All Eyes On Me // 2:54 – 3:30

Categories: slut blog
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Hi! I’m Fonda, the creator of all the content you see on this fucked up little corner of the internet. The other person you’ll see mentioned regularly on this blog is J. We’re a couple of sluts. Or maybe I’m enough of a slut for both of us? We’ve been together for 18 years and legally bound apocalypse partners for almost 16.

I spent the better part of our relationship doing XXX webcam shows & making indie porn until recently. Now I just make dick jokes, take candid pics/vids on Snapchat & write about the slutty stuff we get up to.

Sometime in 2021 we collectively decided to outsource the responsibility for satisfying (most of) my insane sex drive to the general public & this is what my brain decided to with the onslaught of experiences we’ve had so far.

If it’s easier, consider my orifices a trio of investigative journalists & this site like a personal text & image based time capsule of the debauchery we encounter.

New updates go live every Monday, released in full publicly the following Monday. Not every entry is completely public to begin with (for free. hey, don’t judge me, capitalism is the problem here), but eventually most of the posts here will be available, to the public for free…eventually.

🔒 Welcome to the Internet // 0:00 – 0:14

Categories: SWer things

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After a week of poking around the internet I stumbled on to a green, beachy site that responded like the last time it was updated was when JenniCam was still a thing. But the women on it seemed to actually be making money. I was so sure it was some sort of scam, but also too stubborn to not at least have a second look & try to get the people who seemed to already be working on it talk to me. Being someone who was practically raised on the internet I eyed the prospect of making money to be hot & naked on the internet with what I think was the proper amount of skepticism.

I picked the top girl to approach first, which I know now was a mistake (and for good reason – don’t bother people while they’re working). She banned me faster than I could figure out what the fuck happened. Okay. Cool, cool.

I realized part of the problem might be the language barrier. A lot (and I mean a good 75%) of the top earners on this site seemed to be from Eastern Europe. I sorted by country & did my best to find someone who shared my native language who wasn’t going to immediately axe me, a faceless name in their DM’s, as competition.

I scrolled the green & white sea of face until I spotted one that seemed to have the same vibe I wanted to put on display. Nerdy, tattoos, piercings & a sugary-sweet “fuck you, pay me” disposition. I still remember her name, but who knows if she’s still active or even wants her cam years associated with that particular moniker.

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Wig In A Box // 0:28 – 1:56

Categories: SWer things
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I’ve always said it wasn’t hugely surprising to anyone that J & I ended up taking this step in our relationship. Anyone who has actually taken the long stretch of time, trial & error to get to know me saw it coming even if I didn’t.

“Wow” you’re probably saying to yourself “you must have been a giant whore!” and you’d be sorta right with that guess.

Several lifetimes ago in 2008, while living in rural Hell, I decided it was high time I got myself a job. I was 19, had been living with J for 4 years & hadn’t done much except fail to stay in high school & have a baby on my hip. I felt useless as hell not being able to help financially contribute. I gathered all my awkward “last year as a teenager, but actually somehow an adult” courage & walked my way to the local grocery store to apply.

I filled out the app, turned it in & got an interview on the spot. The manager invited me into his office & before he even introduced himself told me I’d “have to dye my hair a normal color”. Uhhh, I was under the impression red WAS a normal color, even if this particular shade of firetruck red didn’t occur in humans naturally. Alright.

He checked out my application as I tried to explain my situation. “You’d have to cover that tattoo so long sleeves would be necessary anytime you’re at work & let that nose piercing heal.” At the time I had very few body modifications, a single nostril piercing & a tattoo of a fully dressed clown hench-wench that takes up maybe 4 inches on my upper arm.

My heart dropped. I knew this was coming, but I figured I’d done alright getting “acceptable” modifications that were easy enough to hide if need be. By this point, we’d lived in rural hell for a year or so. I knew exactly how much anything out of the norm scared the shit out of these people.

I swallowed my pride & told him I’d comply with whatever company policy was if they gave me a chance. I had a baby, J’s job wasn’t paying for shit, we needed money. I was desperate & I’m sure it showed on my face plain as day, as much as I tried to hide it.

