Windsong

By: Caitlin Ricci

At seventeen, Jamie was cursed to always have his inner thoughts exposed as a tattoo across his neck for all the world to see. He lost his home, his family, and his relationship with his best friend when the tattoo outed him.

More than a decade later, he's a successful porn star who loves his life and never once thought about returning to the horse farm he grew up on. But his boss wants to do a shoot with him where he grew up, and Jamie can't say no.






Kissing different guys was one of the best parts about being in porn. I loved kissing, and everyone did it a little differently. Sometimes fucking got to be redundant, especially if it was the sixth shoot I was doing in a weekend and I just didn't have it in me to be sexy and amazing anymore. But kissing was different; it told me so much about a guy's personality when I was being kissed by him. If he was rough and forceful with me, I knew what I would be in for. Soft and playful, and I'd probably get to top him.

I was happily vers, and I made more because of that since I could be cast in pretty much any movie that required a good-looking, athletic, thirty-something white guy. I was currently saving up to expand the tattoo on my back. Right now, it was just around my shoulders, but by the end of the summer I wanted something beautiful and intricate that wound down my spine and touched my ass. Some guys used their money for cars or huge televisions. I had a car and I was rarely home enough to watch TV. What I liked were my tattoos.

All except for one, that was. The one a fae had given me when I'd blown him off as a teenager after he'd asked me, quite simply, for directions to the nearest homeless shelter. And now I had to go through life with my secrets and inner thoughts spilled out over my skin. I was called a monster often enough from the things I thought about. It was a pain in the ass more than anything, to be exposed like that for all the world to see. The fae had wanted to let everyone else know how ugly I was on the inside, and he'd succeeded. Now just to work I had to slather globs of makeup over my neck to cover up that tattoo. I couldn’t wear it all the time, since it irritated my skin to wear it for more than the few hours it took to do a scene or two, but it was vital for me to be able to work.

The guy kissing me was so sweet I might have thought he was a virgin if I hadn't done a shoot with him the day before. There was something tentative and honest about him as if he were laying it all out there for me. It could have been an act, and sometimes it was, but people who could lie to me when they kissed were few and far between in my experience. It took real guts and commitment to do that, and very few people had that going for them.

Randy, the guy currently reaching his hand inside my shorts to grab my cock. I was hard. It was porn. I was supposed to be. He was too. It didn't mean much. But I acted like it did as I took the lead and started controlling the kiss. His hand tightened on my shaft as I held the back of his head to kiss him deeper and let him silently know that I was going to be taking over here. He didn't have to worry about looking good while he organized us into the right positions for the camera. He just had to act like he was enjoying being fucked by me. Randy, if that was his name, was a natural at that. He could plaster a smile on and not let it slip until two hours later when he was done. He'd told me his real name once, in passing, but I'd forgotten it. Most of us didn’t use our real names, or at least not our whole names. I still went by Randy, but that was because I didn't give a shit what anyone else thought. I didn't have some family at home waiting for me to come back that I wanted to give some privacy to like a lot of these guys did.

When Randy was ready for me to go into him—after I'd put on the lubed condom, of course—he grabbed my hip and pulled me closer. I liked that about him.

He was decent at fucking. Maybe he was better when there weren't cameras on him and he wasn't getting paid to do a scene with a veritable stranger. But he moaned when he was supposed to, and I came over his stomach when we were done. He smiled at me, played with my come for a little while as the cameras kept going, but as soon as we got the all-clear signal, he was off the bed and grabbing a bottle of water.

I went over to join him because I was thirsty too. He wasn't a bad guy and he certainly wasn't rude like a lot of the guys in the business could be, but I didn't exactly want to spend more time with him and he didn't seem that interested in me either. That was fine.

"Your neck says that you're tired. So, I guess it is true what they say about you. What you're feeling really does show up on your skin."

"It's true," I confirmed. "It's a curse. Makes me a beast." I shrugged and pretended, as I always did, that having my secrets exposed in such a manner wasn't the absolute worst thing that I could ever imagine happening to someone.

"Are you going to the holiday vacation next week?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I'm doing the Country Boys shoot in Montana."

He gave me a long look, from my head down to my still-naked thighs, before he met my gaze again. "I would have never guessed that you grew up as a farm boy." He'd said it with a smirk, like he thought I was joking.

I knew why he'd think that. I had over a dozen tattoos, and I'd pierced plenty of parts of me at one time or another. I'd kept some of the piercings and grown out of others. My nipples and my ears were still pierced, but it had been a long time since I'd had anything pierced below the waist.