Out of Hand?
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Before you read the following story, there are some things that you should know about me. I am, by nature, quite a well-behaved girl. Although I’m open minded about sex, I wouldn’t consider myself to be a risk taker. Normally I only have sex with people I know well and have some respect for. Only on a very few occasions have I done something as dangerous and foolish as I did in this story.
None of my friends in real life would believe that the following tale was about me. They just wouldn’t imagine that I could get myself into the following scenario. That’s why I’m writing about it here, in Literotica. I have to share it with someone. The magical anonymity of the net has always allowed me to explore a side of myself that I generally hide in real life.
For those of you who have read my first story, “Emily”, you will remember me as a rather naive and chubby little teen. Let me get you up to speed. I’m currently twenty-three and my body has changed more than a little. I’m something of a gym addict now. I’m happy to describe my body as “athletic” and if I stand in front of the mirror, naked, I can actually look at myself. I’m happy with my body and it’s given me a confidence I didn’t have in my teens. I have also noticed the appreciative looks that other people give my body and, in this place, I feel happy to admit that I love the attention of their eyes.
Loving attention is what got me into the sticky situation that follows. As you can probably imagine, I love to unwind on the internet. I love Literotica, pornography, chat rooms and simple browsing. The net is like a huge city where I can be whoever I want and visit even the roughest alleys without fear. As long as I’m sensible, I’m in no danger.
By now, some of my readers might be thinking that I should get to the point. I’ll do my best to move things forward but it’s important for you to understand the background if this story is going to have any impact on you. You need to know that this is autobiographical, not just titillation.
Last weekend I wasn’t sensible. I had the house to myself all weekend, which is unusual. I’m an au pair, so I am normally looking after the family which employs me. However, when they go away, I’m left to my own devices. I got up lazily on Saturday morning and had coffee while browsing the net. I started off with good, simple comedy, reading “the onion”. Soon, though, I drifted into my usual chat rooms, just to see what might happen. I spoke with the usual regulars, perverts, fakers and fantasists. I’ve been a chatter for a while and I think I can recognize most types. Sometimes I indulge them, sometimes I indulge myself. It depends on my mood.
I got chatting to a “woman” who was supposedly local to me. She had chosen the nickname “hotsexybitch” in the room and I immediately assumed that “she” was in fact a male faker. However, I sometimes entertain myself by leading them on. I was willing to play a little. Eventually the chat moved to MSN and I gave my special “playing” addy.
Imagine my surprise when we got there and “hotsexybitch” offered to go on cam. She offered first and did not request pictures. Intrigued, I told her to go ahead. To my massive surprise, “hotsexybitch” was genuinely hot, sexy and female. She was bleach blonde, slim and pretty, probably about twenty-five. She was sitting at her computer in a bra and some jogging bottoms. The room behind her looked plain but well decorated. She was smoking a cigarette.
It’s extremely rare that I go on cam for people that I don’t know from real life. However, I was feeling quite playful by now (all the fault of Literotica, I might add!) so I dug my cam out of the drawer and set it up. “Hotsexybitch” was called Michelle, or so she said. She was eager to see me. She made no secret of the fact that she wanted me to go on cam and do more than just wave. Despite my normal shyness, I thought that I might break my own rules.
After some struggling, I got the cam set up and working. Michelle was impatient and slightly aggressive until the cam started to work. I was only wearing a nightie, a long white t-shirt that I sleep in, something I stole from an ex.
Her reaction on seeing me? “Ur fuckin hot babes.” I grinned at her blunt response. “Thanks”.
Her next comment was “Want to see my tits?”
She didn’t wait for me to reply. She quickly took off her bra and began to massage her breasts and squeeze her nipples. The action was strange, somehow fake. It was like watching a porn-star or stripper trying to arouse the viewer. However, she had gorgeous breasts. They were bigger than mine by far but very shapely. I found myself wondering if she had had a boob job. If she hadn’t had one, she was a very lucky girl.
“Hot,” was my reply. I’m normally more articulate but she was moving faster than any woman I’d ever met online.
“Wanna suck them? get naked,” she leant forward to type. after typing, she stood up and pulled off the jogging bottoms. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. I pride myself on being hard to shock. Beylikdüzü escort I’ve had all kinds of fantasies, cyber-sex and even real sexual experiences that might shock some ordinary people. However, Michelle’s attitude was completely new to me. I was not used to women being so fast. I had played on cam with girls before but there had always been a long lead up to it. Michelle had a man’s approach: straight to business.
