1. When I became an amateur porn actress, I didn&#039


    Date: 7/30/2015, Categories: First Time, Voyeur, Author: olgakatysheva, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    I signed up with a third-party website to be a cam model. It works like this: you have a webcam. Guys go to the website, pick you out of a lineup, and instant message with you a little bit. When they decide they want to fork over $3 a minute, they click the &#034Pay Now&#034 button and take you to a private chat room, where you can do whatever you want. I got half of the money for each minute, and grew quite adept at stripping slowly. The guys mostly just wanted straightforward tits and ass; I learned how to pull my pussy lips open, how to use camera tricks so it looked like I was really having fun. As porn work goes, it was incredibly low maintenance. I didn't have to shave my legs or wear high heels, or even put on lipstick; I didn't have to actually touch or talk to any of the guys who were watching me take my clothes off. I spoke into a microphone and never heard their voices. Sometimes I got strange requests: put a can of hairspray in your pussy. Let me hypnotize you. One guy wanted me to pee in a cup and pour it on my chest. I said no to anything I didn't want to do. Jason walked back and forth through the house as I worked on the living-room sofa. I'd wave at him over the top of the camera, while showing close-ups of my ass cheeks to some unseen guy jerking it in his darkened office. It was a steady paycheck, and these gullible souls all believed I was twenty-two years old and my name was Samantha. Except for one guy. Screen name: THEPROFESSOR. He showed up one day ...
    and immediately made me laugh — really laugh, not the fake &#034tee hee&#034 that actually meant &#034Just click the button, asshole, time is money.&#034 His repartee was witty, and his vocabulary was huge. All the other guys sounded like panting idiots hoping to trick me into a free show, begging me to shove things in my ass or dramatically fellate a dildo. The Professor enjoyed being the smart one, the one who knew the truth behind the facade, who I really was. It was only a few messages before he said, &#034You're not 22. How old are you really?&#034 I tried to pass it off, as I'd learned to do with private questions — keep them on the hook, believing the fantasy, and you make more money. Make them think they have a chance with you. But he wanted to know, really, so I told him how old I was, what I liked to read, that I wasn't actually in university anymore. He hoarded the information I gave him; he was always careful never to say anything where the other guys could see. One day, he finally clicked &#034Pay Now&#034 and took me to a private room. But I don't think he knew what to do with me. We just talked for a while, at $3 a minute. By then, I knew him a little bit, and liked him. I asked him what he wanted to see. He said he just wanted to watch me get off. So I did, and for once, I wasn't faking it. The pattern continued: he'd come in almost every day and message me for hours, throwing out comments about the other guys that they couldn't see, sometimes taking me to a ...
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