Last Sunday, Manny and I decided to enjoy my birthday present from Sam. It went in a weird direction, not in that it was bad, but in that I totally didn’t see it coming.
Usually when we start to feel normal again, I use my pacifier and Manny just sort of hangs out, but since we had candy flipped this time, Manny was coming down a little harder, so he asked if he could use the pacifier. I’m a super nice, selfless girlfriend (who loves seeing him with a pacifier in his mouth whenever possible), so I said yes.
We started feeling frisky again and he laid me back on our bed, opened my legs, and entered me. He took the pacifier out of his mouth and pushed it into mine and started saying the dirtiest things, pulling on the pacifier ring, asking me if I liked Daddy’s cock.
He started getting really excited and asked if we had any more diapers. I reminded him that he couldn’t fuck me if I was in a diaper, but he kept asking, so I told him where they were.
I usually don’t keep any in the house, but I had brought some home for our earlier experimentation, but since we only used one, there were still three or four left over in a box in my closet. He got them out and spread them out on the bed. It was so crinkly and soft. He did something that I’d been wanting to do for a long time. He took one of the diapers and stretched it over my chest, wrapping my full breasts in it. It felt wonderful.
As he fucked me in the pile of diapers, he reached down and took the pacifier out of my mouth and put it in his own, asking, “Do you like this, Mommy?”
I came so damn hard.
After we finished, I went into the bathroom to get cleaned up. When I came out, Manny had spread a blanket on the floor and was lying there in his robot boxers, with the pacifier in his mouth. He smiled. “Hi, Mommy.”
I looked at him for a moment. He looked so adorable and comfortable, sprawled out, staring up at the ceiling, his content little grin only enhanced by the pacifier.
“What do you like about age play?”
He pulled the pacifier out of his mouth and looked at me, his face open, honest, and friendly. “Pretending to be a kid, then getting laid? What’s not to like?”
He beckoned and I went and lied next to him. We cuddled as we came down.
Manny keeps mentioning diapers, too. I’ve always assumed that if I wanted to get a guy into diapers, I should start off wearing them myself, that it would be easier for them to see me in them than to actually wear them, but I’m beginning to wonder if Manny wouldn’t be more comfortable in a diaper himself. I’ve never even considered it, since he always seems so dominant to me, but…
I’m still sorting this all out in my head. It’s clear that he enjoyed this weird, switchy encounter, and I certainly did, too, but I don’t want to push us to do something that we’ll regret–and I certainly don’t want to scare him off. For now, I’ll continue letting him propose what we do, and just go along with it. I rather thought that he wouldn’t suggest that we every do anything together again, but here we are. It still feels surreal.
Last weekend, I went to a private age play party for the first time in years. The atmosphere was very different from the hosted, public parties that I’ve been attending or hosting and it made me realize a few things about my current relationship to age play–and that I don’t want to undo these positive changes, though I do want to keep developing them.
The party was lovely. It was a birthday party, and it was wildly different from the one age play birthday party I had been to in the past. For one thing, the birthday girl invited her real life friends, whether or not they were age players. At the other birthday party I went to, it was the opposite: age players were invited, whether or not they were real life friends. Also, the birthday girl at this party showed more maturity, not relying on her Daddy to initiate activities. I may be misinterpreting her or even projecting, but I feel like the people I know who age play older ages do so more to recapture their youth than to be dependent on another person.
First of all, it’s less sexual, more removed from diapers. Diapers have become, if possible, even more sexual for me. The feeling is now something I experience only in a sexual context. I used to wear often with my ex-husband and sometimes we would have sex, sometimes we would not. Now I only wear for porn or live sessions.
I would not have expected to enjoy a less sexual version of age play, but it has been fun, but I admit that it’s more like what I would call being young at heart than actual age play. I’ve also realized that most of my sexual age play fix comes from incest role play with my partners. We wouldn’t call it age play, but that is, indeed, what it is.
