The Stranger in the Chat Turned on Her Camera for Me

It was Saturday afternoon and I’d been pacing around the apartment for hours, not knowing what to do with myself. My parents had gone to the coast for the weekend with my sister, and I’d turned down the plan with the excuse of a final paper I hadn’t even opened. The truth was different: I was horny, very horny, and I needed a Saturday alone to take care of that without anyone knocking on the door every twenty minutes.

The problem was that neither my usual porn nor the memories of the girl at the gym who wore those gray leggings were doing it for me. Something was missing. Maybe the feeling that on the other side there was someone real, someone with a voice, someone who wanted me too even if she didn’t know me.

I remembered a forum a classmate had mentioned between laughs during some break. An adults chat where, he said, things sometimes got interesting. I looked it up, made myself an account with a fake name, and went in.

The user list was a parade of unfunny nicknames. Ridiculous nicks, self-help phrases, people with blurry avatars. I was about to close it all when a name stopped me: Caro_solita.

I don’t know why it was that one and not another. Maybe because of the word “solita,” which sounded more like a confession than an invitation. Maybe because something in me, at that moment, was lonely too.

I wrote to her.

—Hi.

She took her time answering. Long enough for me to think she was already with someone else or that she wasn’t even online.

—Hi —it finally came through.

—How’s your afternoon going?

—Slow. Boring. And yours?

—Same. That’s why I came in here.

I told her my name was Daniel, that I was twenty-two, that I lived in an apartment south of the city. Almost all of it was true. She told me she was Carolina, thirty-eight, separated for two years, and that Saturdays were the longest days of the week when her daughter went off with her father.

We didn’t start by talking about sex. We talked about stupid things: the heat outside, the last book she’d abandoned halfway through, a series I’d watched. But there was something in the way she wrote, in the way she asked me certain things, that made it clear where the conversation was headed.

—Do you have Skype? —I blurted out, almost fearing the answer.

—Yes. Why?

—Because I don’t like typing so much. If you want, we can talk there.

She took her time again. Then she sent me her username.

I found her, added her, sent her a short message: “I’m Daniel.” She accepted the request instantly.

The first words were by audio, with both cameras off. Her voice surprised me. It was husky, low, with a pause between one sentence and the next that made me swallow without meaning to. The voice of a woman who knew exactly what effect she had and enjoyed testing it.

—You sound like a good boy —she told me, laughing softly—. Are you a good boy, Daniel?

—Depends on the day.

—And today?

—Not so much.

She laughed again. And little by little the conversation got hotter, without either of us forcing anything. We talked about what we liked, what was and wasn’t okay, like two people meeting in a bar and probing how far the other would go. At one point she asked me, her voice even lower, whether I liked it slow or fast when someone sucked my cock. I told her slow, with tongue, no rush. She answered that she liked to suck cock while looking a man in the eyes, feeling how hard it got in her mouth. My whole body went tight in the chair.

At one point, an idea came to me and I blurted it out before thinking:

—I bought a new pair of boxer briefs two days ago. I haven’t worn them yet.

—Show me —she said, without blinking.

My mouth went dry. I told her only if it was on camera, that I didn’t like photos because you never knew where they’d end up. She agreed instantly. So fast that I wondered whether she’d been waiting for exactly that push.

When she turned on her camera, I nearly dropped my phone.

She was lying on a wide bed, with rumpled white sheets behind her. She was wearing a thin-strapped top and, from the little I could see, a short skirt underneath. Her hair was loose, brown, falling over one shoulder. No trace of the ordinary woman I’d imagined. Carolina was beautiful in a way you could feel: soft features, a full mouth, a gaze that didn’t ask, it demanded.

—I was expecting something different —I said, unable to hide it.

—Better or worse?

—Better. Much better.

She smiled.

—Show me those boxer briefs, Daniel.

I stood up, propped my phone on a stack of books so she could see me from the waist down, and pulled down my pants. I was left in tight black boxer briefs. And, of course, I was not exactly hiding anything. My cock was already outlining the fabric from top to bottom, pushing sideways, the tip pressing against the waistband. You could see the whole shape of it, the thick vein running underneath, the bulge of my balls pressed against the cotton.

There was silence on the line.

—What is that? —she asked at last, in a different tone.

—What thing?

—That bulge. The one showing there. That cock that’s trying to come out of your boxer briefs, Daniel.

—That’s nothing.

—That’s a lot more than nothing. That’s a whole cock, and hard too.

I laughed, still with my hands at my sides. She kept looking at the screen in silence for a good while. I didn’t dare move. I could feel my heart beating in every vein, there too, each pulse pushing more blood to the tip.

