1) If they tipped me, I bared anything they desired. With the chiming of the tips, I chirped, “thank you!” and giggled and smiled. I pulled my black tank top over my head, showing the red lace bra underneath.
“Wow,” they said, “how big are those?”
2) It was so hard to get back into habit of coming online. I’d been using my period as an excuse not to,
you can’t work when you’re bleeding. But the month was coming to an end,
and the pressure to pay up was on. With that, I set up the camera and
tripod in the bathroom.
1) The chat was silent with the anticipation. With a grin,
I removed my bra and pushed my boobs together to show off how plump and round
they were, pinching and twisting my nipples. I raised one to my lips,
flicked it with my tongue, and kissed it before sucking. The sensation
traveled through my body, and made my pussy wet.
2) I shut my eyes
and rubbed my nipples. I tried not to look too sad or lost or like I had a very
fat chin. I tried not to spend too much time in my head, so I could feel the
sensation in my nipples as it tingled down and into my cunt. But it didn’t. It
stopped in my gut like a lead weight.
1) More tips rolled in, and I revealed my body accordingly.
I spread my thick thighs to reveal a delicate, curly blonde bush that I
stroked and twirled between my fingers. I spread my lips — deep pink, plump
folds – to reveal the little gem that was my clit. I touched it lightly, and
held it between my index and middle fingers, wiggling, a gentle pleasure that
would make me bite my lip and sigh as I stared into the camera — at them
“Ohhh my,” they said, “beautiful goddess.”
2) I readjusted the camera, trying to find a suitable angle
for the movement I was about make. There was no way of knowing. I lowered
myself into the bathtub, a disgusting yellow green. I thought of my fleshy
rolls and the folds of my body. How my pale skin must have looked against
the yellow. How the dark brown walls and
ceiling made me think of taking a shit in a cave made of packed dirt.
“I would love to know what dirty thoughts she’s thinking,”
they said.
1) One finger, then two, slipped inside. Palm pressed
against my clit. Hooked fingers pushing against the wall. The pressure was like a pleasure jolt, a wave
that grew in intensity as I pushed again and again with increasing frequency.
I could feel goose bumps on my cheeks as my pussy tightened around my
fingers.
“Does it turn you on to think of us watching you?” they
asked.
2) A pang of guilt or shame or disbelief at the disconnect
between their fantasy and my reality rang deep in my gut. Like there was
something wrong with me for not thinking of the men, and the cocks, and how my cunt felt clenching around my fingers, and the 200 men that were watching
with their dicks in hands as I hated myself in the bath tub.
1) My toy of choice was a pink glass dildo. It was hard and
smooth, with gentle curves that hit just the right spots, no matter the angle. I resisted the
temptation to fuck myself hard and fast, intentionally denying my pleasure, my
orgasm, so I could feel each individual stroke, savoring it.
2) During my period, I prefer being fucked hard. I was dehydrated,
but I was dying to squirt. There is something so satisfying about liquid
confirmation shooting from your cunt. Rubbing your clit until it hurts.
Pounding harder, deeper, hitting that magic spot near your cervix so it
makes liquid build up in that mysterious pouch that may or may not be your
bladder.
1) Unable to resist any longer, I let out a desperate,
pleading moan. Ohh… liquid gushed out of
my pussy, puddling underneath me, landing on my thighs, my calves, my feet. By
some miracle of physics, drops landed on my chest, and my lips. My free
hand moved down my thigh and clutched the flesh, trying in vain to find
something would contain my pleasure.
2) When you’re dehydrated, there is no liquid to build it.
Later, when they asked, I told them, “of course I squirted, I always
squirt!”. To them, my frustration looked like an orgasm.
1) When the pleasure subsided, I brought my fingers to my
lips, spreading them to see how my juices suspended between them. I couldn’t
resist my own sweet taste, licking each individual finger, making sure I got
every last morsel.
2) I breathed deep. I idly licked my fingers. The liquid
was bitter, yellow. It rang on the tip of my tongue, and in the back between my
molars. It was thin on the roof of my mouth, and vaguely metallic on my lips.
“Mmm I wish I knew how sweet that tasted,” they said.
It tasted exactly like diluted urine.
“You have the most perfect body on this site,” they said.
“Do you sell your panties?”
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