by Denise Avery
From the other end of the line, Savannah heard the hasty unzipping of a young man about to be extremely satisfied. She smiled into the camera and lay down on her back, tilting the webcam down so that the boy still had a good view of all there was to see.
“Ok,” the guy said, “Okay... Go ahead.”
“I love to know that you’re touching yourself while you watch me,” she cooed, running her fingers under the elastic of her panties, “Because that means we get to get off together.”
“You... Uh... get off on this, too?”
“Are you kidding?” she asked, “There’s nothing better!”
With that, Savannah shimmied her pants down from her waist, revealing her pussy to her eager audience of one. She heard a sharp intake of breath as she tossed aside her underwear. Another ca-ching sounded from the computer, and Savannah smiled at the webcam.
“Don’t worry about tipping anymore,” she said, “This part is tip enough for me.”
With that, Savannah lowered her hands to her crotch. Spreading her legs wide in front of the all-seeing camera, she parted the lips of her pussy with one expert hand, and lowered the fingers of the other down toward her clit. Even she could feel how wet she’d become, and she was halfway sure that her mysterious viewer could see her soaking the sheets beneath her. She heard the labored breathing and rhythmic jerking of hand against dick through the internet connection, and the knowledge that someone was jerking off to her jerking off made her pleasure all that much sweeter.
Savannah lay her middle and index finger against the tender knob of her clit and began to rub. Pangs of pleasure threatened to pierce through her spine, her skull, and her core as her fingers rubbed furiously against the center of her being. She rocked her hips against her own hand, flicking and rubbing her clit with greater and greater intensity.
“Oh, my god...” said the voice from the screen.
Savannah laughed, savoring the nearly intolerable build of pressure, and the need of that pleasure to be released through her body. She threw her head back in blissful agony. Images of that afternoon, forced back upon the professor's desk, along with the idea of this lonely boy wildly pleasuring himself to her image, flooded her mind.
“Put your fingers inside of yourself,” gasped the boy on the other side, “I want to pretend that it’s me with my hand in your pussy. Please, please just finger yourself for me.”
Savannah happily obliged, sliding the fingers of her spare hand as far into her pussy as she could while rubbing her clit furiously. The pressure of her own fingers inside of her, the ecstasy of her screaming clit, and the watching eyes of this intrepid youngster overcame Savannah. She came violently against the pink sheet beneath her, listening as her watcher groaned, surely cumming just as vigorously on his end.
She lay back, spent. She’d had quite a few of these online sessions, but not every one of them was as rewarding as this had been. Not only had she managed to soak through her sheets with her own glorious cum, she’d initiated some kid into her fold. He was lucky to be here in her company, whether he knew it fully or not. Now that he was in her good graces, god only knew what kind of trouble they would get in together.
Savannah pulled herself onto her elbows and grinned at the webcam. The image on the other side of the screen had gone still. He was probably as worn out as she was. Still, she playfully spread her legs a little wider, giving him his money’s worth.
“So, stud,” Savannah cooed, “What did you think of your first time?”
More silence on the other end.
“Hello? Buddy boy?” Savannah said, squinting against his dark image. Suddenly, a light turned on in the boy’s room, bathing his image in clear light. Savannah squinted at the screen and felt her stomach drop.
“Savannah?!” the boy on the other side of the computer screeched. Savannah saw, out of the corner of her eye, that the wig had been knocked loose from her head. She stared at the computer like a deer in the headlights, and realized with horror who she had just jerked off for.
“Jeremy?!” she screeched, reaching for her pillow to cover herself up, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, pervert?”
“I... You... It says that your name is Candace!”
“It’s a stage name, asshole!”
“How was I supposed to—”
“Shut up! Nobody finds out about this, ok? If you tell anyone, I’ll let the entire school know what a tiny little member you have.”
“You didn’t see—”
“It doesn’t matter!” Savannah cried, severing the internet connection. Her naked chest heaved with the humiliation of this encounter. How could she was not recognized his voice? She buried her head in her pillow, mortified. Well, she thought, with Gus and Jeremy in the same room, my next Representations of Women class is sure to be fan-fucking-tastic.”
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Thank You for Reading!
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www.DeniseAvery.com
Smashwords
The following is an excerpt from the next episode in The Love And Submission Series – For His Lust
Savannah and Claire are no longer on speaking terms, what can she do to make Claire see things her way? Savannah meets her mystery man after he makes multiple generous donations to her bank account. He invites her over to interview for a new book he's writing on the sex trade, an obvious bullshit story he's made up just to get her into his apartment. Things heat up and although the interview is about sex, it is more physical than anything else and Savannah may be catching feelings for this incredible man already.
Read on for a small taste:
“How’s this,” Marshall said, “I’ll tell you what’s in the drink when you tell me your name.”
“Hmm...” Savannah considered his proposition, “Maybe it’s better that we keep our secrets to ourselves.”
“Does that mean that I don’t get to find out what’s under that coat?” Marshall asked, sipping his cocktail. His lips lingered on the edge of his glass, and Savannah wished to feel them close around her clit. She swallowed, hard, amazed at how forcefully she wanted this man she’d never met before.
“I don’t usually do things like this,” Savannah said, setting her glass on a side table and loosening the belt of her coat.
“Bullshit,” Marshall smiled. Placing his glass beside her’s, he knocked Savannah’s hands away from her belt and scooped her up into his arms, surprising her. “You’re practically pocket-sized aren’t you?”
This close, Savannah could feel the heat of Marshall’s body. Though she’d only had a few sips of her drink, she felt absolutely drunk off of their sheer proximity.
“Where’re we going?” she asked dizzily.
“I’m going to interview you, remember?” he said, “I hope you won’t be offended if some of the questions get a little personal.
Savannah shook her head, stunned. Marshall carried her through the apartment, into what she presumed was the bedroom. There was a king-sized canopy bed at the center of the room, which was furnished lusciously. She gazed around in amazement as Marshall lay her out on the bed. He stood up, taking in the view of her lying prone before him, waiting.
“First question,” he said, “Do you mind being tied up?”
Savannah felt herself become wet at the idea of it. She shook her head. Marshall tucked under the bed and produced a length of rope. He leaned over Savannah and tied her arms masterfully, and as he pressed against her she could feel his dick hard against her thigh. When her arms were tied over her head, Marshall ran his hands along the sides of her body. He drank in the sight of her, groaning softly as he wrapped his large hands around her tiny ribcage.
Marshall looked Savannah in the eye, and she felt as though she could drown in his gaze. She hardly noticed as he moved his hand between her legs. He ran his fingers along her inner thighs, and his eyes widened in delight as he realized that her panties we crotchless. Savannah smiled up at him and kneaded him playfully with her f
oot, brushing against his erection for lack of free hands. He smiled down at her and knocked her foot away. He wanted her concentrate on him.
