Mel smiled to herself. She had the place to herself: Em, her flatmate, was off at work, and wouldn't be home until her normal hour, and her boyfriend, Andrew, had spent last night at his own home, and was out of town for the day. However, they, and Em's other half, were all expecting to eat at Mel and Em's that evening, and Mel, as normal, was in charge of cooking. No hardship, there: Mel's a decent cook—and to be honest, the boys aren't too fussy. Appreciative, but easy to please. Parallels could be drawn, if one wanted, between their appetites.
Mel, therefore, had much to prepare. The food she needed was in the larder from the last shopping trip; that was only part of the problem. This morning had been spent preparing food: dishes that would cook themselves, for the main, over the afternoon, with little supervision, which left the petite blonde with an afternoon to herself.
She'd gone to some lengths, over the last week, to make sure the gadgetry she wanted to use for today's project was ready, and worked as she wanted. The camera was charged, and the streaming service primed. She'd tested it last week while Em had been out, getting a feel for how everything fitted together, and how she'd be able to use it.
Now, it was time to get started. By Mel's reckoning, Andy would be on his train home in about half an hour. Chris, Em's partner, would be at his desk, as would Em, in fact. She knew Em hadn't any meetings today—with luck, nor would Chris.
Mel sent her first message to the trio, and headed to the bathroom.
***
Sitting on his first train home, Andrew was reading a bunch of papers, his tablet on the table in front of him. A boring but necessary meeting behind him, and a similarly dull train ride ahead, he was looking forward to an evening with his three closest friends. The tablet pinged: a message from Mel, by the sound, and he idly picked it up. Occasionally, she'd send a photo of dinner in preparation, to encourage him home, or ask him to pick something up: it'd be that, no doubt. He was puzzled to see, instead, an unfamiliar link, and her instruction: "Click here in ten minutes. M." Intriguing.
Andy couldn't resist, and tried the link: no use. He'd have to wait, and went back to the paper, curiosity nagging gently. What was Mel up to this time? Five minutes passed: another message pinged in. "Hope you're alone: not safe for clients."
Oh. That was the mood she was in. Andrew grinned: Mel had her...interests, and he was always happy to accommodate them. This would be a plan to heat him up for later, no doubt. His mind wandered, considering the possibilities; remembering explosive couplings from the past; wondering what she had in store.
Time's up. Andrew clicked the link, and this time it worked: video filled the screen. As it buffered, he glanced around, taking in the near-deserted carriage, and angling the screen slightly. Looking back, he grinned, recognizing Mel's bathroom, and her naked form in the shower. He watched, as the slender girl soaped herself up: well, re-soaped herself, as she was clearly taking her time on this particular shower. Her hand lingered, unmistakably, on a nipple, while she turned slightly to improve the angle of the show. The other drifted down her own side, over a hip, and down her thigh; paused; ran back up her inner leg. Mel brought a soapy hand down to her crotch, and worked a good lather up. A pair of fingers slipped between her legs, reaching backwards into her nethers, as Andy's grin widened. He shuffled in his seat, making a growing erection that bit more comfortable, and settled in.
***
Mel let her fingertip brush only briefly through her labia, keen to prolong both her own pleasure, and torment. Knowing full well that the suds obscured the details of her nudity, she soaped herself up, keeping a tantalizing view to the camera propped on the other side of the room. Smiling to herself, she turned, arse to the lens, and bent over at the hips to wash her feet, giving the camera a frankly pornographic view of her hairless twat from behind. She took a little while over her feet, making sure her legs parted slightly, and allowing water to run over her back and between her cheeks. A proper view was surely available. Standing once more, she turned, full-frontal, and finished rinsing herself, allowing her fingers to dwell slightly longer than needed on her pussy as she spread the lips.
Stepping out of the bath, she hit the button to stop the transmission. A brief pause, to build anticipation, was needed; and she needed to dry off.
***
Em sat, transfixed. She knew there was no way Mel was doing this for just her benefit, which meant Andy must be watching, too. Chris? Only one way to check. She fired off a brief message, "You watching Mel's show?" Contemplating her diary, she wondered how quickly she could wrap up for the day and get home; Mel must have more in store.
"Am I ever. Just as well she sent the warning-I was meeting someone. Will hurry home after last meeting!"
Em's stomach lurched: they were all watching her naked roomie's exploits. A tingle started to build in her own pelvis at the thought, as she wrote back to Mel. "Is that all?"
Impatiently, Em waited. Hours seemed to pass, though minutes really went by.
"Course not. Just getting dressed."
That, though, didn't give any idea of how long Em would have to wait, hoping for more. Sighing to herself, Em tried to concentrate on her work, the faster to leave.
