I’ve always enjoyed watching adult web cams. I guess you could say it is one of my fetishes. I’m a member of one of those websites that lets you view for free. The amazing part, to me, is that a lot of great looking women take part in it, too. I find it to be more arousing than porn since it is live and you can actually talk to the person.
I have had no problem getting off to these ladies. Sometimes I even show them as I get off to them on my cam, which makes it even more exhilarating. There are my regulars who are usually on at a certain time every day (I keep track), and then you have your irregulars, who sometimes you won’t see for months. These women range from all ages too, from the young, ripe age of 18 to the seasoned veterans of 60+ years. Of course, being 19, I’m only attracted to those under 40 (unless she looks really good).
It’s a mutual thing; I enjoy their wonderful, gorgeous bodies and they enjoy my youthful view on sex, and sometimes even my masturbation. For instance, I’ve made quite a friend out of this one girl. Her name is Lisa, she’s 24, and she lives in Las Vegas. Now, me living in Texas obviously prevents us from meeting in person, but we still have a great time. The best part about it is that not only are we masturbation buddies, but we are also good friends. We chat in private messages about the many interests we share. Then at night, our world changes and we masturbate to each other. It wasn’t always like this, though.
One night, around 2 am Texas time, I was wanking my rod in a slow, bored fashion, half-hard and tiring out. None of the regulars were on and it was still about another hour before the overseas regulars would start to come online. Just as I was about to close it out and go to bed, I saw a new ID show up on the list, “luckylisa”. I thought, “Hell, it’s probably just another old lady, too wrinkly for me to enjoy. But, I might as well check.”
So, I clicked her ID and the feed opened. What I saw was the most beautiful thing I had seen anywhere in a long time. She had straight black hair, entrapping emerald eyes, a wonderfully expressive, cute face, and an hourglass figure with full curves in the front, and a tattoo of a sun on her right arm. I couldn’t see much below her waist since it was a camera and she was sitting down. She wore a white, sleeveless shirt and black bra straps rested upon her shoulder. I was hard again instantly, but not only was I horny, I was attracted.
I had to find out more, so I opened her profile and read after stroking a little to the picture of her holding up her busty cleavage. It said she was from Las Vegas, 24, and enjoyed gambling and drinking. She sounded so fun and so right to me. I needed to talk to her. As I kept an eye on her cam’s feed, she was pretty much motionless the whole time with a few shifts here and a few smiles there. Once in a while she took a shot of tequila.
As I started to surf the chat rooms to track her down, I kept thinking of every sexual position I have ever studied with her, and I stroked with my left hand as my right hand navigated through chat rooms. Eureka! I finally found her and entered the chat room, which was loaded with thirty guys or so, all trying to do the same thing: get Lisa to strip so they can jack off to her.
With every man’s flirt, I became less and less interested, thinking she was probably just another slut to get off to. But then came a response from Lisa, telling them to fuck off. She wasn’t a slut; she didn’t strip for just anybody! Maybe I did have a chance, but how was I supposed to get to know her with all of these hound dogs?
I did the only thing I could do. I started to talk to everyone, mostly her though. I watched other men’s questions and studied every response she fired. That night was not very productive except for my studies. I came up with the theory that to get her naked, and better yet, to be her friend, you’d have to give her a lot more respect than what these guys were giving. She talked to me, but it was a very cold conversation, which I understand from her point of view. I was just another guy trying to get off as far as she was concerned. After I signed out for the night, I formulated a plan: talk to her every night about things I enjoy, and don’t ever mention sex or flirt for now.
I made it a goal to be on about that time every night for the next week or so, and it paid off. She was on precisely at 2 am Texas time every night that week. I completely ignored what other men said to her and me and focused on becoming her friend. Slowly my plan took its course, and within the next week, she was talking to me for hours in private messages. We talked about everything, and we enjoyed each other’s companies. Within another few days I began subliminally working in flirts, and she responded positively.
Then came the great night, the first night. I logged on as usual and so did she. I opened her cam feed and instantly noticed a difference. She was wearing her regular shirt, but she wasn’t wearing a bra. I thought this was funny, but when I said hello in the private message I didn’t mention anything. Her response was anything but her normal, and it contained many errors that she usually didn’t make. Something was different.
We talked a little, and she flirted with me a lot. I was surprised at this, but I flirted right back since I had a huge bulge in my boxers. Finally, I saw her fill a shot glass to the rim with tequila, and I knew what it was: she was drunk. My dirty-sided conscience told me to take full steam ahead and see if I could get her naked, while my clean-sided conscience said to get her naked but keep it friendly. It was unanimous; it was time to see her naked.
As she took another full shot every five minutes, I responded to her cock-hardening flirts. Finally, with my last bit of good resistance, I mentioned her drunkenness to her. She said, “I know,” and began laughing hard as I watched her try to shoot down another round through her outrageous laughter. I couldn’t help from being turned on and began laughing myself. Then she said, “Turn your cam on, Jack. I want to see you.”
I obediently hooked up my web cam to my computer and aimed it at my face. “Ah, there’s my Jacky-boy!” she typed. I couldn’t help but laugh at the name she had referred to me as. She poured and drank another round as I sat and watched in disbelief. “Want some?” she asked.
“Yeah, I do, but I can’t quite reach all the way to Vegas,” I told her. She began another wild laugh at my response. I had to laugh too, though I wasn’t laughing at my joke, which I thought was dumb, I was laughing at her. Finally I said, “You’re wasted.”