—Daniel —she said slowly—. Do you want to keep going?

—Yes.

—Then I’m going to ask you for things, and you’re going to do them for me. And then I’m going to do things to you. Sound good?

—Sounds perfect.

She started with the simplest thing. She asked me to sit back down. To lean against the chair back. To run my hand over the boxer briefs, without putting it inside yet. I did as I was told. Carolina watched with a concentration that made me more nervous than anything she’d said.

—Slower —she asked—. I want to see your hand harden it all by itself. I want to see every vein showing through the cotton.

I obeyed. I ran my fingers along the length, pressed just a little, felt it answer beneath the fabric. The first drop was already escaping me, wetting the boxer briefs right at the tip.

—You’re staining the new boxer briefs —she said, and laughed in that rough voice—. I can see the transparent little spot. Put a finger in there. Pick it up and suck it off.

I slipped my hand under the waistband, gathered the drop with my thumb, and brought the finger to my mouth. I sucked it slowly, looking at the camera. She bit her lip.

—Now me —she said—. Watch.

She sat up on the bed, legs folded to one side, and began to take off her top. She did it slowly, holding my gaze the whole time. When the garment fell to the floor, she was left only in a black bra, plain, cotton. Then she unclasped that too, turned her back for a second to take it off, and turned around again.

She had full, round breasts, with dark hard nipples, like she’d been thinking about this for hours. And she probably had. Her tits hung with that natural weight that real good tits have, and the nipples stood up like two dark, thick rubber points, asking for a mouth.

—Do you like them? —she asked.

—Yes.

—Tell me properly. Tell me with the words you’d use if I were kneeling in front of you.

—I love tits. I want to see you grab them. I want to watch you suck your own nipples while I look at you.

She bit her lip. Ran her palms under them, lifted them slightly, squeezed. Then she caught the nipples between two fingers, stretched them gently, twisted them. She tugged hard, until they got even harder, and then brought one breast to her mouth, lifted it with both hands and licked the nipple slowly, with the tip of her tongue, circling it inside her mouth. I watched her suck it, bite it lightly, leave it wet and shining. I swallowed a sound in my throat and squeezed my cock over the boxer briefs so I wouldn’t blow too soon.

—Now take off the boxer briefs, Daniel. I want to see that whole cock. Stop hiding it from me.

I did. I pulled them down in one motion and let them drop to the floor. I was left sitting there, completely exposed, my hard cock pressed against my belly, leaving a shiny wet patch on my skin where the tip rested. The thick vein pulsed by itself, my balls tight and pulled up. A thick drop hung from the head and slid down slowly, stringing out, until it fell onto my thigh.

—Look at what you’ve got —she said, almost in a whisper—. What a delicious cock, Daniel. Hold it. Don’t move yet. Just grab it at the base and show it to me properly. I want to see your balls too.

I closed my hand around it without squeezing and lifted it a little so she could see everything. I showed her the thick base, the length, the red swollen head, the heavy testicles underneath. Carolina drew a deep breath on the other side. I watched her slide her fingers up her neck, down her chest, linger at her navel, continue lower, and disappear beneath the skirt.

—Now move it —she ordered—. Slowly. Like it’s my hand. Rub your thumb over the head, in circles. Spread that drop all over the glans. I want to see it shine.

I started. Up and down slowly, not squeezing too much, my eyes fixed on the way she was touching herself over the fabric. I ran my thumb over the tip, smeared the glans with my own fluid, felt the wet slap of each stroke.

—Imagine it’s my mouth —she went on—. That I’m there, kneeling in front of you, and I’m licking it from bottom to top. That I suck your balls first, one by one, that I take them into my mouth. And then I grab that cock with my hand and take it all the way in, down to my throat, until my eyes fill with tears.

I gripped the base. Let out the air in one burst. It was hard to keep up and keep my eyes open at the same time. My cock pulsed in my hand, every vein standing out more, the skin sliding over itself with the mix of saliva and my own fluid.

—Now me —she said.

She pulled up her skirt, left it bunched at her waist, and showed me that underneath she was wearing black panties, thin ones, with a darker stain right in the center. The wetness was obvious. The fabric clung to her cunt, outlining every fold, and you could see the stain growing every second.

—See how hot you make me? —she asked—. See how wet you’ve got my cunt, Daniel? Soaked. All because of that cock.

—I see you.

—I’m going to take my panties off. But first I want to ask you something.

—Anything you want.

—When I come, I want you to tell me exactly what you imagine. No filter. All the words. How you’d put it in me, how you’d fuck me, where you’d finish. Can you do that?

