People like to shit on Only Fans models a lot, but this is hard business.
I told myself I wouldn’t be one of those girl going on Reddit to ask for help with my Tinder profile as an excuse to share pics and get traffic onto my OF, but you know what? That’s a great fucking marketing startegy and those women are smart as hell.
I’m being held back by my principles and I resent that.
Ten thousand dollars.
Well… actually $9.708,42 but we’ll call it ten thousand.
That’s what I need for my dream vacation. Ten days at a five star resort at Koh Samui plus the cheapest flight I could find. Breakfast is included; everything else will be put on my Mastercard for me to worry about it when I get back.
But how do you make an extra ten thousand dollars in two months without selling your body?
I’ll tell you how: you sell your body.
When I was in high school, I wanted to be an artist. I could draw really fucking well, but my mom said there was no money in it. So I studied marketing and became a designer. I get paid little, I get respected less and it’s very likely AI might get me fired. Should have been an artist, instead. I mean, I’d still be broke and unappreciated, but at least I’d feel like I saw it coming.
It was 3 a.m., I had three too many glasses of wine and was going over the last three emails my boss sent me: all reminding me that I had until july to take my ten days off or I’d lose them.
Ten days off.
I could go vist my mom in Perkins, Minnesota. Again.
I could sit in my apartment eating oreos and binging some horrible new show Netflix should never have made.
Or… I could go to Koh Samui.
I could see those beautiful Thai beaches of white sand and crystal clear water. I could have a steamy summer affair with some hot scuba instructor and flirt with italian tourists at the pool bar.
But for that I’d need $9.708,42. You wouldn’t happen to have that laying around, would you?
It was 3 a.m. with the 3 glasses of wine and the 3 emails when I had the idea.
It was one of those stupid ideas you really only have at 3 a.m. after 3 glasses of wine: I could make an Only Fans.
I made myself laugh out loud with that one.
I am cute.
I have a body that would get praised in Koh Samui by both hot scuba instructors and italian tourists.
I can dress up nice. I can dress down better.
I can do make up and I have a great lighting set up with proper cameras from my photography classes.
There’s no reason I can’t do it.
Please note I never said should.
There’s plenty of reasons why I shouldn’t do it. But no actual reason why I can’t.
“Uh, fuck it.” I shrugged and made a profile.
And then I told myself the thing we all tell ourselves when we are too embarrassed to admit we want something to work:
“Just to see what will happen.” I whisper, making a brand new email because no fucking way I’ll use my own for this.
You gotta love Good Girl Logic, right? I’m making a profile to share naked pictures of my pussy, but I’m worried my work email might get leaked or spammed.
My shaved woo-ha for forty year old basement dwellers to see: sure, sign me up.
Getting spam mail for A New Best Great Offer every other day: bitch, no.
I follow the instructions and fill out every form.
Then it’s done.
I’m on Only Fans.
Cool.
Cool, cool, cool.
Now what?
I take a couple of good pictures with my naughtiest underwear and, because this was done the following day, I don’t have the “Oh my God, I was so drunk at 3 a.m.” excuse anymore. But if anybody asks, I’ll lie and say I was.
You can see my tits, not my conscience.
And then I’m done.
Now horny men will come looking, right?
Right?
Yeah… no.
Nothing happened.
A whole week and I did not get a single click.
I don’t think the internet even knew my naked pussy existed and there’s not a lot of ways to let them know besides… make a post on Reddit pretending to need help with something else as an excuse to post alluring pics.
I used to roll my eyes to these women, now I applaud them.
The first woman to have that idea had brains, all the others who followed had guts.
I, apparently, have neither.
I do, however, have an education and a firm believe that if you apply yourself to something it will maybe one day kind of work.
I need a marketing strategy and, luckily, I have a degree on that.
People have an easier time signing up for something if other people have done it before. Most of us don’t want to be the first trying out a new service, in case it ends up being crap. So we wait for others to get disappointed first, so we don’t have to.
All this to say: I need someone to sign up.
Just one person to get the ball rolling.
Then I can make some ads on sketchy erotic communities without feeling like I’ll be mistaken for a bot.
