Showing 1 to 3 of 8 blog articles.
60 views · 93 days ago

I'm 19 years old, and I have a full-time job that would probably shock your grandma. I'm a cam girl. For those of you who don't know, a cam girl is the digital era's prostitute. The escort of the virtual age. Men (and sometimes women) come to me for companionship, consolation, conversation –– and most of all, sex. In exchange, I broaden my horizons. I get to interact on a very intimate level with people from all over the world. And, of course, I get money. And a pretty good amount of it at that.


But it's not all peaches and cream. It's not like you can take off your shirt and suddenly the financial world is your oyster. Being a cam girl is deceptively hard, and camming really is a full-time job. It's about promoting and marketing your own business, creating a name for yourself, finding that little niche in the grand scheme of things where you fit in –– all the while being the product, the showgirl, the bread and butter. Websites promise you "$10,000 a week from home in just a few hours a day!", which lures thousands of young girls into showing their stuff and being very disappointed with the payout. The truth is, it takes years to build the fan base that will turn over that kind of income. It takes hours upon hours of grueling labour, replying to thousands of messages a day from needy clients who live in a fantasy world where they're your only priority. At the same time, you're maintaining your body, your hair, your face, your image, to stay presentable, fashionable and on top of the trends. There's no time for a sick day if you want to make real money. Even when you're not on camera, you are still working. It doesn't stop. Camming is a 24-hour-a-day job.


A day in my life consists of waking up around 8am. I go straight to the gym, where I work out for about two hours. I come home, shower, and get directly to work. My Skype account gets turned on and I'm monitoring my Twitter account while I put on my face for the day. Hair, makeup, and body maintenance take about 3 hours, between updating social media and replying to clients who just can't seem to wait for me to get online. When that's done, I take about 30 promo photos that can be uploaded during the day to keep my profiles on different sites relevant and fresh. I update my Twitter: "Hey guys, getting ready to sign on –– come join me!

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54 views · 104 days ago

I think this is not strange, but it's the strangest thing that ever happened to me. At the time, I was new to sex and menstruating and the flow was incredibly intense. My boyfriend wanted to get laid and I said, 'Are you sure? I'm on my period ... '. He still wanted to, I even tried to explain how intense he was, but he said he did not care. After, like, one minute, he had to stop because he had too much blood.

It was everywhere, in the blanket, on his thighs, it was a mess. He still lived with his parents, so he had to sneak into the bathroom to get a towel, then sneak into the room without them seeing him. We cleaned ourselves and he put the bloody blanket wrapped under the bed. Eventually, his mother found him and washed, but he never mentioned the blood.

53 views · 109 days ago

My ex-girlfriend had an almost intimidating sexual appetite, and one of her fantasies was to have sex in public places. At the movie theater, at the shopkeepers, or at the restaurant toilets-she did not care much about the place, as long as it was public good.

It was not a fantasy of mine in particular, but I liked the idea, so during the months that we dated I followed her rhythm. It was always incredible - the idea that someone could catch us was very exciting. But in reality, being caught was not even fun at all. It happened once, when she suggested that we try another fantasy of her - fuck me with a girdle. She chose a multi-storey car park in Barcelona as a crime scene. I'm not going to go into the details of the act itself, suffice it to say that I was on one of the four-car parking stairs and with a rubber dick in my ass when a family with three small children came down the stairs. The parents started yelling at us and we fled. It was one of the most shameful moments of my life, and I felt terrible for probably having traumatized three little kids forever.