That time I was a camboi

Camboi is a very good profession. Very clean. I would work at the cam factory, making cams. You know, that kind of non-circular mechanical device which moves linear actuators up and down on a rotation. It's used for automatons. It was specialized, but it paid badly. So I also was the other kind of camboi: the one which undressed on the internet for money. To be honest, I completely loved that job, I got off on it, my clients got off on it, wwhat's not to like? I would exhibit my perfect, sculpted, angular teenage body to strangers online; and I would write to them; and I would get their money. I felt wanted, I felt loved. It was honestly great. The money was very bad at first, but I kept at it, and got better at it, and made more and more money. Any profession has a community. So I joined a club. A Discord for other cambois, and the local watering hole for the other other cambois. I made good friends with many of the others, they gave me tips. On how to use my tools. The straight and hard one, and the other straight and hard one. I eventually got them mixed up. I started cranking my tool up-and-down at the factoryh, and cranking my other tool round the axis in my room in front of the camera. Patrons were weirded out. My line manager flagged me: my performance was worsening. I was put on a pip. My peepee was not getting hard because I was cranking it round. I was so confused. In the end, I had to quit pn