I need to work fast. Two months. Ten thousand dollars. Then I’m deleting this profile and pretending like never have I ever done such a thing.
I need one person to help get me started.
But… who?
Who the fuck do you call and say: “hey, can you sign up to my Only Fans?”
I could make a few fake profiles, but that would get me bleeding money, something I need more of, not less.
I could ask a few of my girls. The problem with secrets is never who you trust, but who they will trust: I wouldn’t mind some of my girl friends knowing about this, but can I trust them not to tell their boyfriends? And can I trust them not to tell their pals?
I need someone close enough that I can trust, but distant enough so it won’t matter.
Scott.
Fuck.
His name pops into my head so fast, it’s like the whole reason Fate had me meet him was so I could ask for his help years later with my online prostitution side gig.
Meant to be.
I think he lost his wife a couple of years ago?
I saw something on his social media a while back, but ever since he moved so far away we haven’t really kept in touch.
But we did fuck.
Before his wife! Long before! Ok? I’m not that kind of woman.
Selling pictures of my pussy, yeah; but I don’t do married men.
I stare at my phone.
I find his profile on Instagram. He is… discreet.
His last picture is three weeks old. At a beautiful park with his cute dog. There is no subtitle, just an emote of a dog. You could scroll through his whole page and still get only a very distant glimpse of who he is. I’ll say this though: He looks fine as fuck… not that it’s important. This is a business decision! Not a I-haven’t-had-sex-in-a-minute decision.
“Hey Scottie!” I type. “What are you up to?”
I have never called him Scottie.
I delete that.
“Hey hon, can I talk to you about something?”
I sound like I’m about to offer him an opportunity to be his own girl boss.
I delete that too.
“Scott, it’s Jo! Do you remember me? We went to high school together, then we met up again a few years ago? We had some great sex for a few days, but we lived in different cities so we never reconnected? I’m sorry to shoot you a message out of nowhere, but I crazily decided to start an Only Fans and I kinda need someone to be my first victim, so I can get the ball rolling marketing-wise, if that makes sense. I thought of you because you’ve seen me naked, so no news there. If you’re single, would you consider helping me out? My subscription is not expensive, I swear. Let me know?”
What the fuck.
I can’t send that.
I sigh.
I delete that too.
Or I try to. Because I actually send it instead.
Fuck.
Maybe I could erase it fast before he…
The little mark.
The little ominous mark that says he’s seen it.
He read it.
He knows.
It’s too late.
I add a “I’m sorry if this was disrespectful. I’ll go find a hole to hide in now.”
He reacts to that last message with a laughing emote. And to my first one with a… heart?
He is typing back.
I hold on to my phone like it’s a rope.
“Hey, Jo! Long time. What’s new with you? Besides the Only Fans thing, I suppose. Yeah, I can help you out. Send me a link?”
I respect people who give you all the answers you need straight away when texting.
I respect people who don’t make us wait in pain and shame.
“Trying to save some money for vacation!” I hope that will excuse some of my behaviour, but I’m sure it won’t. “What’s new with you?”
“Not much. Where are you heading?”
“Thailand, if I can make enough money. Hence the Only Fans.”
“Ah, of course! Phuket?”
“Koh Samui.”
“You’ll love it. Most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen.”
“You’ve been?”
“Yeah! A couple of times. I enjoy beaches.” The emote laughs so I’m guessing so did he.
“I remember that.” As that is where we spent our few days.
“So… are you gonna send me that link?”
“You’re single, right? I’m not hitting on you! Just making sure I’m not doing something awful.”
“That’s a shame.”
“That I don’t want to be awful?”
“That you’re not hitting on me. Yes, I’m single. Send the link, woman.” Another laughing emote.
I send the link.
I watch my profile and I see it update as soon as he subscribes.
He likes both the pictures I already had on.
“Thanks, Scott! You don’t have to like the pics if you don’t want to. I just need someone there so people don’t think I’m a bot. I’ll delete the account after two months, so you’ll just be down 20 bucks. Hopefully that’s not too much?”
“Happy to help.”
“Have a great week!”
“You too.”
And I thought maybe that would be that.
But it was really not.
-

---
I post three more pictures on the second day and Scott likes each of them the second they upload.
