A Good Egg(x)

 I’m writing this about someone that isn’t around anymore, and that’s a bit sad actually because it’s a lovely story about a person who changed my life in the best way. 

I sort of hope one day they’ll fall across this post and recognise themselves in it and feel good about that. And even if they don’t, I think it good to acknowledge the beautiful people we cross in our lives, I think too often we dwell on exes in a negative light - where perhaps they played a role in something bigger, leading to where you are now. Often in sex work we have muddled stories about our loves, but I hope I can offer a glimmer of hope to those feeling it impossible to find the love they deserve.

I met James on Tinder, isn’t that how the greatest of romances start? I hadn’t been in Australia very long, and I found his thick FNQ accent really shocking and his overwhelming obsession with camping and any sport that has a ball, somewhat counter to my usual tastes. I’ve never met someone more Aussie in my life. He was loud, eager and our first date was an absolute disaster. I made the mistake of mentioning my sports history to him and he was pretty determined that I wasn’t going to get away from our date without him having seen me in my cricket whites. His loud abrasiveness was somewhat at odds to what I usually go for. I couldn’t have left fast enough - and yet, there was... something. You know, that unexplainable something? He was so open, so happy - so LOUD, I figured I just wasn’t used to it. We kiwis tend to be a little more guarded, a little softer I think lol.

And this is why I let my instinct run my life. Sometimes people aren’t what we expect, and while that might initially put us on edge, I think it’s so important to let that little voice inside have a say - it’s usually right. And it was. At some point I found his exaggerated accent and gargantuan laugh endearing and he became a really important relationship in my life. We were polar opposites in nearly everything. Asides from a love of fucking and progressive relationship styles, we had next to nothing in common. And yet for years we couldn’t stay away from each other - and I have learned that stuff in common is more of a bonus than an essential, for me. 

James had a big heart, he had time for everyone in his life and he was loved by everyone in return. Often when we imagine this quintessential ocker Australian bloke, there’s some negative stereotypes with that - and James didn’t live up to a single one of them. I meet very few people in the leftie stereotype (nerdy, introverted etc) who are as open minded and progressive as he was. Hence, dating a sex worker was entirely a non issue for him, even though he hadn’t known any before, and he set the standard for me, for how I expect to be treated regarding my profession.

When you’re a sex worker, dating is more interesting to navigate. I think I have had mostly positive experiences which I know is quite unusual, but there is still a fair bit of emotional labour involved in disclosure, questions and potential awkwardness, or nastiness. In the past I had felt ‘grateful’ to be loved while being a sex worker. I remember in my marriage feeling like I should count myself lucky that someone would have me. And while I was loved, it was often very much ‘in spite’ of my work - hooking was considered a pesky thing they had to deal with, to be with me. At the time I believed that was enough, even though I never got asked how my day was, and had restrictions placed on how I worked to keep them happy. I often get the feeling many in relationships with sex workers feel they are owed something - a gold star, a medal - even a free pass to cheat… But I was grateful still, to be loved. 

James was not the first person I dated after my marriage but the first that really held my interest. I remember almost a feeling of suspicion, about just how easy it was to disclose my work and discuss it with him. He didn’t treat me like I had two heads, it wasn’t the most interesting thing about me to him, but he was also happy to hear what I had to say about it. I waited for the catch, it didn’t come, but something else happened. 

Every day, James asked how my day was. It’s a small but huge thing for me, as in the past, people didn’t want to know. If I responded about my day and said I was busy with clients - he would congratulate me?! James thought that my succeeding in sex work was a wonderful thing. He became my cheerleader. Every photoshoot I did, every blog I wrote, every big booking I did - I gladly shared with him and he would praise and cheer me on. I would excitedly tell him about a new fetish I catered for or when I landed interesting clients and couples, and he knew I was queer and was so happy for me when I embraced it in my work and advertised specifically to women. If you’re a person that didn’t grow up with praise and have never experienced it, it was kind of mind blowing?!  Having someone not just accept my work and my identity but embrace it with this positive energy - I had never felt ‘lighter’ or more supported. I simply didn’t know this could be possible. This is a feeling I wish I could bottle and share. 

