I had a message from a friend somewhat out of the blue the other day. We were briefly catching up. A lot of things have gone down in both our lives, as is inevitable when you leave a long enough gap between conversations. But it was nice to chat. Conversing with them always reminds me of writing here. They didn't even mention this blog, but it made me think. Gosh. I need to get back to this (or rather, I want to get back to this). So here I am. It's been interesting to see how the style of the story has changed over the years that I've been updating this. Maybe it will one day be a bit more cohesive, but I kinda like it this way.
Go ahead and acquaint yourself with part 14 here, or start from the very beginning.
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The session had not lasted as long as she had expected. What does one expect from such a performance, anyway? She asked herself. Not that she really minded the premature end.
Pondering the pumpkin, Celia grabbed the discarded clothes and shoved them on again, waiting to see if anyone else would turn up for a private show. Although she could choose to log off with what she'd earned from the squash show, she didn't really want to be alone with her thoughts. At least chatting with the customers engaged her brain in some kind of way. Sometimes.
Sat crossed-legged on her bed, Celia looked at the profiles of the 730 models online. The models highlighted at the top of the page seemed to be drawing a fair crowd at this hour. A lot of the girls also chose to exploit their own niche. Be that their large breasts, sizable butts, marital status, whether or not they had kids, their race, nationality, or age. There were a couple of familiar faces on the screen, those who really put in the work to maintain their spot on the top. The kind that did giveaways and had a green screen and multiple costumes, a whole set-up (that Celia was a little jealous of, if she was honest). However, it was also the new models that tended to be favored - the newbies who hadn't quite worked out the many tricks of the customers so they could be taken advantage of easily. When Celia first started, there were often customers pretending to be models who just wanted to "show her how it should be done" and offering to take her under their wing if only she would provide a photo or two for them to critique. She hadn't quite figured that one out till too late that they scored nudes from her. She had to learn the ropes of it all fairly quickly. There had been some help along the way.
Celia had found there was a mixture of false niceties and genuine care amongst the models. She was always keen to make a friend. But for the most part, the girls were just there to do their thing and get on with their day. She didn't blame them for that. Other than IcedCoffee - although they had never shared real names, IcedCoffee had been super friendly and offered some advice. Had mentioned that the supposed "models" in her room were actually just trying to get whatever freebie they could. She had told Celia to enjoy it while she could. Looking back, it may have been more of a warning.
A message came through for Celia.
londonlatino: im Colombian but living in lodnon
londonlatino: London
She tapped out a reply. At least she could respond to that one.
sexycici95: lovely!
sexycici95: London is cool, do you like it? Where in Colombia are you from?
Not that she had much knowledge of Colombian geography, but Celia thought it'd be nice to ask.
londonlatino: yeah is ok
londonlatino: you look very young
londonlatino: how old r u? would you rather get a creampie gangbang or on your face?
Celia sighed. She couldn't be bothered with it. Why was it so much effort to try and have some semblance of a normal conversation before getting straight into questions like that?
Why couldn't he have just given her a city name? Maybe she could have given him some recommendations for London, even.
londonlatino: you like to give head or receive head hmmm?
Celia logged off. Shoved her laptop away. The effort was gone.
The loneliness was still present.
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