I'd rather build my own brand, my own following, my own empire. After Dark was Black-owned, which meant they understood the culture. They understood that niggas like me didn't want to be told what to do. They gave us the platform and let us run with it. I uploaded what I wanted, when I wanted. I setmy own prices, chose my own collaborators, maintained my own standards.
And my standards were high as fuck.
I didn't fuck with just anybody. Every woman I worked with had to go through my screening process. Full STI panel, updated within the last thirty days. If I had any doubts, I sent them to my own doctor for verification. I'd seen too many niggas in this industry get burned—literally—because they were thinking with their dicks instead of their heads. Not me. I was too smart for that, too careful. My health was my wealth, and I wasn't about to risk it for nobody.
This girl, the one currently deep throating my dick through a glory hole, had jumped through every hoop. She'd sent me her test results, gone to my dentist for a oral health check, even signed an NDA. She understood that this was business, and she respected the process. That's why I fucked with her. Well, not literally fucked her, but you know what I mean.
"Shit, baby, you trying to make me nut already?" I said, my voice strained. She was going crazy on my dick, sucking it like she was trying to pull my soul out through my tip. I could feel the pressure building in my balls, that familiar tightening that let me know I was getting close.
She pulled off with a wet pop, and I heard her laugh on the other side. "Not yet," she said, her voice breathy. "I want to enjoy this."
I smirked. She was getting her money's worth, that's for damn sure. Five bands was a lot, but for an hour of my time and a guaranteed nut? That was a fair trade. Plus, she wasn't annoying. She didn't try to hit me up outside of our scheduled sessions, didn't try to catch feelings, didn't try to turn this into something it wasn't. She understood the assignment.
Her mouth was back on me, and this time she was taking me even deeper. I felt the back of her throat, felt her gag a little, butshe didn't pull back. She pushed through it, relaxing her throat and taking me all the way to the base. My dick was fully through that hole now, and she was working it like a professional.
"Goddamn," I hissed, my hips jerking forward involuntarily. I wanted to grab her head, wanted to control the pace, but I couldn't. All I could do was stand there and take it. And fuck, it felt good.
She was slobbering all over my shit now, spit dripping down my balls, making everything slick and messy. I could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of her sucking, could hear her moaning and gagging and loving every second of it. This bitch was a freak, and I was here for it.
I thought about my pops again, about the conversations we'd had when I first told him I was getting into content creation. He'd been skeptical at first, worried that I was going to make the same mistakes he did. But when I broke down my business plan, showed him how I was going to maintain control and ownership, he'd nodded in approval.
"You're smarter than I was at your age," he'd said."Just don't let the money make you stupid. Don't let these women make you stupid. And for wrap ya dick up nigga.”
I'd taken his advice to heart. I was making more money than most niggas my age, and I was doing it on my own terms. No boss, no schedule, no bullshit. Just me, my content, and my subscribers. And subscribers like this one, who were willing to pay top dollar for a private experience, made it all worth it.
Her tongue was doing some wild shit now, swirling around my tip, flicking against my slit. She was trying to make me lose control, and it was working. My breathing was getting heavier, my muscles tensing up. I was close, so fucking close.
"You want this nut?" I asked, my voice rough.
"Yes," she moaned, and I could hear the desperation in her voice. "Give it to me, Dose. I want to taste it."
That did it. Hearing her beg for my cum, knowing she was on the other side of that wall just as turned on as I was, sent me over the edge. My dick pulsed in her mouth, and I felt the first spurt of cum shoot out. She didn't pull back, didn't hesitate. She took it all, swallowing and sucking and milking me for everything I had.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I groaned, my hand slamming against the wall as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me. She kept sucking, kept swallowing, not wasting a single drop. When I finally stopped cumming, she gave my dick one last long lick, cleaning me off before pulling back.
I stood there for a moment, catching my breath, my dick still twitching from the intensity of the orgasm. That was exactly what I needed. No drama, no complications, just a good nut and a fat check.
"You good?" she asked through the speaker, and I could hear the satisfaction in her voice.
Long after, I dipped out after cleaning up after myself. We'd never actually met face-to-face outside of our video calls, and I needed to make sure she wasn't catfishing me. Her voice matched the lips I'd seen on screen, so whenever I was facing the wall, I had peace of mind knowing there wasn't somebody else in the room pretending to be her. The last thing I wanted was another woman—or some nigga—pulling a fast-one on me.
"Yeah, I'm good," I said, tucking my dick back in my pants. "You got skills, for real."
She laughed. "Same time next month?"
“We’ll see.”
I left the room, walking through the basement and back upstairs. She'd left an envelope on the kitchen counter with the rest of my payment—she'd sent half upfront, and the other half was in cash. I counted it quickly, making sure it was all there, then pocketed it and headed out.
As I drove back to my crib, I thought about how different my life was from most niggas my age. I wasn't clocking in to no nine-to-five, wasn't answering to no manager, wasn't stressing about bills. I was living life on my own terms, making my own rules, and getting paid to do it.
And I wasn't about to let nobody fuck that up.
Not a porn company trying to lock me into a contract. Not a woman trying to trap me with feelings. Not even my own ego. I'd seen too many people in this industry crash and burn because they got too comfortable, too careless, too caught up in the lifestyle.
I was going to keep doing this shit my way, on my terms, for as long as it made sense. And when it stopped making sense, I'd pivot to something else. That's what smart niggas do. We adapt, we evolve, we stay ten steps ahead.
My phone buzzed with a notification from After Dark. Another subscriber had just sent me a message, asking about rates for a custom video. I smirked, already calculating how much I was going to charge.
