Anything He wants

SUGAR DADDY CAMGIRL

Once I’m sure my bedroom door is locked, I saunter across the room and kneel down on a fluffy white rug at the foot of my bed.

In front of me, there’s an open laptop and a set of chunky pink headphones.

There’s a modest little purple vibrator on my right.

Behind me on the nightstand is an old-fashioned alarm clock glaring midnight in ghostly green. There are thick white pillar candles lit and glowing on every surface throughout the room, giving it an elegant ambiance. Soft, sultry mood music plays from the record player in the corner. But across the house, all is silent save for the low, constant hum of the air conditioning. It’s the ideal white noise to block out the naughtiness about to go down in the cozy privacy of my room.

This is a private show; there’s no space for the peanut gallery. Everything I need is already here. They are already waiting for me. I’m willing to bet they’ve been counting down the seconds.

My hands reach up to tug my hair free of its taut, no-nonsense ponytail.

The stress of the day comes tumbling down as coppery waves splash out around my milky-pale shoulders and fall around to frame my pretty, angelic face.

I sigh as my achy scalp starts to tingle with relief. Finally, the hair can come down along with the rest of my tension. Tonight is all about release. I slowly trace my fingers back through my thick mane of fiery auburn hair and shake it out so it’s slightly teased up and extra sexy. Bedroom hair, but not bed head. Sexy, but not sloppy. Not yet, at least. It’s still just the opening act.

Keeping my eyes locked on the target of my seduction, I twirl a long lock of hair around my pinkie finger. I tilt my head to one side and smile coquettishly.

A soft giggle falls from my lips and I wiggle my perfectly-manicured fingers in a little wave. I slip one strap of my lacy black camisole over my shoulder and mouth the word oops. As if it was an accident. As if any of this is coincidence. I know what I’m here to do.

My big blue eyes are wide as I sit awash in the glow of the laptop screen, scanning the cam chat. I hear the bling of new notifications, new members joining the virtual room.

There are already a ton of my regulars here, and another one logs on every minute or so. The list of names grows longer, and the chat populates with typed messages. Compliments and greetings roll in, quickly followed by requests.

I pick up the bubblegum-pink gaming headset on the fuzzy rug in front of me and slide them on over my ears. I bite my full, plush bottom lip gently, feeling the delicious sting of my teeth.

I want to remind my audience how soft my lips are, how plump and juicy they would feel to the touch. I want each and every man to salivate over the thought of kissing me, tasting me, feeling my pretty pink tongue push into his mouth.

I raise my finger to my mouth and suck it in, hollowing out my cheeks as I slide it in and out. All the while, my eyes are locked on that little webcam pinhole with the flashing red light. A flood of pervy messages comes in. Requests for me to take my clothes off, to blow a kiss, to say something filthy. I move the mic piece closer to my mouth, so that my lips are almost buzzing against it when I speak.

“Tips speak louder than words,” I remind my suitors in a low, smoky voice.

Ding, ding, ding!

Notifications pour into my ears as more members join the chat and start sending small but heart-skipping tips. Five dollars here, ten dollars there. Most of their money comes with a request, but some of it is just like confetti raining down.

“Oh, you want to see a little more skin?” I tease. The screen is filled with messages like:

These guys think of me as a pretty, ditzy bimbo who lives in this little square screen on their computers. They definitely don’t think about me as a complete person with a life, but that’s okay. I play the role they pay me for. I can pretend to be naive and innocent if that’s what a paying customer wants. They get off on my bimbo act, and I get off on taking their money.

It’s a win-win. Besides, I’m genuinely sweet to them. My curvy but petite body combined with my ginger hair and pretty face is more than enough to draw them in, but my sparkling personality keeps them coming back again and again. I win just as many tips with kind words as I do flaunting my plump breasts, flat tummy, and juicy ass. I know how to chat these guys up just enough to make them feel wanted, but keep them at arms’ length so they’re always wanting more. I thrill them with my spicy side and enchant them with the girlfriend experience. I make them feel welcomed and appreciated. I listen to their troubles and give encouragement. And if a pep talk from a pretty girl isn’t enough to brighten their day, a flash of my tits usually does it.

I pout at the screen and murmur, “I wish you were all here right now.” The responses flood in:

Still, as filthy as we get, there’s still a computer screen between us. It’s more about the fantasy than the fulfilment, and that’s what makes me irresistible to them.

They can look, but they can’t touch.

I’m a virgin, ripe and pure for deflowering, but I’m out of reach. Not that some of them haven’t tried to get me offline, but I don’t allow that. I keep the two worlds separate: my industrious days and my steamy nights.

During daylight hours, I’m just Nina Clarke. But starting at midnight and ending whatever time I can reach before falling asleep, I’m Naughty Nina.

She’s my camgirl persona, the sexed-up version of myself I sell every night, and business is booming. Maybe even busting. I need cash, and this is a quick, mostly painless way to get it. Occasionally, I’ll have to deal with an overly friendly or rude customer, but in general, my clients worship me.

I’m exhilarated by the hustle and the rush, even if the guys themselves are pretty dull. Most of my arousal, my playing-along, is just for show. I’ve gotten very good at pretending to be way more turned on than I really am. All they see is a hot girl moaning, teasing, touching herself for their pleasure. They’re easily fooled, and most of them seem flattered to even get an iota of my attention, even for a price.

Show us your tits!

Take your panties off!

Play with your vibrator!