He also leaves me comments.
“Hot.”
“Damn.”
And a smiley face with hearts for eyes.
Those make me giggle.
He is absolutely just writing the most random comments to help my profile with engagement. He is a hardcore tech boy who sold his start up for a few million a while back, so he probably knows more about this stuff than I will ever learn.
And he is a good friend.
He didn’t text or tried to flirt, you know?
He just showed up and helped.
Good boy.
I remember him being a good boy. Polite, sweet, kept to himself.
Very resourceful in bed, but always gentle. One of those guys who makes you refer to “fucking” as “making love”, you know?
It’s almost end of business day when I check my profile again and see I have three new subscribers. Three!
So, of course, I shower and get into a very sexy lingerie for some more pictures. I get my hair and make up done. And I don’t want to sound arrogant but I also don’t see a reason to be coy: I’m hot. I have a nice body and when I dress like this, I look like something you’d love to spread on a cracker.
I don’t do a full camera production tonight, though. I just take a couple of selfies and make them look good.
“Gorgeous.” Scott is quick to reply. I laugh. I need to text this boy. Is he on my profile all day long or something?
But I suppose he is not the only one.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Anthony_R says.
And a few minutes after that, Anthony is back:
“Hey Hanna!” he says because my name is Johanna, so I picked that as a username. “Can we get a selfie with your mouth open?”
Anthony wants to bust his load picturing my mouth around his cock and if I had a problem with that, I shoulnd’t be here, right?
So I’m about to tell him Sure, when Scott comes back.
“How much are you willing to pay the lady for that?” Oh wow.
See, this is why he is rich and I’m broke.
“How much do you charge for requests, Hanna? I really wanna see those lips wide open, put your tongue out and roll your eyes. How much?”
Fuck.
I have no clue.
5 bucks?
“Five dollar tip, baby.” I tell him and ka-ching, immediate payment.
So now I gotta deliver and I do.
“That’s fucking cheap!” Scott makes fun of me. “How much for going live?”
I roll around in my sheets laughing my ass off.
I’m gonna have to hire this guy as my agent.
“Quiet down, thirsty boy!” I make fun of him right back because I know banter is his love language.
I am in the middle of a spirited laughter when I get a notification for another payment.
Fifty dollars.
Fifty.
What the fuck.
“I’m not kidding!” Scott uses a laughing emote. “How much for a live video?”
“I’m in as well!” Anthony_R comments. “That selfie of yours with the tongue out is fucking fire. I’d like to see that live. How much, doll?”
“Can we get some pussy in that live?” New_Mayhem37 asks me. “Cause you’re hot, babygirl, but your pics are fucking tame.”
Ok.
Moment of truth.
Can I do this?
Focus on Koh Samui.
Hell yeah, I can do this.
“No pussy. But fifty dollars a piece and you all get half an hour with some tits.”
My phone vibrates as I get more notifications.
You got a tip!
You got a tip!
You got a tip!
150 dollars. Jus like that.
I open a live for Anthony, Mayhem and Scott.
I was planning on doing a cute hair flip and a wink, I was gonna call them honey and baby, making it sound like a moan.
However, as soon as see my face and bra on the screen with the little green dot to remind me I’m live… I giggle and blush.
“You will have to forgive me.” I hide my face behind my hands. “This is my first time doing this, I’m not sure what to do.”
“It’s ok, baby.” Anthony types in chat. “We love a virgin.”
“Preach.” Mayhem agrees. “I always find cute girls after they already turned to whores. This is my first time getting one green.”
Ok, Mayhem is kind of an asshole but somehow… that turns me on?
Being naked for a fucking jerk who does not deserve me. Makes no sense for my pussy to like this, but she does.
“Ok.” I smile to them. “So what do I do?”
“Pussy.” Mayhem types fast. “Show pussy.”
“No, baby, I said tits.”
“Show those, then.”
But Anthony wants something else.
“Give us a live version of that selfie, doll. Open that mouth for us and keep it open for me to cum in it.”
That is easier so I do that. I give him a whole show. Mouth wide open. Tongue sticking out. Eyes rolling back. Moaning.
