. We generally see imperfection as something that takes away from perfection. The real truth is, all “fat people” are already considered “flawed” based on their fat appearance. Trying to make flawed fat perfect is something I wish I had a clever analogy for off the top of my head. Maybe “lipstick on a pig”, but that might sound insulting and harsh. Cliche is rarely friendly or politically correct while trying to convey a message of truth that few really want to hear or believe.
I can talk to her all I want about how she is just the perfect fulfillment of an equation that makes her known at all in a world of plastic people, but it won’t help. She is working with her brain, her bias, her experience, her wisdom, her perception, and her reality. As I get older we get along better because instead of being personally offended by some of her observations, I can appreciate just how different her perception can be from mine, as we both simultaneously experience the exact same reality, as 2 unique observers.
Every once in a while Candy will say “fuck it, let’s fuck in front of the cam”, and I am down, like setting lights up before she finishes the sentence. I jump in there full throttle, so much so I might forget to take my socks off and look ridiculous. It doesn’t matter, I leave it in there. 🙂
I love doing it. I get a rush from fucking in front of the camera that brings me back to my “first time” long before Florida and Lexi from fatfantasy.net. I remember spending long days in a back room repairing computers fantasizing about using one to make money instead of having to figure out complex computer issues all day every fucking day.
The first chance I get to express this desire to create fat content, it starts to take off, and then I figure out that I can’t co-exist with Lexi at that age, and that level of impulsive behavior not checked by a clear sense of consequence or long term planning. I was “young, dumb, and full of cum” and I could not resist fucking exactly the woman I wasn’t supposed to exactly when I wasn’t supposed to exactly where I wasn’t supposed to.
I rebelled against Lexi’s control, because I was really in control of all that shit, and she was confined to a bed barking out orders and making unreasonable demands, and conning the fuck out of me the whole time. I deserved it, I was young and stupid, I made promises I could not keep, and I could not resist opportunity when I had multiple bbws and ssbbws flirting with me and tempting me to step out now and then.
i walked away from Lexi and started all the way over from step one. I worked for 3 years for someone else while I slowly accumulated new content and started from scratch. I managed to pull it off though, and by 2002 I was working on version 2 of hotbbws.com because Lexi shut me down for using the Florida shit the first time.
Getting in front of the camera again was getting revenge on Lexi for taking all that content away from me. I have seen content with me in it now and then, and it always reminds me of how I don’t have copies of that shit myself, because I was a fucking “nice guy” and didn’t just take all that fucking shit with me when I left.
I didn’t even take a camera. I had to work for months to save up to buy my first fucking digital camera after leaving Florida because I was too fucking stupid to just take the shit that my credit paid for.
Ok, enough of that. Maybe that conveys the passion and drive behind everything I did after I left Florida. There can’t be anxiety about creating hardcore content within me because I literally get off creating it.
The reason for using the title hardcore anxiety is because of a feeling that sometimes comes over me at that last moment before I am about to post the content I have already created, edited, and uploaded.
I should be so anxious to get it out there I can’t stand it, but sometimes I actually procrastinate before taking the final steps of writing the description and hitting “add to store”. Once I start writing the description, I am into it big time. The last description I wrote was probably so weird that people might want to buy the clip just to see what the fuck I am talking about.
Once I start writing, something seems to just take over, like right now, as I check and see that I am rapidly approaching 2000 words and instead of wanting to stop, my fingers are moving faster and faster. I can type up to 80 words per minute if I am in a good mood and not drunk, and when I start writing here, I may actually go higher than that. I get the figure 80 from the last pre-employment typing test that I took, so that was an unbiased computer generated test with a result that I could only influence by actually typing really fucking fast on demand.
Writing the description soothes the mysterious anxiety that comes about just before adding the clip. I love creating the content, I am excited while editing it, and I can’t wait to promote it. At the same time, i started this follow back shit on twitter, so now I am about to post really inappropriate content still images to a bunch of people following me just to get a follow back.
