Why Mother’s Day can suck a bag of dicks

Ah, Mother’s Day. That special day that comes along once a year where we pay tribute to the blessed caring angel that ushered us into this world. A time for us to reflect upon and be grateful for the gentle guidance that our mothers provide. Truly, this is one of the sweetest days of the year…

That, or one of many holidays made up to fill in the gaps between the other holidays so that we can fork out some cash for some sentimental trinkets our mothers don’t really need in the first place in order to prove our love.

Either/or, really.

And hey, if you grew up in a perfect Norman Rockwell setting where your mother loved and comforted you and helped mold you into the awesome human being you are today, then kudos. It must be nice. You go with your badass self.

This blog isn’t for those people. This blog is for all those people out there that DIDN’T grow up like that. Cuz there is a lot of us out there. And for many of us, this day is triggering as fuck. Normally we can not focus on the shitty mothering we endured. Normally we can go on with our days and be fine. Not a biggie.

But once a year this concept of perfect mothering gets flung in our faces and becomes almost impossible to avoid. Most people know that Thanksgiving and Christmas are rough holidays, but nobody likes to talk about how hard Mother’s Day can be.

Well, it IS rough for a lot of us out there. But you know what? There are a lot of us. You are not alone. If you had the bad luck of the draw to be dealt the shitty parent card at birth, it WASN’T your fault. You were just a kid. Trying to survive and work with the cards you were given. You can let your past define you, or you can use it as motivation to try and be a better person. Me? I am going to use it as motivation. I am going to make it my fuel.

If you were not blessed with the best of mothers, double down and be twice as good to your own children. Break the cycle, don’t pass it down. And if you see someone out there kicking ass at Mothering, let them know you notice. Acknowledge all of their hard work and give them credit where credit is due. But not just one day out of the year. Because parenting is a full time job. 24/7/365. It is one of the hardest things you will ever have to do. And done properly, one of the most rewarding as well.


Be a lioness

Hi there. You might have heard of me. You might not have. That part doesn’t really apply to my point here.

But if you HAVE heard of me, you probably have heard of me as some sort of Professional Naked Person, one of those girls on the internet with her tits and ass splayed out all over the place. You have probably heard of me as a bondage and fetish model. Maybe even one of those fetish models that likes to do the more “hardcore” stuff. If you have heard of me.

And there is a funny thing that happens when you become one of those people that plasters their naked body all over the internet…it surprises the shit out of people when you have opinions. It is as if folks think you sign a contract when you become a Professional Naked Person that says “I will keep my mouth shut and my holes open. With an exception clause for open mouths when it comes to blow jobs.”

Here is the thing: I never signed any such contract.

So I kept on being me. And the me that I am happens to be a lot more than a bag of holes. I had opinions. I pondered shit. I talked about things that were on my mind. I gave advice. I tried to help people, educate, inspire, motivate. I grant that it might not be typical behavior for most models. But I never felt defined as a person because I have done some modeling.

Being a bag of holes with lots of opinions didn’t sit well with everyone out there. Many people reached out to inform me of this fact. Especially since one of the topics I happen to talk about and cover a lot is bullying, harassment and sexism. Porn stars griping about misogyny tends to be a boner killer. Nobody wants to fap to that.

But like I said, I have never defined who I am as a person because I have done some modeling. I wasn’t going to be quiet because it might kill a stranger’s boner.

And then something amazing started happening. People started reaching out to me. People I did not know. People started telling me that my willingness to speak up inspired them to do the same. That talking about and discussing the “uncomfortable” things gave them the courage to do the same in their own lives. Women would tell me that because of my writing they stood up for themselves for the first time when they got hassled. That they realized that was ok to advocate for your rights. That speaking up for yourself doesn’t make you “fussy” but rather makes you strong.

These stories take my breath away. They humble me. They awe me. If I have helped just one person on this planet then my time while I was here was worthwhile. And you know what? I think I have succeeded in doing just that. And it feels amazing. It makes my heart melt.

Not bad for an opinionated bag of holes, huh?

Lots of love,

Hey Beautiful

Hey beautiful



Da ass doe



Looking fine!!

Love those lips!

Want to chat? Ask me anything? I am an open book!

And of course my personal favorite which just cuts to the chase and is just a few ???? thrown in at your inbox. After all what woman can resist the siren call of some random punctuation tossed at her email?


What all of these have in common is an absolute zero amount of effort. Ok, sure, it took around 3 seconds to find a profile, locate the send message button and type “heyyyyyyy” before pushing “send.”

But if that is the whole of the effort that one is willing to attempt to expend in starting up a dialog, that dialog is going to die a quick death. And then you are left sitting on the other end wondering what the fuck you did that was so wrong, why nobody ever responds, why are people so unfriendly and stuck up? And from there it is easy to tip into a shame and resentment spiral. You start actively disliking people when they do not respond to you & your emails. You start dishing out the follow up “fat and ugly” emails towards all those stuck up bitches.