—I can.

She pulled the panties down her legs slowly, without getting up, and tossed them out of frame. Then she settled back in, knees a little apart, one hand free and the other already between her legs. The camera caught everything: the curve of her thigh, the warm light from the lamp, the cunt opened wide, the lips shining with wetness, the swollen clit peeking out between her fingers, and those fingers seeking a slow rhythm, circling the spot, then sliding down to the entrance and back up again.

She shoved two fingers inside at once and arched her hips. Pulled them out dripping, took them up to her clit, then back down again. Her cunt was making a wet, obscene sound that came through the microphone crystal clear.

—Tell me —she asked.

—I imagine you on top of me —I answered, barely recognizing my own voice—. You sit on my cock and drive it all the way in, to the root, with your hand on my chest so you don’t fall. You’ve got me pinned against the back of the chair. You hold my face with one hand. You move slowly at first, pulling me out to the tip and then taking me all the way in again, looking at me, and then faster, never stopping looking at me. You don’t let me close my eyes. You make me watch your tits bouncing every time you come down.

Carolina squeezed her fingers harder, sinking in a little deeper. I watched her bite the inside of her lip. She pushed in three fingers, moved them fast, and with the other hand she was rubbing her clit in circles.

—And then? Keep going. Don’t stop.

—Then you turn around. You face away from me. You hold onto the chair back. I hold your waist and move you to my rhythm. I drive it in to the hilt, grab your hair, yank your head back. I call you a slut in your ear while I’m fucking you. I don’t care what you ask for, because I know it’s what you want. I spit on your ass and run my thumb over it, pressing, while I keep fucking your cunt.

—Oh, you son of a bitch —she let out, her voice broken—. Keep going. Keep telling me.

—I’d pull my cock out of your cunt and shove it into your ass slowly, until you could take the whole thing. I’d grab your tits from behind, squeeze your nipples hard, and fuck your ass while you rubbed your clit with your own fingers. I wouldn’t let you finish until you begged me for it crying.

—Faster —she said, almost to herself, and I don’t know whether she was talking to me or to her hand.

I sped up. Both hands moved at the same time, both breaths started losing their rhythm, the phone screen barely managing to show us in full. I was jerking off with a stiff wrist, pressing under the glans on every stroke, feeling the semen start to climb up from my balls. She was fingering herself with three fingers, in and out with a splashing sound that stuck in my ear. The bed beneath her was getting soaked.

—I’m coming —she warned, voice breaking—. I’m cumming, Daniel. It’s all coming.

—Me too. I can’t hold it anymore.

—Wait for me —she begged—. Wait one more second, Daniel. I want to get there with you. I want to come while you finish looking at me.

I clenched my teeth. I obeyed her, I don’t know how. I let go of my cock for a second, squeezed the base with two fingers until it hurt, breathed with my mouth open. I eased up just a little, focused on her face, on the way her neck tightened, on the white knuckles of her other hand gripping the sheet. On the three fingers going in and out, the thumb crushing her clit.

—Now —she whispered—. Now. Finish for me. I want to see you shoot.

I went back to the rhythm, tightened my grip, and followed her. I watched her close her eyes, arch her back, let out a deep, low sound that felt even more intimate than any word she’d said to me. Her thighs shook, her cunt clamped down on her fingers all at once, and a clear stream soaked the sheet beneath her. I came through my fingers a second later, and the first burst hit my chest with such force that it reached me there. The second fell into my hand, warm, thick. Then two more came, slower, sliding down my cock until they soaked my balls. All without being able to take my eyes off the screen, without being able to close my mouth, with semen dripping between my fingers and her still trembling on the other side.

We stayed like that, both of us breathing. Her hand was still between her legs, her fingers shining, slowly playing with the swollen clit as if she didn’t want to come down all the way. I had my chest rising and falling hard, my cock still hard, smeared with cum and pulsing on its own. Each of our rooms suddenly felt too quiet.

—Don’t move —she asked—. Stay like that for a minute. I want to see you all wet.

I did. I wouldn’t have been able to move even if I wanted to. She brought the fingers she’d had inside her mouth and sucked them slowly, looking at me. I almost got hard again right there.

Then she laughed. A low laugh, tired, pleased.

—This —she said— I’m not telling anyone.

—Me neither.

—Are you bored tomorrow too?

—If you add me first, yes.

She turned off the camera with a wink that needed no words. And I stayed there, seated, with the glow of the screen lighting up my room, knowing the rest of the weekend was going to be spent waiting for the green light of her Skype to appear again.