I don’t have anxiety about losing followers on twitter, because every time I lose 10, I get 40 more at the same time. I don’t even care about twitter itself so much, because it started out as an experiment to figure out how it works, and why people are so bat shit crazy about it.
I still don’t even use a smartphone, so I’m not seeing that shit constantly all day. I didn’t log in at all yesterday, but I did take a moment to log into “tweepi” just to “flush” unfollowers and reciprocate new followers by following them back.
I have managed to make twitter so mathematical and impersonal, I may have actually defeated the entire purpose for it’s existence, except as a source of amusement now and then when I am already procrastinating.
So, I experimented myself right the fuck out of feeling good about promoting my shit. At the same time, I have picked up so many fat, bbw, and ssbbw porn reposters that I could lose %90 of my followers and the remaining %10 were actually MORE IMPORTANT than all the rest. Twitter is mathematically fascinating to me.
Yeah, it’s very impersonal when I can log into an app outside of twitter itself and do 69 clicks to resolve the imbalance between people I follow, and assholes who add me to get a follow back and then unfollow me like I don’t fucking know they did that. I’m ready to start seeing repeated attempts to do this shit by familiar avatars.
I don’t even fucking care about twitter, but now it has turned into some kind of game for me, which is actually more exciting than World of Warcraft ever was. It involves real people with fake avatars just like a MMORPG, but this is a different type of game, because it also involves gaining followers in a specific niche and working the fuck out of it.
So, it’s like the first “video game” I have come across that amuses me to the point of wanting to do it every few days, but at the same time, instead of collecting fictional “gold”, I am acquiring followers who will tend to repost my shit when I am putting out some awesome new SSBBW hardcore and I actually stopped procrastinating long enough to list it.
Hardcore anxiety in my situation is really minor, and it only takes place at the most perfect time, when all the hard work is done already. This minor anxiety is something that I want to dig deeper into my own brain to figure out. I have tried to attribute it to the PTSD left over from Candy’s previous departures. I have wondered if I occasionally suffer from premature ejaculation for the same reason. It’s like i want to shoot my load in her before she can take off again or something! 🙂
I still have climax control, but every once in a while, that shit sneaks up on me. The time when I created the horse head mask hardcore video, the scenario of wearing a mask excited me unexpectedly to the point where I was struggling big time with climax control. I still managed to pull it off, in a few different positions no less, but it was a constant struggle, believe me.
The next hardcore clip had more preparation and getting into position than it had hard sustained pounding. Again, the fact that it had been so rare to create hardcore after all those feedee clips, contributed to difficulty in containing my excitement and my cum too.
I have found that having just a few beers, not getting loaded, but just barely buzzed, can help a great deal. Of course, if you cross a line and go too far with alcohol, there is a potential for difficulty in maintaining erection too. I can’t help but remember the song “Too Drunk To Fuck” by the Dead Kennedys.
I don’t resort to that though, because Candy doesn’t like to have sex with drunk people, and even if we have been together since Feb of 2002, if I am buzzed, I’m still “drunk people” in her perception, and I understand that. I also don’t like to resort to the use of drugs in order to control aspects of my self, or my being. When I use drugs for intoxication, I am exploring a part of myself that I can’t access while sober. That is different.
So, without any enhancement from alcohol, or even Viagra, I have a damn good time in front of the camera. The last video clip that featured hardcore was excellent. I had Candy nearly trying to fake orgasm to get me to climax, because I was getting kind of rough on her, and going on a little longer than necessary for her sexual preference. At the same time, I had finally done just enough hardcore video in just short enough increments that it just started to “come back to me” like “riding a bicycle”.
Even then, the evening that I could have posted the new clip I ended up getting drunk, and when I get intoxicated to a certain degree, I really don’t want to write because it is going to be so fucked up and make even less sense than I manage to make when I am fucking sober, like now.
So, hardcore anxiety is something I still deal with in that strange procrastination technique. Even with that one evening delay, the next day, I was so eager to list that clip that I literally could not do anything else until it was complete. Sometimes, the anxiety may just be a simple sense of timing. Maybe posting it the night before was just a little too soon, because it had not even been a week since posting the last clip.
