An Evening with the Webcam

The next three minutes were the longest three minutes of my life. I sat naked and alone on the couch, my entire body trembling. Surely he wouldn't really do this, I thought; nobody was going to knock on the door. The time would pass, and there would be no knock on the door, and he'd log back on to the chat server and tease me about how worked up he'd made me, right? And why did he tell me to shut down the cam server? If he were really to make me give my body to another man, he'd want to watch, right?

He was bluffing. That was it. That should have filled me with relief; he wasn't going to go through with it, there was no mystery man; and yet...

And yet a part of me hoped there was. A part of me was desperate to hear that knock. I wanted to fling it open. I wanted to give myself to whoever came through, wanted to serve him, on my back and on my knees, wanted to feel that hard and demanding and uncaring cock. I wanted his hands on my body, roughly, pushing me down... I wanted to be his fuck toy, I wanted him to use every part of my body for his own pleasure, and the thought that it might actually happened horrified me and aroused me.

We'd talked about it, Robert and I, a long time ago. I'd confided in him, opened myself up o him, let him see the hidden places in me; I'd described my fantasies of anonymous sex, of giving myself to him so completely that he could give me to another. He'd been, I think, surprised, just as he had the first day I'd shown him the secret places in me that wanted to be dominated, craved the feeling of being owned and controlled...

But it wouldn't happen.

The cameras silently recorded the room. I felt my heart hammer, felt the wetness drip from my abused pussy, felt the longing and shame inside me. I wanted it so badly, and hated that I wanted it, and I wanted him to use me anyway; I wanted him to see the shame and the humiliation, and not to care, and...

Three raps on the door, in quick succession. My heart leaped into my throat. I froze for a moment on the couch, looking around wildly, half expecting to see that Robert had logged back on and was reassuring me that everything was all right.

Three more knocks.

A jolt of adrenaline shocked me into motion. I rose on unsteady legs, fear making my heart threaten to explode from my chest. I fumbled at the lock on the door, my hands shaking so badly I could barely turn it.

Another three knocks, startling me. I yelped involuntarily, my hand frozen on the doorknob, then took a deep breath and closed my eyes, struggling to fight down the fear.

Maybe it was Robert! That might explain it. He'd come home three days early, and was surprising me! That's what this was all about!

I took another deep breath, steadying myself against the door for a moment, then stepped back and flung the door wide, light streaming around me into the darkness outside. "Ro-"

I froze. The man standing on the doorstep looked me up and down, naked lust and avarice glittering in his eyes. Not Robert; slightly shorter, slightly older, slightly balding, a little bit pudgy,...

...and I recognized him.

"Jason?"

I felt suddenly, overwhelmingly self-conscious. I became aware that I was standing, naked and glistening, in front of my wide-open door, became aware that my eyes had stopped at his crotch, at the obvious bulge in his jeans...

He was wearing a faded black T-shirt and a pair of worn blue jeans. He was a friend of Robert's from some years back, the brother of his old college roommate or something like that. I'd met him briefly a couple of times; he'd been over for drinks a couple years ago, and at a cookout Robert had hosted some time before that. I'd barely even noticed him, scarcely remembering him once he'd left. And now I was standing in front of him, naked and vulnerable, after he'd seen me masturbating.

"Aren't you going to invite me in, Jackie?"

"Um, uh, yes, that is..." I stammered, suddenly thrown off-balance. "Um, come, come in..."

He walked through the door and grabbed me roughly, one arm around me, pinning my body against his while his lips mashed against mine. I felt his tongue enter my mouth roughly as his other hand found my breast, groping and squeezing.

I squirmed for a moment, trying to pull away from him. The fantasy of giving myself to another man was one thing; now that he was here, groping me, shoving his tongue in my mouth, it seemed very different. For a moment I wanted to push him away, cover myself up...

He released me, so suddenly I almost fell, and turned, closing the door. I put my arm over my breasts, and tried to cover my crotch with my other hand. He faced me again, his eyes on my body so heavily I shrank back from him.

"You know," he said casually, "you are a very beautiful woman, Jackie. I've been attracted to you for a long time. I've fantasized about you, in fact. But I had no idea you were so kinky!" He took half a step toward me, and I shrank back further.

