Page 1 of Cam Girl

Chapter 1

Gilli

The red light on the screen shines steadily, like a beacon guiding the way to my own personal hell.

A column of chat messages scrolls down the right side of the screen, and in the center, as big as the sun, there’s me. Only it’s not me.

It’s CumeraShy1, my creator account.

I know what my oldest sister would say without having to hear her actual voice: “Gillian Kerrigan, what do you mean, you’re making porn?”

The filter hides my face. Which doesn’t stop user MarkMe6969 from sending the messageur so fucking hot u dirty slut.

He means my body, of course, but my face has some of my better features, and I’ve always liked my eyes.

I swallow the disgust and run my hand between my breasts. There’s a disconnect between me and the person dancing, swirling her hips, arching her back and thrusting out her ass. Touching her tits.Sinful.

Gunnermate4Play: Take off the thong & finger ur pussy *eggplant emoji*

It’s the fifth comment about my pussy and there will be more. Therealways are.

At least this one comes from one of my regulars, and once he gets the dirty talk out of his system, he’s not so bad. He’s paid for a few private chats over the last month. VIP style.

When they asked me in school what I wanted to be, sex worker was never on my list. But situations change. Shit happens. The world is a vicious place and people are mean and horny. As long as they’ve got the money?—

I swivel on the tips of my toes, grateful I don’t lose my balance, and grab the chair near my bed, bending over to give the audience watching me live a front row visual of my ass dimples.

“You guys want me to touch myself lower?” I inject a breathless tease into my voice.

The face filter makes sure they don’t recognize me, but my ass is my calling card. It’s huge even without the help of junk food.

Go figure.

They never touch me, these watchers. They’re only voyeurs. I’m not a prostitute. But I take their money and I give them what they want to see—within reason. The cam girl thing is something I stumbled on when I needed quick cash.

It’s not so bad.

I glance over my shoulder at the string of comments.

FlirtyJax: Gonna bend u over that chair & make u scream

1845MustacheRideMass: Dirty girl. Bet you smell like peaches.

FlirtyJax: Who wants some of daddy’s cock?

My bedroom is my studio and I’ve turned it into the greatest little virtual whorehouse in Baltimore.

Ten pm on a Tuesday night, I’ve got on a merlot-red wig and lingerie cut like glittering black snakes writhing across my torso. The thong leaves every square and hated inch of my backside bare.

Yeah, this was super uncomfortable when I first started. I’mnot good at interacting with people and worse at flirting with men. And there were a few comments about my body that gave me serious pause about strutting around naked.

I’ve got curves, I’ve got cellulite, and I’ve got bouncy tits.

The majority of men and women seriously dig it, though, and the good remarks outweigh the bad.

“Is this what you want?” I ask out loud. “You guys are on fire tonight. Everyone is so hungry for a taste. What would you do if you could taste me, sweetie?”

The responses flood in.

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