Misty-Eyed Misti Dawn

Misti Dawn“Well, its been a very fast interesting two weeks. My marriage has ended. I could go on why but it just did. I’m sad that it happened the way it did, but it did. Everything that I found out hurts, but I glad I know now. I don’t particularly want to slander and give the details of my life in those aspects out. It just is. I wish him well and success.”

This missive, posted on alt.porn goddess Misti Dawn’s blog on January 24th of 2012, signaled not just the end of Misti’s marriage to fellow adult performer, Michael Vegas, but solidified her need for a significant change in lifestyle. Moving out of the San Fernando Valley in favor of Hollywood, Misti decided that the only way she could attempt to recover from her husband’s alleged deceit – “I found out Michael was having an affair, an emotional affair.” – was to cut her loses and move on. While this certainly won’t please those fans who were hanging out for what seemed like the inevitable DP and anal creampie scenes from their beloved copper-topped nerd girl, this alarming change has thrust Misti Dawn into the next phase of her life and career.

With a role in Max Landis’ recently released fanboy flick, The Death and Return of Superman, and plenty of blogs, podcasts, and random Internet appearances lined up, it appears Misti Dawn hasn’t let the shadier side of porn get her down. She just packed up, pulled out the weeds, and headed for Hollywood looking to sell herself as a face and personality, not just a piece of meat. That story may sound familiar to you, but if there’s one thing Misti seems sure of, it’s that she’s no LA cliche.

Timing Out in Bed

Missy Pink'sDear Missy Pink;

I’m really enjoying your column, and decided to send you a question of my own. My boyfriend and I have lived together for almost 9 years, there’s no piece of paper binding us, so it’s not a marriage rut, but for some reason the sex isn’t like it use to be. When we were dating, it would last for hours and we couldn’t wait to be back in bed again. For longer than I care to mention, it’s now gone to just a quickie on Saturday night, no real lead up to the excitement, just more of a roll over, roll off and then the snoring begins. Where has the passion gone?

Timing Out in Bed

Dear Timing Out,

Your question is one that’s probably been asked since the era of cavemen.  You said you weren’t married, but, living together means you share the same sort of routine, scheduling and lifestyle, that is missing only that piece of paper, so, even though you haven’t walked down the aisle with the scent of tossed rose petals before you, you’re basically a spouse in the house.

You broached the question as if your boyfriend carries sole responsibility for things not being as they were, but, let’s look at this in a logical sense. It’s no one’s fault, it’s environment and time. When you’re dating, it’s the newness, the excitement, the exploration of learning about one another, the responsiveness and arousal is all on extremely high levels, which maybe if the sexual endeavor lasted for only an hour, it felt as if it was all night long.

It’s not that he’s grown tired of you, or you’ve grown tired of him, it’s just that you’ve gone from making love to having sex.  You’ve grown accustom to one another, so, there’s no sense in preheating the oven when you can slide the meat in and have it done on a quick broil setting. The foreplay use to be centered around the bedroom, now it’s spanning into writing out the monthly bills, figuring out menus for the week, calling the garage to have a tune up done, all of those every day duties that call for your attention but bring no passion with them.

If you want stamina, then proceed with choosing a day and making that day work for you. Put a naughty note in his lunch bucket, wrap a pair of your sexiest panties around his steering wheel to find when he leaves for work, text him a message through the day that just says a simple, “Thinking of you and feeling hot.” Let his mind churn all day long about the past passion you shared, have him in a state of a semi-erection, and then when he gets home, leave a trail of your clothing to the bedroom. Don’t let him rush through things, have on sexy lingerie, do a little bump and grind with the bed post, bring strawberries and champagne into the scenario, turn on his mind first and foremost and his body will surely follow.

There’s no set in stone time for how long sex should last, it depends on how long you want it to last. Bring him up and to the edge, and then tease him without the pleasure of the pinkness between your thighs, make him really want you to where when it does happen, it will sound like the 4th of July in your head, the orgasms will be so powerful.

