Who do I think I'm kidding? You're reading this on a site called stupidmaria.com - a so-called reality-style porn site about me and how stupid I am. So I'm thinking what's the use in trying to convince you that I'm not stupid?

I don't know why my new webmaster (or do I call her webmistress if it's a girl?) wants me to write this. It's not a rebuttal. If I didn't want to be Stupid Maria, the best thing we could do is take the damned site offline. But that's not what I'm doing. I'm writing, in every little detail, an account of how I became ... this.

Really, I'm not stupid. But that's my face, and my name on the web site. And it's pictures of my ass floating all over the internet that drive traffic to the site. And it's videos of me doing really degrading sex acts at some of the lowest moments of my life that sell memberships. So I must be stupid, right?

It's really fucked up (pardon my language) that I'm left holding the bag on this whole thing. It wasn't my idea. It didn't begin like this at all. I was in a bad spot, and my boyfriend took advantage.

The way it started was when I got fired at the grocery store. I got "let go" for making too many mistakes. And you know, I'd just as soon leave out this part of the story. It was a really bad time, getting fired from that job. But I can't leave it out, because she wants me to leave it in. What's the difference? It's so god damned mixed up.

Anyway, I made some mistakes on the cash register. I can't believe they have codes for six different types of lettuce. Lettuce - seriously, if I asked you right now to identify six types of lettuce by sight, could you do it? Right.

So they moved me to bakery, and I did pretty good for a while, until they started riding me about product rotation. The manager was a bit of an asshole. He'd stop to "supervise" me, but really he was just there to eyeball me. He was constantly trying to look down my blouse when I was stocking shelves. I was too embarrassed to mention it. I just ignored the bastard, which probably screwed me in the end, because there were girls who messed up way worse than I did, but they didn't take any shit, so they kept their jobs.

This is one of the very few humiliating scenes from my life in the last year that you won't find floating around the Internet as a video. Me, getting fired from a crappy job. And I actually cried. It wasn't so much the job itself, or even the money - that part of it hit me later. It was the fact that this was a really crappy job, and that I wasn't good enough for it.

I thought about my parents, and what they would say. Then I thought about my friends - some of whom worked at the store. Last, I thought about some of the bitchy girls who worked there, and all the catty stuff they'd say when they heard about it. All the while I'm sobbing away in the office of my lecherous soon-to-be-ex-boss, he's probably thinking about how to get me out of his office so that he can share the news of my firing with the bakery manager.

Pretty girl - not too bright. Maybe she could clean houses, or pick berries, or something.

I'm enrolled in college, for goodness sake. It's not like I have to work minimum wage jobs for the rest of my life. Good thing, too, because this was my third attempt at a crappy job, and I don't think I'm cut out for it. That doesn't make me stupid. I'm smart enough to write ... you can see that. I can be witty from time-to-time. I'm even smart enough to know that all my attempts to prove how smart I am are just making my "stupidity" the central issue of my existence, and I'm not coming out on the winning end of the contest.

I had to let my parents know about the job. They had helped me buy a new car, on condition that I would make the payments. Now that deal was screwed. Hell, soon it'd be a challenge just to afford gas to commute to school every day.

They love me, but I disappoint them sometimes, and I hate to be around them when they look at me all sympathetic like that.

When I met Kevin on campus, he became a pretty good distraction from it all. For one thing, he came with a whole other group of friends, who didn't work at the grocery. Plus, there's nothing quite like a new relationship to take your mind off of things. He was a good looking guy, and he couldn't keep his hands off of me. Seriously, during the first week of college, I don't know how much time we spend kissing and groping in the hallways, or at his place nearby. You know what it's like when you first hook up with a guy.

He treated me really well. Money never seemed to be a problem for him, which surprised me a bit. When I asked him about it, he didn't try to conceal it.

"I build adult web sites."

"What?"

"Porn. Overseas mostly. I just repackage other people's content, get it translated, and take a cut of the profits. It's good money."