It’s also more, I suppose, therapeutic, though definitely not therapy. It helps me to be happy and enjoy life on a more fundamental, rudimentary level, but it doesn’t resolve any issues or give me closure.
That said, it isn’t escapism, but a different version of it. The best way I can think to describe it is in relation to gaming. Most of the people I game with do so as a form of escapism. They wish that the world was different, that they were different, and they game to try to temporarily forget or ignore their humdrum lives, or add a little excitement and entertainment. I more game to blow off steam. My life is so full of stuff that sometimes I just wish that I could destroy it, start shit, and wreak havoc. (Yes, this means that a lot of people don’t enjoy gaming with me. If the game is lagging too much, I will randomly kill someone. Just watch me.) I may not be choosing my words well, but the best way that I can describe it is to say that I’m age playing less as a form of escapism and more as a release. It has become a more accessible head space and the age play activities I engage in occur more often in my life.
For example, my time on UltimateSurrender.com has become an age play platform for me, especially when Ariel gave us all our team sweatshirts. I raced home to show Manny. It was almost like telling my dad that I had made varsity–something I never got to do in high school, as I went to four schools in three years. I can’t stress how much I love that sweatshirt, btw. I’ve worn it pretty much since I got it until this morning, when I finally, reluctantly put it in the washing machine.
My engagement ring, as it were, is also a sort of age play item. Manny, who was a student at the time, couldn’t afford a diamond ring, so he made one out of a pipe cleaner and a wooden, heart-shaped bead. After a few weeks, the pipe cleaner was hurting my finger something fierce, so I made a friendship bracelet instead and put the bead on there. I’ve actually really enjoyed it. It isn’t a tattoo, so it can ultimately be removed, but it is tied on. It’s the closest I’ve come to making a decision about my body purely for myself. I remember reading something Julie Simone posted on Instagram about how each tattoo and piercing she gets is a way of reclaiming her body from the porn industry. I’m not quite ready to take those steps, but I do enjoy fucking up shots with my friendship bracelet–and I hope that, on some level, you enjoy seeing it.
This new version of age play has also been more open. I used to be extremely ashamed of telling people that I was into it. People would always congratulate me on being so open, but I felt it was unwarranted. I was actually quite shy. Recently, though, with this style of age play, that has changed.
As I mentioned, I’m engaged. However, before we moved forward with our wedding plans, Manny decided to do something for me that was so sweet and romantic, I still can’t believe it. I’ve had a friend for a very long time. It’s always been a little one-sided, but that was okay, because she was older than I was and, while she’s quite outgoing, I’m pretty shy. However, over the years, she’s gotten to be more demonstrative, and helped me out a number of times when I really needed it. And I admire her greatly and always have. I tend to copy her a lot, too. We have a joke that anything she does, I copy three to six months later, and I do seem to be following in her footsteps.
I’ve always collected mother figures, starting when I was just a child. My own mother was sorely lacking. At best, she thought of me as a project. At worst, she thought of me as something foul to be eradicated from her life. So friends’ mothers, teachers, co-workers, etc. became my new moms. I never told them–I was too embarrassed–but often when I felt down I would silently remind myself that, while my own mom was a horrible person who could never mentor or probably even love me, I had many moms, women who were proud of me. One of the happiest moments I had as a teenager was when my boyfriend’s mother told me that I was too good for her son. And Jesus Christ is that pathetic. I mean, I was in competition with a lover for the affection of his MOM. (He was actually kind of a loser, so, yes, I was winning. But then again I was dating a loser. … I need to stop analyzing this. I’m getting dizzy.)
Anyway, Manny took this friend and her husband out to dinner to ask for their blessing of our marriage. They asked him a ton of questions, but he got it! It meant the world to me that she took it seriously. She even made a point of wearing a pearl necklace so as to more look the part. After, I wrote her a Facebook message telling her how grateful I was for her influence on my life, her guidance; I told her how much her approval meant to me. She wrote back, including:
“I love you and will always be here for you–especially when you need a mother figure.”
