This exercise ball seems to hold some sort of strange power over my viewers, for no matter how many times I tell them that it would be a disaster attempting to balance on the ball while masturbating, they make the request over and over.Some even think themselves acrobats and tell me how they would bend me over the ball and “make me bounce.” Todd, a regular who always bankrolls my night, comes into the room and I wrap up the conversation and start stripping, glad that the show will be over soon.

The viewers don’t rush in like I had hoped they would. While it only costs the room, which has several hundred viewers, ten dollars worth of tokens to get a piece of clothing off, it takes well over an hour to get my shirt off. I wish viewers a good night and promise that I will be back on cam the following day.

But I knew it would likely be slow at first since shows don’t make it to the front page of the site until they have thousands of viewers. I struggle to keep up with the flow of conversation in the chat window and try in vain to say hello to each new viewer as his or her name appears. Many viewers come in hurling insults: “Go run until you drop dead, Landwhale,” but I know the drill -- never feed the trolls. As I lie in bed, back in PJs and contemplating my night, I am tired but thrilled. Being live was so much more of a rush than just posting pictures on 4chan, and I am still coming down off of the adrenaline.

The auction brings a lot of money, reaching my total token goal for the night in a few minutes. I contemplate ways to avoid doing one the next night while knowing that I have nothing better to do and I should make some money.

The winners are a combination of a butt-plug and my Hitachi. Now offline, I complain to Blagus about the repetition in my shows.

There are two main types of fans: business-minded and those who want an Internet girlfriend. Those who imagined me to be their potential Internet girlfriend all wanted to be special, to pull themselves away from the pack and to get to know the real me.

There is one thing that they share however: an overwhelming desire to show me pictures of their penis.

I don’t need the money, but camming fills my empty nights and gives me social interaction to look forward to. I get dressed, fix my hair, point my lamps (draped in white T-shirts for soft-glow lighting) at my face, and put on my makeup, saving the red lip for live action on cam. We chat about politics and world events, only pausing to do whatever action, usually flashing a body part that is still clothed, a viewer has requested when the token alert sounds.

Yet another viewer requests action on the blue exercise ball in the background of my frame.

Since I obviously couldn’t stop them from doing so, the compromise was that they weren’t allowed to comment either in the chat room or in real life.

I didn’t want to hear what they thought of my show.

I told all my friends and even my sister, about camming. I have always been interested in sexuality and had frequent debates with friends on the topic.