***
Mel sat on the bed. She'd dried herself off, and re-dressed. Not the everyday garb of earlier, which Em had seen her in when she left: that wouldn't suit at all. No, now she'd gone all out, with rarely-deployed suspender belt and stockings; over them, an indecently low thong, the triangle of which barely rising above her cleft; and a lacy bra that did little, really, to conceal her small breasts. The camera was on its stand at the foot of the bed, the image of her going off into the ether. The knowledge that she was visible melted her, and her pussy flooded as she leant back on the headboard, raised her knees, and parted her legs.
***
Andy dashed across the station, making the change faster than the travel planner had expected, and found a quiet seat in the earlier train. With a bit of luck, there'd be a taxi waiting at the station, and he'd make it back sooner than he'd thought: Mel set quite an incentive. Checking around him for witnesses—Mel might like an audience, but he didn't want a watcher watching the watcher, as it were—Andy followed her latest streaming link. Buffering was a torment; data connections on a train always are, but finally the screen filled with Mel. Her fingertips traced lightly over the thin fabric covering her slit, as she gazed into the camera with a slight smile. Andy settled into the seat, checked his watch, adjusted his trousers to make space for a growing package.
"That should be long enough for you to log in," came Mel's voice through his headphones. Her fingers slipped under the top of the thong, and dipped down towards her cleft. A satisfied sigh came from her as her finger found her clit and started to gently circle. Mel's other hand reached up, and slid into her bra as she pinched a nipple, gently. The pace on her clitoris started to build, then she broke off to dip her finger into her cunny. Freshly slickened, she went back to the nub, releasing another sigh.
***
Chris finished his phonecall as quickly as was professional, and re-checked his calendar. One more call scheduled, and he could go. He'd have to catch up on, next week, but he could spare the time until then: Mel's link had popped up while he was talking, and he'd missed the start of the broadcast. He zipped forward, catching glimpses of her settling onto the bed; teasing herself; discarding the bra; tweaking her nipples into prominence. Mel rubbed her clit with two fingers, as her other hand smoothed over her small breasts, down her chest, over her slender waist, and back up. Her eyes were slightly closed now, but still fixed on the all-important camera, and the same small smile played across her face. Determined to put on a good show, she spread her knees a little wider, and the narrow crotch of her thong, pulled up by her busy hand, dug between her lips and pressed on her anus. The muscles in her stomach twitched in sympathy to the new sensation, and she moaned slightly, stretching back against the headboard. Mel added a rhythmic pull outwards to her masturbating hand, pulling the cloth between her nether lips and relaxing it as she worked her clit. A light shudder ran through her.
Chris was an iron rod, trapped at his desk, feverishly calculating how long he could watch before he'd have to pick up the phone, wondering how far Mel would go—how far she'd get. She was twisting a nipple, eyes now closed as she fondled herself. The thong now appeared to be more of a hindrance than a pleasure, though, and she paused to wriggle it off, sending it on its way to join her abandoned bra.
Mel's twat was now in full view of the camera, her neat pink lips engorged as her fingers returned to the nerve-filled spot buried in the folds. Her other hand came down, now, to join it, and Chris's stomach jolted as two of Mel's fingers slowly, purposefully sank into her cunt. Her knees went wide as she filled herself, and the wet fingers gradually re-emerged, before driving in once more. A louder moan, this time, as Mel's head went back and her fingertips flew over her clit. Gripped by the sight of the finger-fucking Mel was enjoying, Chris didn't notice the phone until the second ring, and ignored it for four more.
***
Em had locked the door to her office, and dropped the blinds. It was the only way, really. Grateful that she'd worn a short skirt, she'd tugged off her knickers and stuffed them into her bag while Mel buffered: now she, too, was knuckle-deep in her own cunt, with a finger idly passing over her clitoris. She wanted to be careful; she couldn't leave evidence of coming, but she saw no reason not to enjoy the show before she could leave and watch in person. Something inner twisted, slightly, at the combination of observing Mel, and the forbidden pleasure of wanking herself at work to the sight.
Mel, flushed now, surfacing somewhat from the consuming sensation of a filled passage and a fingered clit, grinned. Rolling over on to hands and knees, she shuffled down towards the camera, looking back over a shoulder to line herself up. Em's screen filled with pussy, as Mel reached between her thighs to spread herself, pushing apart her lips to reveal the opening to her wet, ready cunt. As Mel resumed her efforts on her clit, and her fingers once more filled her, Em shuddered, carefully balancing her own pleasure against the need to delay. She'd be able to leave, soon, unremarked upon: not long now, and it was only a short walk home.
