The Adventures of Diddy's Mug

28 March 2006

My Man Is...

My Man is a freelance porn photographer.



Let that sink in. I’ll wait.



My kind, gentle, patient Man takes pictures of naked girls for websites. He’s currently working for a group trying to get a website together called “Outdoor Whores.” The problem is this huge internet company called TRFCN that’s based in Michigan, which somehow buys domain names and parks them. One of the addresses they have is outdoorwhores.com. There’s been a huge, annoying fight over it, and at this point, the group might have to rethink the web address or name of the site.

Either way, my Man’s getting paid. He had a girl lined up when we were in Dallas, and the reason why we headed west when we left was because he had another shoot in Abilene. Then he went east-ish to Little Rock, then on to Memphis and Nashville. His last girl was in Knoxville, and that’s where he got sick. He now has 20 shoots under his belt, and has the rights to all the photos until the group fulfills the contract and sends him a final check. There’s also something in the contract about royalties. In case you’re thinking that 20 girls doesn’t seem like a lot for a site, he says there are actually 60 to start with, but he didn’t do all of them. Some other guy did the girls on the east coast, and a husband and wife team who are totally into the S&M/WAM thing did the west coast.

I didn’t believe my Man at first when he was telling me all this, but then he took me to the back of his truck and showed me all the lighting stuff he has. You know those silvery reflector things? He has those, and says they help keep shadows off the girls. Yeah, he even uses them outside. He also showed me his camera, which was huge. One of the lenses was so big, it wouldn’t even fit inside me. Wow.

My Man also explained the party in Dallas, since I got too drunk to remember all of it. Apparently, there was more to the night than me just grabbing guys’ dicks. After that, he says I took Dallas into the room and blew him, but Dallas was too drunk to do anything else and passed out. Then I apparently took another dude into another room and we were messing around, but someone busted in and got us out. That’s when the Spam thing started.

So my Man’s doing better. He’s really glad he was done with the assignment before he got sick. I asked him how he might have caught a bacterial infection, and he says he doesn’t know. He must have seen a certain look on my face because he said something like “Before you starting inventing stories in your head, you can’t get what I had from having sex with girls you photograph outdoors.” He said he doesn’t hook up with the models anyway. I told him I was more worried about him catching something when we were in Dallas from having sex with… um… me, and he said he never had sex with me either, spam or no spam. I guess I was just assuming he joined in, but he said he would never do that, since he’s taking care of me. Plus, he said even if he wanted to he wouldn’t, because he would feel really creepy about it after seeing that Junk Stuffer took his junk and stuffed me.

Since my Man’s done with work for the time being, he’s taking me hiking and to see a few cities before he goes back home. He won’t tell me where home is because he says I’ll blab and then some of you might figure out who he is. OK, so other than the mystery of his home city, I think I’ve caught all of you up, and there are no more loose ends. Let me know if I forgot anything.

Thanks for reading, guys. I’ll have pictures next time.

-Diddy’s Mug