He smirked at me & told me to dye my hair & come knock on his door again sometime. My stomach churned. I quietly grabbed my purse, said the usual bullshit pleasantries that pass for goodbye in this situation & walked home with what I can only describe now as stubborn resolve.

As J went to work that night, I got to work googling “how to make money on the internet”. Within a week, I had a plan.

Whorehoppin’ (Shit, Goddamn) // 0:20 – 0:33

Categories: Club Dionysus, slut blog
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After our first dive into the club side of all this, we felt a bit more confident and comfortable with what to expect our second time around. The week theme? Cinco De Mayo. Being a Mayonnaise American myself, I decided I’d just wear whatever sluttiness I could squeeze myself into. It ended up being a shiny, short black dress with a deep v-cut to really highlight my massive cleavage.

Neither J nor myself was at all aware of how to start the night, I took my pre-mixed drinks (yay for BYOB) & found us a spot on the giant couch by the entryway to people watch. No one really took notice of us until a beautiful, dark haired woman we’ll refer to as Darth eventually found us. I didn’t know it at the time (even though I’m sure she told me as much), but she’s the unofficial (and at times unwilling) club social butterfly. She floats through the club looking both intimidating & inviting, like if one of those chatty flowers from Alice in Wonderland if it could kill you with a dusting of it’s petals. She made her introductions, welcomed us to the club & flittered away leaving my misanthropic ass a bit stunned and impressed.

I sucked down the last of my drink & ran out to the car to grab another. Put me naked in front of a crowd of paying people & I’m good. I turn on like a money activated doll. But I was quickly realizing this was a very different situation than what I was used to from being a SWer for a decade and change. I was nervous as hell and stunned when I realized: I actually wanted these people to like me. I, Fonda fuckin’ Dix actually wanted to make a good impression & show respect just based on what we’d seen so far. I wanted to be absorbed into this amazing group of people. This was the first demonstration of community I’d seen as an adult, albeit a very naked one and I was hooked.

After a bit of floating around inside with the pretty lights & pumping music, trying to find a place to chill as we people watched, we ended up on the patio for a smoke. A little awkward fumbling & squeezing past the crowd later & we found a picnic table. It was so beautiful outside & it seemed like most of the club goers were out here anyway, so we decided to make camp for the evening while we both scooped out the scene.

It was an amazing variety of people, some of who stood out a lot better than others – by design I’m sure. There’s Banana Hammock, the uber tan gentleman who seemed to own a thong for every possibly theme the club could throw his way. Han, Darth’s dude, who was just as social and eye catching as his lady. The amount of variety from shapes to aesthetic this place had was like going to the Baskin Robin’s of flesh. By this point in the evening, I knew that I wanted to keep throwing what money we could at this place as long as they kept letting me in the doors.

While sitting there dazed by all the activity & naked bodies strutting around, I notice a shy, skinny figure staring at me so I stared back & smiled. Over walks a lanky, awkward-but-adorable looking human rocking a leather jacket, simple shirt & gold chains. He sat down & the first thing my brain could spit out at me was “how the fuck can he be comfortable in that thing? It’s like 75 degrees out still.” The second thing was “I’m probably gonna fuck this guy, aren’t I?

What’s This? // 1:53 – 2:01

Categories: Club Dionysus, slut blog
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After getting J & my favorite perverts on Snapchat up to speed on our weekend plans, I checked the club’s website to see what the “theme” was for the weekend. I won’t lie, “theme nights” were one of the many things they advertised that I loved before we even walked through the doors. I can’t help it, I’m corny as fuck. That particular week, the theme turned out to be lingerie. “Well, shit” I thought to myself “being an P4P internet slut for over a decade is about to pay off”.

I decided to document the event as much as possible & created a little Snapchat story.

Being the anxiety ridden asshole I am, even if I was excited for the theme, I wanted to be fully dressed while we were deciding whether or not to stick around past orientation. But I also wanted to look fuckin’ hot so I got all prettied up & human looking in a pair of skin tight black leggings & cleavage amplifying leopard print shirt. Honestly, if I had a default outfit like a TV show character that never ages, that combo + some combat boots is probably what it would be.

Tits out, face firmly stapled in place & a head full of questions that would soon be answered, I got into the car & we headed to the club. I got lost in my thoughts & curiosity as J navigated to the address we were given. I don’t exactly know what I thought it would be like when we walked in the door, but little did I know, my expectations would be quickly surpassed.

