LA was supposed to be my fresh start, an escape from the mundane life I led in my small town. I pictured myself walking down glamorous streets, confidence oozing from every pore, leaving my insecurities behind. Instead, I found myself drowning in the vastness of this city, just another anonymous face in the crowd, blending into the background.

You see, I’ve always been the plain girl. The introverted shy friend that boys didn’t give a second glance to. My childhood in a small, conservative town didn’t exactly inspire me to blossom. I felt trapped and invisible in my little bubble. My brother, Bobby, was the exact opposite. With his striking good looks and effortless charm, he was always the center of attention. He had an innate ability to make anyone feel at ease, a skill that apparently eluded me. As the baby sister, I looked up to him, admired his ease in navigating social situations, and wished for a fraction of his confidence. He was the only person that every truly saw me and his unwavering love kept me going during my darkest times.

Ultimately Bobby moved out and on with his life, leaving me to wade through my insecurities alone. Without him, I felt like a failure at life, at love, at everything. I was twenty-three, and I had never been touched in a way that truly made me feel alive. My encounters with men were sparse, always leaving me feeling unsatisfied, as though I was missing out on some grand secret that everyone else seemed to know.

So I packed my bags and moved to the big city. I was going to start fresh and redefine myself. But being alone in LA, with its perfect bodies and flawless faces, only exacerbated my self-doubts. I was constantly confronted with my perceived inadequacies--my plain looks, average height, and soft curves that weren’t quite in vogue. I didn’t have the confidence to wear my sexuality on my sleeve like the women strutting the streets of Hollywood. I was just Claire, the forgettable girl, the one whose body was best hidden beneath oversized sweaters and baggy jeans.

My days followed a repetitive pattern--stuck in a tedious job at the local café, serving coffee to people who never remembered my face. My evenings were spent alone in my small, cramped apartment where the only sounds were the clicks of my mouse and the moans of coitus as I scrolled through porn sites. My sexual appetite, once dormant, had awoken with a vengeance, thanks to the endless hours I spent alone exploring my body and the deepest recesses of the internet. I had become addicted to the anonymity of online pleasure and the thrill of discovering new desires and fetishes. All the while keeping my carnal fantasies hidden from the real world.

One especially lonely night in my apartment, sprawled on my bed in just my panties, a vibrator jammed against my clit, I found myself down a deep porn rabbit hole. I clicked on countless links, each one leading to a world more explicit than the last. I came over and over again but I never quite reached satisfaction. I was exhausted and depressed. That’s when I saw it--an ad, like a beacon of light amidst the endless sea of empty promises.

Need extra cash? Become a fluffer on a porn set. No experience necessary. Discretion assured.

My heart raced, and my fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating for just a moment before clicking. It was as if a sleeping part of my mind had woken up and taken control, pushing me out of my little cocoon.

And so, with a few clicks of a button, I applied to be a fluffer, a job that seemed fantastical and daring. One that only a confident woman could perform. The prospect of earning money, and being part of this secret society I reveled in, gave me butterflies.

What would my brother think if he knew? Probably that I’d lost my mind. But maybe, just maybe, he’d understand that his little sister needed a push to truly spread her wings and fly.

My decision made, I drifted into a restful sleep. Tomorrow, I would step into a new world and Claire, the shy, invisible girl, would become someone else entirely.

The anticipation of my first day had me on edge. I had no idea what to wear. I didn’t own anything I would call “sexy”. Ultimately, I opted for a form fitting black tank top and a pair of my skinniest jeans. Underneath, I wore the only matching bra and panty set I owned as a quiet confidence booster. I assessed myself in the mirror and headed out the door.

The location itself was a nondescript building situated in an industrial area. Upon entering, I was met by cool air conditioning and a sparse lobby. The young woman at the reception desk was immersed in a glossy magazine. I cleared my throat to gain her attention.

“Can I help you?” She said without looking up.

“I’m here for the fluffer position. My name is Claire,” I replied.

A smirk played on her lips, and her gaze narrowed. “You’re in the right place. Go through that door, sign in, and someone will attend to you shortly.” She waved towards a solid wooden door in the corner.