Sometimes when a partner needs more from the other, they have to exercise a little work to make it happen, but it will be worth it. Keep the moisture building motives working, seduce him on a Wednesday and then promise him more kinkiness on Saturday, he’ll think about it for the rest of the week and be looking forward with anticipation. Play sexual games, turn on your feminine charm, make him want you the way he did when you were dating, before you know it, he’ll be participating as well and you’ll reap the rewards.

Forget trying to put a measurement of minutes to your foreplay and sex, leave the egg timer in the kitchen where it belongs, the main thing is getting him hard boiled and then simmering on a slow heat until you both are ready for eruption. The playfulness will bring back memories, mixing that with your years of comfort you’ve built will make the experience even more erotic. Close the drapes and open your minds, it’s never too late to share healthy horniness!

Have a sex advice question? Want to be featured in our next blog post? Email Missy Pink’s Sex Advice or post your thoughts in our Disqus feature below.

 

Smooshing and Screaming

Every Thursday night a rapidly declining percentage of the population of the United States tunes in to MTV for another rage-inducing episode of Jersey Shore, the reality show phenomenon that dumps four “guidos” and four “guidettes” into a share house off the boardwalk of the New Jersey shore and follows them as they drink, dance, and argue their way through another summer. Me, I’ve got a soft spot for the house newest resident, Deena, the self-described “blast in a glass,” who constantly seems to be unlucky in both love and lust while her roommates “get it in” on a near-nightly basis. Those in committed relationships, as absurd as that may seem, don’t seem to mind rubbing their sexual proclivities in Deena’s face, which is exactly what Jenni “JWOWW” Farley did on the most recent episode, The Truth Will Set You Free.

Intent on celebrating her one-year anniversary with muscle-bound boyfriend, Roger, with a night-long romp in the house “smoosh room” (where roommates takes their latest sexual conquests for a bit of privacy), JWOWW dragged her BFF (and America’s punching bag) Snooki to an adult novelty store and stocked up on supplies. Bringing home fake rose petals, bottles of Gatorade, fluffy pink handcuffs, and a Clone-a-Willy kit with which to immortalize Roger’s manhood, JWOWW was ensuring that her man’s jaw would be dragging along the presumably filthy shore house floor all the way to sexual heaven. Two key components of JWOWW’s seductive arsenal were The Screaming O Vibrating Ring and its big brother, The Big O, both of which are award-winning vibrating cock-rings designed to enhance pleasure for both partners when worn at the base of Rog… uh, “the man’s” erection.

These two most important items in her carnal armory we both snatched from a small red-and-white counter display and the company responsible for them, The Screaming O, seems mighty proud to be so blatantly featured on the show. “We’re glad we made it a special night for them,” The Screaming O’s Keith Caggiano told AVN. “The Screaming O helps couples stay connected , and since JWOWW and her boyfriend can’t see each other every day using our relationship tools and fun sexessories will surely keep things interesting.” Ah, “relationship tools,” is that what they’re called by folks in the know?

Missing Misti Dawn

Misti DawnThings first started to look a little dour for redheaded alt.pornstar and geek girl supreme, Misti Dawn, when she was hired along with another woman to perform in an anal scene that they believed was going to be a pretty straightforward dick-in-butt kind of thing. Upon turning up to set after having taken the previous night to prepare with plugs and enemas and relaxation, both performers were shocked to find out that the scene, for a movie entitled Spitting & Speculums (or something similar), was far kinkier than their agents has let them know. The director/stuntcock, now a very popular shooter of all-star POV anal scenes, began by requesting deep throat blowjobs with plenty of gagging and salivating, which was enough to unnerve our rather timid Indianan and her co-star, but then went into even raunchier territory. Pulling out a vaginal speculum and inserting it into our girls’ anuses stretching them to soon accommodate his cock, Herr Director soon had both women holding back nausea and nearly passing out from the physical shock and stress. Misti calls her agent and complains. He tells her to continue the scene, promising to sort everything out later. Misti’s co-star, though, is in the bathroom throwing up, so the pair decide that enough is enough and call it quits, going home with less impressive paychecks than what they had been guaranteed.