Maybe the hardcore anxiety is less related to the type of clip, but the fact that I literally can’t wait to list it, so I have to stop myself and hold out as long as possible before slamming that shit up!
Either way, that clip is up, and I am tempted to post another clip on the day that the hardcore clip would have been normally added on a once a week schedule. I don’t want to exceed the once in a week schedule because I am literally concerned about making too much money to be eligible for medicaid, while I am carrying out that whole separate experiment.
Maybe the reason i was compelled to write and get to the bottom of this one thing was just to help me come to the conclusion that I just wrote. One experiment is actually getting in the way of another. Because I have lived with this cursed sense of irony, a part of me may actually be creating a concern about making “too much money” because that’s exactly what a part of me really wants.
What a first world problem to have though huh? Maybe it’s because I need a hip replacement and I am very concerned about being made even more disabled than I am with a bad hip, so I have to maintain the low income to make a transition into disability much more convenient.
Maybe I am concerning myself with the possibility of being physically more fucked up and making too much money because a part of me has experienced something all through life where my low expectations generate a much more emphatic positive reaction when I was wrong about what “could happen”.
I worry about making too much money, and a part of myself realizes just how easy it is for me to make money, and I am left with a variable in an equation that involves future probability entangled with low expectations versus the motivation and drive to do “better than expected”.
More simplified, by worrying about making too much money, I am kind of guaranteeing myself that I will, just to fulfill some kind of passive aggressive inner conflict.
By worrying that some surgeon is going to fuck my hip up, I would be highly pleased at an outcome where I can still walk, and actually have less pain that I do now.
I know, that is a totally fucked up way to live, but then again, it’s the way that I have continually gotten everything I wanted, so much so, that I am left to worry about things that I can’t control, which I have to stop myself from dwelling on, so I can continue to control reality enough to get what I want out of it.
I have to actually concentrate to think of the next thing I “really want”. Odds are, I am going to get it, but I hesitate in even granting focus to something I think I want, because of the possible unintended consequences that may go along with it.
At this age, at this point in my life, knowing what I know, I would never have fallen for the tricks that Lexi played to get everything. At the same time, I don’t have the need to search for and find another Lexi, because as many times as I have lost her, I am still with Candy.
Maybe all of this helps me to work out the lingering PTSD involved with almost losing Candy repeatedly. I know that I still have abandonment issues because of that, there is still some degree of insecurity because of it, and I never would have even attempted to carry out the kind of affair that I did last year if I wasn’t still suffering from some kind of residual emotional effect of her leaving both times.
Now I have caused a negative emotional impact on yet another innocent bystander because of the fickle nature of Candy’s whims. I am not openly resentful about that, but a part of me has not let go of it fully. I’m still bitching about Lexi and fatfantasy. net and that shit started in 1998 and ended in 2000. That little 2 years of my life is still fucking with me. It may be one of the main reasons that I am still creating hardcore content at all.
Another interesting thought comes from this stream of consciousness writing now. As I begin to finally resolve feelings of resentment for Lexi, I start to lose focus of my motivation and drive to create hardcore content in the first place.
Now a part of me can perceive what I am doing externally, because of all the experimentation with alcohol and weed. I can see this old guy who is desperately trying to hold on to some former position of glory, that can and will never be realized again. Maybe that’s part of what would be an otherwise normal “mid life crisis”, except that the biggest thing I accomplished in my life besides what I do now is that fucked up, highly traumatic 2 years with Lexi.
I am letting go of all that, or I started to really let go of it when I heard of her passing just weeks after I destroyed all my physical copies of that work. Irony strikes again. The only person obsessed with keeping me from using that work dies just weeks after I destroy it so I don’t have to look at it myself. Luckily I did save one cd full of photos out of 21 cds, and they were the ones that meant the most to me.
i can let go of the resentment for Lexi and still remained focus on creating what I truly love to create. After all, how many women closing in on 500lbs do you see getting fucked and swallowing right now??? 🙂
Yeah, I am really lucky to have the drive and desire to create this content and have such a willing participant. I don’t feel the loss of Lexi or that entire group anymore, because I have been guided by fate and destiny to be lucky enough to work with this super sized angel.
