What the hell, put me on the table. I'll do gay-for-pay.

Camden is a riddle, wrapped in an enigma, inside an anomaly, wrapped in a mystery, and I don't know quite what to make of it — other than to say what his conscious self may be telling him, Camden's concrete-hard cock tells us, at least, two diffent & distinct stories. When I talk about the conundrum that is Camden, it's in reference to the narrative that he's constructed in his head in terms of "I'm straight," and "I'm only doing this for the money." That's all well & good, but at the end of the day, Starbucks, McDonald's, & a myriad of other service-industry businesses are *always* hiring. Always. If at the point that Camden placed a talent ad on SexyJobs & quickly discovered that very little comp for straight content gets distributed to the male participants, it's a bit of a leap if you're tightly clutching onto your heterosexual identity that family, friends, & society, writ large, have imposed upon you, to then decide, "What the hell, I'll do gay-for-pay."

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