I didn’t watch my first porn movie (soft as it was, so-called), until my early 30s (ignorance about their existence abounded in my adolescence!) and while the story was boring (I don’t even remember what it was supposedly about; if anything at all, but who cared about the narrative?)) the non-stop fucking was exciting, enjoyable and without doubt, enviable! Yes, it was repetitious and routine as a young, gorgeous hunk, his body pulsating with muscular rhythm and hung with what seemed a more than ample appendage (I’d never seen one so long and thick – the men I’d encountered all sunk into oblivion), entered a beautiful woman (young, too, of course) with copious breasts over and over again. He mounted, she moaned, while I mused at how pleasurable it portrayed the fantasies of the flesh. Certainly, I had heard tantalizing tales about the amazing antics of Linda Lovelace in Deep Throat, but so far had never been lucky enough to watch it. Indeed, I had always preferred to enact my own porn movie with The Real Thing, without the fanfare of celebrity cinema. And some men loved to watch just me (or so they cajoled) as I thrilled at watching them.

Yet, as age hasn’t delivered as many delectable male suitors as I would like, I’m now reflecting on a risqué repertoire of repeat sex, raising me to be the first wrinkle-encrusted porn star replete with wild imaginings and glorious groping. (At least my pubic hair hasn’t gone grey!)Venal victory carnally caught on camera with all the abandon only experience can entertain. My partner, another special specimen of the male variety is virile and voracious, (I don’t want a wrinkled dick!), devouring my body with delicious delight, while I suck him off with all the salacious splendour of a satyr (of the female variety!) Sometimes, in my past panoply of pleasure, a mirror would suffice in my mastubatory moments, but a moving camera can capture so much more, exploring our intimacy with inspiration and intrigue. (And I might even get paid for it!)

When I was a kid, I could never envisage my parents engaging in sex, too old, too flabby, too tired, but now, as I creep into that age bracket, I disparage my innocent naivete, my mind mustering a majesty of momentous magic. Intercourse never seemed so invigorating or inviting. Too often, porn movies (and I’ve watched a few more in my middle-age, bored with mere mortals of men!)) feature the bold and the beautiful, lithe, firm bodies lolling in lascivious lust with the energy of only the young. But what of the Fabulous Femmosexual? I want to fashion a new paradigm; a porn star with saucy sexuality; not an ageing porn star who’s past her used by date, but a porn star with the sexual aplomb only age can advantage, ensuring expertise and ecstasy. An exhibition of endless entertainment as I twist my torso into an embrace of carnal coupling that carries me into a tingling text of untold territory. There’s not even a pretense of a story; (why bother, it’s irrelevant!) as when pleasure is paramount why waste time, precious energy and patience deliberating on details that simply don’t matter. There’s no denial that sex reigns sacrosanct as the celluloid catches my insatiable imaginings in a reality that rewards me with all the riches I’ve craved for decades. It is the design of a new destiny, a tapestry of toe sucking sexiness that heralds a passionate heaven of haute couture of the naked body. (Who needs clothes to camouflage our physical longings?) Indeed, it is a creative culture of fashion that allows our fantasies to flourish unfettered as we indulge our intimate humanity with honesty and humility. It is a level playing field between man and woman; where sex is the new sport without competition or contest; a challenge to give and receive pleasure, turning on others to the joy of sex and all it connotes. Porn is pure liberation; the freedom to perfect our physical feats of athletic acrobatics in a togetherness that tightens our force of life and transcends us to new heights of discovery. Our bodies are like a Stradivarius violin to be played with strength and tenderness, the devotion of dedicated delight as we perform to perfection and reach intense pleasure. We don’t really need a camera; we can be stars in the privacy of our own party, create our own porn because what porn represents is really just good sex between consenting adults. (Why is it called porn in the first place? According to the Macquarie Dictionary, porn is obscene literature, art or photography, designed to arouse sexual desire. If this is true, it implies the good and healthy portrayal of sex in soft porn movies is obscene. Sex per se is obscene. I moan at that meaning). Whatever gender, whatever number of participants. Whatever turns you on and your partner/s. Porn has been decried as a dirty word too often; it is tinged with the ugliness of illicit sex and illegal covert corruption, a refuge of the decadent and disturbed, but really, it is nothing more than carnal knowledge on camera. (At least the soft core movies I’ve watched!) Our society is still pervaded by a puritan spirit that sullies sex as something shameful and suspicious; so we watch our porn in secret, unable to really engage in sex that satisfies both partners. And getting older makes it that much more difficult. I want to be a porn star in my own movie with a real human man that isn’t necessarily endowed with the biggest dick of all time and I don’t care if his hair is thinning or turning grey and his body bears the ravages of time with wrinkles and spots. I want the man to watch me as I can watch him, two exhibitionists with their own agenda of physical pleasure. Without a camera to play for prosperity. Living in the here and now should be the focus.

That’s my new paradigm of porn; I’m a star emboldened by a reality that allows me to enjoy The Real Thing in a reciprocal roundabout of sex that has no name and no narrative. Just a man and a woman enlivened by each other, for each other!