You always hear about hot girls getting all sorts of guys sending them dick pics and all kinds of crazy shit, and I’m sure they do, but that’s a two-way street. It has nothing to do with gender—it just has to do with celebrity. For good or bad, I’m a public figure, and even though my channel caters exclusively to men, you’d be surprised how many chicks send me shots of them naked. Opening up my DM’s to a nice pair of boobs is nothing unusual.
Honestly, I usually just delete them. I know that probably sounds like bullshit, but I had a good friend who made the mistake of sending pics back and then meeting up with some random who sent a selfie—let’s just say that it didn’t end well, and he got exposed all over the internet when she posted screen shots of his nudes and explicit messages. Turned out she was seventeen.
Since then, I assume everyone is looking to mess with me, and I just delete the messages like the ones I see now. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll scroll, I’ll look, but I don’t respond. But I could. I could hit a few buttons on this keyboard and be surrounded by all sorts of hoes who would gladly do anything I asked them to.
But I’m not thinking about any of that. I’m staring at an inbox full of enough smut to fill an hour long porno, but I don’t care about any of it.
What’s with me? I have all this in front of me, and the only thing I’m actually seeing in my mind’s eye is Shoshana’s face looking at me.
I close Instagram and go to my camera roll. I don’t have to imagine, right? I go to my camera roll and go right to my most recent shot. Me and Shoshana — it’s a selfie I took with her and Tori right before dinner. I’ll have to crop Tori out.
Not only is she hot, but we look damn good together, I have to say.
I stare at the two of us, getting all hot and bothered as my focus goes just to her side of the picture. I probably blew it just now. There’s no way I’m going to get her to go anywhere with me a third time. She probably wouldn’t even talk to me if she saw me in person.
But I’m going to see her again, whether she knows it or not. She’s too hot, and she’s having too much of an effect on me for me to just forget about her. But how could I get her attention in a way where she’d have to respond?
Then I look down at my phone again at that selfie of the two of us, and an idea pops into my head. It’s going to have to wait a little, but I know exactly what I’m going to do.
After this, she’s either going to be mine, or she’s never going to talk to me again.
Shoshana
“Someone put a few drops of Conor in my drink.”
It’s late.
It’s been a long weekend of fun and fan interaction, but my body and brain need a rest. Tor’s already passed out, and I’m about to join her soon, but I’m still a little ramped up from the drink I just had with Conor. Jesus, he’s a jerk. How does one guy screw up with the same woman twice in two days? The first time he tried to proposition me out of nowhere after telling the world that I wasn’t pretty enough to sleep with. And then after inviting me out for a drink, he got really douchey with me after I criticized some of the content he put out.
But still.
I wonder what would have happened?
What if I wasn’t trying to pay him back with my magical blue-ball powers? And what if he hadn’t gotten all pissy with me over that drink we were having? Would he have hypnotized me with his magical green eyes into going back to his hotel room with him? I want to say no, but I’m not going to lie to myself. The real answer is I don’t know what would have happened.
And that scares the hell out of me. I have a bad history with guys—I trust too quickly, I fall too hard, and then I fill another grave with the soul of a shitty relationship. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a real relationship, or even slept with a guy, but I don’t want to