Foot Fetish Humiliation

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My summertime feet, June 2014

Undressing me for the first time, he he tugged off my knee socks and said to himself, “I knew she was going to have pretty feet.” Though I don’t remember who fed me this line, I do remember gaining a new and lasting confidence when I ate it up.

Foot fetishes are huge in the adult entertainment industry. It’s an especially attractive option for a camgirl because it can be catered to with minimal effort and modest sexualization. Combined with my vague romantic memories and rumors of a foot fetish parlor opening up in Portland, the seemingly low-effort niche of foot fetish modeling was something I wanted to pursue.

This week I answered a Craigslist ad searching for women who would allow their feet to be photographed in exchange for money ($50-75/hr). I heard back from a talent coordinator who asked me to provide 12 very specific photos of my feet for her consideration. I submitted the photos and received the following response:

Hi Jane,

I just reviewed your pics and while I do realize you gave yourself a bad pedicure and it shows, also your nails are not single color polished either. Both of these are not in your best interest to show for our staff to review. Although I can see overall there some some very good qualities to your feet, the overall presentation with bad pedi, and unpolished nails would not be in your best interest to submit.

I would strongly suggest taking your time, cleaning up pedi, putting on polish, and concentrate on taking a set of pictures. Just my suggestion. Then again if you have time constraints I can submit “as is,” but it would’t be in your best interest, especially if trying to get into foot work as you mentioned.

Please let me know how to proceed and I will respectfully do so.

Thanks,
[Adult Talent Recruiter]

Do you want to see my foot fetish audition photo set? Just ask :)

Doc Waffles Artist Statement Circa 2010

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“I try to write songs that have the effect of an abstract painting, where the meaning is deliberately obfuscated and confused as a way of inducing listener interaction. To drive my audience to embellish the song with their own prejudices and experience. This is what I’m getting at when I say, Bring me the Robe, I imagine a work of art as a naked, physical body.  The robe I refer to is all the hypothetical interpretations, criticisms, re-imaginings and creative extensions that the audience provides; the uniquely personal readings that embellish the text and add nuance to its meaning. Charles Olson brought the robe to Herman Melville. Kurosawa brought the robe to Shakespeare. Jimi Hendrix brought the robe to Francis Scott Key. To see something you’ve created become a generative source for new artworks and critical inquiries I believe is one of the greatest rewards of making cultural products. I want the robe badly, but I can’t get it myself. It has to be brought.”
-Doc Waffles

Some writing on Waffles:
Doc Waffles vs. Maya Fardoun
Doc Waffles vs. Iva Gueorguieva
I Love Detroit Video Contest

Female Ejaculation: Who Cares?

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Female ejaculation was an underwhelming experience that I will no longer force myself to write about.

I’m interested in female ejaculation because of the unique situation it presents in terms of knowledge formation, and the significance of pornography in that situation.

Experiencing ejaculation provided me with a higher level of confidence that it is real and that’s pretty much it.

I hope this doesn’t come to you as a disappointment. I’m neither here nor there about it.

Female Ejacultaion as a Passive Experience

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After nearly ten years of vigorously pursuing knowledge about female ejaculation, I finally experienced it myself. Why now, after all this time? Since there is no scientific consensus on female ejaculation I can’t be totally sure, but as I explained in my last post there were a few conditions of this particular sexual experience that I believe were integral components:

  • emotional intimacy
  • comfort/relaxation
  • smoking weed/being high
  • getting fucked/penetration
  • passivity

This post explores the role of passivity in my experience ejaculating.

To recap, when I first squirted I was getting fucked missionary position by a man on his couch. But it didn’t begin that way. It began with the much more common scenario of me trying to get out of having sex.

Those who know me well know that my desire to talk about sex is far greater than my desire to have sex. To those who don’t know me well, this often comes as a disappointment. I am acutely aware of this disappointment and the weight of it brings me such turmoil due to my nature of needing to please others, but more so due to my need to be seen as authentic. If I talk about sex and then don’t have it, it kind of looks like I’m not “walking the walk,” right?

I find myself in this situation regularly, and almost just as regularly there is an additional element of the fragility of the male ego. Maybe I feel like there is so much at stake in sexual consent because there seems to be so much gained by giving a girl an orgasm.

Nevertheless, I’ve come up with several strategies for dealing with this situation when it comes about, and I used one of these strategies the night I ejaculated for the first time. Here’s what happened:

He wanted to have sex. I didn’t want to have sex. I was too tired. As a compromise, I proposed that I would pretend like I was asleep and he could pretend to violate me, like in one of those sleeping porn videos. Though I think he was a little disappointed by my reticence to participate, we both got turned on by this idea and assumed position on the couch. I secretly believed I would actually just fall asleep by the time anything really got going and put a halt to the whole game, but I was wrong.

I was in some sort of partial sleep state. Combined with the marijuana, this lent to the kind of consciousness one is in during a massage–my mind and body weren’t separate. I was both fully in my body and totally out of body as I laid on my side and he peeled my panties down and started to fuck me from behind.

I maintained this fuzzy limpness as he flipped me over onto my back and fucked me hard. Had I been fully awake and active, this would have been the point when I would have started rubbing my pussy and trying to orgasm. But I did nothing because we were playing this sleeping game (was it a game? I wasn’t acting…).

Then it happened–I ejaculated. Not so much a squirt but a little splash, breaking on his lower abdomen with the intensity of a Noxzema commercial.