We grabbed our drinks (yay for BYOB places) & walked towards the front door, squeezing our way into the entryway. We were told orientation just started & we could probably find a seat at the bar so we did just that.

We walked passed the black curtain separating the front desk from the rest of the club, found some stools at the bar & took our seats just as one of the owners started introducing himself & his partner on the mic. I watched on in socially anxious horror as he then passed the mic around with instructions for everyone to introduce themselves & say how long they’ve been in the lifestyle. I like to pride myself on being pretty witty in the moment. I even had time to think up some grand introduction, but when that microphone hit my hand all I could manage to get out was “I’m Fonda…I’m new.” Which is technically not very accurate, but I figure when around a room full of people who have 10+ years experience with IRL sluttery & you’re only rocking a year & some months, you feel pretty fuckin’ new to everything in comparison.

After some awkward introductions (not just mine, thank fuck), Owner XY quickly dove into a surprisingly impressive PowerPoint presentation (that is 100% not a joke) that explained in a very no-bullshit type of way what was expected of any patrons who might want to spend the evening at the fine establishment we were currently sitting in.

The top two rules were pretty simple to remember & definitely what I would consider a requirement for a place like this operate in a safe & sane way.

  1. Consent. Enthusiastic consent no less. No one was to lay hands on (or more) anyone in the club without their go ahead. If anyone broke this rule, club security (who roams the club & easy as fuck to spot) was to be notified & the offending piece of shit who couldn’t grasp the basic concept of consent was to be immediately removed from the club & possibly banned from ever returning, depending on the situation.
  2. No taking videos or pictures unless you are in the designated spots. Crap, there went my Snapchat story idea… Thankfully there are two areas that it’s allowed in & they’re pretty easy to find because they’re marked with a giant logo of the club. To those who are wondering why the fuck a sex club would ever care about people taking videos/pics & aren’t deeply aware of the socials stigma put on sex/people who enjoy it in a more non-traditional way: this is to protect the patrons public facing lives. You’d be surprised how fast your life can be upturned & imploded just because a picture or video of you doing something technically legal, but in the wrong environment to be considered “acceptable” gets put on the internet.

    I’m gonna be honest and say, I’m not even sure writing about my own experiences inside of the club is allowed, but I’m trying REALLY damn hard to be as vague and discreet as possible while recounting this. Like I do with any other entries I have on here. And I’d hope if the owners and/or board members were to ever stumble across this blog & the entries pertaining to their club, they’d approve of the way I’ve gone about it. Or at least not kick me out.

After we finished the presentation part of the orientation (which by the way, 10/10 – really well done), we were given a tour & the more I saw, the more I was very sure we had to become members. As we stopped at each part of the building, our lovely host, Owner XY encouraged everyone to go explore each room & I happily trudged my unapologetically nosey ass through the crowd of doe-eyed people frozen at the entrance of each room, to feast my eyes on all the possibilities this place could hold.

By the time we finished the tour, my mind was going a million miles an hour & I knew exactly how I wanted to spend the rest of my night. We sat & I finished my first drink as I watched a sea of people swirl around me, some adhering to the night’s theme, some not. Blame it on bad impulse control or thank the liquid courage, but when J asked me if I wanted to go home, change into something more slutty, stop at the store to grab snacks & come back, I jumped at the opportunity. The impulse to completely immerse myself in this place was undeniable.

As we drove home, I updated Snapchat to the night’s outfit change & future plans. The second we got into the house, I ran upstairs and riffled through my drawers, eventually picking out two choices. After letting J see both options, asking for his help in choosing & asking my perverts, we had a clear winner: a black, see-through v-neck top, no bra, a pair of ass cheek showcasing short-shorts, no panties & some glittery fishnet pantyhose (with the crotch cut out. I figure ya never know when you may need easy access). I popped my combat boots back on & grabbed a coat to cover up the fact my tits were on display so that we could get through the snack run without me getting arrested for indecent exposure.

We piled back into the car & again I got lost in thought about how amazing this place was. How I had some how managed to stumble across real world nirvana. Slutty Valhalla. A version of Heaven that I could not only get into, but maybe even thrive in.

The night was just getting started.