I suppose I’ve always been an extrovert. As a child, I had a dressing up box at home filled with all kinds of quirky flamboyant attire I’d acquired from jumble sales and car boot stalls over the years, and loved putting on little shows for the relatives or neighbours whenever I got the chance – or more often than not, whenever I could convince them to quit their adult chitter-chatter for 5 minutes (which was always closer to 15) just to watch me.
I’ve forever loved to sing. I’d say I was a born performer, but that sounds a bit arrogant doesn’t it? Fuck it. I’m leaving it in there.
My singing voice wasn’t, and still isn’t half bad – though perhaps a little huskier due to my 20-a-day smoking habit, and certainly a lot lower since my balls dropped (as expected). But it was my dancing in particular that left a lot to be desired – in short, I had all the gracefulness of a bull in a china shop, so more often than not I felt there was a good chance my family and friends were probably laughing at me rather than with me. It didn’t really matter though, I may not have been Freddie Mercury or Michael Jackson, but what I did have was an audience, and that was more than enough to satisfy me at the time.
I guess in a funny kind of way, things haven’t really changed all that much. Sure, as a child, I certainly wouldn’t be donning BDSM style fetish wear and parading my arse around on webcam, but through my time as a cam boy I’ve learned to embrace my kinkier side, and still to this day have a forever-expanding dressing up box full of outfits which I love to show off to my viewers.
I forget what’s in there half the time because there’s so much to rumble through, and I’m not the tidiest of people so it frequently ends up all tangled together – but it’s essentially made up of leather harnesses, rubber shirts and shorts, latex bodysuits and tight fitting underwear, along with heavy chains and, of course, my trademark wrestling singlets!
Leather and rubber gear, if you’re looking for quality stuff, can be rather expensive, but believe me it’s worth saving up for as you get what you pay for. Go with a trusted brand like MR B or COLT and you won’t regret it, because if you take good care of it it’ll last you much longer in the long run. Just be sure to get measured up if it’s something that isn’t too flexible or ‘one size fits all’, as if you’re investing a lot of money in to something you want it to fit you just right.
By contrast I don’t believe any of my singlets have cost me more than £20 at a time and I love each and every single one of them. I’d estimate that I own about 12 now in various colour combinations and materials, from mesh to spandex, but by the time you read this I’ll probably have amassed about 30 more or so, due to the nature of my spending habits…
Not all of my singlets are backless, but the ones with a nice round cut out at the arse area are a particular favourite of mine (and my viewers… who’d have thought?) because of the easy access they supply when it comes to any kind of ass play, generally with my trusty big black dildo!
I do the majority of my shopping online when I can because I find gay sex shops to be vastly overpriced an awful lot of the time. Ebay and Amazon are pretty good but I really recommend AliExpress – they have a lot of the exact same stuff only often for much cheaper. The only downside is that all of their stock is shipped from China, so if you’re looking for fast delivery you aren’t going to get it there. But if you’re not in a hurry and have the time to spend browsing you can definitely get some amazing bargains there without breaking the bank – it’s a really good place to start!
I can’t honestly remember when it was that I very first considered seriously the possibility of being a cam boy for pay. I was, of course, somewhat familiar with the nature of the job. Anyone who watches porn online will have, undoubtedly, come across those fucking annoying pop up ads that bounce up on your screen – where you see a guy, or more frequently a girl, sat topless in their own little bedroom space, posing seductively into a webcam lens, accompanied by what’s usually an invite along the lines of ‘Come join me now in my live chat for flirty/sexy/ fun’.
I still to this day don’t know how many of those ads are genuine, or if the footage is even live. Doesn’t it seem to always be the exact same clip each time on loop!? (Even the best of cam models aren’t always fully engaged 100% of the time and perfectly poised in dazzling HD!) – Needless to say I was aware of the occupation and thought I had a pretty good idea of what it entailed.
TWO – Losing it in London
I don’t wish to bore you with all of the insignificant details of my growing up, but for my story to make sense I’m going to have to give you a little back history so you’re at least more familiar with some of the characters in my life, and the position I was in, in the months and years leading up to my decision to take up camming full time…
In 2013, I’d moved out of the family home where I grew up in Monmouthshire, rural Wales, to live with my boyfriend Christos in North London – a 3 hour drive away. It was an incredibly rushed decision looking back on things, especially after only having shared a few dates together…
“Y’know I’m getting this new flat at the start of next month,” he turned and said to me one night in his thick cockney accent. We were sitting in Soho’s notorious ‘G-A-Y Bar’, sipping from glasses of Jack Daniels and coke. “Why don’t you move in with me?”
I was 19 years old at the time. He was in his 30’s – tall and olive skinned with jet black hair and a muscular physique. I’d initially met him on a birthday celebration night out with an old friend of mine. He’d introduced himself and bought me a drink at the bar, and afterwards we’d exchanged numbers. I was straight out of college, didn’t really know quite what to do with myself, and frankly, was desperate to move away from the boring old countryside life I’d become so accustomed to. I suppose ultimately, I was in search of a change of scenery and a fresh adventure; so the prospect of moving to the big city was a massive deal for me.
Plus, he was my first real boyfriend. I mean, I certainly wasn’t a virgin and I’d had my fair share of one night stands, but I don’t think I’d ever been truly in love before meeting Christos. He was ever the charmer and, cliché as it may sound, swept me right off my feet.
Christos and I shared a ground floor studio apartment not far from High Barnet. I say shared, but it was his name on the tenancy agreement, and I wasn’t really supposed to be staying there long term at all. When we first moved in, he was working as a painter and decorator for his older brother’s construction company, and the work they were carrying out at the time was right on the far side of London. That particular job meant a lot of very early starts for him in the morning. It wasn’t at all uncommon for him to roll out of bed at 5am and be out the door by 6 – he was incredibly dedicated to his work, and I certainly can’t fault him in any way for that.
Chilling out for Christos and I (at least in the beginning), usually meant snuggling up in bed together in the evening, and smoking a joint or two – all the while stuffing ourselves silly on Doritos, Sour Cream and Chive Dip, and Dairy Milk bars, washed down with gallons upon gallons of Coca-Cola. We’d usually put on ‘Family Guy’ – a comedy favourite of both of ours, and find ourselves laughing so hysterically at times, much like a couple of hyenas, that the girl who lived in the flat above would be stomping her heels on our ceiling (her floor) – or screaming from the top of the staircase banister at us to “Keep the fucking noise down!” – Naturally though, that only made things all the more hilarious. Why is it that everything seems so funny when you’re stoned?