This is the closest I’ve come to having an age play mom and it feels so good. And the experience of getting married this time has been much better than before, when I involved my biological mother. Now I just have to not screw it up.
The experience of being with Manny is different, too. In the aftermath of our age play fiasco, I’ve had a number of clients and fans tell me not to be with him–and, hey, maybe you guys are right. I was pretty sure about Luke, too, and look what happened there. Yikes. However, Manny and I have a lot of nurturing discussions as an adult. Luke and I never really talked about my past and he was reticent about his own. With Manny, everything is on the table. Luke never believed that I could do anything–he actually told me not to bother publishing my book, that no one would buy it. (He was wrong, by the way. It’s done quite well.) Manny believes that I can do anything and tries to encourage me. He actually teaches me grappling moves and helps me practice, which is another way that UltimateSurrender.com (and AcademyWrestling.com!) have been part of my developing relationship to age play.
And there are other age play activities I enjoy as well, including Nerf gun battles (Manny and I have gotten really into them!), watching scary movies and kids’ movies that I wasn’t allowed to see as a child or that have special nostalgic value (“Ghostbusters” in the park!), letting Manny brush my hair, and going to lunch or dinner at Fenton’s.
No, I will never have the same relationship to age play that I did when I was dating a diaper fetishist, but I’m missing out on what I have now, something more real, something that is inclusive rather than exclusive. And I don’t want to loose that. I want to cherish it, and I do.
I’m of the opinion that everyone–with the exception of my ex-husband–should follow all my online presences at all time, but if you only want to follow me in one or two places, I figured I would let you guys know what’s where and how I operate online. Sites are mentioned in no particular order.
Facebook I use Facebook for personal stuff, but only on my personal account. My professional one is hooked up to my Twitter and I only log in once a year or so to delete all the “Hey Guuuuuurl” messages and add a few pictures that you could easily see more explicit versions of somewhere else. I’ve seen too many people put a lot of effort into their professional Facebook accounts just to get them censored and deleted. Waste of time–and it weirds me out when guys are trying to sex chat me up and their profile picture is of them holding their six-month-old daughter. *shudder* <- Happens way more often than you might realize.
Instagram I love Instagram! Even though they kicked me off and I couldn’t get back on until Kylie sent me an old new phone! So you can all thank Kylie for sexy, suggestive pictures of me and shots of my food and drinks–and shoes. I’m an unapologetic food and drink pornographer. I never, ever Kik or Snap Chat anyone who asks me to on Instagram. Why on earth would I turn away from my sexy, hard boyfriend who will actually fuck me to chat with someone in Des Moines? But keep on trying, chatters! I’m sure the next person you hit up will be all over it! (Not really, but they don’t listen anyway.)
Google+ I’m working on fleshing out my Google+, especially since a friend told me how important it could be for my career. Thus far it’s pretty sparse, but look to see me more active here in the coming months!
FetLife The reason to follow me on FetLife is to keep abreast of the kinky events that I’m going to or hosting. I also put my better, sexier, kinkier pictures here, so you can find them and they don’t get buried under other stuff, like they might on Instagram or Twitter.
MySpace I still get fairly regular emails telling me that someone has added me on MySpace. … Haven’t logged into the thing in years. … Can’t remember my password or even my user name. … That is all.
YouTube My next big project is working on my YouTube. I already have a number of videos posted here, but I want to start posting more regularly, mostly vlogs and video previews. Stay tuned!
Twitter Twitter is definitely my most-used Social Media platform. Sam, my PA, uses it, too, so sometimes you may be responding to something that he has said. I’ve considered signing my personally created Tweets, sort of like the first lady does, but…then I don’t. I might start, though, especially because Sam has a habit of posting unflattering pics of me and using my Twitter to flirt with the ladies. However, I LOVE Twitter. I just wish that I could get it to sync back up with my Instagram. (There is a bug. Believe me, better techies than you have tried to talk me through it and I’m not interested in trying again.)
All entries presented as actual accounts are for entertainment purposes only and should not be interpreted as real life occurrences.
