Spread 'em Wider, Babe, Wider...
Betti Mustang lets the cat out of the bag when it comes to her secret life in porn... Okay, really bad amateur porn, but porn none the less.
I have never had a problem with pornography. Okay, thatís a bull-faced lie-- but you expected me to say it, didnít you?
No, really I had a serious problem with porn when I first became ďawareĒ of it. I grew up in a pretty hard-core Christian family (and this was all pre-internet) where Girlie-Mags just didnít happen.
Anyway, the first time that I saw a porn mag was in my 9th grade History class. Come to think about it, it was also the first time I had seen straight up a womanís pussy-- more on that another day.
Yeah, so Iím sitting there and I look over at the guy sitting next to me, and heís looking at this mag with this really disturbing look in his eyes and then he looks at me and then back at the mag and then back at me. Iím sitting there like, ďFuck no...Ē
It was weird. I changed schools.
I donít know what happened to me in the following decade-- a lot of shit, I guess. But by the age of twenty-four my view on porn had changed so much and had become so lenient that I decided to dive into the sex-worker water myself.
Considering my Eurasian background and the fact that I have really small boobies, it sure as fuck wasnít Playboy that was banging on my door. Nope, it was the friendly neighborhood Fetish Pornographer. He was hot, by the way. Super-fucking-duper hot. Sigh, how many naked girls have fallen for their photographers?
I have no problem getting naked, I can say that with a clear conscience. Naked is natural. So anyway, I found myself standing there, naked in this strange manís black lacquer kitchen. Now, donít get me wrong. I was scared shitless. I mean, it had nothing to do with being naked, he could examine me between the legs or rouge my nipples all damn day, but I had watched 8 mm (the movie about snuff films). Weird shit happens.
To make my short lived story even shorter, our model/photographer relationship lasted just a few weeks, and I only got naked for the camera for two days and a total of about three hours. Yes, there are probably close to a hundred digital images of my cunt and barely-there boobs floating around in cyberspace. He wanted more than I could give, though. I quit.
So why would a girl that was pro-naked, pro-sex, pro-porn, pro-erotica refuse to sign the release form on her own naked pictures? Here are my personal reasons:
1) I was worried that my ex would find them and use them against me in court
2) My then-boyfriend-now-husband was less than excited about the ďprojectĒ
3) Mr. Photographer (with whom I admit to a passionate tryst with) wanted to go further-- film, threesomes, blow jobs etc. and I knew that I just couldnít do it. I could only go as far as me alone, or me with a sex toy. Germs, man, germs!
4) My upbringing was/is so deeply rooted in me that it was killing me on the inside. It was like a spreading ulcer.
I guess the question that I should be asking myself is: Why am I so supportive of pornography and the women involved in it if I couldnít follow through with it myself?
Hmm... My answer to that question is the standard ďto each his/her ownĒ. Maybe some people like reading about sex but feel sick inside if they try to write it... Does that mean they should not read it anymore or, even worse, try to stop me from writing about it? Fuck no, Iíd kill you with my pen if you tried.
Itís gotta be the same with porn.
As a side note, some may argue that, ďOh, these poor women got involved in it (porn) and now they canít get out... and oh dear, they feel so degraded... blah blah blahĒ.
Gag me with a ten inch cock. The only thing that these women canít break away from is the payday. Canít get out of porn? Email me and Iíll send in a relief squad. Seriously.
Anyway, Iíím Pro-Watching and Anti-Participating when it comes to porn. I know, Iím a pussy.