Detailing on her blog how it felt to be so professionally humiliated while also dealing with an intense physical situation for which she was totally unprepared – the vaginal speculum used in the scene can be extremely taxing on the elasticity of a smaller, tighter orifice for which it was definitely not intended – Misti Dawn said that this experience was enough to convince her that she’d be better off exploring her sexuality privately; that her marriage, health, sanity, and sexual satisfaction rightfully took priority over the fun and financial rewards of porn. That was the end of it. Misti Dawn the alt.pornstar was now Misti Dawn the blogger, pop-culture commentator (for Spike TV, no less), semi-professional self-employed model, private citizen, and wife of a still-performing adult entertainer.

Can a life like that really work out to be the best for all parties concerned, though? It’s one thing to be getting paid to fuck men other than your husband, but what happens when you quit and your husband keeps working and, in fact, starts to reach the apex of his own career on camera?

Shockspot – Now It’s Her Turn

ShockSpotLast week, Mr. Pink’s blog covered a technological innovation that enables men to receive pleasure directly from a real live woman via an Internet connection and a pair of devices: RealTouch and RealTouch JoyStick. To recap, RealTouch Interactive puts a man with his RealTouch sleeve and a woman with her RealTouch JoyStick many miles apart and through the miracle of modern technology allows her to manipulate the joystick how she would manipulate the man’s erection, should they be in the same place. Great news, right? Well, not necessarily for the ladies. They put in all the work and are left holding a now-useless rod of plastic and wires while their partner in the webcam show cleans up and logs off. Typical. Intent on finding something to function much like RealTouch Interactive, but with the immediate benefit affording the woman the heights of ecstasy, I went hunting.

Every adult novelty store, kink boutique, and forum for perversion was a dead-end. Nothing could really come close to RealTouch Interactive. Regardless of dildo size, wattage or voltage, or USB-connectivity, distance still stood in the way of a woman’s pleasure. Then, dear readers, I happened upon it. A hulking beast of machine parts, reconditioned motors, and oil-based lubricants, it’s name? Shockspot. Built to enhance the already immensely pleasurable experience so many women have had riding a Sybian, Shockspot takes the concept of a motorized penetrative pleasure device to a whole new level. With the provided software and a little techno-aptitude, any woman willing to lay down a few grand for a Shockspot can have the device literally fuck her so perfectly she won’t believe it’s not, like, Brad Pitt (or whoever most dames fantasize about these days).

Shockspot’s software (for Windows only) allows the user to customize every three-dimensional movement the machine can make and, planted behind or in front of a desperately horny woman, there’s no limit to the potential thrusting precision and cervix-tapping power of a machine, a monster of metal and circuitry, made to be the ultimate in “fucking machines”. Tailored by the blissed out receiver (and her attached dong or dildo), Shockspot fucks hard or soft, slow or fast, deep or shallow, and vibrates according to whatever its controls are set to. What power! To hold the controls to such a machine in one’s hand and know that, intimacy and commitment issues be damned, you’re about to be plowed and plundered by something far more satisfying than any mere man, far more obedient than some ignorant slob, and as relentless and persistent as any slam-dunking power forward. In short: self-determined sexual bliss.

Ok, so the Shockspot website doesn’t explicitly mention anything about the device being a long-distance-relationship aid or a transcontinental live interactive sex toy, but it’s only a matter of time. I’ve already seen a couple of webcam models who have bought or are planning to buy their very own Shockspot with the intention of allowing their romantically-challenged patrons the chance to man the boards and “fuck” her how they want to. The software isn’t yet publicly available to operate Shockspot in a truly remote sense, but you can be sure it exists, whether at Shockspot HQ or in the backwoods of the sexually-depraved Internet in the hot little code-happy hands of some hacker genius who has no idea the tidal wave of thigh-shuddering orgasms he just unleashed upon a unsuspecting world.

Face it, fellas, with “toys” like this on the market, “toys” that allow women to pound their own pussies in whatever way they please, we’re pretty much future-fucked.