So Sam, my PA, just did his first session as my stunt cock for a live session with a little sissy who wanted the experience of servicing a man. He was extremely nervous, but did an amazing job and I hope that we get to do another double soon. He kept telling me that he might not be able to get hard, but it wasn’t a problem at all and Mommy is very proud of her little helper.
It was a session with a client I’ve seen before. I find that new clients who say that they want to bring a guy into things don’t come through. If it’s something that the client really, really wants to do, he’s usually a little shy about it and doesn’t bring it up right away. This one was young, too–only 24. I like that I’m getting to the age that a lot of my clients are my age or younger. I feel like, as I get older, the men I see are closer to my age. When I was 20, I almost only saw guys in their ’60s and even ’70s. Now I see more men in their ’20s-’40s.
At any rate, his main kink was feminization, with an emphasis on shaving. He’s only really mentioned it as a practical thing, but I think it’s specifically a kink. I’ve done some shaving and it’s been interesting, but this guy–and his reaction to it–has been my favorite by far. I was shaving his legs and pubic zone, which takes forever, even with an electric razor to help things along. However, right when it was getting to be a little boring, he started jerking off.
He was trying to be subtle about it at first, only doing it when I was shaving the back of him, and instead of being upset, I was teasing him about it, and he got a little bolder. It’s no real secret that I like watching men masturbate and, because of what I was doing, I was on eye-level with his crotch. And having a guy jerk off in my face while I was shaving his legs was, for some reason, HOT AS HELL. A big part of it was definitely that he was getting so into it.
After he was all smooth, I got him feminized in panties, stockings, heels, hair, bra, breastforms, slip, and light makeup. He wanted to worship my ass and I let him do it a little, but Sam was waiting downstairs and I didn’t want to choose between wasting the whole time and asking Sam to stay late. So, I put a pair of panties over his head and lead him down into the dungeon, where Sam was waiting on a leather couch. I had my client lift up his slip to reveal Sam’s tribute sticking out of the satin panties, stripper-style. I thought it was a nice little touch.
Apparently the blowjob was more enjoyable for me than for Sam, but my client took a plunge and did something that he’s been fantasizing about, but also has a lot of issues over. Before the session, like so many sissies, he went out of his way to convince me that he’s not gay–and I find that most guys who are coming to me for any sort of sexual play usually aren’t, but they still like to make it clear. He was also very light with the blowjob, but took Sam’s hard cock in his mouth and sucked like a good little whore.
I still had to help, though. I smothered Sam with my breasts and made the client gag on his cock and lick his balls. Then I sucked Sam until he came in my mouth, which is another reason I think Sam was perfect for the job. With just some male escort, I do not engage sexually, but since Sam and I are buddies, I like to mess around with him and we don’t use condoms–or at least not often. This meant that I could take his load into my mouth, then spit it onto my client’s hard, pantied cock. I think that was my favorite part of the session.
And I came to a realization, as that 24-year-old had my PA’s cock in his mouth and my PA was worshiping my tits and moaning, “Thank you for the blowjob, Mommy!”: I want to change my third Clips4Sale store into an incest fetish store. I really enjoy the role play and easily 90% of the porn that I use involves incest. Even though we don’t have an age play relationship, I call Manny “Daddy” and encourage Sam to call me “Mommy.” Manny and I often engage in sexual brother-sister role play, too.
After that, the session went down the usual route: anal play, breast worship, me masturbating, and verbal humiliation. I came, he came. Everybody came and it was lovely.
Sam definitely earned at least one sexual merit badge!
When going through some things, I found these old essays from a spanking session I did in 2013 or so. It was a live session with a long-term playmate who has a penchant for in-depth, creative scenes. He’s an amazing spanker! We’ve done so many sessions that I can only guess what the scene was this time, but it’s still fun to look back. I’m glad he left me with some reminder. The red, bold text is his; the black is mine.
Good presentation and very cooperative.
Can’t believe you made me spank you through two layers of clothing! -1
9 (Very generous score.)
Write three to six sentences on how this spanking felt!
