So, there I was, out of my mind. I had to be to do what needed to be done.
Terry wanted nudes.
And, though I’d obviously been nude in public before, there was so much more on the line. After all, this is the man who has shot everyone who’s anyone, from GaGa to Lohan and beyond.
I wanted to be a part of that.
I wanted to do this opportunity justice.
I wanted to vomit.
But, instead, I strapped on my pretty pink cock and did what I do best. I put on a show and did my best to make Terry proud. I acted out. I rebelled against myself and the life I’d been leading, the life no one saw. I rebelled against that broken, battered, put upon housewife, who’d been shamed into believing no one would ever love her so she’d better just stay where she was. She’d better hide from the world and take her licks. She’d better take that belt he swung at her and the spit he hurled into her face. I was rebelling against the woman who believed she deserved it and that she’d never be desirable again.
I was outrageous.
I was high as fuck.
I was coming back to myself.
We shot for hours and I kept drinking, kept popping pills, kept stripping, and stroking that pink cock. I felt empowered by my body, by that pretty pink dick strapped around my thighs. I felt desirable as Terry coaxed me and brought out the vixen, the vamp, and personas I’d never known before that day.
Each frame was more outrageous than the last and then, before I knew it, I was completely naked and sprawled on the cold, hard concrete floor…
…to be continued
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