I met Stacy at ‘No Vacancy’, this prohibition era vibe bar in Hollywood.
Stacy is a cute short Latin American girl, she has a slightly dark skin, pretty light brown eyes, and you can guess a stunning body under her jumper dress. When I approach her, she is chatting with her friend Joey. Not very friendly at first, they certainly decide little by little not to classify me as an oaf and end up relaxing. So we get to know each other, make jokes, have fun, and immortalize our encounter at the bar’s photo booth. In short, I’m having a blast and everything is going great.
We continue the night at Ysabel where I decide to move on with Stacy, which is working pretty well. But, there is a but. In the middle of one of our conversation, and after one of too many drinks, I feel a sudden urge to throw up. But Stacy is in the middle of her story and I can’t interrupt her so abruptly. I can definitely not puke on her neither! So I try to hold back and convince my brain that this sensation is temporary and my urge to vomit will pass. But it doesn’t. The urge is getting stronger and stronger. If I keep sitting here I might puke my guts out on her. I can’t hold back any longer, too bad for Stacy and her story. At the first pause she makes, I get up without saying a word and head for the bathroom, with the slow, confident step of a guy who’s just about to take a leak. But the second I turn a corner and she can’t see me anymore, I start running like crazy to the bathroom and reach an urinal just in time to vomit everything I have in my body. What a relief!
I quickly refresh my face and mouth as best I can and look desperately for a chewing gum which turns out to be impossible to find. Neither the bar staff, nor the customers I ask, nor even my mates, nobody seems to have a gum in this fucking bar! Anyway, I sit down at the table opposite Stacy, already embarrassed by my breath which I don’t want to blow in her face. But Stacy is looking at me from across the table and gestures for me to come and sit next to her. I’m fucked. I can’t say no to her, she wouldn’t understand, but I’m dreading the smell of my breath. I go back to sit next to her anyway and continue the discussion, taking care to whisper behind her ear (instead of blowing in her face) the few bullshit things I still have to tell her.
At some points, Stacy decides to take things in charge. She can probably tell I’m drunk and she suggests we leave the bar, which I immediately accept. From then on, Stacy took control of the situation and she was clearly the one leading, with me following like a prepubescent teenager. She puts her friend Joey in a cab and orders an Uber for us. I don’t even understand what’s going on and I have no idea where we’re going, my guess being we’re heading to her place. But my only concern is my bad breath and all I have in mind is how to get rid of it! The Uber driver eventually drops us in front of a Beverly Hills hotel where Porsches and other beautiful cars are parked. Holy shit! The bitch wants to suck my money out and plans to make me spend to please herself, like I’m a fucking sucker! But anyway, I’ve never been reasonable when it comes to spending. Plus, Stacy is super hot and I really want to fuck her. So let’s go for the nice hotel!
At the reception desk, she quickly speaks with the receptionist, probably choosing the room too, and I get ready to take my credit card out. But when I do so, the receptionist stands still without taking it and says something I don’t understand, while Stacy is already waiting for me at the elevator. I feel like a fucking idiot who doesn’t have a clue what’s going on. I must be very drunk that’s for sure. So here is what was actually going on. Stacy is waiting for me in front of the lift because she has booked, and already paid for the room while we were in the car, and she has picked up the key when we arrived without me even realizing it. What a fucking loser I am!
Ok so let’s sum up.. I’m about to spend the night in a very nice Beverly Hills hotel with this super hot girl I was targeting a few hours earlier, and she’s paying for it. Welcome to America!!
In the room we kiss, touch each other, undress… I love Stacy’s body very much. Her slim waist, her round and bouncy buttocks, her flat stomach, her fake but still beautiful boobs… everything in her makes me horny as fuck! Stacy takes us into the shower, where I kiss and lick every inch of her beautiful body. The blowjob she then gives me is perfect, full of sensuality and extremely hot at the same time. She makes perfect use of her lips, tongue and hands, which she skillfully alternates to increase my arousal. Her soft voice is clearly part of the show too. I still remember her tone and words when she asked me to cum on her face, which I did without flinching, before we go to bed and keep having sex.
We spend the next day at the beach in Santa Monica with her friend Joey and my buddy Marc, whom I met a few months before in NYC. Chilling, swimming, enjoying the nice and warm weather. Making jokes too. One of mine was to answer that I was making porn movies when the girls asked me how I was financing my trip. To which Stacy jokingly replies that we have this point in common, before we move on to another topic.
On the way back to Stacy’s flat in West Hollywood, in the white convertible BMW she drives, she reveals the pornstar joke was actually not one. She’s not really a pornstar, but Stacy is a cam girl, and she’s making a shit ton of money with this activity. She strips and fondles herself in front of her laptop, taking care to gently arouse the thousands of voyeurs who pay by the minute to watch her performance. And so is doing her friend Joey. I even found out later that Stacy had at one point risen to the top position among the tens of thousands of cam girls on the website she was using. I was having sex with a girl that a whole bunch of what I imagine to be sexually frustrated dudes would sometimes pay lots of money to watch her achieve coitus. In the age of free porn and with the vastness of videos available on the internet, I still wonder what motivates guys to pay a girl to watch her touch herself. I don’t question Stacy’s talents, that I have never watched, but still I just don’t get it.
Stacy and I met a few times. I obviously didn’t get to know her very well (I was in L.A. for just a few weeks) but I must say I was both captivated and fascinated by her. The story she told me was that of a girl born in a poor family in Nicaragua, who came to the United States to study in the hope of a better life. Being a cam girl was helping her to pay her charges and finance the chemistry studies she had embarked on with the aim of becoming a doctor.
You can have your own opinion on this version of her story. I know for sure she was indeed studying chemistry and I have good reason to believe in her whole story. But in the end it doesn’t matter if it’s real or not.
What matters for me is that it has changed the way I look at girls who make that kind of choice. I have absolutely no admiration for this way of earning a living, but before I met Stacy, “cam girl” or “pornstar” would immediately make me think of stupid and perfectly uninteresting girls, who were a dick for brains. With Stacy I discovered a smart girl, with a quirky personality but a tender heart, who dreams of an eternal and exclusive love, at this point in her life very saddened by the recent end of a love story in which she had invested a lot.
In addition to some good moments spent together, Stacy helped to open my mind a little more. In this sense, she embodies the encounters that make a trip an extremely rich and unforgettable experience, and I am very happy to have crossed her path.