I signed in and stepped through the door. I found myself in another world. The large room reverberated with the moans of performers and thumping beats from hidden speakers. Brightly colored posters with titles like “Lets Try Anal Volume 4” and “Family Secrets Volume 10” adorned the walls. The air was heavy with incense and the unmistakable smell of sweat and sex.

Seated at a table in the center of the room was a burly man with tattoos and a scruffy beard. He scrutinized me with an intensity that made me feel exposed. “Name?” he grunted.

“Claire,” I whispered.

“Right this way, honey,” he said. We walked by several open doors that offered peeks of active porn sets. The talent, men and women, were laughing and lounging. All basically naked.

I felt exposed and self-conscious. Everyone seemed gorgeous and devoid of inhibition. Their bodies, whether muscular or curvy, were confidently on display. My insecurities started whispering in my ear.

We reached a small door, and my guide opened it to reveal a dimly lit room. “Wait here,” he instructed before vanishing into the shadows.

My heart pounded in my chest as I waited. The sound of laughter on the other side of the door only heightened my nerves. Was I making a mistake?

The door swung open, and a rush of warm air hit me, carrying with it the sounds and smells of the porn set. I felt like I had stepped into a hidden universe I had only known through my computer screen.

“Hey, you must be the new girl. Claire, right?” A bright, feminine voice asked. I turned to see a petite woman with stunning features and a dazzling smile. Her vibrant dark hair framed her face, emphasizing her green eyes. She was dotted with tattoos and wore a septum ring.

I nodded back and took in the rest of her. She exuded sensuality in her skimpy outfit. Her ample curves were on full display in a red babydoll nightie.

“I’m Grace,” she announced. “Don’t worry, honey, it’s normal to be nervous. It’s overwhelming at first. But soon you’ll be loving every minute of it. Trust me.”

Grace’s reassurances calmed my frayed nerves. She took my hand and pulled me through the doorway into the vibrant, pulsating heart of the porn set.

The scene before me was like a fever dream. A group of four- two men and two women- were in full on fuck mode. The sounds of erotic groans and the slap of skin on skin filled the air. Their bodies writhed in rhythm with each other, dewy with sweat. The scent of sex was everywhere and I became acutely aware of my body’s reaction. I was wet.

Grace scanned me up and down. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous!”

I stared at her. No one had ever called me that. “I’m nothing special.”

“Well not dressed like that.” she squealed. “Follow me.”

We entered a dressing room. It was lined with racks of lingerie, costumes, and props.

Grace, clearly an expert, chose an item and handed them to me. “Change into this. We have a break coming up and you’ll be working with Lance. He’s soooo hot. And he’s got a gorgeous cock.”

She was so direct. So unfiltered. I admired her instantly.

I took the garment and hurried into a changing stall. The lingerie she chose was a white satin V-neck negligee. I stripped out of my top and jeans and folded them. The negligee didn’t go with my bra so I took it off. I slipped the garment over my head and down my body. I could feel my nipples harden against the soft fabric. I stared at myself in the mirror. The fabric clinged to my slender frame and accentuated my ass cheeks. My nipples were visible as two sharp peaks. I pinched each of them and felt the tiniest boost of confidence.

I emerged from the stall and did a twirl for Grace.

“Oh, fuck baby you look perfect! That was made for you, honey. Now, let’s put you to work.” My confidence ticked a little higher.

She led me back through the labyrinthine set, and as we neared another scene, the crew directed us to a private area. There in the flesh (literally) was Lance, the star of the show. His body was a fucking masterpiece of muscle and hair. I had cum to him countless times and here he was in front of me. It was surreal. Grace called him over and he sauntered up to us with his partially erect cock on full display. I almost started drooling.

“Claire, this is Lance. Lance, this is Claire. You are Lance’s fluffer today. For now, take a seat, sit back and watch the scene. He’ll show you the ropes, literally and figuratively,” Grace said with a playful wink.

Lance turned towards me and smiled and shook my hand. “Nice to meet you, Claire. I’m looking forward to working with you.” He said it like I was joining his law firm or something. He wandered back to the set. I stared at his perfect ass.

Grace continued. “At some point the director will call break. Your job is to find Lance and suck that gorgeous dick of his and keep him hard. Don’t overthink it. He’ll let you know what he likes. Easy peasy. Got it?”

