I've belonged to SG (is "belong" the right word? It sure feels like club sometimes) a few times over the years. I'd quit because it's so addictive, so easy to get drawn in, to find people you keep up with, even some, absurd as it sounds, you start to feel like you know, despite all the barriers. And then some bored afternoon years later I'd sign up again. And I'm right back where I started, like now, falling down an SG K-hole!

The first time I joined was not that long after the launch and the place had a different feel. It had just emerged from the dial up era with a core group of women who were taking on the means of production and deciding what the rules should be. The sets were sketchier, a lot of them self-shot, low quality. It was nothing like it often is now, with so many professionally shot sets designed to be a launching pad for more lucrative revenue streams on places like OnlyFans. The invitational frankness you sometimes see, that's now meant to suggest that there will be even racier stuff behind a paywall, felt more like a function of an individual personality back then. That is, some girls seemed more hard core, and they presented overtly sexual content—high-res full frontal stuff—as part of their kick ass style. There seemed to be a fight over the soul of the place and different factions started forming. I mean everybody was just as naked, mostly, so it can seem kind of silly in retrospect, but that was the vibe.

This was just about the time they started adding tags, and there was initial embarrassment about them. Acronyms came into play, like "psfb" because people seemed a little embarrassed to use terms like "pussy shot from behind" straight up. I started one tag, because I like what I like. I forget what it was now, something vague like "mouthful." It was probably more clever than that, because the point was to be suggestive but not rude. I hoped that anyone who figured it out would laugh. Eventually somebody caught on that I applied it only to sets that were not just explicit (there were far fewer crotch shots then) but to women whose labia minora hung like flowers, braided or curled in on themselves extravagantly, declaratively. Sometimes the angle of a shot would catch this specific thing I love, so that the silhouette stood out, an unmistakable virgule against a bright background. It stops my heart, and, yes, makes my mouth water.

Well, somebody figured this out and objected and for a while I lost tagging privileges. It seems so different now and this time I've started a different tag, for that same weakness: "Curtains of Venus." I hope no one objects.