Anthony goes quiet and I can only assume he is furiously wanking it as this seems to be his weakness. The same, unfortunately, cannot be said about Mayhem who is still spamming my chat.
“Fuck that’s hot.” He says… and he doesn’t stop:
- You must give good head.
- Roll those eyes, bitch.
- Can you drool? Drool for my cock.
- You need to open wider or my cock wouldn’t fit.
- How much for a meetup, princess? I wanna watch you suck on my balls before I cum all over that pretty face.
I’ve been abstinent for far too long because this asshole is turning me on.
I always liked a little humiliation and feeling like an object, but that would mostly translate into me asking for spanks and for the guy to boss me around a bit. It was never like… whatever this is…
I lick my lips slow for Anthony. I let my saliva snap really close to the mic because, if he is wearing a headset I want him to hear me moan as if they happening inside his balls.
Doesn’t take long for him to send me a private message:
“Look what you made me do” he types, and with it, a picture of what I assume is his laptop, because my horny face is on the screen… covered by the thickest load of cum I’ve seen in a while.
Fuck.
I am getting turned on.
“I’m glad, Anthony.” I moan because I know he is still watching me.
“No.” He types back instantly. “Apologize, bitch. You ruined my fucking laptop. Apologize to daddy.”
“I’m sorry, daddy.” I’m feeling it.
I think that last line was too much for Mayhem.
“How much for a meetup? How much?”
“Where are those tits you promised?” Anthony is back in chat and I notice Scott has never typed a word.
He didn’t join.
He was just helping me out. Making so these other men would pay.
But he is not here.
He is not watching me.
Why am I disappointed?
“How much for a meetup? Pussy. Show pussy.”
Oh my fucking God, Mayhem!
I unhook my bra behind my back and remove the shoulder straps, but I don’t let it fall. I hold it, keeping it in place while I do everything else.
I get up so I can turn around and give them a full look on my thighs and ass. I bend sideways just as a tease. I lean in for the camera so they’ll get a great view of my cleavage. I dance a little. I smile a little. I moan a little. I whisper into the mic a little.
Anthony is begging for tits.
Mayhem is about ready to pay me hundreds for a meetup and maybe more for a blowjob.
For half an hour, I give them the best show and my phone is buzzing again.
You have a new subsciber!
You got a tip!
More and more. Slowly. Trickling in.
Now I’ve got five subscribers. Now I’ve got eight.
“Fuck me, what a girl.” Georg_Man tells me.
“Where is that pussy, love?” Teddy_with_a_huge_D gets a page out of Mayhem’s book.
“Turn around again. Your ass looks so fine, baby.”
I deliver on the request as long as they are modest. I turn. I wiggle. I bend a little. But I do keep my bra over my tits, relentlessly teasing them without ever dropping it.
Their half an hour is almost up when I let the bra fall.
I lean to show them my full breats and nipples. The chat goes fucking quiet for seconds while they all surely grab their cocks. Then I cover myself up again, saying my good byes and they are back at typing:
“How much for another half an hour?”
“How much for you to burn those fucking panties?”
“How much for you to moan my name?”
“How much to watch you masturbate?”
I smile, truly blushing and feeling coy, because I thought once I gave thirsty men a drink of water, they’d leave me alone. I never expected them to immediately want more.
This is probably psychologically unhealthy to some degree, but I do get drunk on validation for a moment.
“I can do another half an hour.” I check the time. “But if you boys want to see more, I’d have t-…”
Another message is typed.
And this one gets my full attention not because of what it says, but because of who said it.
Scott.
Fuck.
Was he here all this time?
I feel myself blush eleven times harder as I read his message in chat:
“How much for a private show?”
A private show?
What does that even mean?
“Oh, fuck off, mate!” Mayhem does not like that. “Learn to share, will you?”
“Give us another half an hour, doll. We can outpay him.”
“He is joking!” I laugh because it’s Scott! “He doesn’t want a private show. He’s being cute.”
“Alright, then take off those panties and show us pussy. Flick your clit and I’ll pay a hundred, baby. Do it for daddy.”
“Fuck yeah, your hair is such a pretty shade of blonde. I want to see if you’re blonde everywhere.”
