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It’s ironic to sit down and spill my guts on a “stoner holiday” with zero THC in my system. It’s been exactly one year since I took medicated honey with a girlfriend of mine, Miss. Nicole. (A light dose edible so we would be alert monitoring her young children outside.)
Nicole and I have been friends since 2013. We met at the movie theater, like Stacy and I, where C.J. hired us, and we share similar values with organic food, and healthy lifestyles… She met the love of her life in 2018, and has two kids with him now. A decade ago thou, before that, C.J. was in her DMs.
She texted me as it was happening, and when he asked her out to dinner, she kindly told him that I would love to go to dinner with him, and she rather not. (Such a sweetheart honoring girl code when we hadn’t even grown close yet as girlfriends.)
He said to her all those years ago that he had zero interest with such.
He said to her I was a nice girl, but not a girl he wants to go to dinner with.
Yet here I am ladies and gentlemen, 10 years later, writing from a Pennsylvania hotel room having just reunited with C.J. for the first time in over a year.
I have preserved my sanctity, and been loyal to a ghost of a man who admitted from the very beginning I am not “his type”. What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
I pause writing to smell my hands. I’ve missed the smell of his cock on me. The friction of my spit and hands on his thickness is satisfying to me. I love this man with every fiber of my soul, despite all being unrequited.
We had a bit of a chat today, before I felt the grip of his hands in my hair. I hadn’t had my throat pumped with fat cock in so long, I was too eager to swallow all of him.
He pulled my skull up and away from his balls, as a way to silently tell me to focus on his shaft and keep a better pace sucking. A firm grip in my hair, but no choking. No kisses. No jaw caressing. He was tired.
He had been laying down watching me babble, when I say we “chat”. Reflecting back on this, my eyes well up and the keyboard is now blurry, because if his eyes were a camera POV surely my face looked chubby. Did he see 3 chins, or 4? Why didn’t I lay down and match his energy?
To make matters worse my girlie cycle is due in a few days. All girls bloat with their period arrival. Did I look fat to him? Did I look tired?
I say to C.J. “I never wanted to be a cam girl without you,” and he quickly sighed -“well you are doing it without me.”
I’m bewildered.
I move forward to bring up the OnlyFans dilemma…
I’ve previously written here about Vivian my first G/G Chaturbate collab. A mentor and insider scoop on the camming industry, but before there was her and her husband, there was another couple that inspired me years ago.
Scarlett and Jake I found Chaturbate surfing in 2018. Scarlett is a kind spirit, and has offered help building the OF.
Scarlett has my OF profile listed on her OF profile and it’s expanded my visibility quite a bit. She too is waiting for me to reclaim my aura/desire.
I tell ^all of this to C.J. trying to not burst into tears the whole time while doing so because all of everything is way overdue to talk about.
Why couldn’t we have the hot “I MISSED YOU” sex first thou, and then talk it all out? I’ve waited over a year now to kiss this man, and feel his soul.
‘300+ free-page OnlyFans subscribers are waiting to see content, and support my sex dreams. Even if 1 out of 100 bought videos and photosets regularly that would be exciting, but I’m so out of place alone.’ – my voice is breaking with emotions.
I can’t seem to find my inner sex kitten. She’s lost. She’s missing… and I wonder if that’s because I never got to watch my first sex tape C.J. and I made together. 2016/2017.
Even if I didn’t sell it at a high price point, I just need to see it. I need to know how to felt to be desired in real life with the only man I ever enjoyed sex with. Maybe then I can find the spark that’s been buried with years of grieving and crying all alone. I’m finally asking to see it.
C.J. tells me he deleted it ‘a long time ago’, and he ‘doesn’t have it’… that was neon’s ago.
“Out of sight, out of mind(?)” was his reasoning, reminding me of our complicated past.
His eyes are cold. His tone is cold. Something is wrong. He’s not himself… Is he perhaps seeing someone?
He recovered the cellphone video he recorded of us in late 2020, and told me via text when he did.
Why didn’t I demand to see it then? Because I was sick with guilt about ruining that moment too.
A local photo friend who took stunning “mermaid” themed pictures of me years prior became a hairdresser. He needed “models,” and he turned my hair ‘dark red’ the one time I didn’t box dye my roots myself. Not my shade or natural looking at all. I was disgusted that night, all those years ago.
I took 2 “happy pills” that night in 2016 because I wanted “bigger eyes,” as I needed C.J. to look into my eyes while fucking me, and somehow “know” I was the one, because my eyes were bigger than any other girl he’s been with. It had to outweigh the horrendous hair.