"My understanding is that you have to do anything I tell you to," he said, a tiny smile playing on his lips. "To be honest with you, this is all new to me. I've never done anything like this before."He reached out and took me by the wrist, drawing my arm away from my breasts. "I'm almost not quite sure what I should do with you."

"You...you don't have..." I stammered, staring at the floor. "You don't have to do this..."

He seemed thoughtful for a moment. "You're right. I don't have to do this." He drew my arm farther away, His other hand found my chin, and he brought my head up, forcing me to look directly into his eyes. "I don't have to do this. I want to do this. You, on the other hand, have to do this." He stepped closer still, bringing his arm around me, pinning my wrist behind my back. "You have to do this," he repeated, murmuring quietly in my ear.

He held me pinned against him, his lips barely grazing my ear, and stroked my hair lightly. I felt goosebumps rise on my arms as he stroked my neck gently, and I shuddered slightly, my eyes half closed. He released my wrist, and ran his fingertips lightly up my arm; I moaned very softly.

Without warning, he grabbed my hair and pulled, hard, forcing my head back. I screamed; the sound was cut off as his mouth closed over mine, his tongue thrusting insistently between my lips. Instantly, I was in another place. Reason vanished; I wanted to give myself completely to him, let him do anything to me, work his will on my body in any way he chose...

I felt myself grind my hips against him, and felt the sudden wetness dripping from between my legs, running down my thighs. The scream turned to a muffled moan as I closed my eyes and returned his kiss. My arms slid around him, my eyes closed as I pressed my body against his. I wanted him to use me, to push me down and take me roughly, to pleasure himself with my body, using me for his own masturbatory delight, hard and uncaring...

"No!" some small part of myself silently screamed. I'd never gone to that place with anyone but Robert. I wanted to stop him, to push him away, to scream "How dare you!" to him-this man who'd watched me without my knowledge, who'd come in through the front door believing I would give my body to him. That tiny, secret part of me withdrew from myself, and watched as if from outside my body in horror as I moaned against his tongue. He kept pulling my hair as his other hand slid between my legs; my knees buckled and I felt a wave of raw animal pleasure wash over my body as his blunt fingers forced their way roughly into me. I made a gutteral noise in the back of my throat; the small part of me that still knew reason raged in silent fury at myself as I spread my legs wider for him, allowing easier access.

And then his fingers were thrusting inside me, and his tongue was thrusting in and out of my mouth in the same rhythm, and that small part of me that still knew to object went somewhere else. I felt my legs open further, inviting him in more deeply; I felt my arms slide around him, felt my body press against him, heard myself moan as his fingers tightened in my hair...

...and just like that, his mouth was gone, his fingers slipped out of me, and he had released me. I stared at him, panting, struggling to control myself as waves of conflicting emotions washed over me. I felt naked, exposed, vulnerable, ashamed...and beneath it all, frighteningly, desperately aroused. My need was obvious to him; it had to be. He could see how hard my nipples were, could see the creamy juices running down my legs; knowing that he knew made my arousal that much more desperate.

He brought his fingertips up to my lips, brushing them very lightly; without hesitation, I took them into my mouth, and closed my eyes as I drew them in. My hands found his; I closed my hands around his hand and held it still as I moved my head, swirling my tongue around his fingers.

His eyes flicked back for a moment, and a rush of euphoria rose in me. Seeing him respond made me feel intensely desired, and the thought of giving myself totally to him suddenly became almost intoxicating. I opened my mouth, smiling at him as I guided his hand deeper, until I could feel his fingertips at the back of my throat. I wrapped my lips tightly around his fingers, kissing his knuckles, and drew his fingers slowly from my mouth.

"Mmm," he said, watching me through half-closed eyes. "Seriously, I wasn't sure that I would know what to do with you. You know, there's even a part of me that thought I might chicken out at the last minute." He drew his hand away from me, then caressed my cheek gently. "But watching your show on the cameras gave me some ideas." Without warning, his hand was curled in my hair again, pulling hard, forcing my head back, making me cry out. "Kneel," he said, his voice harder.

I sank to my knees in front of him. His hand stayed with me, his fingers still curled in my hair. Without hesitation, my hands went to the bulge in his jeans, straining at the denim, and as I caressed and stroked him through the material, I felt a small spot of wetness seeping through the fabric.