What, exactly, does that solve?

Sure, you get that quick “got ya” buzz going on for a few minutes after telling some random person that didn’t respond to the email you sent out what a foul hippo they happen to be…but that buzz fades. And you are still there sitting bitter and alone with nobody to chat with. And all the while, the anger and hostility you have pumped out spreads like a low grade toxic wave across the internet.

You put even less effort into your future interactions, you fly off the handle even quicker when these interactions do not go the way you wanted, and that toxic wave spreads.

The common denominator in every single one of your actions is YOU. If you do not like the reactions you are getting to your actions, might I humbly suggest switching up your actions a bit?

Just a thought.




Don’t give them your power

Life often seems like a never ending series of insults, slights and people doing you wrong. Of course, there are moments of bliss. It isn’t all grief and discontentment. But it is human nature for us to focus on the insults and forget all of the compliments. The 99 nice things people say to you are quickly lost and forgotten, but the 1 single insult is still remembered and burns like acid for years.

I am certainly guilty of it myself. All the nice things that people have said to me over the years? They ARE nice, and I do appreciate them, don’t get me wrong. But what one really remembers, what irks like an infected splinter, is the one bad thing someone said to me a year ago. You keep going back over the incident, rehashing it in your mind, what you could have said, how you could have showed them, put them in their place, you wish a plague on their firstborn and a raging case of athlete’s feet.

But one too many years marinating in a resentment stew was starting to make me bitter. And I didn’t like the way I tasted bitter. I was letting people camp out rent free in my head. I was going back to them doing me wrong, over and over, fixating and obsessing on their rudeness, meanness and general faults as a human being. I was giving them my power. They were winning by how much of my energy they were getting. So I kicked them to the curb. Those mooching freeloaders were not paying rent and did not deserve any of my head space.

I am not saying turn the other cheek and be a passive pushover, far from it. I have strong and healthy boundaries and I feel zero guilt about enforcing them. There is no need to accept trolling and mean spirited energy in your life. But when I see myself start to spiral into distress, fretting over insults and people doing me wrong, I check myself. I reclaim my power. Endlessly focusing on all the ways that people have done me wrong was draining me.

Hey, if arguing is your thing and you get off on it, who am I to suggest you stop? If endlessly prowling the internet looking for people to debate and insult and get those verbal digs in makes you feel all tingly inside, have at it. Just don’t do it at me or I will block your ass so fast your head will spin. I am not one of those people that pop powerful internet boners at taking someone apart and victoriously belittling them. The people that want to play that way can go play over there ——> away from me.

And if one day you realize that your resentment and anger is poisoning you and making your flavor bitter, I encourage you to do what I do and put that shit down. It isn’t healthy. I am not saying it is easy. That resentment and frustration has a sneaky way of creeping back into my hand…I look down and see it clenched in a white knuckled grip. And so I set it down again. I let it go. I take a deep breath. And then I like the way I feel these days. I can feel the bitterness drain out. I reclaim my power. I kick the free loading trolls out of my head. They are not welcome here.

Try it for yourself. You might like it, you never know until you try 😀

Food for thought and lots of love,

They can’t save you

It is the stuff of Hollywood movies and endless books and articles. We grow up on the concept. It is fed to us from birth. The concept that your soul mate, your “better half”, is somehow going to come along someday and save you from yourself. That miracle person that is going to make your life so much better that the two of you are bleeding bliss and leaking rainbows of joy out of every orifice, locked in happiness.

What a horrible burden to lay on someone. What a recipe for disaster and disappointment. What could possibly go wrong with such a concept…other than everything?

Nobody can save you from yourself. And expecting them to do so will only end up in misery every single time.

Of course life is easier for most of us with a partner. A team mate. Someone to hang out with, talk to, fuck, cuddle, someone to support you through the good times and bad. Financially, mentally, emotionally and sexually, most of us find that life easier with a partner. Of course.


When you are walking around like a raw open wound, unable to deal with the endless grief that is simply functioning on this planet, and you are expecting your partner to be the hero to rescue you from yourself? Not only will your partner always let you down and not fix your wound, 100% of the time, but you can end up resenting them for failing to rescue you. And that resentment is a toxic killer that destroys relationships every single time.

So you move on to the next partner!! THIS is going to be the one! THIS is the one that will fix everything! But they don’t. They never do. They can not. And so the cycle continues. Over and over. You are never rescued. The other half always disappoints and you are always left wanting. The Hollywood myth of romance is just that, a myth.

