A man picked up a blonde at a bar. They went back to her place and had sex in the dark, where, exhausted from all that mattress wrestling, they fell asleep. When he woke up, he woke up with a face full of her hair. In the light of day he noticed her roots were showing.

Over coffee, he confronted her jokingly about how she was “showing her true colors” and that, if he had known, he wouldn’t have stayed the night.

She didn’t find him particularly funny.

“I’ve always wanted to be blonde,” she said, “Blondes have more fun, after all. And I just knew, I was meant to be – it’s not fair I’m not a natural blonde.”

He blinked. “But you aren’t.”

“But I am blonde. This is how everyone sees me. And you have got to refer to me as such.”

“You bleached your hair; you’re a bottle blon – “

Rolling her eyes, she smacked him on the shoulder.  “I am BLONDE blonde. And it’s not for anyone but me to share that I wasn’t born this way.”

“Have you considered…not being blonde?”

“What’s it to you?”

He shrank from her glare. “Uh. Nothing?”

She calmed down and smiled. “At least now you won’t be surprised when you see my middle school photos.”

“Uh huh.”

“Brown really wasn’t my color.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“I’m much more convincing as myself when the dye sets in.”

“I’ll just let myself out, after…excuse me, where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall on the left.”

“…gotcha. Thanks.”

Last time I talked about porn, and the lack thereof.
This time, I’m going to talk about industry practice.

Do I mean disclaimers, you ask?

Ratings?

Character tags?

Well yes, but a specific, lesser known issue, and that is
the practice of pointing out all our little stunts for what they are.

Yes, really.

I’ve spotted instances of this happening, this bald-faced unveiling – which induces guilt in yours truly, for not putting up such statements as “do not try this at home” or “some details have been left out” or “[…] not encouraged by this author” –

Can you believe the audacity?

Why, it’s practically accusing my storytelling of being unrealistic! Not that I care, or anything…

No, no, no. What I balk at is the impression that we must curate our art with big, bold warnings.
Do I really have to tell you that’s not how proper fisting works? Or mention that, yes, I skipped past a few scenes? Come on.

Next you’ll be asking for trigger warnings.

I’LL SAY ( RATED M FOR IMAGINARY )

You know how it goes. You spot a nice story (who’s got the body of an epic plot with curves in all the right places, and is just full of character) so you dive in with a knowing line, and that gets you your link to the community url. This fandom is everything you want – great potential, lots of personality – hooks you in real tight.

And it is unbelievably easy, I tell ya; come in with a smile and a wink, and you’re in. Aww yeaah.

And then? You wind up stuck in pure and utter boredom, I’m sad to say:
night after night,
nothing but headaches and no nookie. :(
Psyche.
Heh.

Okay, lemme wipe the tears away. Haha, that was great – anyway, me banging the story isn’t the problem. Twice a week, if not every day, I’m pounding away, fucking like a pro. Lack of nookie is not the problem.

No. It’s the porn that I miss.

Y’see, every popular story’s a porn star.
You line up the fans – they show up for free – and people take turns filming their amateur porn.

And that’s what I wanna watch! (’cause thrusting takes effort)

Come on, people:
Take one for the team.

Whaddaya got, stage fright?! Low energy? I got your Viagra right here!

I wish. Nah, you need to go to the pharmer for that.
And hurry up; I’m fucking drained.
I’LL SAY ( YOU GOT ME BLUE BALLIN’ )