tHe CorruPtion
of tHe innoCent
PornograPHer
(episode one🔞)

When asked what she wanted for Christmas, my lover told
me she wanted an experience. She didn’t need any things,
she emphasized. It’s true. She is a minimalist. She has that
perfect butch bathroom equipped with a bar of soap, a tooth-
brush, natural toothpaste and unscented lotion. She is still using
the same bottle of shampoo she was using when we first started
dating almost one year ago.
Even though my own bathroom is full of products and
scented delights, I never want to change anything about her.
She’s the yin to my yang.
It only took a couple of clicks online to find an experience
I was quite sure she would treasure: a stay at a bed & break-
fast called the Chocolate Suite run by a couple of passionate
chocolatiers who make organic chocolate from scratch. In addi-
tion to their chocolate shop storefront, they created the ultimate
lesbian fantasy—a private resort where the décor is chocolate
brown and the shelves are lined with chocolate-themed movies
and books. Guests also get a complimentary box of chocolates.
I was sold. I booked it and then I proudly announced—in the
first week of December—that my Christmas shopping was offi-
cially done.
That was not entirely true because I still needed to buy
beeswax candles, new lingerie, massage oil and wrist restraints.
All month, she was tortured and wanted to know what treat
I was preparing for her. I told her she was in control and if
she really wanted to know, all she had to do was ask and I’d
tell her. The traditionalist in her couldn’t stand the thought of
finding out before Christmas morning so, like a good bottom,
she waited patiently.
Meanwhile, I plotted. I planned. I turned myself on thinking
about everything I was going to surprise her with. Semi-frus-
trated, I masturbated. No amount of solo climaxing equaled the
pleasure that I craved. Throughout December, we maintained
our scheduled dates. We had the same stellar sex we always
have. But secretly, I longed to take us in a new direction.
Before I go on, I need to back up. To fully appreciate the
events that took place at the Chocolate Suite, it is important
to understand a few things about my lover. The first thing is
that she is a pornographer. She documents lesbian sex and, as
a natural spin-off of filming lesbian sex as a business, she also
starred in a number of lesbian porn movies, some of her own
design and some directed by others. In other words, she knows
lesbian sex. She has seen a lot and had a lot. She has a massive
circle of fans. She’s one of those people who make regular
appearances on lists of hot lesbians.
When that was all I knew about her, I wasn’t that interested
in dating her. I didn’t want to be with a “hot lesbian” if she had
the ego of one, so I spent a long time ignoring her advances. In
fact, for half a year, I only saw her to work out. We’d walk or
go to the gym and whenever she suggested something beyond
that, I said no.
I had yet to learn the other things about her, the things that
make her who she is—the woman I love. She grew up in a small
prairie town. Her mother is a minister. She went to Bible camp
throughout her youth and she’s still deeply spiritual. In addition
to being a lesbian sex symbol, she is also painfully shy. She is
more of a Viewer than an exhibitionist.
One day, while we were out for a walk, a couple of months
before we started dating, she confessed something to me. She
told me she is vanilla. I paused. I looked at her. I shook my head.
She had just come back from a play party she helped to organize
in a different city.
“People don’t believe me,” she pleaded.
“Of course they don’t,” I said.
After that, we processed the stuff she had witnessed at the
party, things she said she didn’t understand. Poor dear.
“My business is lesbian sex. I’m in those circles. People just
assume I’m kinky and that I’ve tried everything, but I’m not and
I haven’t.”
I didn’t know why she was divulging this to me, but I found it
fascinating and encouraged her to tell me more. As her workout
partner, I found out about her previous relationships and her
favorite and least favorite sexual memories. We talked in ways
that only workout partners can—panting and sweating up and
down hills and pathways without any sexual stimulation. At the
time, I was celibate and single and consciously so. I had ended
several overlapping poly relationships that called for a pause. I
was in a time of self-reflection. I was more than happy to listen
to other people’s sex stories, especially hers.
She became a curious oddity to me, like Bettie Page.
Even though Bettie Page became the poster girl of early kink
portraiture, she maintained a certain naïve quality, like she
never really knew why others found her sexually attractive. In
her later years, she gave it all up and went back to the church
to live a quiet, humble life of worship and fellowship. Though I
and her many fans miss her, I respect her ability to walk away
and recreate herself.
Time passed, and eventually I said yes when she asked me on
an official date. By then, I already felt like I knew her, respected
her, understood her in ways that I hadn’t before. That was just
before Christmas 2010.
This is Christmas 2011. A year of dating turned out to be
a year of bliss, and now that I understood all of these various
aspects of my lover, I had also come to understand how delight-
fully shy she really was.
Once she had identified herself as vanilla to me, it took her a
long time to convince me she could be otherwise. It wasn’t that
I didn’t believe her—I spotted the inner bottom in her a mile
away—I just loved teasing her. I loved torturing her. I loved
the way she’d blush and become tongue-tied whenever I asked
about her fantasies. Pushed to talk about what she wanted,
she’d admit that she wanted to be taken, that she fantasized
about being dominated and that she really wanted me to have
my way with her. This was all music to my ears, and I did have
my way. A lot.
So when she asked for an experience and when I then came
up with the idea of going to a cozy chocolatey retreat on an
island, I also had something else in mind.
Only two days after I told her what the present was, we were
off. We each carried a backpack. Hers had her clothes and a
waterproof jacket so we could hike, even in the rain. Mine was
mostly filled with intimacy gadgets...........full episode here
.https://mystepsisters..com/2024/04/the-corruption-of-innocent-pornographer.html
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