Drop the myth. Do not expect that miracle person to come along and save you from yourself. Save your own damn self. And once you are not that raw open wound in desperate need of a band-aide, once you are not looking to be rescued, you will find that relationships get a hell of a lot easier and more satisfying. True story.

Rejection sucks

The common myth is that guys are the ones that do all of the asking and women are the ones that lie back in the pussy position of privilege, accepting or denying as they see fit.

That is a damn myth.

You think women never get rejected for sex? Not hardly. I have been rejected for sex enough times that I can’t even keep track of it at this point. You ask a guy and he passes on the offer. I am not universally appealing just because I have a vagina to sit on. Or if a guy DOES agree to fuck you, once he gets his dick wet he never talks to you again. It is one and done as if you two had never seen each other naked and sweaty.

Women get rejected all the damn time. It is not an exclusive situation to men. And yes, rejection sucks. I get it. I get it from personal experience. But worse than rejection is not being clear and honest about your intentions to others and approaching them with ulterior motives under the guise of friendliness. “Friendliness” with an ulterior motive isn’t friendly. It is manipulation.

Sex with others is not a right, it is a privilege. And when you approach other people operating under the assumption that if you do enough things at them, are “nice” enough, “put enough time in”, that the payoff with be sex and or a relationship, you are just setting yourself up for disappointment and resentment.

When you do not get the payoff of sex or a relationship as a “reward” for all of your hard efforts, you start to resent the person you were being “nice” at. They did not follow along with the script that you wrote for them in your head.

Only problem is that other people have free will and do not follow along with scripts that you write for them. Operating under the assumption that people will somehow owe you something if you do the right things at them is a a breeding ground for disappointment. And disappointment is a bitter flavor that turns people off.

Be clear and direct with your desires and then accept whatever the outcome is, no matter what it might be. Sailing under false flags or expecting that other people’s sexy time attention is your inherent right and privilege isn’t going to take you terribly far…



Earning it

We all have things we want. Desire is the driving force of human beings. I am full of desire myself. There are countless things that I want and crave. But here is the thing: I am not entitled to them. I am honestly entitled to very little in this life.

I am basically entitled to not have others touch me if I do not wish to be touched by them. My body is my own domain. I am not entitled to much else. (there are some people out there that do not agree with this concept. I wish to stab such people with a rusty fork)

I am not entitled to a job.
I am not entitled to sex with others.
I am not entitled to anyone else’s time, energy or attention.
All those things are delightful to have, but they are not *guaranteed.*

I have to EARN those things. I earn them by being polite, engaging, fun, respectful and a desirable person to spend time with. The less I am an asshole the more it seems that other people want to interact with me.

It is no guarantee, of course. I would like to get everything I want from others at all times. I would like bucketloads of respect and admiration and every single person I ever meet thinking I am so fabulous that I sweat glitter. Who wouldn’t?

But that isn’t how it works. Not matter how awesome I might try and be, not everyone in the world will like my particular flavor. And not every single people in the world that I want to have sex with will throw their genitals at me in awe at my sexiness.

And that is ok. I accept that. I have found out that the nicer and more respectful I am to other people the more that they do the same to me. You get in what you put out. I am paying forward the energy I wish to get from others. It doesn’t always work, but it is a darn sight better than being a miserable toxic negative person. Festering in a negative stew has always felt pretty shitty me.

People also have the right to change their mind about your flavor at any time. It is called free will. Sometimes someone that thought I was awesome stops thinking so. I also accept that. It might make me sad, but I accept it. I can’t expect that just because something was one way at one point it will always be like that. That isn’t how life works.

Me? I am just going to sit here and work on being less of an asshole. I am a work in progress. I have good days and bad days. Like we all do. But I never give up.

The secret of the dick

At this point in my life, I can safely say I have been around some dick in my day. One might go so far as to say that I am a bit of a cock wrangler. As in, I know me some dick. And today I am going to impart some cock knowledge upon you. The big one. The one that everyone stresses about. Are you ready? Here goes:

**Dicks are not light switches. They do not have only two modes, off and on.**

But people seem to think that that is the only two ways that cock comes. Hard or soft. On or off. Ready or offline. And the trauma if you want it hard and it does not cooperate? The horror. The misery.

I actually feel sorry for guys. On the whole, they are so dick centric that it is cock or GTFO. Dick dick dick and nothing else. Me? Just about everything makes me cum. My whole body is a sexual smorgasbord. I have cum from having my toes sucked on, fisting someone’s ass, getting my hipbone licked, getting my calves caned, watching other people fuck…the world is my sexual oyster. Men? If the dick isn’t in the “on” position they don’t seem to know what to do with themselves.

Folks? It isn’t all about the dick. The dick has a mind of its own. You can not control the dick. It will be hard, soft, semi, working, ignoring you, hard as a rock in front of your grandma at Christmas and squishy pudding in front of that hot girl that you crave sawing in half with your cock. It is not to be counted on.

