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.
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.
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’.
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.
try counting the bruises on my back and butt. There are more than a hundred. I can’t stop staring at them in the mirror. I take close to 20 pictures of my backside and when I’m sitting relaxing on the couch I can’t help but look at the pictures over and over again. I feel proud. I feel normal. I feel mesmerized by the experience. I try to figure out what caused each bruise; what toy, what whip, what belt, or was it the vampire gloves?