“I’m not joking.” Scott states. “Half an hour private show. How much?”
Oh my God.
I roll my eyes a little bit.
He is trying to drive up the price, and while I appreciate his help, this is getting silly.
“A thousand dollars!” I laugh because I am clearly joking.
There is a pop up on my screen.
You got a tip!
A tip?
My jaw drops.
I got a thousand dollars.
A thousand fucking american dollars.
I don’t think I can call that a tip.
“Done.” Scott wastes no time. “Set it up.”
“Fuck.” I gasp in utter disbelief while the whole chat is insulting Scott. “Sorry, boys.” I pant, setting up the private video call.
I hook my bra back in place just as he answers it.
“Hey Jo.” He laughs.
Scott has really dark, unruly hair. Sweet brown eyes and a jawline that should be considered a sharp weapon in half the states. His smile is naughtier than I remember.
“Are you insane?” I laugh back. “You… I… Were you trying to drive up the prices? I’ll give you back the money, ok?”
“No, no, don’t.”
“I really appreciate the help, Scott, but this is too much!”
“Help?” His smile gets even naughtier. “I’m not helping. I’m paying for a service.”
“You’re not serious.” I roll my eyes but Scott is looking serious as fuck.
“Oh, yes I am. I have half an hour.” He whispers and there is a shiver so powerful inside my pussy I fear it might turn inside out.
He is wearing a white dress shirt, completely buttoned up. His glasses make him look cute, his smile makes him look wicked. He takes a sip from a glass of wine, making me wonder if I’m his entertainment for this evening.
“Ok.” I chucle. I’m game. “What are you thinking?” A long talk? Catching up? I should get a glass of wine myself.
“Well, I’m wondering why you put your bra back on.”
“You don’t really want it off!”
“I really do.”
Is he for real?
Is he actually… lusting for me right now?
I put my hands back so I can unhook it, but I hold it in place like I did before.
“Don’t tease me.” There is not an inch of hesitation in his voice. “Show me.”
I let my hands fall and my tits bounce free. Heavy as fuck. Nipples aren’t too hard yet, but they’re on the way.
“Now the panties.”
“I said no pussy, remember?”
“Yeah. To them. But I’ve seen it before and I just paid you a thousand dollars. I want pussy, so you’re gonna be a good fucking girl and give it to me.”
Fuck.
Yes, sir.
I take my panties off, but he can’t fully see my body from the way I’m sitting.
“Stand up. And turn around slowly. I want to see if everything is still as I remember.”
On the one hand this is humiliatting.
On the other hand, I’m wet as fuck and it’s a thousand dollars.
I obey.
His deep breath feels like a moan.
He gets closer to the camera. Closer and closer until I can’t really see anything anymore and…
Is he licking his screen?
Fuck.
I think he was licking my tits over his screen.
I gasp a little.
“What else do you want?”
“Put your foot up on your bed or whatever you can do to spread your legs.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“I don’t wanna see your fucking mound. I want to see your pussy lips. I want to see you going wet. I want to see your little bean poking out of its hood when I turn you on.”
“Well, that’s your problem. I’m not showing.” I take a stand and I greatly enjoy it.
Scott bites his lip looking a little furious.
Looking like he is about to follow Mayhem and ask me how much for a meetup so he can spank me every time I deny him.
Oh, this is not the sweet gentleman I remember.
Was he taking it slow when he fucked me?
Or did he change in the last few years?
Either way, I don’t think this man makes love anymore.
“May I ask why not?” he sounds irate. Asking permission to ask a question like he’d rather torture the answer out of me.
I lift a shoulder.
“I… I have a thing. I’m shy about it.”
“I fucked you. What thing do you have that I don’t know about?”
“You didn’t inspect me when we fucked, so you wouldn’t have noticed. But if I spread my pussy open on your screen now, you will see.”
“Tell me.”
“Fuck sake.”
“Johanna.” He says my name and I don’t know what fucking supernatural skill this is. I think sometimes men do this and it reminds us of our fathers? And yeah, maybe that’s a little sick; but it’s effective. It tickles that obedient part of our brain that knows if we don’t obey, we’ll get in trouble.
