Setting 2025 Intentions (spicy art credit here)
If it’s not clear by now, I’m not meant for casual.
I’m meant for soul crushing devotion, as depicted in the art above.
A strong last weekend of 2024, and with the help of God on a Sunday, the last of the attic boxes have made their way out of the apartment. About time finally, after being moved in for over 2 full months now.
I picked up Amber from the airport Thursday night, and as a “thank you” for two long holiday airport rides she came over Friday night.
My first apartment guest. We only see each other twice a year or so, now a days, but she’s really good with a power drill.
She took my bedroom door off the hinges so we could shove the couch thru the entryway.
It barely fit; just how I like it.
The bedroom is now the perfect meditation space for praying, singing or writing. Just a big comfy couch, lamp, and my fitness vibration board.
I will be obedient and keep this space sacred, tidy, and uncluttered, along with the rest of the apartment all of 2025, because this luxury space still feels like one big dream after 9 years of illegal finished attic space.
The “living room,” is now my bedroom to give camming in the kitchen more of a studio vibe. Artwork is finally unpacked from the attic, but no thumbtacks to hang it all up.
I need to get on this by Wednesday the 1st.
Last night, five minutes to store close, I went to the most local market for eggs, and thumbtacks. I had no time to look in the hardware isle thou, as to my surprise I was greeted with, what feels like random, “egg shortage” supply signs.
Chickens on strike? Just before Christmas these signs weren’t here. I’m just trying to make banana bread with holiday bananas, but all organic and brown eggs are gone.
I pride myself on best ingredients possible for my gluten free, dairy free, probiotic, propolis infused banana bread. I’ve been perfecting the recipe for about a year now.
Fear is striking my body, as it’s either store brand eggs, “Egglands best,” or “Martin’s.”
BirdFlu my ass, plandemic 2.0, as I think, Twitter has vaguely cued me in, but I rather not worry/know.
It’s not farmer’s’ market season for local eggs, but I’ll plan accordingly if the news narrative gets out of hand.
Processing all this took a moment, and the whole duration of “closing time.”
I’m aware that all carry-out hibachi fried rice, or diner eggs benedict is made with bottom shelf eggs, but my OCD is overriding my ability to settle for buying store brand myself.
“Eggland’s best,” dozens feels demonic because they stamp every eggshell with red ink.
Don’t stamp my food, please. I don’t care if it’s just the shell. Are you all right, EB?
That leaves yellow foam Martin’s eggs, thou I’ve never seen him before. The side of the packaging once I pick it up says, “Pennsylvania Preferred.”
OH BOY. WAIT A MINUTE? ME TOO.
I’m instantly relieved but not prepared for what I saw next.
Trigger warning: this is crazy.
The eggs are literally saying “do not be scared” mid being scared.
They are also saying: consider how lucky I am.
WOW.
Martin is a good man.
Have you ever seen God’s word inside an egg carton? I haven’t.
I’m not following the news, I reiterate, so again this is all a surprise.
When I looked up the verse from my 1950’s hand-me-down Bible, it was even more telling.
“Serve him in truth with all your heart.”
These eggs will hold me over till a trip to Whole Foods on New Years Day, while office is closed. My heart is grateful.
C.J. meanwhile is giving me the silent treatment thou, because I’m too much.
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The book of too much is unusual, I know this by now.
I wish I saw those random eggs a week or two sooner, as my curiosity is also too much.
On a Sunday, I’d like to confess that spending $30 on p0rn is too much, and I’ll never do that again.
I’m sorry for such a drastic energy shift, after scripture.
Lord, forgive me please.
Let’s go back to Thursday thou, before picking Amber up from the airport.
C.J. being disgruntled with me, is naturally going to make me ponder “what kind of hypothetical punishment sex do I deserve?”
I didn’t look at Twitter or Chaturbate on Christmas, but being the day after holiday, I’m browsing a bit.
In a perfect world, I’d be sending C.J. Twitter/Reddit links for perfect facefuck ‘inspiration’ for our own content, and what I think is well-done vs. amateur.
Holiday themed “Santa stuffing my stocking” videos are gross to me, but then I see a familiar robo-tweet that catches my attention in the worst way.
An OF creator using a ManyVids bot to sell more videos, and it’s effective marketing. “Look what others are buying, you might like this too” type of sales gimmick tweet.
(Safe ManyVids link to disturbing p0rn here.)
Let’s also note, that some of her content is so wild, that it’s not even allowed on OF.
I’m not sure if this type of “fetish,” was allowed on OF, so I fall into the trap and I buy the damn ManyVids video. This is about the 3rd or 4th time this robo tweet has happened in the span of two weeks. Sold.
To date the most I’ve ever spent on p0rn was Flesh Mechanic’s OF, the summer of 2023. ($20)
As previously mentioned somewhere on this blog, I stopped watching his full-length content after the best facefuck I’ve ever seen in my life with Addison Vodka was sent out free with subscription in the OF DMs.
So yeah, I was expecting degrading dirty talk, that says exactly what is happening. The concept so I thought was that she “didn’t even deserve any pleasure to be had from the internal rubbing out inside her ass, that hits the g spot from behind.”
I’ve watched real girls actually like anal, so if this was a “punishment concept”, this makes sense to me.
Would I degrade my holes like this on camera, with my soulmate? Maybe.
Good for this girl, I’m thinking. but NO.
I was very disappointed as this was not at all the case. There was NO dirty talk. None of it was mentally thought provoking for $30.
No script for $30??
It was 10 minutes of silent ‘asshole prep’ with fingering, and the intensity of the video is all summarized in the FREE twelve second trailer version.
It was just anal content with no dom/sub dynamic. I’ve been bamboozled.
