What? No takers? Prudes. :P

The trouble is, especially in the trans community, there's this whole stigma associated with sex -- as if we have to distance ourselves from it to demonstrate to society that our identities aren't defined by it.

Actually, I'm probably the "thinking porn" type, if there is such a thing. I like imagination and touch. The old "in-out" does nothing for me, no matter how cute he or she is, unless there's something to engage the imagination.

When I first came out, one of the few environments that was welcoming was the leather community. They often didn't quite "get it" with transsexualism, but were usually completely okay with it anyway. And they usually knew how to engage the imagination.

So, um, maybe being blindfolded, arms trussed above (by someone I trust), not knowing if I'm about to be spanked, tickled, touched or taken roughly. Imagination. I don't know that it's what I'd call my "ideal" pornographic scenario, but it'd be one of my naughtiest.

Top that, ya chickens,
Mercedes the Insolent

Oooo, Mercedes popped the comment cherry! Love it! I'd say I'd spank you, but it sounds like you might like it. ;)

As for my ideal porn set-up, I'm kind of traditionalist.

I think a good one would be being the soft spoken towel boy for a football team, cleaning up the locker room after the big game. The rowdy team comes in from the showers, excited after winning. I'd offer to take their towels, to which they would answer "You'll take more than that".

And cue the wacka-chicka-waa-waa...

hmm hot Tgulr seduces closet lesbain then makes her her girl hehe.

I'm rather a voyeur so I tend to like the X-tube homemade videos. So in my ideal scenario - I'd be the cameraman or (to steal from Jere!) the makeup artist.

I used to manage a video store that had the obligatory "back room" - limited by local law to 20% of store space. Our problem was keeping it under 40% of profits. I was in the biz long enough to meet a bunch of porn so-called stars and give seminars to other video store people about how to merchandise them.

Needless to say, I have a rather blase, so-what attitude towards porn. I would tell people that I rented porno movies to rednecks for a living; I also used to joke that porn kept Grandpa off the streets. You develop that attitude when you've seen the Tommy Lee and Pam Anderson wedding video a couple times a week while repairing damaged VHS copies(neither one of them is any great shakes in bed, the way it looked to me). You really aren't impressed when you've met too many coked and meth'd up, emaciated, over made up porn stars (of both genders) who looked good onscreen, but looked unhealthy and fake in the flesh.

I don't hate porn, or any adult behavior - if it makes ya happy (and doesn't hurt anyone else without their permission), it can't be that bad.
But, well, I'm not impressed. Most T people aren't, because we see the negative image portrayed of T people by the adult industry, which pretty much sets the image of our community for the Religious Reich.

Wow, ya'll are tame and not very descriptive.

Alex, you'll have to forgive me for taking credit for this story . . . I think we co-wrote it that one time in the hot tub. (Memories . . .)

A nice suit and tie guy takes his car to the tire store to get his tires fixed. He pulls up and a greasy mechanic asks, "how can I help you?" The suit says, "I need to get my tires rotated." The mechanic says, "Let's get you up on the rack." **Cue bom-chicka-wa-wa music**

After a nice dirty sex scene up against the tire rack, another mechanic comes in to check on the commotion. He says, "what's going on here?" Cue the cheesey music again, but this time, there's a threeway in the employee shower room. (Hey, they may be grease monkeys, but everyone loves a dirty shower.) Here comes the money shot, and scene!

Open scene: Some light theremin and synthesizer music. Black and white, filmed on an old 8mm camera. One man, wearing a zebra-print loincloth and a pair of fake antlers, pulls a book out from one of three small bookshelves in what is a giant, otherwise empty minimalist public library.

A librarian, with a giant deer's head and giant glasses, comes into the scene. "The book you have chosen is about male genitalia and the men in zebra-print loincloths who enjoy them." She then disappears in a puff of smoke.

"Yes," the man says. "Male genitalia. Love paraphernalia. Rocket to the MOON, if you catch me. And I bet you do. Who am I talking to?"

Another mostly naked man enters the scene, holding a pizza box, wearing a makeshift Speedo which is two large pizza slices tied together with rope. "You look hungry," he says. "You have an urge. Binge, don't purge, on a spicy slice that guarantees to suffice. Yeah."

Zebra Cloth Man opens the book, and places it on top of Pizza Boy's head. "ABSORBING THE MEATY IMAGERY," the two say in unison, "I NEED NOT DISHES, JUST MY WISHES, TO PARTAKE IN MAN-SAUSAGE CARNALLY."

In a bad stop-and-start-again camera trick, the librarian reappears out of thin air, with the deer head now having a large afro wig on. "Forty whacks in the stacks, with built-in snacks. Undie cheese-bread flapjacks. Stuffed crust, baby. DIG." She then disappears in a puff of sequins, a few of which impale the two subjects and leave tiny, lightly bleeding wounds.

"DIG," the two say in unison. "Ow," one of them ad-libs.

Questionable editing leads to an abrupt cut to an extended fellatio scene. The room is full of men and women in caveman garb, of all legal ages, chanting "CHUG-A-LUG! CHUG-A-LUG! CHUG-A-LUG!" The on-camera chanting outlives the sound dub of them chanting, naturally, giving it that extra, unintended, surreal effect.

Zebra Loincloth Man pulls the wang out of his mouth, strokes on it a bit, and looks up at Pizza Briefs Man. He grins a slight bit, looks directly up at the camera, and asks:

"Hey, got any more of that pizza?"

Pizza Man looks down, licks his lips, grins, laughs heartily, then stops. He stares longingly at the camera for 34 seconds. He blinks twice. His eyes widen, his teeth grind and he begins to yell: "AaaAhh. AAaaAAHHH. GAAAAAHHHHH! AAAAAHHHHH! RRAAAAAAARRGHHH! GRrRrRRAAAAHH!" The camera quickly cuts to his kneeling subject having pearl necklaces and open containers of yogurt thrown at his face from all directions off camera, then back to Zebra Man, his face now contorted; almost tortured; panting in a barely controllable fashion.

"You saw me bring in the box, dumbass."

Deer Head Librarian returns, with a "flip" as opposed to an afro. She screams: "I ATE IT, BITCH." She quickly disappears in another puff of smoke.

Scene fades to black and the word "FIN" appears, with a barely audible sneeze heard in the background.