Without thought or hesitation, my fingers found the button on the waist of his jeans, and I pulled it open, and yanked down the zipper eagerly. His erect cock sprang out, smacking me on the face, and I realized with surprise that he wasn't wearing any underwear. His cock, hard and very thick, rolled wetly off the side of my face, and a momentary flash of shame blazed over me. From somewhere far away, the reasoning part of me reasserted itself, and I leaned back on my heels, looking up at him.

He pulled my hair sharply, bringing my face closer to him, and turned his hips, slapping my cheek with his erect cock. A glistening drop of warm wetness fell from the head of his penis, splattering on my leg. He brought the head up to my lips. "Open," he said, his voice still hard.

Another flash of humiliation. I froze, my heart hammering, and didn't respond. No way, that small voice said, this isn't a fantasy any more, this is too real, I don't want to do this, I am not taking this man's cock in my mouth! I barely know him! I felt hot; beads of sweat formed on my body and rolled down my oiled skin. What the hell is wrong with you, on your knees in front of this man...

His erection remained motionless, pressed lightly against my lips. His fingers curled tighter in my hair, and he began pulling harder, increasing the pressure very slowly until I cried out in pain. I looked up at him from beneath my bangs. He looked down at me with eyes filled with hunger and greed and pure sexual desire...

...and in that moment, I knew he'd won.

I knew that look, very well-that expression of pride and possession and raw carnality. Jason lacked Robert's presence, Robert's easy and natural authority, his commanding aura of control, but that look...that look of hungry, confident lust was the same. And I could not stop what it did to me.

My lips parted and I opened my mouth for him, sending that still small protesting voice somewhere far away. Moving with studied deliberation, he placed his hands on the sides of my head, holding me tightly; then, very slowly, he pushed my head down onto his erect cock, sliding it slowly into my mouth, deeper and deeper, until I felt it against the back of my throat and my nose pressed against his pubic hairs. "Suck," he said.

His cock felt strange in my mouth, slightly shorter but significantly thicker than Robert's. I began moving my head slowly, running my tongue along the soft underside of his shaft as I slid it almost completely out of my mouth. My tongue swirled in circles over the head of his cock, drawing a shuddering moan from him, before I took it deeply into my mouth again. His breathing became ragged as I worked his cock slowly, sliding it in and out of my mouth in long, lazy strokes as my tongue danced over it. Unconsciously, my hands slid between my legs, and I began rocking my hips against them as my fingers slid over my clit.

I felt wetness pour over my fingers, and I closed my eyes again, moaning around his cock as I slid my fingers slowly into my dripping sex. I took his rigid penis deeply into my mouth again, very slowly, letting my tongue play over the soft skin as it sank into my hungry mouth. I held him there for a long moment, his cock filling my mouth and my fingers deep inside myself; then, slowly at first, I began sucking him in earnest, sliding my fingers in and out of my dripping pussy in time with the bobbing of my head.

His breath sharpened as I increased my pace. I closed my eyes and began sucking in earnest, my head bobbing more and more quickly. I rocked my hips against my hands, my fingers dancing over my engorged clit, as I grew increasingly aroused by the feel of the strange penis in my mouth. I moaned around his cock again as I plunged my fingers over and over into my dripping pussy, and felt his cock stiffen in response. I drew it deeper, knowing his orgasm was close, longing to feel his warm thick come spurting against the back of my throat as I brought myself to orgasm...

"No!" he said, pulling my head away from him. His penis made a wet sucking sound as it slipped out of my mouth. He took a step away from me, and I froze again, my fingers buried inside myself, looking up at him. His face was flushed, and I could tell he had interrupted me as he was just on the edge of orgasm. Disappointment and shame battled in me, disappointment because I was so close to feeling the warm, delicious spurt in my mouth, shame because I wanted it so badly.

"No, I'm not going to come in your mouth," he said. "I have a better idea. Stand up." He reached down, offering me his hand, then pulled me to my feet. "Lie down on the couch on your back."

Without a word, I did as I was told, first setting the speculum and the dildo I'd used earlier on the coffee table, then lying on my back on the leather couch. I spread my legs widely, expecting him to mount me, to push his cock into me, but instead he kneeled over me. "I got this idea from watching your performance in the shower," he said. "Your little show nearly made me come." He straddled my body, pressing his erection between my breasts. "And since your body is all oiled up, that makes things that much easier."