No backstory on why she was being turned into a human fleshlight, denied pussy pleasure.
The commentary on Twitter reads, “when her shitter is so stretched out, you need a pussy sleeve so it’s actually tight on your cock.”
…
That’s actually a fair point considering the size of the OTHER toys she is regularly putting in her asshole. I’m immediately disgusted with myself.
Being conned out of $30 is quite the reality check. I am not having a good time with toxic thoughts. I’m stopping now.
Was I somehow just motivating myself to get to making my first OF cocktoy video with an actual backstory, so I don’t look stupid? Maybe.
I can’t help but be curious thou, as I still remember it was June 25th on Chaturbate when someone made it worth my time to do first-time live anal in private cam.
Christmas in June the abandoned blog post title was. It wasn’t so bad, it didn’t “hurt.”
(Before being a cam girl, I had put a toy in my ass YEARS ago per request, but it wasn’t more than just a few minutes, and THAT was painful with no warmup.)
That June anal was my last summer stream before taking an extended camming hiatus, and I’m still grateful that 4-digit payday let me do that.
A highlight of 2024 camming for sure, you know who you are if reading, thank you.
It didn’t hurt, because I had been slowly training for an extended period of time that morning with XL buttplugs. It was actually a fun E-fuck to a certain degree, as he had a dominant tone with our chatting, and he was very kind to me.
So, it was a good experience, and definitely a top 3 highest earning moment in the history of my camming so far.
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Along with unpacking spicy artwork, I recently found something else that tells me “It’s time to make better content”, especially after I’ve gone a few months with it hidden away.
July 2024, Flesh mechanic released his own Doc Johnson cock clone.
I pre-ordered it months ahead of time, in April, because C.J.’s Italian perfection is exactly the same. Slightly girthier by a hare C.J. is.
After I wrote the September love letter I cried, and used that cocktoy maybe three or four times while waiting for a response.
I can cum, and cry at the same time, just like I can sing and cry at the same time.
Once I got a sad response, I told myself I would never use that clone cock again. It was over between us.
Being mentally fucked in the head over this, it was late September when I stuffed myself one more time, silently begging the universe for another chance to have real sex. Then I went celibate for 8 weeks, until I started over again on Chaturbate switching from “Moments with Mae,” to “Malibu Mae.”
Malibu Barbie meets Raggy Ann.
I want to be glitzy, girlie and feminine, but I also want to get thrown around like a rag doll.
The happiest rag doll thou, is a Pennsylvania rag doll.
(Sidenote: I did use my clit a few times while cock toys were packed away, and I found a new perspective/appreciation for Lovense “oral mocking” clit vacuum technology. I cum within minutes. Story for another time. This was a shocking discovery as I’ve never experienced this.)
My eyes instantly fill with tears thou, when I consider reaching for the cock clone to record and share with others publicly, instead of making PPV content in Pennsylvania with the real deal.
I’ve never even used that particular toy on Chaturbate, as, somewhere on this blog I’ve mentioned that C.J. and I tried cloning his cock with a “Clone a Willy” Amazon kit many years ago.
It’s personal to me, and private.
Tears are already down my face on both sides, when I recall the failed project. This is as close as I can get to having that passion project turn out differently, but it will never be the same.
A cocktoy can’t shake my head manually with two fingers pressed on the back of my tongue, telling me to tell the camera, “How much I want it.”
I accidently envision myself between face slaps, gasping for air, choking on C.J. on camera, while kneeling, and sitting on the cock clone.
A spit roast of sorts, that would probably make me cum with no vibrator. My spine sparks an electric charge through my body, as I wipe the tears away, while writing that.
Do I need a lobotomy?
If it was a punishment fuck, thou, maybe I’d be forced to hold the toy in my ass while sucking, keeping my back hole stretched open until he was ready to use me like the secret hardcore filthy whore Reddit p0rn I watch.
…
I wonder if there’s a type of twisted p0rn I might be destined to make? Kinda like the ‘anal fleshlight girl’ offering exotic whatever the hell on Fansly.
Sidenote: She’s a millionaire if you do the Fansly math. Not hating on her.
But could there be a genre of p0rn that could be dark side exclusive where I just cry my fucking eyes out, and fuck myself while doing it, begging for perfect cock to come back to me? It wouldn’t be acting.
Not “watch me cum,” p0rn, but like grief-support p0rn. (?)
Just kidding as I know that’s stupid from another perspective.
Take a second study at the wall art perspective thou:
Serving jokers, but in a chokehold by a King she is, in that last art print on the far right:
It’s not 2015. Its 2025 now.
I’m smart enough to know that I need to detach, and since wasting $30, just the other night, I kind of do feel more detached actually… but I just also feel called to honor my pain, because if it was all for nothing for this long that makes me… well… stupid.
but a good fuck doll is smart.
IDK.
All I know is that I just need to let go of this pain of forever separation. I can’t seem to accept the obvious. C.J. will never actually rewrite history with me. He doesn’t want to, or he would be here right now. I can’t spend anymore holidays in tears.
I need a real OF income, alongside Chaturbate for 2025. I need to be able to afford a vacation between Christmas and New Years next year. A vacation where I can wipe my tears in the ocean, and float in the sunshine, and just release any grief once and for all.
This is real love deep in my soul, but it’s doesn’t matter anymore, because if I really loved myself as well, I wouldn’t torture myself like this anymore.
Isaiah 43:19 is the 2025 word of the year
...and I must NEVER spend $30 ever again on a stupid p0rn video.
Happy New Year.
PS: The real astrological New Year is still months away.
I INTEND TO LOOK AND FEEL SO FUCKING GOOD BY THEN.
“Behold…”
