Page 3 of Only Fans

I had no clue what OnlyFans was. I had seen random people and a few celebrities posting about it, but I hadn’t personally seen or been on the site myself to check it out.

He wasn’t the only person to ask me about OnlyFans.

It had become a very frequent question. Since I kept hearing about it, I was led to getting my own account.

Once I got my OnlyFans page, I was able to make some decent bread.

I still asked my parents for money from time to time because I’d overspend often, but for the most part, I made enough to keep me from having to keep going to my parents for money daily like I used too.

I had become hooked and I couldn’t believe I was able to make some good money fulfilling fantasies online.

It was super easy, and it paid well. It was a win-win situation no matter how you looked at it.

I was the type of chick that stayed online whether it was posting a selfie, posing in new outfits to show off or doing DYI videos and live chats with my followers just to interact with them.

I had to post about every minute of my life.

I felt like the many followers I had were interested in my every move.

I had become that big headed. You couldn’t tell me I wasn’t damn near a reality star.

The only difference between them and myself was the fact that they were on television.

It was very common for me to be driving down the street just for the hell of it, going to the gas station or buying something from the store, and I’d be on live streaming on all of my social accounts the entire time.

I was that chick that walked around the stores on a video call not giving one damn about the people around me.

Even if my AirPods died, I’d walk around with my phone on speaker and not care one bit.

My mom called me ignorant. I felt like people should mind the business that paid them.

That way they wouldn’t be concerned with my business.

I knew it bothered both of my parents, especially my mom that I stayed documenting my life, but I loved it.

It made me feel as if I was poppin’. I was able to attract more attention than I could handle filling the void my parents left me with.

With OnlyFans being a place where I could make some good money by doing some of the same things that I had been doing on my other social media sites daily, it was a no brainer.

It felt pretty amazing being able to make good money and not have the kind of nine to five type of job my parents were pressuring me to get.

Everybody around my age was working at the mall or in fast food jobs barely making five hundred a paycheck every two weeks.

Whereas I was making hundreds, even thousands in a week easy, sometimes even more than that in a day.

Since my face was always in my phone, I believed my parents thought I was always just playing around not knowing that I was actually making real connections with people and making real money.

They both were always trying to tell me how important it was for me to get a job and how I needed to start somewhere to learn some work ethic.

They stayed preaching and nagging me to death about needing to know what it’s like to make my own money.

No matter how bad I wanted to tell them I was good on what they were saying, I had to play like I was listening.

If I didn’t follow their rules, they’d totally cut me off financially.

I knew without a doubt if they were to find out what I was doing and how I was making money, they would lose it on me and cut me off.

Reputation was EVERYTHING to my parents.

They would never accept me working in the sex industry, ever!

They cared about what other people thought about them, but me?

Not so much. I had people that hated on me all the time, but I didn’t give not one fuck!

Most of my haters came from the nudes I’d post. Unhappy bitches couldn’t handle a baddy like me, but it was what it was.

I got paid very well for my pictures and had every intention to continue to post more and more on a daily basis.

There were some dummies on social media posting nudes for free.

As a result, they hated on what I had going on because they couldn’t get paid like me, but I didn’t care what people thought of me.

I felt deep in my soul that no one could ever outdo me, and I was up for the challenge to prove it.

Whatever someone had that I wanted, I knew I could get it.

On the outside I was as close to perfect in the looks department as one could get.

I never had a reason to hate or pay attention to haters.

It wasn’t a good use of my time. The only way I would get into some messy shit with a hater was if they directed some shit at me.

If it wasn’t directed to me, I didn’t the respect the shit.

I only minded the business that paid me.

And one of the reasons why I was successful at what I did was, I didn’t do that jealousy shit. What was for me was for me.

As for my parents, since I wanted them to front the bill for the condo I was about to get, I had to play by their rules.

I was ready to move out of their house and into my own place.

The stipulations of them providing me with a condo was that I had to be in school.

The problem with that was I had no idea what I wanted to major in just yet.

The only thing I was sure of was that I no longer wanted to reside under their roof.

They really started bugging me about what my plans were once I graduated high school.

They both wanted me to follow in their footsteps, but that wasn’t the life I wanted for myself.

I told them several times that I wasn’t interested in following in either one of their footsteps, but it was to no avail.

They, well mostly my mom, stayed on me every chance she got.

I didn’t have the option of taking a year off of school to figure my life out like a few people I knew.

My parents thought that was a horrible idea, so I had to immediately go to college after high school.

Since I didn’t have much time to decide what I wanted to study, I figured I’d take my general education courses downtown at Harold Washington College in the Loop, to satisfy their yearnings.

I was a summer baby. My birthday was June 22 nd which was in a couple of weeks, and I’d be turning twenty.

I couldn’t wait until my birthday because I was so ready to start living my best life, which brought me back to Reggie.

He was much older than me, six years older to be exact.

He thought I was already twenty turning twenty-one, which would make him only five years older, but what’s a year, right?

To me, age was just a number, but I also knew everyone didn’t look at it that way.

I carried myself and acted much older than my age which was why I was able to lie about it.

Honestly, Reggie was borderline out of my league.

He was most definitely a grown ass, well-experienced man.

I knew his age from the start because he had his actual birthday and year on his Facebook page.

Since I worked as a sex worker on OnlyFans, I didn’t want to have my actual age posted on any of my social media accounts.

I had yet to tell Reggie my real age, and I honestly wasn’t sure if I was going to tell him the truth.

As far as my upcoming birthday, I had been thinking if him knowing my actual age was even relevant.

I decided that instead of telling him, I was going to see how well we vibed in person first. Since he had been pressuring me to hook up with him, it was perfect timing.

If we met in person and we didn’t click, my age wouldn’t matter, but if we met and we did click, and we wanted to continue seeing each other, then I would cross that bridge when I got to it.

I wasn’t trying to do anything that would risk my chances of us being together, especially not before I got to sample to dick.

Out of all the men I’d met through my OnlyFans account, Reggie really had my mind gone.

I even had guys from around the way trying to get with me, but none of them had the type of affect Reggie had on me.

He had me intrigued. I wanted to get to know him better.

He kept me at arm’s-length from his personal life, and I understood why being that we met online, yet I was interested in getting to know the real Reggie.

The more I felt that he was being private, the more intrigued I’d become.

I didn’t know what he did for a living, where he worked, if he had siblings, nothing.

All our conversations consisted of us meeting up and phone sex, yet he still had my mind gone.

I knew it may have sounded silly, but I was a sucker for attention, and thus far, he had made me feel as though he was just as gone off of me as I was off of him.

He had me wide open. My hope was that we spent some time together, we’d not only get to know one another better, but that I could tell him my real age, and he’d be cool with it.

“Don’t get me wrong, baby, video fuckin’ is straight, but I wanna suck that pussy. The way that fatty be squirtin’, I gotta get a taste and feel. You keep holdin’ out on ya boy like you not feelin’ a nigga.”

The sound of his voice was low, deep, and raspy, begging to meet up and give him punany was such a turn on. He spoke with a Chicago southside twang that was super sexy. It was the begging and twang in his voice for me, had me loose as a goose over his ass.

“You wrong for goin’ there ‘cause I’m actually feelin’ you a lot. So much so that I don’t want it to end up being a hit it and quit it. I’m open to more with us.”

“What makes you think I’ma hit it and quit it though?”