"I can see that, " I said, " but Jesus..."

"Hey, " he laid it out, shrugging his shoulders, " I like porn. What guy doesn't? I'm making good money while I go to college, and when I'm done, I won't be in debt. Listen, Maria, I like you a lot, so I'm hoping you'll be okay with it."

And just like that, it became a non-issue. He spent money on me. His apartment was convenient. We screwed like jack-rabbits, and we chose not to feel guilty about it.

That was the brief place and time where everything was okay for me.

Then that bitch Lori from the produce department transferred into my computer science class, and I'm freaking because it brings that whole ugly scene from the grocery store into my life again. She knew she had my number as soon as she saw me there, and I just sort of dissolved into my seat, wondering how long it would take for her to get everyone in class thinking I'm stupid like a cow.

I was right, of course. She'd snicker to everyone whenever I made a mistake, and within a couple of weeks, some of the other students were joining in. My only salvation was that the instructor caught on to what Lori was doing, and she had my back. Her name was Connie. A bit older, definitely a dyke, but she looked out for me. A couple of times, I noticed that she did little things to make Lori mess up her work. Well, it kept the attention off me, anyway.

Now, down to the ugly truth of my happy little life at the time. I mean, aside from Lori trying to mess me up, I really thought I was doing pretty good. But I guess Kevin was itching to do a little more than translate web sites. Without letting me know, he had began posting pics and videos of me on the internet.

Now here's where you're going to have problems with my credibility. You're going to wonder how I can even pretend that I didn't know that he was taking sex videos of me and posting them. How could I not know?

Well, some of them I did know about ... but only about him taping them, not posting them.

In my defense, I don't regularly cruise porn sites just on the off chance that pictures of me will show up somewhere. Neither does my family or friends (that I know of). Besides, lots of people tape sex videos. Not all of them end up online. I know, I know ... most girls don't have boyfriends who build adult websites either, point taken. I'll cop to being a little naive about it. But then, you also have the advantage of knowing the ending to the story already.

I remember when we made that first video - the one he splashed all over the place to promote the new site.

Kevin was all excited about this new digital camcorder he got. He was a bit of a technophile. I guess it's a guy thing. He could rattle off specs about his computer's bits and parts, his cameras and his game systems, right off the top of his head, so this new purchase really lit him up.

Another guy thing: the way all guys seem to have universal agreement about what a good blow job should look like. It's like there's some secret governing body somewhere that votes on the accepted canon of fellatio. So when Kevin finally convinced me to do it on camera, I shouldn't have been surprised when he went all amateur director on me.

"Suck it slow first, good ... now lick my balls ... look up at the camera."

I put on a pretty good show, I think. I 'mmmm'd and unghhhh'd at the right times, and pretended like I was worshiping his cock and balls. I don't mean to say that I don't enjoy giving a good blow job from time to time. It's just that when you have a camera stuffed in your face, and you're conforming the known conventions of the porn genre, it's takes on a more technical feel, and I have to admit, a somewhat more degrading one too.

He slapped my face with slobber-covered dick while I lolled out my tongue.

Still sort of in that foreplay zone, and yeah, degrading.

It's true what the feminists say about sexuality. You have to own it. If I were truly enjoying what I was doing, and doing the exact same things, there'd be nothing to be ashamed of. It'd be empowering, almost. It's when it's clear that you're reluctant ... that's when people look at you like you're a bimbo. Why would you do it if you're not enjoying it? Because he told you to?My face was reddening, and Kevin was playing it up.

As I began to pick up the pace, taking more of him into my mouth, he took hold of the back of my head with one hand, and controlled the pace. When he really got into it, he pulled my head down hard, and gagged me a couple of times.

"Don't stop Maria, " he insisted. " That's right. Let me go deeper. Just keep looking at the camera."

Now gasping for breath, and choking out excess drool, I became nothing more than a masturbation aid for Kevin ... like one of those silly plastic vaginas you see at a sex store ... him holding my hair tight now, and yanking my head up and down at his favored pace.

