“Lo, what ya doin’?” I asked as I came in the house and found her on the couch, naked, scrolling through her phone. This wouldn’t be unusual, of course, except for the fact that she was not masturbating at the time. Just getting ready? Just finished? I wasn’t sure.
“I tallied it up and I have over 20,000 followers on our various platforms,” she said without bothering to look up at me.
“Really? 20,000? That’s a lot of horny men,” I said.
“And women,” she added. “And don’t forget your fans.”
She was kind to include my fans, even if she said it with a bit of scorn. Lately, I’ve had quite a resurgence of interest. A number of women have been writing to me telling me how much they enjoy my stories. There has been Madelaine, Jen, Piper, Dawn, TJ, Tracy, and Liz. Of course these are not exclusive categories. Most of the fans of my writing are also fans of Lo. But in Lo’s mind, she refers to them as “your fans.” Flattering me? Or jealousy?
In any case, I digress.
“I think that makes you a micro-influencer,” I said.
“What do you mean ‘micro’?”
“I’m just using the terminology that. . .”
“Let me see your cock,” she said, interrupting.
I walked in front of her on the couch and undid my pants and grabbed my member from my underwear, pulling it out. “Nothing micro there,” she said.
“I just meant that you have reached that echelon.”
“But we don’t sell anything,” she objected.
“I’ve received a lot of offers from companies to write posts just for them, or include their products embedded in our stories.”
“Really?” She was curious. “What sort of companies.”
“Sex toy companies, mostly.”
“Would they pay us for it?”
“Well, they said that they would send us free dildos and vibes and stuff.”
“You can’t pay the rent with sex toys.”
“If we only could,” I mused.
“It’s fine,” she said, “I like our independence. I prefer to be a social media sinfluencer.”