I knew I had a simple choice. I could turn off the computer and do something else or I could do what she wanted. You know the choice I made. I’m writing this story, so you know I didn’t turn off the computer.
My heart began to beat hard and my throat tightened as I stood up and pulled my t-shirt over my head. Underneath I was completely naked. I could see myself in my cam. I looked good. I compared my body to Michelle’s. My breasts were smaller, perter. I was slightly less curvy, my stomach more defined. I could relax. She would not criticize me.
“Ur hot as fuck,” she typed, staring at her screen with a facial expression that was almost angry with desire. I could tell immediately that she wanted me. It was strange for me to see such a look of open lust on the face of a woman. Her hand reached down between her legs and she started to rub herself, almost absentmindedly. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, her top lip almost sneering. I felt as though she half wanted me and half hated me. There was a look of disdain on her face. “Gonna play?” she typed, clumsily, with her left hand.
Now, I’m used to more foreplay than that. If anyone else had been so forward they would have been blocked in a moment. Michelle, though, was attractive to me. I almost didn’t want her to be but I can’t fight what my body wants. I’ve been bisexual since I can remember, I’ve always found women and men equally exciting. Michelle, now sitting back in her chair with her legs wide, was being vulgar and abrupt but I couldn’t stop myself from wanting her. “Yeh,” I typed. To my surprise, I found myself sitting back, opening my legs, and beginning to stroke my neatly trimmed pussy.
Michelle was shaven. She picked up the cam so I could see right between her legs. I’m not a fan of close ups, I prefer to a person’s face, but I found myself even more aroused seeing how wet she was as she slid two fingers into herself. I told her to put the cam back, I wanted to see all of her. She did as I asked. Her face looked flushed. She was rubbing her clit and squeezing her breasts in a way that looked quite painful. I found myself masturbating not for her viewing-pleasure but for my own desires. Her gaze was fixed on the screen of her computer, the white light of it bathed her face. Sometimes she leaned close to get a better view of me.
I was teasing my clit with soft, quick motions but Michelle was plunging two fingers into herself with an almost vicious motion. She was biting her bottom lip as she played, a look of intense concentration on her face. She stood up from her chair and bent forward, her hand still moving quickly between her legs. She was alternating between rubbing and finger-fucking herself. Her face, close to the camera, looked pained with frustration. She was desperate to cum.
I repositioned the cam so that she could see my pussy more easily. Then I spread myself wide for her. I loved watching her expression change, her eyes widening. She liked what she saw. I pushed two fingers deep inside me and let out a gasp of pleasure. I began to fuck myself hard, just as Michelle had done. That seemed to be the trigger for her. She shook visibly and her eyes closed. Her face grimaced for a second and then she look shocked, gasping and gripping her desk with her left hand. Seeing her cum was all that it took for me to push myself over the edge. I’ve had bigger orgasms, especially when I’ve taken my time, but it was intense. It was more than the physical sensation, it was the novelty of the experience. I was totally exposed to a woman who was a stranger and she loved what she saw. I’m insecure and vain: this was the kind of compliment I needed!
When my short orgasm was over, I was slightly breathless and pretty embarrassed. “That was well gud,” typed Michelle. “Yeh that was great,” I replied. It seemed such an inarticulate way to express what had happened.
“Wanna come round?” Michelle typed. She looked serious. My mind immediately gave me a hundred different scearios: I might go round and have amazing sex; I might go round and she would murder me; I might go round and her boyfriend would rape me; I might chose to say no and wonder, forever, what might have happened. My mind whirled through hundreds of variations on these themes. To buy time, I typed “LOL”.
“I mean it,” typed Michelle. Her face was serious. She was almost angry. Then she typed her address and mobile number. She was only twenty-five minutes drive away. “Bit fast, isn’t it?” I typed.
“I want you to come,” she typed. “Im bord. Im lonely. Plz.”
I won’t bore you with the discussion that took place inside Beylikdüzü escort my head. The many different ideas argued amongst themselves. It was over in a few seconds. “What time?” I typed. I could always back out later. She didn’t know my number or where I lived.
“Need an hour to get showered and that,” typed Michelle.
