Story: Cam Girl

This story was inspired by a promotional picture of Remy Lacroix that was posted onto Tumblr (shown below)


“I told the little shit to fuck off. How dare he think I owe him a blowjob for picking me up from work. I owe nobody, nothing. Except the thieving bank. They charged me thirty bloody pounds to tell me I had no money in my account. That I already knew. So that’s me now on minus thirty which is worse than being on fuck all! Silly fuckers.”

It wasn’t just Rebecca’s language that was intensely colourful; everything about my flat mate was lambent and kaleidoscopic. She lived for the moment, she revelled in her wild, helter-skelter life with a lust for spectacular flamboyance and an adoration for the unusual.

Hence Brian.

He was a theatrical wild-child: a deeply flashy man who adorned his arrogance with a gaudy cheapness and a rude vocal lordliness. We didn’t dislike him. Rebecca’s boyfriends never stayed with her long enough for her friends to form too much of an opinion about them, but we weren’t too disappointed when she announced their split.

“You need to find a nice, normal boyfriend.”

“You need to get yourself on Internet dating.”

“You need to buy yourself a proper vibrator and then you wouldn’t need men.”

All of her friends had advice for the unfortunate dater, and she’d listen to all of it, before ignoring every word and doing something totally unsuitable and inappropriate.

“I’m going to do porno-cams,” she announced a few days later as I lounged on the couch, reading the latest best-seller from my favourite erotic author. “My mate Poppy says it’s twaddle, I need the readies and ya never know.”

This wasn’t the worst idea she had ever had; that must rank as trying to smuggle her favourite loose tea through customs and being arrested for drug trafficking, only to be released an hour later when the police realised that the kilogramme of marijuana was actually Fortnam and Mason’s finest Earl Gray. The vajazzle kit as a Christmas present for her grandmother wasn’t too clever either, and nor was starting the barbecue with half-a-litre of paraffin.

I was certain she would do a couple of these “porno-cam” shows, get bored and then move onto her next hair-brained scheme. “Oh, and I need your help.”

“Uh-huh.” I glanced over the top of my Kindle, leaving fornicating monsters and their innocent girls waiting as I wordlessly expected an explanation.

“I need someone to help me set up the cam. And … ummm …”

“Yes?”

“… Fuck me!” Her eyes tore themselves away from me for a split-second as she scratched her thigh, deliberately raising her skirt as she less-than-innocently sated her itch. “I have Brian coming ’round tomorrow but he’s in King Lear or something tonight. I’ll give you half of what I make.”

“That’ll be half of fuck-all,” I mused, but Rebecca was sensual and sexy, and as the little minx reminded me, an opportunity to screw her wouldn’t come around too often. My exhibitionist nature and desperation trumped my reason and I agreed without thinking too deeply about what I was agreeing to. I set up my camera in her bedroom, pointing at her freshly made bed, and we waited until the early evening. We drank beer and flirted, bringing a warm glow to my loins and a dampening of my inhibitions. She giggled as she signed her laptop into the site; the young lady clad in just colourful socks with a mismatched bikini. She was bright and fluorescent, an unmistakable splash of intense colour.

SS_CamGirlThe first “ping” was followed by more, and more. I watched as dozens of men flirted with the brown-haired vixen. She smiled and laughed at lewd comments, flashed her breasts repeatedly and then set a target of £250 for her show. For every £50 she would get lewder and ruder, and when she reached her magic number, I would fuck her.

The crowd in her private chat room grew; donations towards the Get Becky Banged Good fund turned from a trickle to a torrent in minutes. She played with her exposed tits after the first £50, rubbing her hand over her delicate orbs while I waited patiently, tenting my boxers. I watched, spellbound as her fingers twisted over her engorged nipples and she kissed them, swirling her tongue over the delicate points.

I shuffled awkwardly as her socks joined her discarded top, and then her pink bottoms were flung unceremoniously into the corner of the room to show her shaved crotch to the scores of masturbating adults across cyberspace.

Her audience adored it, lapping up her play with an avalanche of disgustingly lovely yet crude comments. Every inch of her was adored and loved; hundreds of doting men offered superlatives over her flawless body. Her eyes twinkled as the penultimate target was reached, delving into her bedside drawer to reach for her sex toys. “To warm me up, boys!” She cried, licking her lips at the camera. “You want to see me get fucked, don’t you? I need to get fucked. Help me.” She looked as if she was speaking personally to every single member of her audience: every man and woman sitting at their computer screen had Rebecca pleading with them for assistance. It sent a shiver down my spine as I watched her vibrator flick to the first setting as she pressed it gently against her parted legs.

