Well, I would like to say that Barbie Cummings is just a stage name. Barbie Cummings in herself, is a character. It was and is a way for me to express my artistic abilities in regards to sex work, it is an outlet.
I was born in Michigan to piece of shit parents that should have never had children. I look back and don’t understand how I didn’t become one of the many foster children in this country. My parents were drug addicts and alcoholics. There were lots of fist fights, drama, and over exposure of adult content to myself and my two siblings.
I don’t know that I was every sexually abused. I have heard stories from family members, as an adult now, that when I was very young I had come to some of them claiming of such; that someone was doing something wrong to me. There words now are, “we just didn’t know what to do or if you were even telling the truth”. Jesus. As a mother myself I couldn’t imagine taking that position with any child expressing anything of this nature to me. I just can’t, but that’s all I know. I don’t remember it, maybe I was really young, maybe I have blocked it out or maybe nothing really happened.
I do remember starting to hump things when I was around the age of seven. I had a purple stuffed hippo. I would not only hump the stuffed animal, but I would piss on it… under my bed and leave it. I would revisit it again later, and hump it more. I sit and consider these type of behaviors at such a young age and I can’t determine if they were “normal” or not. I read a lot of literature now, on educating my children in a healthy manner when it comes to sexuality and masturbating at even a young age isn’t necessarily a sign of abuse. The pissing thing, it seems a little odd but I am odd all the way around, so who knows.
When I was 11 I broke my own hymen, “popped my own cherry”, fucking one of those long stick candles. I masturbated with anything and everything I could.
I will add, by this time, it was clear and is clear to me now I may not have been physically sexually abused but I was definitely emotionally and psychologically sexually abused. My mother enjoyed sharing her sex stories with me from as early as I can remember. I knew about how she liked to suck dick, what her boyfriend’s favorite positions were. I would hear her and she would discuss whether I heard her getting fucked good that night before. She took us lingerie shopping at young ages, very young ages, ages where were weren’t mentally old enough to comprehend. I don’t imagine this would be so horrible, to take my daughter to Victoria’s Secret with me, but I surely wouldn’t invite her into the dressing room and ask her opinion on whether I looked fuckable in some slutty teddy. Well, at 10 I was being asked for my opinion. I was taught that women were good for one thing, fucking. Women were good for pleasing men.
At 14 my mother took me to the tattoo shop to get my nose pierced. I know, another great parenting moment. We crossed paths with a 19 year old young man named Michael. I remember the feeling as clear as I can, of it feeling as if my mom was soliciting me. She got Michael’s number for me and encouraged we meet for a “date”. It wasn’t days later that Michael was in my home, fucking my brains out while my mom sat in the other room knowingly and watching soap operas. This was okay. I spent a few weeks of getting fucked up on ecstasy and learning my way around sex; there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do. I wonder how happy I made Michael. I was this young, won’t say no to anything type. I took anal the same time I lost my virginity. I did as I was told. It wasn’t long before I realized my mom and Michael were fucking too. Sigh. I would come home from school and Michael would be over, having been home alone with my mother. In between the weeks of lessons from Michael, I went on a rampage. I had sex with seven people the week I lost my virginity.
I remember going to the local apartment complex where one of my best friends lived, we lived on the outskirts of Atlanta. I can remember the discussion of me not being a virgin happening in front of other kids in the complex. These guys were all our age and I wanted to fuck. I can remember one particular day of having sex with one brother in their bedroom, while friends hung out in the living room. Another brother took me afterwards, and fucked me on the bathroom floor. It was the first time I felt that slutty rush and I was addicted. I have to add, Michael was white… the rest of the six guys were all black. I made it a point to go over there after school each day, and see who would be there waiting, waiting to fuck me. We were all kids and the sex was awful; but I made them cum. That’s what I wanted.
I can remember keeping a “little black book”… by the time I was 16 I was well over 100 men I had fucked. The ages ranged from 14-52 years old. Horrible, right? Nah, I don’t think so.
I started to use drugs; more drugs I should say. Meth was my drug of choice. I got into legal trouble for the first time and took a chance by moving in with my father. My parents had separated when I was 12 after my mom left my dad for some stranger she was cyber fucking on AOL. Remember AOL chatrooms? lol
I pretended to be a “good kid”. I never slacked in my education, I made all A’s and B’s believe it or not. I am intelligent, I think… 🙂 I had a girlfriend at my dad’s house, we went to the same local alternative school in Polk County Georgia. We would meet in the bathroom and take turns going down on one another, getting caught a lot by the female school officer. I can remember an incident in particular, that looking back probably made the male teacher either very uncomfortable or his dick very hard. We were to sit outside and make lists of adjectives. Me and Betsy, that was my girlfriends name, sat next to one another and started our lists. I can’t remember what exactly the adjectives had to describe, maybe ourselves? But we started with normal things, “normal”, as in similar to everyone else. Then I can remember asking the teacher specifically what he thought about “wet” and “naughty”; and there were a few more I cannot remember exactly. But I remember me and Betsy’s motive was to make lists associated only with sex. I didn’t last at my father’s house. He was married to some cunt that no one liked, not even him. She wanted to take from a home with all the freedom in the world, and throw the smack down on me. I said “fuck that” and went back to my mother’s shit hole of a house in Peachtree City, GA.
It wasn’t better there and I got myself into more trouble.
I landed myself in the juvenile detention center in Macon Georgia when I was 16, after violation of probation… violating it by failing a drug test at alternative school, and then fleeing to Baton Rouge, Louisiana when I was told I would have to go to court the next day and for sure be sent away. I didn’t want to, so I left the state. I was on probation for my second simple battery offense. In Louisiana I made it nine days before anyone found me, and my friend who had come along. We stayed with different random men, fucked our way around and thought we knew what we were doing. We didn’t. lol I had to spend two nights in a foster home, before my father could get to Louisiana to get me. We drove right back to Georgia and directly to the police department. I spent 117 days in the juvenile detention system, 90 of them consecutively in Macon.