He began rocking his hips, sliding his cock between my oiled-up breasts. "Press your breasts together," he said. I whimpered, arching my back and moving my hips in need, my pussy burning and ignored, as I pressed my breasts together. He moaned, his eyes rolling back, as he moved more quickly, his penis sliding in the cleavage between my breasts.

It didn't take long. I felt his body tense as I pressed my breasts around his cock, and he threw back his head and screamed as it began gushing wildly. The first spurt arced up over my chin and left a streak of wetness across my face; the next spurts hit my chin, gushed between my breasts, and spattered over my shoulder. He sat upright and took his cock in his hand, still moaning and gasping as he stroked himself and continued to come. Gush after gush sprayed over my body, covering my breasts and belly in warm, thick goo.

Finally, it was over. His moans subsided as he stopped stroking his cock, and he stood up, dragging his limp, wet penis over my breast and across the side of my face. "Whew!" he said, breathing hard.

I lay on the couch, my arousal at a fever pitch, feeling the puddles of warm wetness between my breasts. The come that had splattered my chin began dripping down my neck and running over my shoulder, and I could feel more come trickling down the sides of my breasts. I felt my hips moving of their own accord, pressing into the leather, and felt my own wetness pooling beneath me. "You look like quite a mess," he said. "You should see all the come all over you! I don't think I've ever come that much in my life." He smiled. "Does it feel good?"

I didn't reply, lying still on the couch, my pussy still aching with need. He smiled wider. "Is this the computer you were using for those wonderful closeup shots?" he asked, turning the laptop toward me and moving the lid slightly so that the small round camera stared directly at me. "Is Rob watching right now? Do you think he likes what he sees?"

"No...no," I responded, my voice sounding hoarse and distant in my ears. "He's not watching right now. It's..." I felt myself flush. "It's recording right now."

"So we're making a movie, are we? Well, then, let's have some fun!" he said. "Put your hands on those gooey, come-covered breasts. Touch yourself."

I brought my hands reluctantly to my breasts, touching my nipples with my fingertips, spreading some of the come gingerly around my nipples.

"Not like that," he said. "Grab your tits like you did before. Run your hands all over your body. Smear my come all over you."

I folded my hands over my breasts, grimacing as the gooey come oozed between my fingers. I began caressing my body, running my hands over my breasts and belly, the warm come slippery on my oiled skin. Jason licked his lips as he watched me intently, with the hunger back in his eyes. "That's it, touch yourself. Feels good, doesn't it?"

And the truth was, it did feel good. The come made my skin very slippery, and my hands slid easily over my body, spreading the creamy warm goo. One wet hand slipped between my legs, and I ran my dripping, come-slicked fingers over my clit. I heard myself moan softly. From somewhere a very long way away, the voice in my head was screaming, What are you doing? You let him come all over you, and now you're rubbing yourself like you're a whore in heat...

"You like this, don't you?" he asked as I spread myself open and slid one finger inside my dripping hole. "You like being drenched in my come, don't you? Do you know how dirty you are?"

I felt myself respond to his words, felt the muscles in my vagina twitch and squeeze my finger. I moaned again, involuntarily, and began moving my fingers faster, thrusting my hips against my hand. My other hand squeezed my breast very tightly, and I felt the thick wet spunk under my fingers. "Oh, God, tell me!" I begged. "Tell me how dirty I am!"

The small part of my mind that could still think and reason reacted instantly with stunned horror A wave of shame and embarrassment swept over me, and I felt my nipple pressing into my hand and a sudden gush of wetness flow from my pussy. I closed my eyes and arched my back, driving three fingers into myself as deeply as I could. "Tell me, please!"

He laughed. "You already know how dirty you are," he said. "Just look at you, soaked with come and fucking yourself. This gets you off, doesn't it? You love sucking cock and smearing come all over your body. You're a filthy, cocksucking whore, and you love it. You are the dirtiest comeslut I have ever seen, lying here with your legs open, begging for it." My breath came in a series of moans as my fingers worked frantically. I felt the long-delayed orgasm rising swiftly and I arched my back; the room around me, the couch beneath me faded away, until all that was left was the feel of my hands on my body and the sound of his voice. "You're going to come, aren't you, you dirty little whore? Do it! Make yourself come! Show me how filthy you are!"