Here we go again.  What was once underground and too real for the great unwashed is now being hijacked by a bunch of fakers and fools.  The sex blog and the sex industry in general are in grave danger.  Do you remember when supersexstories complained that this site needs more sex stories?  It was the complaint of the average person.  It was the complaint of the plebeian.  Super Sex is totally subjective.  Cumming on a woman’s face may be super to some, but completely superfluous to others.  A shaved bush may be a turn-on to some, but eerily close to a pre-teen’s illegal snatch to others.  Gay sex with a buck-toothed black man on a hardwood floor may be sexy to some, but. . . nah, that’s never sexy.

So here’s the sad truth: Imaginative ordinary people are running wild with the very dream of silentpillow.  We are suddenly bombarded with stories of “Bon Voyage” parties for strippers at strip clubs, and so-called “First American Legal Male Prostitutes.”  These things may appear fresh and edgy to the sheltered liberal pseudo-journalist.  Meanwhile, haggard veterans of the sex world like yours truly scoff at such tall tales.  I can prove all of the sensational sex blogs as total bullshit.  How?  Easy.  I have one friend in the real world.  Everyone else I know lives in an underground sex world.  A fantasy world, if you will.

Consider the strip club: Dark, smelly, loud.  A lot like Hell.  The spoken word dies in one’s ear.  The sleazy DJ shouts nonsense to a group of disinterested and disenchanted pleasure seekers.  Lies trump truth, fear conquers courage, gratification precedes honor.  The bouncer nervously eyes the dancer.  The dancer loathes and pities the customer.  The manager watches the bottom line.  And the DJ is the lowest piece of scum in the entire world.

Consider the DJ: A dickless, soulless cunt.  Forced to play hideous rap and rock on CDs that skip and get cut off at 3 minutes.  In fact, the DJ is a lot like a fly.  He regurgitates on himself over and over again; living a pointless existence to be mourned by no one.  His carcass will most likely be buried under a dung heap.  No one will weep for the strip club DJ — For no man has ever acknowledged such a vile and pathetic creature.  The strip club DJ is oblivious and uncouth.  He is like a blind sloth, laid out on his back, making a great repulsive stink.  He ejaculates the occasional obscenity because he, himself, is an obscenity.

So who are the true sex workers?  Who are the true sex bloggers?  Well, I will tell you.  We educate your children.  We influence your media.  We organize groups and lead them to bright new frontiers.  We live in your neighborhoods, attend your social functions, are well read and well traveled . . . and . . . most important . . . above and beyond everything else. . . we keep it real.  Every single sex worker, after a great amount of time in the industry, will admit that there are more “cons” than “pros” in the career.  That is what makes it a job.  Because, when it is all said and done, sex workers still have to work with people and we all know that people are the worst.  I hate people.

A seasoned sex worker hardly writes about sex.  It’s not that important.  If you are an engineer, do you use your blog for boring engineer shit?  Probably not.  You probably write about sex because your boring engineer life is just too depressing to handle.  No.  I’m wrong.  If you are an engineer, you probably blog about football or coach YAFL or some shit.  If you are a sex worker, you are too bored with sex work, and writing about it in a blog will get quite tiresome quickly.  Sure, we enjoy sharing the occasional anecdote about a dick and the poor son of a bitch who is attached to it or a Japanese slut.  But, seriously, after the twelfth dick or the twentieth Asian slut, it gets a little old.  So we write about particle accelerators and Presidential candidates to keep our sanity.

And who the fuck is Rosa Parks?  Will we ever see another Rosa Parks?

Inspiration is dead.

Original post by Charles J. Chinwannabutr