AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello everyone! This is it, my return to writing. Now, this is going to be a new one for me: writing a story on a series I am so new to but fell in love with. The characters in this game are all cute, and this relationship is one that truly needs some sort of deep exploration! SO, I decided to make a new document, and just let this story take shape. Now, before diving in, I want to say that this is NOT a solo effort! I had the initial idea thrown my way from a Discord server made by fans for the game (which HuniePotDev endorsed btw, you can check his Twitter for the link), and the edits and insight come from user PewterPiranha of that Discord. We will probably be working together over the course of this story, and I am so glad to have had his help in this chapter. With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy this new series!
It's been years since I've been able to talk to my little girl. Since we had a proper conversation didn't turn into a fight. Since we did anything together like a mother and daughter actually would.
Tiffany and I don't see eye to eye. She wanted a mom who had it together, who was all smiles and could set a good example. Not a mom who smokes, who sees different men, who drinks at the Bar & Lounge almost every night. Sometimes, I bet she thinks she was born to the wrong mom.
It would all be different without my job. I don't really know. The money from porn is amazing. But there's times I have to ask myself if it's worth the price. I'm sure she goes through college wondering when people will find out her mom's an adult actress. She takes her life seriously, does all the things I didn't do, and I'm so proud of her. But she can't seem to forgive me for the way I've made my living. I even offered to chip in for her college tuition. She said I can keep my porn money.
It's not like I always think about it. Tiffany's father was such a liar, and he left pretty quickly, and it was hard raising a girl at sixteen. When I think about all that lost time, and then when I feel a man on top of me, plowing me with a girthy cock, I feel so alive again—it's like I have nothing in my life I have to worry about. This new stud I've been seeing is only one in a whole host of recent boyfriends I've slept with—and many of them weren't even boyfriends.
But it still feels like something is missing. Like there's something I want that I just can't have through sex. And for the past couple of months, this feeling of want has only since grown. I think about it when I'm at the bar alone, turning the ice in my whiskey glass.
I want my daughter back.
I want to be able to talk to her. I want to go out and bond, to hear what new she's been up to. Go to the mall, to the zoo, to the waterpark like when she was young such a long time ago. Before I went into porn…
I'm not sure what I expected when I went into the business. Do I regret getting into it? Not really. A lot of the sex is actually wonderful. I've had many a man say I was one of the best they've had (both on AND off camera, by the way), and I can't say that hasn't helped keep my confidence up. It means so much to me when some fan recognizes me at the mall and wants me to sign their shirt.
But was that really why I did it? Thinking back, when I got in front of that camera the very first time, the one thing on my mind was my daughter. I needed money. I had to provide her a more secure future. And each time I come back to shoot, she's still somewhere in my mind. I kept it away from her as much as I could. I told her mommy made movies and that my agent was only a friend. When she figured it out in high school, there was this guilt I had never felt before, like a sting. I can still hear her now, tears in her eyes. "You're a whore!" I begged her to forgive me for not explaining it all sooner, to resorting to it to begin with, and maybe without saying it, for deep down, how we both knew I couldn't stop. I promised I did it all because I loved her. She didn't believe me, though. I'm not sure if I believed me, either.
It killed me to see the way it destroyed her, the shame she saw in herself just because of what her mom did, the disappointment in the life I had made for her. She hated me now, maybe would always hate me. My tiny family just came apart at the seams. I locked myself up in my closet that day and cried. Cried for failing Tiffany, for skirting around the truth for so long, but most of all, for being a bad mom.
The sad truth is, I do like my job. It would make things easier if I did hate it and I just did it for the money. But by the time she found out, I'd discovered the freedom porn gives me. I was always eager to get to the next shoot, to learn the ways to bend for the camera. To meet a new guy and find out just how hard and what way he'd fuck me. The guilt and shame people talk about with the porn industry? For me, it never came—but I did. There was always the next stud to play with, the next cock to suck. Even if I didn't like the man, just knowing how many guys would be jacking off in front of the video brought me all the satisfaction I'd need. You can all me a nymphomaniac, but what can I say? Why would God make so many dicks if we weren't supposed to try them all? And can you imagine if only one person got to see my boobs before I died? What a waste...
But there's times when I wonder if it was worth it. Was it fair to her to grow up that way, for that knowledge to follow her everywhere she goes? It's true that Tiffany turned out okay—she's a terrific student, always has been, and is probably heading for great things. But you can't undo a childhood. The moment I stepped in front of that camera, I made the decision to scar her—when it was the last thing I wanted. It was the only way I could make quick cash at sixteen, with my body, my looks—did I have a choice? Can I tell myself that was the only reason I did it? Can I really expect her to forgive me? Because sometimes, I don't forgive me. At times I feel like neither of us should, and we could just forget the things I did.
But I miss her.
The way she laughed, the way she would blow up her favorite bubble gum, the way she lit up her high school gymnasium that first cheerleader practice.
Before she knew.
My daughter was and is my pride and joy, the one person I will always love no matter what. That will never change, not in a million years, not after a thousand men. She may not approve of the choices I've made, she may never speak to me again, but I swear she is the best daughter a mother could ask for. I think about her every day. And lately, the thoughts have become a hope. She doesn't have to forgive me; she doesn't have to get over it. I just want to be a family again. If I could invite her home next Christmas, and maybe this year, she would come. If we could talk a little more, like mother and daughter, with no venom, and maybe, just maybe, become close. These days, I stop caring if men really want Misty. More and more, I wish Tiffany would want her mom.