Being an OnlyFans creator also comes with its challenges. There are societal stigmas and judgments associated with this line of work, and I have faced criticism and negativity from some quarters. However, I have learned to overcome these challenges by staying true to myself, being proud of my work, and educating others about the platform and its diversity.
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I haven’t always been an open book, spreading her legs and joy for the world to see, I was more of a closested freak. All my friends knew I was incredibly promiscuous and loved sex, but that stayed in my immediate group. Nowadays, I wear my heart on my sleeve, my sex life is plastered all over the internet and I’ve accepted that I’ve opened myself up to being judged for what I do.
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VibeWIthMolly/VibeWithMommy shares her opinion on what women actually want and gives helpful tips on how to approach a first date as well as tips for physical intimacy, consent and how to seal the deal! In my dating life I have made quite a few men uncomfortable with my forwardness. I’ve had a guy make up an excuse and left the date after only 30 minutes of conversation. I admittedly knew we weren’t a match so I got pretty vulgar fairly quickly. What did I say? Fine I’ll tell ya. I told him one of my kinks was to get objectified and fucked like a fuckdoll from time to time. I think it freaked him out a bit…
One misstep, my boot slides out from underneath me and my face makes contact with the rock. I’m now draped over the beautiful rock face cliff like a little goldendoodle who just played for hours at the dog park. My floppy curly ears frazzled, ego floating in the cold river below and my fear a blazin’.
Well, the first time I was naked in public was when I was a child. I don’t remember much from that time, but what I do know is a story my mother told me. She said she could never keep clothes on me.
My vision shrinks to the size of a pinhole. The sound that comes after sounds like a muffled horn. I can’t feel my body, time slows down; it’s almost as if time doesn’t exist. I'm standing on an empty highway, the air is thick with dew and fog, red and blue lights flashing in my peripheral. In front of me there are two mangled cars. I'm surrounded by police officers; I can't hear anything anyone’s saying. All I can feel is my heart thumping in my chest, filling my ears with such loud thuds it's almost nauseating. I feel condensation start to form on my palms from all the anxiety filling my chest.
I want to start off by saying that I can't stop crying. I did it. I'm 30 years old. I've had a baby, I've finally figured out why I've been using drugs and treating myself and others the way I have for the past 15 years, and I faced the moment in my life that changed everything. I had been refusing to think about, talk about or relive it since it happened.
