Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
The whole picture did a lot more for me than simply the image of her feet.
I don’t know why I kept coming back to her. Maybe it was simply because she, like me, seemed like an outlier. Not someone who was doing adult content because they got off on it, per se, but because it filled a void. Me, with my ego. Her, I imagined, with a home-based income.
When I saw the little green dot next to her profile picture—of her feet, of course—letting me know she was online now, available to be contacted by certain higher tier members, I found my finger clicking on the chat request button.
Why?
I had no idea.
Just… connection, I guess.
I couldn’t talk about this work with anyone else.
Maybe I was just seeking that outlet.
Though I could have easily contacted her through the creator hub, not the chat feature on her profile.
I wanted to pretend I didn’t know why I did it.
But as soon as the chat box opened up, allowing for communication, I found my finger sliding to another request.
Video chat.
The status bar on that pulsed seemingly endlessly, making me sure she was trying to figure out what to say to me when she denied it.
But then, the little video popped up in the corner.
Showing me only a set of feet set against a pink velvet couch. Toes wiggling.
I remembered only then to unblock the camera on my phone—the one I bought specifically for this site, that I kept at home buried in a drawer when I left.
I had my phone aimed down at my stomach, my abs showing on the screen, then found myself slowly panning down.
What the fuck was I doing?
And why the hell was my cock suddenly straining against my thin gray pajama pants?
Her mic was on, and I could hear some bluesy folk music in the distance, but it didn’t stop me from hearing the way her breath sucked in as my phone camera suddenly shifted down far enough to see the outline of my hard-on on the screen.
That mic of hers also picked up the slow exhale she let out, like she was trying to control her breathing.
I wasn’t supposed to do this.
Her rules were very explicit on her page about access to video calls. And how if she saw any nudity or suggestive content on the camera feed, she would block the subscriber’s account from being able to request personal contact.
Clearly, it was meant to be one-sided.
Just her toes dancing around, letting a guy get the shit he needed for his spank-bank. But not actually letting her know if you were hard or jacking off.
I needed to respect her boundaries.
But… why wasn’t she ending the call?
Why could I still hear her trying to breathe slowly?
My cock twitched, the ache suddenly borderline painful at having her sitting there, watching my struggle.
My hand slid down my stomach, grazed over my cock through the material of my pants, making me let out a rumbling groan.
In the camera, her toes clenched into the material of her couch cushion for a second before she forced them to relax.
With the call still connected, I found myself getting more daring, I slid my hand in my pants, and closed my hand around my cock, then stroked it from the base to the head then back down again.
There was another intake of breath, and her camera shifted as she changed her hold of it.
Had she just shifted positions?
Or did she need a hand free too?
My cock twitched at the idea as I suddenly felt my hand going toward my waistband, then reaching inside, and freeing my cock.
Was that a little whimper?
Or was that wishful thinking?
All I knew was the video call stayed live.
So I reached down, wrapping my fist around my cock, then stroking all the way up, then down again, hearing the way my breathing went sharp and ragged as the need got more intense.
Another two strokes, and I was sure I heard it this time.
A little whimper.
I had no proof, what with only her damn feet in the picture, but I would put my money on her free hand being pressed between her thighs, working her clit to the sight of me stroking my cock.
Unexpectedly turned on by that, I started to work myself faster, thinking of her over there on her pretty little pink couch, fingers inside her panties, her pussy dripping wet for me.
It was maybe even hotter than expected because Siana didn’t strike me as the kind of girl to have fucking cyber sex with a complete stranger.
And there was just something about a woman who was all buttoned up like that letting loose for you.
It wasn’t long before my breathing was getting more ragged, before groans were escaping me as I drove myself up to thoughts of her.
There was no mistaking what was going on then as her toes curled into the cushions, as they flexed, as her breathing got faster, and then, finally, little barely audible whimpers started to escape her.