Juvi changed me. I was surrounded by young girls, lots of them with children. Children with children. I was surrounded by a lot of girls who were in there for their second, third and even fourth time. I studied hard while I was in there and earned more high school credits then they had seen anyone earn in a long time, if ever. I also learned from a fellow inmate the chemicals and products used to make meth. lol… I never did anything with that education, but I had to share. I can remember in juvi, sneaking my hairbrush to my bunk and using it to fuck myself as I humped my pillow; in between the guards making their rounds. But it still changed me, I didn’t want to be one of these statistics.
I got out of juvenile detention center on March 17, 2003. My drunk mother and her newest felon boyfriend were eight hours past the earliest time they could come pick me up. No worries, nothing like waiting 117 days to feel freedom to be released at the last possible moment of the day.
We went back to her new single wide rental on the railroad tracks that smelled of mold and mildew. I didn’t make it but a couple hours before I had her drunk, piece of shit boyfriend in my face screaming at me. I stood my ground and told him to fuck himself. I took the items I wanted and called my step father, the man that was in my life prior to being sent away. He came and got me. I lived with my step father until I finished my semester there in Peachtree City. I had finish a complete school semester at this particular alternative school, in order to receive my school credits. I did that.
I didn’t speak to my mother since that day, she passed away this past February and I can honestly say I had no feelings. Long ago were any days of feeling like I needed a mother, or wishing I had one. I had no attachment, I had not feelings at all really. If anything, I think the pathetic human lived longer then she should have.
In December of 2003, I “kidnapped” my younger sister and took her from Peachtree City, Georgia to Knoxville, Tennessee where my father now lived. It was a huge and difficult transition for my 13 year old sister at the time. But I had spent weeks, hiding at her bus stop when she got out of school; waiting to talk with her and beg her to come with me, leave this place. She agreed, and while she isn’t the cream of the crop herself now, she is so much better off then she ever would have been with my mother. I picked her up one day in December, and I could tell her heart was heavy from her home life with my mother. I knew it was close to the end of the semester and on a whim I asked her, “You ready to do this?” She said she was. We didn’t go by her house to grab anything, we didn’t hesitate. I called my father in Knoxville, cried and little, and said I was bringing my sister to him. I drove the four or more hours to Knoxville, moving my sister a state away from all she had known for so long. I was able to stay the weekend but I HAD to get back to Georgia to complete my school semester. My sister made it the 12 days alone at my dad’s until I was able to come up as well. She did it. I saved her.
During the end of that same year I have to add, I enlisted in the Army. I swore in and I was going to be a 98 Charlie… a signals intelligence analyst. I was to leave July of 2004, after I graduated high school. I swore in and I was set for my future.
In January of 2004, I began my last semester of high school. Believe it or not, I was ahead of time on credits and was able to take three homeschool classes in order to receive my diploma. One of which was calligraphy, lol. At the end of the semester I went to apply for my diploma and was crushed when I was told that Tennessee didn’t recognize one of the math credits I had earned in Georgia. It ruined me. I had to now forfeit my deployment date, and I reverted to a beginner high school class of geometry at the adult night school downtown. It crushed me. I finished though, I completed it and I do have my diploma. It just took one semester longer all for this one credit. At the end of this semester, I looked into and got a breast augmentation. I got tits.
When I went months or so later, to try and reenlist in the military, I was told I had to wait at least a year after surgery. I felt then that it was just no longer meant to be. I instead enrolled in college, as the rest of my friends and peers. I have successfully obtained 119 credit hours so far and no degree. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
I was working three jobs at this time, taking classes and living with a roommate. I worked at Hooters and bartended at nights, then worked retail a few days a week as well.
It was when I was 19 years old I was approached on Myspace with a message from a man, claiming to be an agent in porn. He lived in LA and wondered if I had ever considered making dirty movies. I hadn’t, but it sure peaked my interest. I didn’t think too much about the safety risks associated with flying across the country to meet some strange man who claimed to be an agent, for sex movies. I loved the idea and wanted to try. This man fronted my plane ticket costs, and when I arrived he didn’t murder me. He fronted the cost of putting me up in somewhat of a roach motel, and paid for my adult industry mandated STD test. I was in Los Angeles for almost two weeks, three of those days waiting for my STD test results and maybe a day or two in between of rest. After my agents 30% I believe, and reimbursing him for the funds he had fronted me, I left with over $10,000. I couldn’t believe it.
I worked with this agent for a few months worth of trips. I was asked to resign from Hooter’s as being in porn didn’t go along with their moral compass, yeah I know. But I didn’t need it anyway. I continued school but really just focused on being a slut and loving it. I made a lot of long trips to LA, met so many people. I ate different food, seen different things, experienced different cultures. It was only about eight months in my porn career that I was offered a contract with Dogfart. It was interracial and set income. It was golden. You can see my contract work at BarbieCummings.com
I made some of the most amazing memories working in the industry. I quit in 2007 and wished I hadn’t. I was surrounded by bigots and hypocrites in this bible belt, and let it get to me. The cost of moving to LA was not going to work, especially with the cost of living. Even with a contract and making the really great money that I did, it wasn’t enough to have a decent standard of living in LA, at least not what I wanted. I chose to get out and followed “love”, love as in some narcissistic ass hole who swore to love me for who I was and even with my past. The rest is for another time… and we will get to that. Here is a nutshell of who I am and where I came from and how I became Barbie Cummings.