His positive influence on my life really altered my world view. I thought to myself - women in other professions, doing their ‘girl boss’ thing, receive a lot of praise and support in their lives from their partners. Why shouldn’t I? Being shown that it was possible to receive these lovely messages, that other people take for granted, made me realise that there was no reason that I should have to compromise on how I’m treated, simply because of my profession. My profession is not everything I am, but had so greatly hamstrung my expectations in relationships. For years James was effortlessly in my corner, whether I had a good day, bad day and everything in between. No-one (other than my Dad, but he deserves his own book) in my past has done more for my confidence and self esteem than he did. Sometimes when you’re an online person with plenty of followers and showing your ass - there’s hate and trolling. I’ve copped a bit online in the past and I sometimes think, that if someone hadn’t shown me my value with such determination for such a long time, being alone in this country - I may have believed it. And I also know that perhaps I would have accepted poor behaviour in other relationships, if I hadn’t been shown differently. Knowing what I want and what to advocate for is integral to navigating a love life alongside my job - I don’t have the time to waste on anything less. Being polyamorous, this bolstered worldview has been essential for me to form the connections I want in my life and find love that suits and supports me. In alternative lifestyles sometimes people lack the history, knowledge and confidence to form the connections they dream of, and I can look back on my history and pinpoint exactly where I found the boost I needed to make it work and fall in love again with a sense of security.

I hope everyone in their life, has a James. James was not the love of my life, but he was an important person on the path to finding it - he was good for me and helped steer me along this path with confidence and self assertion, build my business in the direction I felt I deserved and most importantly, helped rebuild belief in myself after a life tinged with trauma and complicated romance. I do believe not every good love has to be forever, life pushes and pulls us around and we have to make the most of the time we have. When I look at where I stand now in my life, I can’t help but feel gratitude for good men who set that standard, because too often I have been exposed to the bad and could easily lack all faith - but the good ones? They can be life changing. In a lifestyle full of John’s, I truly believe we each deserve our James. 

(No offense if your actual name is John).

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web and wishlist: petrafox.com.au

Beem: @petrafoxbne

The Adventures of Pooh

Content warning - POOP

People have been fascinated with butts since the dawn of time. We laugh about them - the way they look, how they move, the sounds and smells they make. Also though, people are really, really, sexually attracted to them. As someone who is significantly bootylicious - I can attest to that. People wanna hold it, touch it, lick it, smack it, bury themselves in it. People also want attention paid to their own butt, because it can feel so uniquely good. 

It's a really sensitive area, the clitoral map extends to the anus, and for people with a prostate - it can give next level, unreal pleasure. Psychologically/kinkologically (if that's not a word, it is now) it can also give people satisfaction in terms of feeling submissive. I have been fucking butts since I learned you could fuck a butt, and I enjoy and am turned on by dispensing a thorough butt-fucking. However in the last 4 or 5 years, I haven’t been doing it quite so much. I mean part of that is that I live in a state where I can’t openly advertise services, so people don’t know it’s on offer so it falls by the wayside. But also, at some point I think I’ve lost patience for people who are completely unprepared for the activity, and the occasional aftermath. I think alot of that boils down to a lack of butt education. 

I remember Jenna Love (of Somebody You Love podcast fame) once commenting ‘If you knock on Pooh’s door, don’t be surprised if Pooh is home’, which is an amusing quip, but the reality is - that door IS an exit and sometimes Pooh makes QUITE the appearance. He’s not so cute and cuddly in person, and that's no jar of honey he's offering, I can tell you that much.

I am going to attach a link/infographic at the end of this blog for people who want to learn how to prepare, as someone has already created this great resource better than I could. With time, I have developed a sort of philosophy, that if you want someone to get intimate with your body, it pays firstly to learn to be intimate with it yourself. The comfier you get with your butt, the comfier other people are going to be playing with it. Not every person requires clients to douche, and while I find it unenforceable, it definitely adds to the overall pleasantness of the experience when someone presents their ass to me in pristine condition. I find the best way for me to really paint this picture is with a story. 