Part of the punishment with most OTK spanking is having to hold myself up. As my bottom becomes more and more tender, my arms and legs start to feel weak and I start to sink down.
It was very kind of you to give me such a steady, rhythmic warm-up. It was a bit easier to take the harder spanks at the end, though I still yelled and twitched a bit.
My bottom only feels a little warm. I should have asked to pull down my shorts at least. I think I’ll regret the softening effect of the extra layers on my warm-up during my next spanking.
10 (Total 19)
Write how important it is to be home at curfew.
I know that you set a curfew for me because you want me to be safe, rested, and behave in an age-appropriate manner. It is more important to impress my parents with my ability to follow rules that are only in place for my own good than it is to impress peers whose parents are too lenient.
If I am not home by curfew, I will miss out on other opportunities by proving to my parents that I am not responsible enough to handle more relaxed rules when I’m more mature. I’m only hurting myself and making my parents worry about me. A good girl would not do that.
Bare bottom with wood, excellent choice.
10 (Total 29)
Write what you will do the rest of the weekend.
Touching your spanked bottom while I write -1
29 – 1 = 28
I have a project due next Friday. I wasn’t going to start it until Wednesday or so, but I think that now I’ll do that. I’m too embarrassed to go out in a short skirt or to explain to anyone that I still get spanked.
If I get bored, I’ll probably watch TV or read a magazine, but I’ll ask you first. I know that I’m most likely not allowed to go out for the rest of the weekend, so I won’t ask.
In this series, I discuss different sexually formative moments. I don’t usually use names, in order to protect the privacy of the participants.
Admitting that I was into AB/DL to a non AB/DL for the first time and being told to follow my pornographic bliss:
I was at a bondage photography workshop as a model. I was about 19 years old and only just getting started in proper porn after a year of shooting with shifty GWCs (guys with cameras), mostly booked via Craig’s List. The woman who ran the workshop was rigging me, casually chatting about our interests. She was telling me how she got into rope and why she decided to pursue it as a career.
“And what are you into, girlie?” she asked in her thick accent. I was used to this question from men who were clients and had learned to play up our mutual interests, but this woman was actually asking, as part of a conversation, rather than asking me to seduce her, and it felt odd to just ramble on about how much I loved rope bondage. I mean, I do like rope bondage, but that wouldn’t have been a wholly honest answer.
I blushed scarlet. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Here, whisper in my ear.” She leaned in quickly, not even considering that I wouldn’t tell her–and how could I not answer her? She was so beautiful and talented, kind and sincere.
Pulling my chin into my chest, I mumbled, “I like, you know…diapers. Like, diaper punishment stuff.”
“Ah!” She pulled back and kept tying me, rigging me up with speed and skill. “Well, that’s what you’ve got to shoot, then. If you try to shoot something you’re not into, the footage will come out crap. You have to shoot what you love, or people can tell. Trust me.”
I did. And I started shooting for PamperedPenny.com soon after.
First real public humiliation that was not an act of cruelty and was purely enjoyable:
I was in a BDSM porn star group, a sort of professional social club. We were all chatting at a meeting, waiting for the last member to show up. I was perhaps 21 or 22. The last member called one of the other women and said that she was running late–and that she had to pee, so that we had better have the way to the bathroom cleared in anticipation. “Or,” she teased, “I can just use Penny.”
Everyone laughed, but not in a mean way. I turned bright red and wondered if she really meant it. (She didn’t.)
My first real porn shoot:
It was my very first professional shoot. My boyfriend at the time drove me to the building and walked me inside. There was a woman sitting at a counter, eating sushi and chatting with the producer about website promotion. “I don’t do much. My site has been around for four years and promotes itself.”
As I started to pull my clothes out of my bag to show the producer, my boyfriend took off. I had asked him to stay and was surprised. Apparently the woman had asked him to leave, unapologetically and firmly–regally. She knew her limits and wasn’t afraid to voice them.
