Becoming A Fluffer – Accept Your Destiny

Lights… Camera.. Wait, What?!

Thinking I landed a job as a “production assistant on a lifestyle shoot”,  I never dreamed of becoming a fluffer.  The Craigslist ad was pretty vague.  But it paid a lot more than my current bartending gig did.  I thought to myself, how hard could holding a boom mic be?

The studio was in a warehouse district that smelled of vape pens and ambition.  Upon arrival, I was greeted by a tall sexy redhead wearing stilettos and a rhinestone mini skirt.  She introduced herself to me as Jasmine.  Ambitious and eager to get started at whatever this day had to offer, I was well on my way to becoming a fluffer.

It’s Getting Hot In Here – Becoming A Fluffer

Finding the sets to be quite odd, questions begin flooding my mind as I’m shown about the place.  Lots of velvet, interesting lighting, white leather couches, fake Ficus trees everywhere.

A skinny man with a meticulously groomed mustache and a thick gold chain was adjusting lights and shouting orders.  Ideas were being shared, lighting adjusted, props moved.  It was at that moment that it occurred to me, I was becoming a fluffer.

A tan, tall, oiled up man strutted by wearing nothing but a smile and cowboy boots.  He smiled and gave me a wink that made me question my entire trajectory.  I then found myself being handed a bottle of body oil, a clipboard and a box of breath mints.

Jasmine was moving fast and talking even faster as she hastily gave me a quick rundown of my job expectations of becoming a fluffer.  “You’re now an intimacy continuity coordinator”.  She said.  “Don’t let the male talent lose blood flow, don’t mess up the timeline, and no Chapstick on camera.  Now go, go, go! ”  ” What the hell does that even mean?!”  I asked.  Thinking about how challenged my facial expressions must appear.  No one was listening.  A bell rang.  Lights dimmed.  A sultry saxophone started playing from somewhere.

Back To The Grind – Becoming A Fluffer

“Scene one!”  ‘Rodeo and chill’, “take one!”  The director yelled loudly.  My mouth was slightly open as I stood in a daze watching a beautiful blonde girl in sparkly fringe.  I felt mesmerized watching his huge girthy cock disappearing into her glistening vagina as she began to moan loudly.

Jasmine barked in my ear, “wipe the sweat, right shoulder… go go go!”

The rest of the day was a blur of moans, yelps, heavy breathing and dirty expressions.  Feeling so intrigued at becoming a fluffer, I couldn’t get enough. I handed out water bottles, massaged cramped calves, reapplied bronzers to asses, stroked cocks that were going flaccid and wiped up wads of cum from various surfaces.   I didn’t even question if I was doing a good job.  There simply wasn’t time.

By week two, I was a natural at becoming a fluffer.  I could cue the fog machine mid thrust, lube down a cock and match an orgasm moan to exact time code effortlessly.

Sometimes a scene will be almost too tasteful.  A flirtation across a bar setting.  A single oyster slurped in slow motion to sexy jazz music.  Next thing you know, I’m pouring drawn butter across a hairy chest and whispering filth.  I normalized two poles and one hole daily.

It began to feel like art.  The air thick with pheromones and the scent of sex.  Naked people surrounding me became normal.  Grabbing cocks and manipulating them back into stiffness while multitasking became second nature.  Gangbangs and bukakis became a daily norm.  Becoming a fluffer now feels as natural as any other task at hand.

Call Devin 1-888-416-2401