I managed to comb time and space in order to find one SSBBW that is not scared of cock or cum, and who loves doing this shit so much that if she is faking it is humorous instead of erotic. The truth is, once cock gets involved, she is not faking one bit.
That’s what makes her shit so great. I can see it when a woman is struggling to tolerate a situation, or has some kind of allergic reaction to cum after begging for it for 15 minutes.
I know that is harsh, and I realize that I could not possibly imagine what drives a woman who has such an adverse reaction to being cum on to do porn in the first place. At the same time, the phrase “you had one job” comes to mind too. I have had talks with Candy about this, and she points out that if it gets in your eye it burns, and I can accept that, but it doesn’t explain why some women will allow an actor to cum in her mouth and then literally gag even if she is going to spit it all out.
I never worked with a “real porn chick” before, because I am under the impression that I could not afford to hire them, and Candy would be somewhat intimidated to work with them, even in softcore “side by side” type modeling. There is one model that lives right here in Vegas that Candy and I have talked about, and we would be more than willing to come up with a few hundred to hire her, just because of who she is, but Candy is still intimidated by her.
There have been a few other women who have offered to model for the same amount, but they are escorts and not really professional models, so I am hesitant to invest a nickel in them because of the nature of being an escort in and of itself. From what I have heard, some of them are really good at word play to the point where a guy is paying them to feed them and just hang out without even going all the way. If an escort works to create that kind of scenario in a non modeling situation, I imagine that they would be hard to work with as they try to “let the clock run out” while doing the bare minimum and not really putting their heart into the modeling itself.
I could be wrong, an escort could be an excellent model, I just wouldn’t know, because I’m not spending $300 to find out! It’s hard for me to justify spending that kind of money to hire a model, when Candy appearing by herself is guaranteed to bring in something. I get the feeling that paying someone $300 to model next to her would never bring in that much more than a video clip of her by herself.
I’ve stopped asking around about modeling now, because it’s not really my place to do that. It’s up to Candy, because she is the one who has to stand, sit, or lay next to this person. Candy may not even be prepared to do that with another model at this point, so I am leaving it up to her if another model ever appears with her again. The last time one did, it was 2009, we were in Baton Rouge, and the woman didn’t want to get paid because she wanted “shared content”.
Here in Vegas, finding an established model that wants to do shared content with Candy is not as easy as you might think. I think everybody here wants to get paid, for anything, and I can’t blame them. At the same time, I see these group photo shoots and I know that each woman probably wasn’t paid individually, because they all have websites, and they could all use that as shared content. In a big group there isn’t usually anything sexual going on, just 3 to 5 big women hanging out while posing next to each other.
Candy hasn’t ended up in that situation, because she has not worked to create that situation. If she had any interest in going out to “bbw parties” and stuff like that, she would meet women there that do this kind of thing all the time. Candy has had a bit of social anxiety though, so without making a grand appearance at a bar somewhere, these other women will never meet her in public, and in the past 3 years, they have not made any effort to come to her.
I don’t really care anymore if I get to work with anyone else now, ever. I had a mild curiosity when I saw a few Vegas bbw models posing together, but then I realized, being a full time model is not even Candy’s “job”. She volunteers to do this for me. I am just lucky enough to be around when she is going on a food splurge, and she doesn’t mind me pointing a camera at her while she is binge eating.
I am also very lucky that Candy is ok with me bringing a camera into our sex life, because I don’t think there are very many SSBBWs at her size doing the sexually explicit type of content that I am creating. If there are, I just haven’t found them because I’m so busy making my own porn that I have lost interest in looking around at everyone else’s.
I can’t believe that as long as this post was already, I came back and added more to it. I guess I was thinking that I was too harsh to end this post with that statement about how unusual it is for a woman to take a job where she is begging to be cum on for 15 minutes and then suddenly has an involuntary spasm of disgust once she finally gets what she asks for. Why work in porn if you hate cum? 🙂