We all know the ending to this kind of scene, right? It's the one where he pops his cock out of my mouth, and sneers down at me while he jerks himself off over my waiting tongue. I moan, and groan, and make all the welcoming sound, despite the fact that anyone watching the tape would see me still gasping, shaking a bit, and clearly a bit embarrassed by what I'm doing.

When he came, the first rope of sperm crossed my nose, and stung my left eye. After that, he was pretty much on target at my tongue.

"Oh, yeah, take it, you fucking cocksucker, " he narrated the moment.

The tape was almost done, so I accepted the inevitable ritual of him slapping his spent penis over my face, at first spreading his cum, and then mopping it up and directing it back to my mouth. As all good cocksuckers know, porno blow jobs end with a girl cleaning up all the cum and cocks.

And when the camera shut down, we were back to being considerate to each other. It didn't bother me any. As I say ... it's a guy thing.

Not all of the tapes were that choreographed. He caught some of our regular sex on tape too, when I didn't know the camera was on. I think it became a bit of a game for him.

Somewhere along the line, it inspired his marketing strategy.

Stupid Maria

Jesus, why did he have to use my real name, and other real details about me too, for that matter? I think he just got caught up in the game, and that naturally led to the theme. Sex scenes taped of my dumb girlfriend who doesn't even know I'm posting it. This'll make her look pretty stupid, I imagine him thinking. And now, let's see how far I can push it.

Kevin began to push me a bit sexually. He asked for anal, which at first I steadfastly refused. He did convince me to pose for some still photos, and to do some striptease for him on video. He approached me on his fantasy to include another girl in a threesome.

Then he just worked at me. I'm pretty adventurous anyhow, so I didn't mind pushing the boundaries a little. I think it was just the way he pushed me around sexually that sometimes made me feel self-conscious or about it. So by the time he made the tapes, it always seemed just a little bit forced, which, again, made me look like a doormat, embarrassed, and stupid.

He wasn't complaining about how the tapes turned out. Me looking a bit reluctant and ashamed was really a good thing for his site.

The only time we did anal (over some amount of protest on my part, and nagging on his), he really set it up like a special occasion. He set up one camera behind the bed, so that he could tape me being entered, and another at the head of the bed, so that he could see the look on my face when he did it to me.

"Is all this really necessary?"

"I've got to get it on tape good, just in case you decide not to do it again for me."

"What do you mean, 'Just in case' ... there's no way I'm agreeing to this again."

"So you see my point..."

I shrugged. I'd already sort of committed to this, after he bought me something nice, or had a nice visit with my parents or something. I can't remember what. But he had been nagging me about it off and on, and I offered it up as a reward.

Now I had to pay up.

He had me crawl up onto the bed, wearing just a bra and panties. I felt kind of silly up there on my hands and knees while he adjusted his cameras. Then he became Mr. amateur porn director again.

"Reach back and play with yourself."

The front camera probably caught an eye-roll from me. He wasn't letting me off the hook easy, I knew already. I reached back and began to rub myself through the cotton of my underwear. Knowing he was getting it on tape made me a little shy to masturbate, but also added to the excitement a bit. Before long, I pulled the fabric to one side, and made quite a spectacle of myself rubbing my wet pussy for what turned out to be a fairly large audience on the internet.

"Keep rubbing. I'm going to lube you up now, " he told me. He pulled my panties down around one of my ankles now. I heard the spurt of the lubricant as he loaded it onto his finger, and knelt beside me on the bed.

Then, to my humiliation, he made quite a scene of playing with my exposed ass on camera. He slopped the lubricant gel against my exposed rear hole. It felt cool at first. Then he began to finger my asshole, gently but insistently.

"Don't turn your head, " he reminded me, " keep your face towards the camera." He wanted all the footage. He wanted to capture my raised rear end as he violated it for the first time with his fingers. He also wanted to catch every expression on my face ... arousal, discomfort, shame. By the time he was pressing two and three fingers in at a time, I was whimpering a bit, wincing when it got to be too much.

