D
DeepBlue89
Guest
Sometimes, you should just be happy with what you have. Maybe I should have had that mentality when I was living back in the suburbs in Illinois; a town in the middle of nowhere, with an endless sprawl of near identical houses filled with people with near identical lifestyles. In retrospect, I believe the cause of me lashing out was because deep down, I wanted to be a little bit different compared to everybody else that lived here. Deep in my heart, I didn't want to fall in that routine - the you know the one - finish high school, go to college, get married, have kids and retire. Working a staple office job, nine to five, and coming back home. I saw what this did to people first hand, with my dad having a midlife crisis, buying a Porsche with money we did not have and leaving our family after some waitress gave him some attention. It could be that I had a bit of daddy issues, seeing as this all happened about ten years ago - as well as the reason why I was having these thoughts now when I was just eighteen years old. Maybe if those events hadn't transpired maybe I wouldn't have dropped out of senior year of high school two weeks ago and attempted to make some big break in Los Angeles. Maybe I wouldn't be sitting here in some greyhound bus on my way to a city that I've never been to, to crash in someone's place that I haven't seen in two years.
Thinking back, this all started after I contacted Sheryl. She was the more rebellious kind of spirit; a year ahead of me in school, she always found herself in the center of some big mess. She came from a single parent family too, so when we had met during detention we had a lot to bond over. She's actually the one that put into my head that living here was going to be such a drag and that she was going to make an attempt to break from it. This wasn't a secret - more often than not, the goth looking woman would talk about leaving this life behind and starting something in Los Angeles. No one really believed her until she had finally disappeared one more and left to a complete different place with all sorts of different people. I actually kept in contact with Sheryl, sending messages back and forth through text and snapchat. When I had told her about my plans about dropping out and following in her footsteps of trying to get into some kind of softcore industry - posing and dancing on camera in social media accounts - she was pretty ecstatic. It wasn't porn, by the way. All the women in those videos were wearing clothes; they were just making skits and short provocative videos, getting views and with that, advertisers. It was enough to make a living in a very expensive city.
Needless to say that my boyfriend, Thomas, wasn't Sheryl's biggest fan. He was the same age as me, eighteen, and found himself a bit disappointed when I stopped showing up to school. I was often playing hooky, going off by the hill near my school and just taking pictures of things. Occasionally I even found myself reading a book to pass the time. Thankfully it was September, so I had plenty of time to iron out the details before I'd have to explain to my mom that I was no longer pursuing my education...unless I wanted to freeze my ears off. Thankfully, my boyfriend (while he wasn't as adventurous as me) was incredibly supportive and worked with me to make my dreams a reality. I just needed to take one video - one short video that showed off my body - and send it to Sheryl, who in turn would hand it over to her manager.
I wasn't worried about her boss not finding me attractive. I often had guys fawning over me at the school and honestly, even as I jogged past my neighborhood. After all, I was tall (about five foot nine) and had a fit body. Slight abs showed themselves whenever I would show off my midriff, with 30D cup breasts pushing against whatever I top I decided to wear. I'd be lying if I told you that my top half got the most attention however; often times I'd have people commenting on below. Namely, what really draws in the attention from guys, are my thighs, hips and ass - a huge, round and very touchable ass supported by wide hips and thighs to match. Often times my friends would poke fun and joke. "That ass" and "Those child-bearing hips" would be sentences that would slip out of their mouths in an attempt to tease me. But as it would turn out, I would those those features in a short video of me climbing that hill I would spend my time in; an isolated place with my boyfriend filming right behind me - the camera fixated on my shorts which was getting wedged between my big cheeks; a curse for any girl with a bottom like mine. Once that video was taken, I found myself sending it to Sheryl.
It didn't take long for me to get a message from her boss. Damian.
I got the message about the time that I got back home from school. I anxious checked my phone to see that he had sent me a private message on Twitter:
That's the finest ass I have ever seen. If you're looking to make money AND shake that beautiful ass of yours like you say you are, message me.
I did Facebook stalk the guy and I checked out his profile. He seemed legitimate; his profile picture looking as if it was taken by a professional photographer. He looked much older than I was - if I had to take a wild guess, I would say that that Damian was in his late thirties, or early forties. But the man looked fit. I never told Thomas this, but I've always liked older men. Just the thought of someone more experienced than I was, and definitely someone more experienced than the boys my age, was enough to send butterflies in my chest. Someday, I wanted to be shown how real men fuck. I wanted to be fucked, not have awkward anxious sex with Thomas. Or at least, those were the twisted thoughts going on in the back of my mind - thoughts that I was sure to repress forever. I didn't reply quickly to Damian, taking about a day before I went against the anxiety that was coursing down my veins. I eventually, after explaining to Thomas that this was a big opportunity for me, typed up my response:
"I'd be happy to.
"And that's the story on how I got here.
The bus trip from my home to Los Angeles took a while, to say the least. After Thomas helped me pack some of my things into a roller bag, I was treated to a twenty hour bus ride going from my state, all the way to California. I won't lie; I didn't get much rest, having been both excited and terrified of this trip. Not to mention, I was paranoid about sleeping on the bus - it being near empty and I didn't want to get felt up by some stranger who may or may not have been eying from from afar. I eventually got to LA, where I was greeted by Sheryl who was practically screeching from excitement. Treated to some coffee and a shower, she went on over how Damian would love to meet me later that same day. I was obvious very tired, at least for the time being, but it was difficult to not find Sheryl's excitement contagious. According to her, he'd be at some house party hosted a few blocks down from her shabby looking apartment.
"Sounds fun. Can I take a quick nap before we go?" I said, laying on her couch after an exhausting trip.
"Sure sure, take your nap you sleepy head. I'll just tell Damian that you'll be coming."
