It’s 2 am on a Tuesday. My bestie and quarantine partner, Sigmond, and I are sitting on the living room floor, concentrating deeply on our task at hand, as my elusive roomie walks past.
“I bet she wonders about me sometimes,” I whisper to Sigmond.
“Girl, think about it!” Sigmond exclaimed. “You’re half-naked, getting spanked by a black man and taking pictures. Of course she wonders about you! Why would she not?”
This is my new life right now.
Since I have a face that usually doesn’t curdle milk and an ass with an extra fat cell or two, I have moved online to make money with OnlyFans. Along with, you know, a few of my other newly unemployed friends and peers. All 63,489,978 of them, if I had to guess a number.
(OnlyFans told me recently I am in the top 20% of creators. All right! I must be really standing out amongst . . . 12 million other people.)
It’s been an awkward learning experience. Instead of luring men with intelligent conversation, stupid jokes and my reading-ass titties, I have to be a sexy girl now. Like I once told my friends, if you see me out in public and I am sexy girling, it was a complete accident. It’s still true. I don’t know how to sexy girl.
It’s been an agonizing learning experience. Under the glare of harsh lighting, who knew my ass had so much cellulite? Who knew there were so many stretch marks on my thighs? I mean, I kinda knew it was bad, but not THAT bad!
At this point, I can do nothing but resort to the motto I learned at the strip club:
FUCK IT! NOBODY CARES / Because they really don’t / And I promise that some people like you, even if other people won’t / Maybe one of these days, I’ll photoshop that shit / Until then, baby, what you see is what you get.
I absolutely love it, though. This came as a surprise to me during my first photoshoot. There was I was, pulling off black lace pantyhose frame by frame, when I realized something very strange: Baby Girl was melting.
The pink canoe needed to be paddled. Baby Girl needed a little do me time. Time to listen to the downstairs deejay while flying through the batcave. THAT MUFFIN NEEDED TO BE BUTTERED.
I have found my kink, and apparently it involves me photographing my pussy and plastering it all over the Internet. Well, okay then. Who fuckin’ knew? If you’re one of my subscribers, know that I love what I’m doing for you. It’s truly a labor of lust.
Which brings me to another thing that is strange to me: why do (straight) men (obviously) like looking at pussy? It’s wrinkled and discolored. Mine looks like a grenade exploded at a deli counter. Even after almost two years in the adult entertainment industry, there is much I don’t understand about the male libido. I just take their money and stay confused.
It’s not easy to take sexy photos in quarantine. My chipped nail polish is turning brown around the edges. The blond hair atop my lip is definitely becoming thick enough to catch the light. And my butt crack is so fuzzy, it looks like a squirrel crawled up there and got stuck.
When this quarantine is over, war WILL break out at the beauty salon. I’ll probably go in armed with a nail file. And I swear, I WILL bean a bitch with a bristle brush if she stands between me and my butt wax.
Look, if you saw my butt right now, you’d realize how justified that would be.
These are all trivial things of course, but they are keeping my brain busy in a time where idle hands are truly the devil’s workshop, if the devil’s workshop is just a den of despair. If I’m thinking about how to properly light my tits so that they look as gigantic as possible, then I’m not thinking about thousands of people dying from a deadly virus and wondering which of my loved ones might be next.
Who knew porn would become my path to mental wellness and sanity? It’s a strange new world out there, and it’s only getting weirder.