Some very important things in a woman’s life come down to a few simple words.

Virgin.

At first, I was a virgin, and I thought I would stay a virgin forever. I was a chubby little nerd who hid behind the bushes during soccer class. But I was also a horny virgin and when I started going out and searching for boys, I was told:

“Put some clothes on, you look like a slut.”

I didn’t really understand, because my parents were the ones who sent me to the beauty parlour to get my legs waxed and my hair more blond, so I would look prettier. I had to watch what I ate and buy the pants that didn’t make my thighs look fat.

And there I was, a virgin slut. I was tricked and judged guilty of something I hadn’t even done yet.
I felt entitled to my sexuality, to a world full of guys, girls, orgasms, parties, love. Yet, I felt like I had to hide it. It was like being groomed and prepared to be a pretty thing to look at, but never to actually enjoy the attention or express what I wanted.

My porn career started from that same frustration, years after the end of my abominable teenage life. My goal is not to prove that I’m not a slut, but that we are, all, sluts. And that’s ok. Exploring sex is something that we ended up being afraid of, because of all the negative thoughts we have about ourselves, because of the pressures to be and look a certain way.

When people see me, they see a cute little French girl, who blushes and likes to giggle. But somehow, they also rip me from my right to enjoying sex, because I’m supposed to be one of the ‘good girls’. I do porn to reclaim that right.

When I tell people what I do, they look at me, up and down.

“I didn’t know you were like that”, they say.

And I am immediately downgraded to the lowest of the low in our society: the women who take their clothes off for money, the sluts, the whores.

But my body is no threat. Showing it to the world reminds me how powerful I am, how strong I am, and how free I am, with my love handles, my freckles and my horny cunt.

I’m not an object anymore, obsessed with how hot guys thought I was or whether or not they wanted to fuck me. Now, I am obsessed with what I want, who I want to fuck, what I want to experience and what makes ME happy.

It’s a bit about daddy issues, but not the ones we think. You see, the men, our daddies, teach us to remain innocent, within their grasp, like a prized possession. A woman who likes dick and says it openly, is less likely to stay submissive to a boring, cheating husband, as an oven for his kids. So these women are called names, they’re degraded and shamed, as a nice reminder to us all females that straying away from the path of innocence will bring us a lonely life of misery.

Well, this is BS. I like dick. And I respect myself. I meet men who are not threatened by my sexuality. I work, I have fun, I make money. And I’m happy.

Not because guys jerk off to my films, but because I jerk off to them, which has been the whole point since the beginning.