I gulped. “I’m in.”

I watched the scene unfold. It was better than in my fantasies. Uninhibited. Raw. Dirty.

Lance was a maestro- his every movement coordinated to arouse. His co-star, a curvy beauty with long dark hair and sleeve tattoos named Raven, responded to his every caress.

Their kisses was fiery and passionate. His tongue danced with hers before descending down her body, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake. His hands roamed over her breasts, squeezing and pinching her ripe nipples. He took each one into his mouth, eliciting a deep moan from Raven. As he reached her core, she arched her back and threading her fingers through his hair. She pushed him down to her shaved pussy and he dove between her thighs.

His mouth bore down on her mound. She wrapped her legs around him. Her moans filled the room with a raw, sensual soundtrack. It was so goddamn erotic. I felt my body responding. My nipples were rock hard and the dampness between my thighs made me squirm in in my folding chair. I shifted back and forth but the pressure only seemed to make it worse. I couldn’t wait to masturbate later. I looked over at Grace next to me and I could see her squeezing her thighs together. She looked back and gave me a knowing smile.

With a final, powerful flick of Lance’s tongue, Raven climaxed, her body shaking from the force of her orgasm. If she was faking she was damn good at it. Lance drew back with an expression of accomplishment. Raven kissed him passionately and lapped her juice off his face.

The director called break.

“That’s our cue, Claire,” Grace whispered, her breath warm in my ear, pulling me back to reality.

For a moment my mind went completely blank. What was I supposed to do? I stood up. Lance turned his attention to me. His eyes raked over my body as he stroked his engorged cock. He beckoned me over.

I walked up to him and knelt down obediently. My head was spinning. The nerves from moments ago transformed into raw, pulsating desire as his cock came level to my face. His intense gaze bored down on me. I wanted to show him--show everyone--that I could be more than just a shy observer.

“Come on, Claire,” Lance growled. “Show me what you’ve got.”

I took a quick moment to drink him in--his chiseled, sweaty body and his semi-erect cock, so thick and inviting. I reached out, my touch tentative at first. A drop of precum dribbled from the tip. I kissed it off him and savored it on my tongue. I began to stroke. My fingers wrapped around his shaft, feeling his warmth. I heard him exhale in pleasure.

His cock grew harder with each pass. I took him in my mouth. He tasted salty. He smelled like sex. My tongue worked his swollen head. I could taste more precum dribbling out.

“That’s it, Claire,” he whispered, eyes now closed. “You’re a natural. Keep going. You feel amazing.”

The compliment sent a jolt of excitement through me. I wanted to make him hot. I wanted to please him like these confident porn actresses could. I grabbed his ass cheeks and pulled him into my mouth. He moaned in response.

“Suck me, Claire,” Lance commanded. “Deeper. Show me you’re a good girl.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I leaned forward, opening my jaw as wide as I could. I tried to get every last inch of him in me. I started to gag and suppressed it. I wanted this.

My fingernails dug into his tight ass cheeks. My nose almost reached his trimmed pubic hair. I could feel his heavy balls against my bottom lip. I wanted to breathe nothing but him. He groaned, the sound deep and vibrating, and I felt his hands snake into my hair, taking control.

I felt the wetness pooling in my panties. I desperately wanted to touch myself. Debase myself in front of the entire cast and crew. I wanted Lance to fuck me. Hard. Here in front of everyone.

He controlled the tempo with his fist in my hair. In and out. Unforgiving thrusts. My eyes started to tear up. My throat was getting sore from his swollen head slamming against it. I could feel drool dribbling down my lips and onto my chest. I was fucking loving it.

“Fuck, Claire,” he groaned. “That’s it ... choke on my cock like a slut.”

I tried to nod in obedience but his hand held me firm. “Mmmmmph” was all I could manage in response.

The room seemed to disappear, leaving only the pulsing thrusts of his cock against my throat. I was his slut now. And all I wanted was to feel his cum blasting down my throat. I wanted to choke on it. To cough and sputter and collapse in a pool on the floor.

Someone called out “Lance!” and the moment shattered. He was being called back to the set. Fuck.

Lance pulled his cock out with a pop. A line of spit lingered between my swollen lips and his tip. He leaned down.