“OK me too,” I replied.
“Wikkid love ya kiss kiss phone me when ya comin lol,” she typed, smiling at last. Then she went offline.
I was, unsurprisingly, stunned.
What had just happened? Would I go through with it? I knew the risks. I decided to just keep going with my day as though I was going to do it. I could always back out at any time.
I showered and dressed in a half dream. My mind was consumed with throughts of the best possible and worst possible outcomes. In half of my mind I was in ecstasy with Michelle and I had found myself a new girlfriend; in the other half of my mind I was being beaten to death by Michelle’s gangster friends. The woman was clearly unstable and a lot rougher than me. That was a bad thing. It was also a sexy thing.
I chose clothes that I thought suggested a casual cup of coffee, even though I knew Michelle had other plans. Plain white underwear, my pink superman t-shirt to show that I had a sense of humour, my “everyday” jeans and some white trainers. Nothing about me said that I wanted to get laid. I did my hair and some subtle make up. I could play the situation in any direction. I was in control.
Now came the first decision. Call her?
I dialled the number and tried not to tremble. Nothing to be nervous about. Just a phone call.
“Yeah?” she answered. She had a local accent and her voice was slightly hoarse. She was clearly a smoker and a party girl.
“Hey, it’s me, Sarah,” I said.
“Right babes? You gonna come see me then?” she asked. I tried to judge her tone. She sounded hopeful. She sounded as though she was longing for company, not just sex.
“Yeah, if it’s ok,” I said. I didn’t want to force the issue. If she changed her mind, that was fate telling me to let it drop.
“Yeah, course it is, wicked,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“No harm, is there?” I asked.
“Nah course, not, I don’t bite,” she giggled. I expected her to make a joke but she resisted the temptation. “You know how to find it?”
“Just gonna get a map from the net and then I’ll be on my way,” I said. I was amazed at how relaxed I sounded. Oh yes, this was the sort of thing I did every day. Web cam sex with a stranger? Of course! Meeting them the same day? Why not?!
“Yeah, wicked. Hurry up then,” she said. She was so eager.
“Ok babes, see you in a bit,” I replied, already searching online for the map.
“In a bit. Love ya,” she said and ended the call.
So. I was going to do it, apparently. There was the map in front of me. A simple journey. I knew the area. Near the university. Not very rough. Nothing frightening.
It was a warm day but the sun kept going in and out. The weather was reflecting my mood, changing from light to dark. Soon I was driving my knackered little car through familiar streets, feeling like I was on another planet. If I couldn’t find her address, I would just go home. Let fate decide.
The place was easy to find. Not the wealthiest neighbourhood but wholesome enough. I parked on the street and looked at the house numbers. I was close.
My legs felt like jelly as I walked towards the place. It was an ordinary suburban house. The front garden was a little uncared for. There was a good car in the drive. How could she be so normal and so strange at once? There were blinds in the windows. I couldn’t see in.
The door. If I knocked there was probably no way back.
Michelle answered the door. She was taller than me and looked older than I had at first guessed. She might be in her thirties. She was dressed in a short summer skirt and a tight vest-top. She didn’t look completely slutty but her make-up was quite overdone. She had an all over tan that suggested sunbeds. I felt like I was seeing an escort.
“Hey babes, come in,” she said. She was almost dismissive. I felt like a regular visitor to her house, not someone who was practically a stranger. I came in, closing the door behind me. It felt incredibly final, shutting myself in with her.
Her house was extremely neat. I wondered if she was obsessive compulsive. It felt like a show-home, not somewhere that a person lived.
She had walked through to her kitchen. The blinds were down here, too. “You want a drink and that?” she asked, not looking at me. I wondered if she was as nervous as I was.
“Yeah, coffee, please,” I said, keeping my distance.
“Wicked,” she replied, still not looking at me properly.
“So have you done this before?” I asked.
“What?” she said, turning to look at me now. She looked defensive, as if I was about to criticize her.
“Met someone from the chat Escort Beylikdüzü room?” I asked, trying not to react to her strange attitude.
“You think I’m a slag, then?” she asked. She looked angry.
“No not at all! No!” I said, anxiously. I was beginning to feel scared. “Just wondered if you had done it, because I haven’t.”