“My pussy lips are uneven, ok? One is slightly longer than the other. I’m a little selfconscious about it. It might turn you off.”
He chuckles like that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard.
But what he says is:
“Do you have a dildo?”
“I do. You want to borrow it?”
“Oh, you’re funny.”
“Thank you.”
“Go get your dildo.”
“I have more than one.”
“Get the biggest one you have.”
“Are you gonna make me ride it?”
“Johanna.” And there it is again.
I get the dildos and show him the options.
“The purple one.” He picks the biggest and thickest one I have. The one I bought as a joke and don’t really use. “Is it clean?”
“Yeah. You want me to ride it?”
“No. I want you to eat it.”
“You want me to eat a dildo?” That is so fucking weird.
“Yeah. I want you to eat it all.” He moves his hands out of the frame and I think he is caressing himself.
“It’s your money.” I shrug, biting the tip of the purple thing.
“No, no. I want you to give it a proper blowjob. Shove it deep down your throat.”
“What the fuck?”
“Johanna, eat the fucking rubber dick.”
I roll my eyes and he laughs like he loves spanking brats when they roll their eyes and it’s a fucking shame we are not within spanking distance right now.
I open my mouth and put the dildo in. It’s weird and boring, but I do it.
“Deeper.” He gasps and I… his arms are moving. He is jerking off.
I can’t see a damn fucking thing on the screen, but his chest is large and his shoulders are broad as fuck. I have a half a mind to ask him how much for him to take that fucking shirt off and show me his cock.
I shove the rubber dick in deeper, keeping one eye on the very telling movement of his arm.
Deeper and deeper I eat it, until I gag it the fuck out.
“Fuck.” I cough and Scott moans fucking loud.
“Do you like that?”
“The taste of plastic down my throat? No.”
“Do it again.”
I laugh.
“Fucking asshole.”
And because I know what it is he is picturing, I spit on the dildo a couple of times, lick its head and then shove it back in.
Down my throat it goes until I’m gagging again and this part is not fun so I pull it out.
“No, I can’t.” I cough. “I’m gonna throw up.”
“Open your mouth. Open it.” There is so much fucking urgency in his voice that I obey without question. I open it for the camera and Scott stand with his dick out.
Oh, yum.
That’s tastier than I remember.
He moves around and I’m pretty sure he is humping his screen, or more accurately: humping the image of my open mouth on his screen.
He moans and I get so wet I’ll start ruining furniture.
“Don’t sit. Wait!” I beg when he moves away from the screen. I pull my laptop in and return the favor. His cock is long but it’s its thickness that really impresses me. It’s the kind of girth that really gives a girl something to grab. He trims his hairs just enough for his shaft to look impressive as fuck. The head is still partially covered by a hood of skin and I kind of wish he could pull it back a bit so I could nibble on it. But I’ll take what I can get. I lick every pixel of his fucking cock like a thristy little bitch.
His laughter brings me back.
“Are you licking the screen, cunt?”
“Nooo.” I lie making him laugh harder.
“Lay back.” He checks his watch making sure we still have time. “You’re gonna touch yourself for me to watch.”
“I just said, I…”
“You can cover your uneven pussy lips with your hand, can’t you? Do it. Do it now.” He is caressing himself harder as soon as he sits back down. “But put your headset on first. I want you to hear my moans in your ear.”
I lick my lips because… ok, that’s hot as fuck.
I put the headset on and lay back down to rub my pussy.
Scott adjusts his standing mic and moves it a little lower… that makes it so I can hear not only his moans but also his fucking hand stroking his cock. Slow. Slow. And then less slow. Speeding up. Hardening.
I rub my pussy like I’ve seen on porn, but here’s the thing: I don’t really masturbate like this. So this isn’t doing much for me.
I arch my body. I moan. I put on a performance for my client, but I’m not really feeling it. As long as I can fool him it’s fine, I guess.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he growls. “Stop putting on an act. Do it for real. I wanna watch you cum.”
“I am.” I lie.
“Jo, fuck sake.” He looks like he just needs an honest moan out me for his balls to burst.
“Fine!” I sigh, closing my legs. “This is not how I masturbate.”
“How do you?”
“I… it’s weird.”
“Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me.” He is fucking his fist hard.
Fuck.
I get a shiver.
“I like to hump my pillows, ok?” I’m so fucking shy. “I fold them then I ride them, making sure the thick part of the fold is right on my clit.”
“Well, then do that!” he growls.
“It’s weird!”
“It’s not weird.” He moans. “Frail little fingers are not enough, hm? You need something thick between your thighs. You have a really hungry pussy, nothing wrong with that. Show me!”
I kneel on my bed and fold my pillow until it’s the perfect shape for me.
Then I straddle it and I’m so turned on at this point that, the second my clit hits the fabric I let out a moan.
I hump my pillow, rubbing my pussy on it hard as fuck.
“Fuck.” Scott gasps in my ear and those manly moans are making this so much better, I can’t even begin to explain. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I can hear the drool tainting his moans. “Ride that pillow, baby. Rub it. Rub it. Fuck, pretend it’s my cock.” He seems lost in a fit of haze and I’m not far behind.
Pretend it’s his cock?
His thick dick between my legs. His powerful thighs thrusting into me.
I grab my bouncing tits.
This doesn’t feel like putting on a show anymore.
It doesn’t feel like a porn display for a subscriber.
I’m fucking Scott right now. We’re having sex.
That’s what we’re doing.
He is fucking himself and I’m fucking myself, but we are very much fucking each other.
It’s my tits making him hard, it’s my riding those pillows that’s making him cum.
It’s his cock that’s making me hungry, it’s his moans that are taking me to my climax.
“Fuck, Scott.” I gasp. “Fuck me. Fuck me.”
“Is that what you want, princess? You want me to fuck you?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, fuck.” He bursts. “Cum with me. Right now. I can’t hold anymore. Cum, cum, cum.”
I rub myself on that pillow as hard and as fast as I fucking can’t.
I’m sweating all over.
My mouth is dry.
My eyelids have long given up.
I feel it there.
Orgasm.
Creeping in.
Growing.
Coming.
I moan. I shriek. I scream.
So loud that I can barely hear his pleasure follow mine on the headset, but it does.
I drop back on the bed, gulping and trying to suffocate.
“What a shame.” He tries to pace his breathing. “My time is up.”
“Well, you know where to find me.” I laugh.
“Yeah… too far away.” I can tell he is crossed. “Say, Jo, you wanna make a business deal?”
“You’re already subscribed, Scott. I don’t know what else to offer.”
“Can you still work remote for a while?” He finishes his glass of wine like he is half wishing it was actually water.
“Yeah, why?”
“You wanna come stay with me for a couple of weeks?”
“What?” I chuckle because… is he serious? “You want me to come over so you can fuck me?”
“I want you to come over for a business opportunity.”
“And what would that be?”
“You need money for your vacation, right? So come over: I’ll pay for you plane ticket and you can stay at my house… every day I’ll put a thousand dollars, cash, on the kitchen counter. And it’s up to you if you want to pick it up or not. If you don’t, we can hang as friends. It’s been a really long time, we can catch up, watch movies, cook… My dog is an adorable company.”
“I bet. But what happens if I pick up the thousand dollars?”
His smirk makes me want to ride his face.
“Then you’re mine for 24 hours.”
“Define what ‘you’re mine’ means.”
“Means I can do whatever the fuck I want with you. I’ll give you a safe word, of course. But, you pick up that money, and you’re my toy for 24 hours.”
“What would you do to me in those 24 hours?”
“Whatever the fuck I want. You get no heads up, no say. If you don’t safe word, as long as I care, you’re the same as an object. And… in ten days you’d have enough for your trip. More than enough… considering you already made some.”
I cover myself with a blanket and he knows I am considering it.
“And I’ll tell you what else!” he says. “You could even keep your Only Fans while you’re here, to make even more money for travel expenses. What do you say?”
What do I say.
Ten days.
Ten thousand dollars.
Besides the money I already made today.
And the money I could make until then.
In exchange for being his toy for 24 hours at a time.
Doesn’t sound bad, right?
And I can always choose to not pick up the fucking money.
I smile as Scott patiently waits.
“Yeah.” I blush and his grin goes wide. “Let’s do it.”