Her undulating body swam with pleasure, the comments box on her video was flooded with dirty chat as she drove her sex toy harder and harder against her crotch, crying as her lust overtook her senses and tipped her into orgasm, screaming loudly from her red bedspread.

The donations: £249.

She grabbed her glass dildo, squealing as the cool tip of her toy reached into her cunt. “One more pound to see the real thing, guys!” Only, as her dildo drove her to her second shimmering climax, the final cash was not forthcoming. Neither did her huge rubber dildo, or her dual penetrating dong, caused her adoring fan club to part with their moolah. Each toy brought her to a screaming climax, her body coated in a feint sheen of sweat as her cunt gratefully enjoyed every intrusion but her audience had no wish to see me pound her pussy.

The donations: £249.97.

As I pondered the situation, I knew why. She said she would keep playing with herself until her total was reached; they were teasing her just as she had teased them. The 3,229 viewers were enjoying her repeated orgasms on camera too much to allow the script she had written to move onto the next chapter.

And Rebecca was too driven by slippery lust to realise their game. She slipped another vibrator against her clit as her wooden butt-plug filled her ass, lying back on the bed as the camera recorded an incredible view of the pornographic delights. Her thighs shook as the buzzing filled the room; her sodden crotch quivered as her cries of wild, sexual abandon titillated thousands across the globe. She wriggled as her nasal groans and snatched breaths tripped her into another climax.

I was desperate to fuck her; she saw the horniness in my gaze.

“OK, well night guys,” she muttered, panting. “I’m off to fuck my friend now but as you guys don’t want to see it, I’ll say …” The computer beeped, and again. And again. Her total soared instantly as she smiled at me; thirty minutes I had seen her near constant orgasms and my rock-hard cock was desperate for her attention.

She giggled as she playfully dragged me onto the bed. “Oh, OK, you twisted perverts. Just for you …” She kissed the tent in my boxer shorts. “Now what have we here?” The minx pulled my red shorts to my knees, causing my cock to bob dramatically for the camera. “Something else to fuck!”

She ran her tongue over the head of my prick, smiling to our audience as her lips sank to the root of my cock. I groaned loudly. Every nerve in my dick sparkled, everything I adored stemmed from the gentle swirling of her tongue over my manhood. Groaning, squealing, crying, writhing. She smiled at my reactions to her skilful work on my cock.

I panted, reached for her cunt, and pressed my fingers against her clit. She squirmed as I slipped over her sensitive button and pressed her legs apart, tapping on the head of her butt-plug resting in her ass. I slid my cock out of her mouth and glided down her body.

She smiled at me, glancing towards the camera as my prick pressed against her hole and penetrated her cunt. So warm, so delightful and welcoming. Such a wonderful, incredible lust concentrated inside of me as I rocked my cock deep into my friend. “Slowly,” she whispered: it had to look as good as it felt.

And it was amazing; every thrust of my manhood deep into her tight pussy was met with desperate cries and loud groaning from my young friend. Her muscles tightened over my naked cock and wooden anal intrusion. She quivered with every slide of my body over her smooth skin.

I pushed her ankles up to my shoulders; I looked into her eyes and then the camera: raw, passionate grunts as I fucked her. And I was fucking her; this was no gentle, romantic sex or a little game any more, but I was thrusting deep into her cunt, screwing the slut for every ounce of pleasure I could squeeze from her.

I was fucking her for every one of her thousands of fans. They could imagine what the slick warmth of her hole, and the pressure on my cock would be like. They could dream of filling her cunt when they went to sleep that night, guessing how amazing the plundering of her pussy would feel. But only I knew.

A battery of loud, angry profanities left her lips as I drove my cock faster and faster into her hole, rodgering her until her cries became a loud scream of pleasure and her cunt clamped down on my cock.

She was coming. Again.

Only this time it was louder, stronger and more intense than anything else that had gone before it.

And it was enough to bring me to the peak of my pleasure, withdrawing my cock to spew my cum over her mound and her stomach with a nasal groan.

Coming for our paying audience: it was what they paid for.

I was spent; she knelt up to scoop my semen onto her finger and licked her lips as she dripped my cum into her tongue; all for the camera. As was the cleaning of my cock with her mouth and the wild, passionate kiss.

But she had made over £400, and as she said goodbye to her adoring fans, Rebecca winked at me.

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I panted. “No Brian?”

She shook her head. “I … I’m not sure two exes would have the same chemistry.” She bit her lip. “I was thinking of me, you and my mate, Poppy. She likes doing cam-work.” For once, Rebecca had had a very good idea.

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