The Creative Process

"What's your-- are you fucking kidding me right now? What's your motivation?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Like, I know I'm a horny housewife or whatever, but like, what are my dreams in life, you know?"

I forced myself to keep a straight face as my director, a.k.a. my wife, stared at me like I'd grown an extra head. I suppose that was possible, given that I used to be a man and now inhabited the body of a very female porn star, but I was still far too amused at the reaction I was getting. A little vein pulsed on her forehead as she spun me around.

"This is your motivation," she growled through clenched teeth, as she yanked up my dress and squeezed my juicy ass cheeks. "Getting out of this slut's body and getting us back to normal!"

I'll admit, the curse had been hard at first. Until we finished shooting 100 pornos, we were stuck like this. Playing the lead role hadn't been my first choice, but the alternative was staying this way forever.

A funny thing happens after three solid weeks of getting fucked on camera by men you've never met. First, you get used to it. That takes a little while. Then, you start to enjoy it. That happens surprisingly quickly.

So if I'm turning out to be such a little slut, why would I mess with my wife like this? Well, as I mentioned, she's the director for all of my films. And if I can make her mad before a shoot, she makes sure I get it rough.

And I fucking love it rough.