But men can’t talk about these things. As far as they can tell, they are the only ones with a dick that they can’t control. Every other male out there is just a rampant battering ram that is busy tattooing his initials on every available cervix.

Us women? We know better. We are the ones hanging out with the cock, we know how it goes. We don’t stress on dick half as much as men do. I have seen dick in all of its states. And I love it every which way. If you are not presenting as a battle ax ready to do some serious damage, you have fingers, tongues and best of all, your mind. Get creative! Free yourself from the limits of the cock box. There is more to you than just a dick.

And while none of us can control the dick, women can help. My biggest secret is using one of my hands to form an impromptu cock ring at the base of the dick to help trap blood while giving a blowjob. If he is semi, see if you two can’t get it harder. If it is hard and fades, get that mouth and hands to work. And if the dick takes a vacation and is unavailable, don’t stress on it. Lord knows I don’t. If we aren’t banging today, we will probably be banging tomorrow. And as it is, I am naked and hanging out with someone I like. That isn’t a bad way to spend the day, no matter what happens…

Soft, hard and everything in between

Soft, hard and everything in between

Thirsty fucks

Of COURSE women want the sex. Of course of course. Mad passionate fierce pulse pounding sex. Epic earth shattering sex. Sweaty messy undignified fucking. We love all those things just as much as men do.

So why does the dance always seem like it is the men doing all the asking and the women doing all the rejecting?

Because women have a lot more to lose. It really is as simple as that. They are putting a lot more on the table.

*Women are at a higher risk of STIs (the receiving partner in any encounter always is)
*Women are the ones that carry the burden of possible pregnancy, not men.
*And women tend to have up to a half a foot and a 100 pound weight disadvantage on men. In any encounter, if the other person has a 100 pounds on you, you will be erring on the side of caution.
*I am not even going to get started on the societal shaming if a woman has a healthy sex drive.

If men were the ones that got knocked up, had their junk go all spotty and drippy and every time they turned on the news another male body had been found dumped dead in a field, they might not be always charging around, penis blazing, seeking wet holes.

But that isn’t how life is. Women are the ones that have to deal with those cards. Not men. So we go slow. We take our time. We do not rush. What do we have to gain by rushing into things? Not much, to be perfectly honest. We take our time to see if what it is you are proposing is worth the possible risk.

And you know what? If we decide what you are offering isn’t worth the risk, we pass and move on. You are peddling a product in a flooded market. There is a ton of dick out there. High risk and low reward dick. Your dick is the 10th one we have been offered today. And there will be another one hopefully poking about right behind it.

So how do you make *YOUR* dick stand out from the crowd?

Here is a crazy thought: How about treating her as a human being as opposed to just a wet receiving hole?

When you take the time to get to know her, make her comfortable, see what makes her tick, all those walls come down. And once those protective walls are down, the holes are yours. By all means, make her your groveling 3 holes cum dump (if that is what you have both consented to)

But you have to earn the right to those holes. If all you are doing if popping up with a “here is a dick” offer, you are not standing out in the flooded cock market. And your odds are pretty damn low. And then sometimes men get bitter and pissy that their needs are not getting met and they flounce about crankily muttering about how women are all stuck up prudes that just need to relax a little and have some fun for once.

Dude. You are cock blocking your own damn selves sometimes. Come on now.

Put in your time, you get the pussy. Don’t put in the time, much less pussy. It is that simple. Good luck on your journey!


How DO you do it??

Of all the emails I get, one of the most common ones goes along the lines of “How do you do it? You are in such good shape and so flexible! (I am not. I have a completely fused spinal cord. But that is a different story.) What is your secret??

As if I have discovered a secret magic path of being in shape and flexible. Well, I am about to show you the way! The secret will be revealed! Behold. You can now throw every diet book away. Just follow the (not) patented Rain DeGrey way to a toned midsection. Are you ready? Here goes nothing:

Eat right and exercise.

Yup. That is it. I work out every single day and watch what I eat. That is my sole secret.

Does working out daily and living on rice sound dreadful and not worth the effort? Perhaps to some. But the funny thing is that the better I take care of myself the better I feel. It becomes self reinforcing. The more I take my vitamins, eat organic everything and get my stretching in, the better my body feels and the more I want to take care of it.

Your body is the only one you have. Unlike cars, you don’t get to do a trade in and upgrade to a newer model. When I don’t work out and eat like shit, I feel like shit. It is that simple. I am highly motivated to take care of the vehicle that I will be stuck in until the day I shuffle off this mortal coil.

Plus. Abs!

Follow my not trademarked secret and who knows? You just might find yourself with more energy, a smaller clothing size and a happier body. Give it a try 🙂

As always,