antxnio

Clayton Cubbit


International Porn Superstar Stoya(tm)

Hysterical Literature
Theres a video involved. I leave it up to you whether you read or watch first.
Ive never understood vibrators. Ive gone on record numerous times saying various versions of I dislike them all except for Lelos Nea which I really only appreciate aesthetically. I think its the buzzing that bothers me. Ive posed for plenty of photospreads with toys, but Ive always seen them as a poor substitute for a person and Ive never had an orgasm from one. Less than a month ago I was on a panel at Exxxotica with some of the adult industrys most successful female performers. Someone in the audience asked what our favorite vibrator was, and every single one of the other women shouted Hitachi in unison. That night I received an email from Clayton asking if Id be interested in his new project.
Hes filming women sitting at a table reading literature. The twist is the things going on below the table. I like these sorts of things This Empty Love was the first video work I enjoyed doing, making hardcore work with Digital Playground an interesting option later. I think the interesting parts of sex are in the hints of what cant be seen. Penetrative sex, after all, is an exploration of something dark, moist, and cavelike.
Ive chosen a section of Superverts Necrophilia Variations. Im fascinated by Supervert and their (his?) body of work. I went with the Necrophilia themed volume because Im currently in an oddly non-morbid obsession with something triangulated by the way an orgasm affects brain chemistry, the reasons behind the french nickname of la petite mort, and why my mind goes completely blank when Im at the height of a sexual experience. Theres something in there, death and sex, maybe change or growth, and Ive been focused on it since shortly before I posted Touch. Sometimes I can brush this concept with my fingertips, but I cant grab hold and inspect it yet. The only way to understand is to wallow in anything that might hold a clue until it all clicks together (or am distracted by something shiny but it would have to be *really* shiny.) Tl;dr: Thats the book that felt right.
Ive been told to dress as I would for a date with a man, not a boy. Im wearing a dress from Vivienne Westwoods Anglomania collection last year. The cut limits the range of motion of my arms, but ideally I wouldnt need to open my own doors or feel the desire to talk on my phone while on a date with a man. My makeup is simple, my heels very high but relatively practical, and my panties are both sophisticated and expensive. Also, damp in the gusset. Sexually speaking I really enjoy things that I cant predict and things that are new to me. This attempting-to-read-aloud-and-maintain-composure while being sexually stimulated game is new. The video camera adds a dash of exhibitionism which I always appreciate. Most interesting, though, is the Hitachi that my vagina is about to be making very good friends with for the first time.
When I tell Claytons lovely assistant for the evening that Ive never experienced the Hitachi, her eyes light up. Ive obviously gotten myself into the most fun kind of trouble. Lights get set and everyone assumes their positions. My underwear lays on the floor out of frame. As I start reading, my disbelief is suspended. I forget what is about to happen. The first touch on my thigh sends all available blood to my vulva. I continue to enunciate properly, focusing on the text. Ive broken a sweat. If this goes on for much longer my hair will be plastered to my head with perspiration as though Ive been working out or engaging in acrobatic man/woman penetrative fucking. I stumble over a word, my concentration breaks as I go back to pronounce it correctly. Neither the Hitachi or the woman wielding it will be denied, but in the interests of art (and because this feels so beautifully filthy I dont want it to stop yet) I hold out as long as I can. This section of the world that Im inhabiting slows down, zooms in. Like a stretched rubber band it suddenly contracts, and I am lovingly punched with an orgasm.

I giggle-pant, hands on the table. Once enough pieces of my mind have come back I deliver the closing line.