We had a great scene–or at least I remember it that way. I’ve never seen the finished product. She was calm, cruel, masterful, and got the most out of me and the other submissive through even pacing and seemingly intuitive empathy. I admire her and her work greatly and she continues to inspire me.
Last weekend, Manny and I got age play married.
You may be asking what that is and, indeed, so did everyone I talked to about it, including my age play buddies.
I don’t know if this is something outside of my local community, but, in the San Francisco age play community, or at least the part of it that I interact with, age play couples who want to show that they are serious about each other go to Build A Bear. From there, the ritual can really go anywhere, but the idea is that the couple will make a bear together, something special to represent how they feel about each other.
He didn’t want to tell me where we were going, which was risky, because I hate surprises, but I figured it out on my own and was pretty exciting. However, the day quickly became disappointing.
First of all, he asked me to wear a very adult dress. It was at the dry cleaner, so I was able to wear something a little cuter and more innocent-looking, but…the cloud had formed, and only grew bigger as the day wore on. I just completely failed to regress in any way, and I kind of blame him–for his failure to inspire me and for trying in the first place.
It was an exciting time because I was going to wear a diaper with him for the first time. In a molly-induced cloud of euphoria, I had admitted that I wanted him to diaper me. He was extremely enthusiastic and remained so after we came down. It would bring us closer together, it would be romantic! We were both rather giddy at the thought.
However, as the weekend we had set aside for the age play date drew closer, he started asking questions. This is good, but it revealed how unintuitive this was for him. Usually he doesn’t have to ask a bunch of questions about a fantasy that I’ve introduced and the few that he might ask reveal the depth of his understanding for what I’ve wanted.
The diaper thing, however was beyond him. I had asked him to put me in one the night before, so that I could wake up in it and we could spend our whole day with me in role. He didn’t know how to put it on. Okay, I get that. I was expecting it. I helped him. He didn’t touch me at all. There were no sparks of acceptance or a shared secret or even a dirty thrill. It was just…wearing something, like any other boring item I might sleep in.
I had tried to explain to him that diapers were sexual for me, but he clearly had no idea what that meant. He assumed that it meant it was okay for him to touch me sexually while I was in the diaper, not that it was central to my arousal and that I wanted to enjoy it with him, sensually.
In the morning, when I announced shyly that I had wet my diaper, he responded with discomfort, gingerly rushing through the change and touching me as little as possible. I haven’t worn a diaper again. Neither of us has asked.
After the change, I got dressed and we headed out to Build A Bear. I was burning with embarrassment. I couldn’t forget myself. Usually when I’m doing something like that with an age play friend, I think, “I’m a paying customer and I’m not hurting anyone. They can bloody well deal.” This time, however, just being there was humiliating. I couldn’t stop KNOWING that everyone was wondering why the hell a grown woman was in Build A Bear. I wasn’t even wearing anything particularly babyish, no diaper. Jesus, I can just imagine what a wreck I would have been if I was wearing a diaper.
The best part of the trip was interacting with the staff. They were positive, friendly, and non-judgemental–or at least they judged me quietly in their thoughts, and I don’t care about that. And the bear I got. He’s absolutely perfect in every way.
After that, we went to dinner at my favorite restaurant. Manny left his wallet there. I had to drive an hour to go back and get it later.
Overall the experience was hugely disappointing, but I wonder if we just tried too much. Or maybe it really is just a failed dynamic for us. Manny and I have had many conversations about how he and I have more of a brother-sister relationship than a father-daughter thing. Also, if I compare it to my relationship with my ex-husband, he and I have a lot more fun. With Luke, it would have been enjoyable to get dressed up like a doll, go shopping, and then go to dinner. With Manny, it would be better to throw on overalls, build a fort, order a pizza, play video games, and rough house. For Christ’s sake, my engagement ring is a wooden, heart-shaped bead on a friendship bracelet.
I think that he and I can build a way to enjoy an age play relationship, but I don’t know if diapers will ever be a part of it. I’m grateful to him for trying, even though I’m still rather pissed that it went so badly. Cross your fingers for us!