"Almost ready? " he asked, as if my answer even mattered. He was getting pretty anxious to do me, I could tell.

"Yeah. " I answered. Ready to get it over with.

He lubed up his cock in a hurry, and then took position behind me. The camera was down low, and he checked the angle again on the screen before he positioned his prick against my opening.

"This is going to be sweet." And then he pushed in. He'd lubed me well, so he had no trouble getting his cock at least part way into me. I just wasn't prepared for how much discomfort there was in this sex act. I mean, maybe I knew in theory that it'd be a bit on the difficult side, but I'm sure my reaction on tape will betray my surprise at just how painful it was for me to lose my anal virginity with a guy as well-endowed as Kevin is.

"Oh Jesus, oh jesus ... it hurts ... stop ... fuck..." I squealed. He paused, but wouldn't pull back. The way he gripped me told me clearly that there was no way he was going to give up his prize.

Then, little by little, he pushed his full length into me, pausing a bit when I complained too loudly, but never relenting. As much as he was clearly enjoying the feel of my ass, I think that later he enjoyed the view from the other camera much more. When he posted the video, most of this scene focused on my facial expressions ... the way I winced, bit my lip, and breathed in jagged little gasps when he forced in another inch.

"You're so smooth, so tight, " he groaned. I could tell he was very aroused, and I just hoped he would cum quickly, before he abused my poor anus much further.

"Play with yourself some more, " Kevin instructed.

"No... " I protested. Despite my previous state of arousal, all thoughts of getting myself off had faded to the background when he shoved himself up my ass. But this was what he wanted ... the control of not only screwing my ass, but forcing me to enjoy it.

Kevin was insistent, and I just wanted it over now, so if this was going to help him to cum, I gave in, and began to finger myself again. I felt the humiliating burn of him requiring me play with myself while he screwed my ass. It was hard, even a bit frustrating, to get keep myself horny, while he began to rock back and forth with little jabs into my bowels.

Concentrate, Maria, I told myself.

But Kevin didn't make it easy. He was getting close himself now, and wanted to weave a little verbal abuse into the mix.

"Are you getting butt fucked, Maria? Huh?"

"Yes."

"Are you enjoying it?"

What was I going to say? "Yes"

"Tell me you want it in the ass."

Shut up, I wanted to say. Just let me get myself off so that you can have your way, and we can be done. Instead, I played along.

"Yeah. Fuck my ass. Screw my butt hole. Jesus, you're so fucking big..."

I shuddered a bit. The dirty talk was actually helping me along, and it seemed to be getting Kevin off too. His rhythm picked up, doubling my discomfort, but signaling that the end was near.

"Fuck it hard, " I forced myself to say. " That's it. Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum with you in my ass, baby. Oh god, yeah, fuck it..."

On the video, following these words, my eyes flicked open with something like surprise that I was beginning to cum. It was an intense, dirty, shameful orgasm, accompanied by squealing, and by me begging him to dump his load in my ass. Which he promptly did.

Even after he had cum, and he popped his dick out of my ass, he wasn't quite finished with my degradation. All I wanted to do was catch my breath, collapse on the bed, and have him turn off the fucking cameras. He was pulling out the still camera to get some shots of my abused butt hole and of his semen dripping out. I shuddered involuntarily every time I heard the digital camera flash.

It was those photos (and other nudes he wrestled from me) that made their way onto newsgroups and porn promotional sites. There were little video clips too, with me looking all reluctant, or embarrassed, or completely unaware. Each one was stamped unceremoniously with big block letters - WWW.STUPIDMARIA.COM

Only I never saw the site. I never knew the whole story until later.

I did get a sneak preview of the kind of humiliation that would later come in larger measure. The first taste came from - who else? - Lori in my computer science class. We were probably six weeks into the semester, and Lori and I had been working under a ceasefire forced by Connie - who made it clear early on to Lori that I was under her protection.