She turned back to the coffee. “I’ve tried to do it before but lots of people are time wasters. They say the are gonna come and they don’t. Or they turn out to be guys and I tell them to fuck off.”
I giggled nervously. “Well you know I’m not a guy,” I said, shyly, hoping to soften her mood.
She turned round as the kettle began to boil. “Yeah, course I do. I’ve seen you’re not a guy.”
I giggled again, hoping my little routine was breaking through her hard exterior. “You’ve seen way more than I usually show on a first date.”
“Have I?” she asked, looking oddly shy.
“Definitely! I’m not normally someone who strips off that quickly,” I said, feeling that I was gaining control at last.
“Why did you do it with me?” she asked, smiling gently.
“Cos you really turned me on,” I replied, honestly.
“Really?” she asked. She looked faintly embarrassed now. “You think I’m hot?”
“Very.” I felt myself beginning to shade from fear to excitement. She really was hot. I remembered the webcam and realized that I may have made the right decision.
“So are you,” she said, turning back to the coffee. “You’re gorgeous. How old are you? I forgot.”
“Twenty-three,” I told her.
“How old you think I am?”
“Twenty-six,” I lied. I thought it was best to flatter her.
She laughed and looked at me happily, not seeing my lie. “You’re blind, love, I’m thirty-three.”
I faked astonishment. “Wow! I thought you couldn’t be much older than me!”
“I take care of myself,” she said, coyly. “I’ve got to cos I do modelling and that.”
“Wow,” I said again, feeling slightly stupid. “You’re definitely pretty enough.” I wondered if she was lying. Perhaps modelling had paid for the house and the car. It might be true.
“You ever done modelling?” she asked as she lead me through to the living room. She put the coffee cups down and sat on the sofa. I sat at the other end of it. We were like two friends catching up. The tension though, was incredible. We both knew what had happened that morning. We both knew where this was going to lead. Right now we were in a strange limbo. Polite strangers who knew each other far too intimately.
“No I’ve never done it, I’m too shy,” I said. I was more comfortable now. We seemed to have got past the initial awkwardness.
“You weren’t that shy this morning,” she said, grinning slyly.
I giggled. “Neither were you!” I said, happily.
She nodded, pleased with herself. “That’s nothing to me, I’m used to taking my clothes off in front of people.”
“You do glamour modelling?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “I reckon if you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
“You’ve got the body for it,” I said, letting her see me checking out her breasts.
“I’ve always had massive tits,” she said, unselfconsciously grabbing her breasts and squeezing them. “When I was a kid all the lads wanted them.”
“I have fairly small boobs. They used to be bigger but I used to be chubby,” I told her. This conversation was making things easier. She was becoming a known quantity.
“You have a wicked body,” she said, repaying my lustful glances. “You must go to the gym loads.”
“Yeah, quite a bit,” I said, enjoying her compliments and her gaze.
“I should go more, I’m dead fat,” she said, pinching her waist.
“You’re not fat,” I assured her.
“Yeah I am. I’m gross. I wish I had a body like yours. Your stomach is totally flat,” she said, and she reached over to stroke my tummy.
“It didn’t use to be,” I murmured, paying little attention to my words and more attention to her stroking hand.
“Feels well nice,” she said, stroking firmly from the waist of my jeans to the underside of my bra.
“That feels nice too,” I whispered, putting my hand on hers. I edged her hand upwards towards my breasts. She didn’t need much encouragement. She gripped my left breasts much harder than I had expected and I gasped.
“You like it rough or gentle?” she asked, relaxing her grip a little on my breast.
“Um, bit of both,” I whispered. Even though we were alone, I felt I had to whisper, I had to keep this a secret.
“You’re dead nervous, aren’t ya?” she asked, enjoying my fear.
“Aren’t you a bit?” I asked, trying to make my voice louder.
“No,” she retorted, dsidainfully. “I know what I want and I get it. I don’t get nervous.”
“I do,” I whispered, thinking that she enjoyed my apparent discomfort. I might as well show her my fear if it turned her on.
Yeah I can tell,” she said, looking smug. “You a good girl then?”
“Don’t know,” I said, wondering how she would define the term.
“Yeah you are. You’re a good girl. You’re a posh girl, int ya?” she said, looking like a happy school bully with a new victim.
“Yeah, I suppose,” I said, feeling incredibly turned on and slightly uncomfortable at the same time.
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