___

His face is pink and dripping with sweat, his back arches, presenting his tight tushy high as I pound into him with controlled enthusiasm from behind. We’re on the floor and I’m grabbing his hair, holding his head to meet my gaze in the mirror in front of us. He’s been begging for this treatment since our last session, and finally his fantasy is coming true. He’s in ecstasy as his hole is stretched by my small but realistically soft, fleshy dildo. I love watching it disappear inside his lubed ass, and I’m wet myself, as his high pitched yelps and groans sate a drive deep inside me. I’ve attached a suction dildo to the mirror and make him lick and suck it, never letting go of eye contact with me. When he gets too lost in the sensation and loses concentration, I spank his cheeks and scald him, to go back to sucking that dick like the little slut that he is. I’m having a grand time being in control, and his fantasy is going exactly as he imagined. We prepared and wrapped up his cock, which is just as well because as I fuck his cute little hole, he can’t help himself, he gives himself a couple of little tugs and cums - loudly, muffled of course with his mouth stuffed with fake cock. He leans back into a little spoon position, both knelt on the floor, sweating, speechless, spent. His dick is still pulsing, we watch it for a moment before we make a move to unglue ourselves and tidy up. The time, with me inside him, has begun to engrave itself in his memories - an unforgettable first time, being my anal slut. Until now, an unspoilt, perfect horny moment to savour. 

It is in this moment as I feel my strap start to slide out, we both notice a smell. I look down and muffle a gasp, I don’t want to embarrass him, but he has smelt it too. He moves forward a little too quickly, unmounting ‘my' dick, and it becomes apparent that there has been... an accident. The stench is unavoidable, I can't hide this from him. Shit has made it down my inner thighs, we had put down a towel thankfully but some has made it to the carpet, the lower parts of our bodies are a horrific scene - much like the expression on my clients face. He is mortified. ‘Oh my god oh my god oh my god’, and I watch the joy from our session disappear from his face and his memories - to be replaced with this. Nothing I can say can undo the shame he is feeling, and god knows I can’t disguise the SMELL. 

He runs bow-legged to the shower, close to tears. I am still sat on the floor, working out how to move from my position without smearing the existing mess further. I’m running through the logistics in my head because I do have another booking this afternoon and I have no idea how I’m going to clear the mess, smell and mental image of the room before me.

I do my best while my client is in the shower. I knock to check on him, he takes a while, but he needs that moment alone. I go to my own bathroom and throw everything and myself into my shower-over-bath and try to wash off the filth and alarm  - I can’t make this worse for my client by having it apparent how affected I am, mostly by the smell. I don’t consider myself a squeamish person at all and I’m an adult who understands accidents can happen, but I also can’t help that I have the olfactory system of a bloodhound which is currently not feeling like much of an evolutionary advantage. I feel a little unwell, actually.

I come back to the room which is still heady with stench, and my client is clean but clearly upset. I desperately want to erase this for him and I hold him, but he is stiff and won’t look at me. He apologises profusely and I reassure him that we all have a digestive system and sometimes shit literally happens (he doesn’t laugh), but I can see that the joy he experienced moments ago has gone, and this is forming as a traumatic experience in his mind. Shame runs deep and no amount of rationalising a natural body function is helping with his embarrassment. He wants to disappear through the floor, you know, if there was less poop there. 

———

Obviously there is a sort of innate visceral response to this scene for most of us, we all know what poop looks and smells like, and aside from scat kinksters, most would agree it’s not a particularly delicious ingredient in the bedroom. The point of this obviously isn’t to create shame, it’s more to accept that it can be a byproduct of spontaneous, unprepared anal, and I think it best if you want the experience of a good butt fucking to be a pleasant memory and not tinged or replaced with other complex feelings about your bodily functions, to prepare. And I would greatly appreciate that also, because while I care about my clients and want them to feel as safe with me as possible - I do not enjoy activities that involve poop, and I also don’t love doing poopy laundry (or setting it on fire) - I have thus far avoided as much of that as possible by not reproducing, and I have no intention of making plans to do it repeatedly for my grown clients either. If we have met then you know I'm a diligently clean and house proud person, so it is ideal if my space is respected as much as possible by those who spend time in it.

I understand, that this can be a little complicated. I have clients, friends and family with health conditions that mean digestive stuff can be a bit unpredictable, and I also know that private bathroom time when you co-habitate or have children can be it’s own logistical struggle. All we can really do, is our best, and it isn’t just for my benefit, but also so that the hot first half of that story is the memory that forms for you from our time together, and not a more complex set of feelings like the second half, when shit goes south.

How to clean your ass: a resource

https://howtocleanyourass.wordpress.com/

Aforementioned podcast :

https://www.somebodyyoulove.net/

(I write from experience but would never embarrass a client by writing about an individual session).

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au

Tips/Beem: @petrafoxbne