all about me

The problem with an anonymous blog is that I don't like anonymity--especially when it comes to photography. I think I am fucking fine, and I love taking and sharing pictures. Along with words, I do my best teaching when using visual aids, so in order to create an entry that will get us better acquainted, I feel I have no choice but to use photos. The problem is that I am tattooed, so even pictures that don't show my face will still reveal my identity. And maybe this defeats the purpose of an anonymous sexblog, but I have decided that I am okay with this because 1.) anyone who really knows me who may stumble upon this would recognize me through the pseudonym, the list of interests and the first entry anyway and 2.) I am hoping that doesn't happen, and counting on my ability to keep this secret from anyone who knows me in real life. I guess I'm not really seeking anonymity from anyone in here; I'm seeking anonymity from everyone out there. Let's get on with it. This is me after a day at the beach, tanned raw from the sun to the point that any article of clothing other than a loose-fitting men's dress shirt was too painful to wear.


I have perfect tits. I am willing to stake my life and my firstborn child on this fact. I didn't know they were perfect until I was seventeen, and my boyfriend and I took ecstasy for the first time with friends of ours, another couple. At some random point during one of the many drug-induced peaks, my boyfriend turned to his friend and was like, "Jake has perfect tits. Want to see?" Then turned to me and said, "Is it alright if he sees?" I don't remember if it was alright or not, I just remember showing him (briefly) and afterwards his girlfriend confiding in me that she thought her breasts were mishapen. Several hours later, at another random point, Jordan said to my boyfriend, "Dude, I don't mean to be rude, but can I see your girl's tits again?" But by then I was experiencing one of the many drug-induced lows so I was like, "STOP OBJECTIFYING ME!!" and then I flashed him again anyway, just for the hell of it.


I have long, long, long legs. They are what make me 5'8" tall. In trying to find a picture to illustrate this phenomenon, I came across this one. The camera angle exagerrates a bit, but otherwise it's pretty true to life. I used to hate my legs because when I was young they were too skinny and then when I got older they usually made me taller than any of my partners, and it's taken me years to get used to that. I stopped wearing heels for the longest time, because I did not want to do anything that would make me taller than I already am. Luckily, I realized that not wearing heels was a waste of my life, and that long legs were meant to be enhanced. They look great during sex, especially when bent at the knee and shoved back towards my head or thrown over shoulders or forced into doggy style. I have green eyes covered by a thousand eyelashes, a tongue pierced through the middle with a barbell and a tiny diamond for a nose ring, a pierced belly button, a pierced clit, and a dimple in my chin inherited from the father who did not raise me.


My hair is wild and curly, and until recently it was long as hell (I had it trimmed up to just below my shoulders the other day.) It's still brunette like it is in the pictures, only now it has blonde highlights. In the fall the blonde highlights become red, or sometimes my entire head does. Pale winter skin goes good with green eyes and red hair. The easiest way to describe it is to say I like it pulled, but really what I prefer is to have hands tangled in close to the scalp, gathering fistfuls and grasping more than yanking. I prefer to be topped during sex, big surprise; but I also like to be on top, mostly during foreplay or making out. I love the feeling of hips kissing hips, legs and chest straining beneath legs and breasts. When it comes time to get down to business, however, I want the roles to switch, want only to feel pressure, pressed on the bed or up against the wall, pinned to the floor, the backseat of your car. Grind me into the carpet til the rug burns, quake me til I'm nothing but ache. I'm leaving out a lot of little details, of course, along with some major ones, and maybe I'll get to them another day--emotional factoids like how sensitive I am to the world around me as well as the world within, how I love animals (dogs, geckos, chameleons, birds) and have a severe intolerance to cruelty, how I can experience Stendhal's syndrome while standing before great works of art but also when I see an elderly couple holding hands on the street, and for as horny as I perpetually am, how I need a mental connection beforehand, and cuddling, laughter and a late-night snack afterwards in order to make the experience complete.