THIS WAS THE LOGIC OF A STUPID 24 YEAR OLD -MIND YOU.
Xanax doesn’t even change your pupil size, but I overheard half of a conversation somewhere in the club, about anti-depressants, and proceeded to be young and dumb.
My intention wasn’t to be a space cadet, I just wanted to be loved and seen. I wanted to be relaxed, and embraced.
Fumbling the love of my life with no memory of it, while my traumatic GirlsDoPorn virginity tape got watched thousands of times?!
So unfair this life feels. (Before I remember I’m blessed elsewhere.)
I’m beyond devasted the time capsule of 24 year old me, stupid in love, gets to be watched zero times, but I couldn’t ruin this current 2024 meet-up moment any further…
Fast forward to his heavy cock in my mouth again.
It feels so right to be sucking on real dick happy, and not cold silicone in my cam room.
No feeling can compare to his cock in my mouth; using my pretty face on his king-sized greatness, such a privilege. My panties were drenched after just minutes of deep throating him. I’ve missed him so much.
He tells me “relax,” as my gag reflex needs to let him in, but my whole body is tense as I choke on him. I should be tensing up on a vibrating Lovense controlled by Chaturbate viewers while swallowing this sword.
Nobody else can suffocate me like this. I can still hear the words “relax” echo in my mind…. he said it twice, and I was begging to hear more silently.
My body was screaming to be taken fully, after way too long apart.
______________________________
I’m missing my February crescent moon necklace, because I worry I might frighten him with how badly my spirit needs him. It’s still my go-to Chaturbate necklace because this throat is his. This pussy has always been just his. My eyes in my Chevrolet rearview mirror -his.
Chaturbate camming is supposed to be fun, but hitting my one year mark I’ve spent more time crying and wishing for C.J.’s affection/sex, more than enjoying “the attention” from online community as a “solo creator”.
With approaching 10,000 Chaturbate followers, I just want to showcase real sex, and proudly show off my body as “taken and happily fucked the right way.”
I am more than “just a gag fetish.” I am more than “just a girl.”
I just want justice for 18 year old me. I always will.
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On another note, C.J, being a man exposed to too much dating app’ overload in his twenties, I think spent too many years feeling addicted/conflicted with pornographic content.
Had I been specially designed, and predetermined to be his enteral lover, It only makes perfect sense that it would be my job to heal that wound. Heal with a passion, thru a lens of love.
Create porn as part of a ‘healthy lifestyle’, and not associate it as a ‘nasty habit.’
Giving C.J. a healthy “relationship” by creating half- anonymous porn happily, instead of feeling consumed by random media… let him run a muck with filming/re-creating darker porn fantasies with my eager body, subscription gate-keep it, and enjoy every moment of it.
Oh the healing to be had in my mind…
Justice for his past. Justice for mine…
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…When I was 18, I knew every word of Taylor Swift’s Speak Now and Fearless albums. I sang them in the car during my freshman year of college commute. I understood the lyrics, feeling the pain/joy without experiencing it yet.
As, fate would have it, the release of here newest studio album, The Tortured Poets Department, was yesterday.
I identity as a sweetheart, but my heart feels shattered beyond mending with the thought of never seeing C.J. again, as he kisses another girl having forgotten me…
Taylor Swift, in this new album, writes:
“Oh, what a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye
(Taylor Swift, LOML)
The coward claimed he was a lion
I’m combing through the braids of lies
“I’ll never leave, ” “Never mind”
Our field of dreams engulfed in fire
Your arson’s match, your somber eyes
And I’ll still see it until I die
You’re the loss of my life“ – LOML
10/01/24 EDIT: Miss. Swift is a traitor to the nation with her politics.
I’m now struggling to name a fit president of the “Shattered Sweethearts Society” if there was one.
This whole entire blog/diary as a whole is my application to be Vice President of said society.
I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again. Mac Miller and Ariana Grande get married in another life. They live happily ever after, but in reality, in this life, he passed away at a young age and she will never quite be the same.
I’ve accepted my fate to never be the same. This “loss of my life” is enough to kill me, but what justice would that serve to the years of sadness I endured? I didn’t come this far to come this far.
With May here, I must stay strong. A breakdown before a break thru. A set back before a comeback.
I may be too late to be the girl of C.J.’s dreams, but it’s not too late to be the girl I want to be. Healthy. Happy. Delivered. Highly favored.
The other day waiting in line for food, a barista told an older gentlemen, “Sorry for the wait, what can I get for you?”
He said, It was all good and he was “Too blessed to be stressed.”
Too Blessed to be Stressed.
What a tagline. What a gentle reminder.
-xoxo | Forgotten Girl