They are a little demanding. Virtual dollar signs pop up on the screen, though, and I jump into action. I give my audience a little more to ogle.

I slide my other strap off my shoulder and let the lacy camisole slip down a little, showing more of my deep cleavage. Underneath it, I have on a matching black mesh bra and panties, along with sexy white thigh-high socks and a choker around my neck. I lean forward and subtly push my tits together to make them look even bigger and juicier.

I know these guys are drooling by now. The tips keep coming in small tidbits, enough to keep me going on this hours-long striptease but nothing unusual.

It’s just another sexy night in the office. That is, until a longtime lurker with the username Deep Pockets starts typing a message in the group for the first time since I started doing this a couple months ago. I expect just another low-level tip and request, but instead, the dollar amount that pops up on the screen is well over the average. My eyes widen with wonder. He just dropped a hundred.

Good evening, Nina.

“Hey there. You definitely have my attention, Mr. Deep Pockets,” I purr.

I can see a flurry of the other guys typing furiously. The jealousy is palpable.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

The new guy sends me another hundred. My jaw drops. He messages again.

How are you doing tonight?

“Much better now that you showed up,” I flirt shamelessly. “How are you?”

To my shock, a third hundred dollar notification goes off. It’s like music to my ears. I lean in, excitedly awaiting his next message.

I’m well. But I think some privacy would do us good. Do you agree?

My heart is racing like mad. The other guys are still competing for my attention with their pervy requests and petty cash, but I’m focused on Deep Pockets. He wants to go into a private chat room with me! That means I’ll be making more money per minute on top of whatever extravagant price tag he racks up by the end of… whatever he wants to do with me.

I’ve only gone private a few times in the couple months I’ve been moonlighting as Naughty Nina.

It’s expensive for the customer, and most can only afford a few minutes of alone time with me, tops. Even the ones lucky enough to afford it aren’t blessed with charm, too. They get me alone just to show how awkward, inexperienced, or sleazy they are. I play along, but I’m faking it all the way.

But there’s nothing false about my enthusiasm for Deep Pockets. He’s not afraid to drop serious cash, and that gets my juices flowing.

I have to say, the way he takes charge is a turn-on, too. He does it in such a dignified, confident way. He doesn’t even consider the others competition. This is a man who knows what he wants, and he can afford to take it. If that happens to be me, then I’m one lucky girl.

“Let’s take this private,” I respond into the microphone piece. “Sorry, boys. I’ll be back tomorrow night.” Deep Pockets replies.

Better luck next time

The next moment, a separate chat room bubble pops up on my screen and I nearly smash my keyboard in my haste to open it. There he is–Deep Pockets. Just his name and mine on the screen. Every second tallies up cents on cents. Minute by minute, dollar by dollar. But that’s not good enough for my newest, most intriguing suitor. He drops another hundred with his first message to me.

I’ve had my eye on you for a while. Happy to finally make your acquaintance.

I smile at the webcam and murmur into the mic, “I noticed your username before, but you never said anything. Clearly, you have the money. Why wait so long to make the first move?”

Call me old-fashioned, but I wanted to be sure. I cock my head to one side. “Sure about what?”

What I want. Who I want. But I know now. You’re perfect, Nina. You’re what I’ve been looking for all this time.

Even a seasoned pro like me can still blush.

“I can totally give you what you need,” I whisper.

Show me.

His command makes me feel wet between my thighs. This is serious. The vibe with him is so different from anything else I’ve felt so far. I reach down and pull my camisole up over my head. I let it drop to the side, revealing my full breasts in my black mesh bra. My rosy pink nipples are visible through the tiny holes in the fabric.

Deep Pockets sends two hundred. My whole body is tingling with anticipation now. I’ve already racked up more cash from this one guy than a week’s worth of entertaining the other guys. I lick my lips at the camera while my dainty hands smooth down over my plentiful chest.

“You’re very generous,” I point out.

You’re very worth it. True beauty ought to be worshiped.

“I just wish we could be closer,” I sulk, poking out my lower lip.

There’s another notification in my ears. A message pops up on the screen. My heartbeat picks up when I see that it’s a video invite. Deep Pockets wants to show himself! I’ve never had this happen before. I swiftly accept the invitation.

The screen opens up to another video square like the one I’m in, only this window has a very different picture. I enthusiastically soak up every detail. I can see him from the neck down, his face obscured out of frame. He has a broad set of shoulders, thick arms, and a barrel chest. He’s dressed in a white button-up shirt and dark gray fitted trousers.

He’s sitting in what looks like a sumptuous, dark leather armchair close and center to the frame, and what little I can determine of the background seems quite elegant. There’s only the faint amber glow of a lamp on the glossy wooden side table beside him to hint at the fancy furnishings surrounding, but I am fascinated.

I stare at his muscular body, his dignified posture, the size of his hands in his lap.

No wedding ring, I notice. I’m already salivating over him when he taps into the microphone and speaks, low and vibrational, right in my headphones.

“Hello, Nina.”

His voice is deep and sumptuous, a gruff purr in my ear. I feel goosebumps all over. My nipples stiffen to peaks and my pussy aches between my legs.

“Hi, Mr. Deep Pockets,” I reply. “You’re very handsome.”

“I’m even better in person,” he says smoothly. “I bet you are, too. But for now, let me see that gorgeous body of yours. Take your bra off.”

I reach around to unclasp the bra and it falls to the floor. I push it aside and start caressing my full, bare breasts with my soft hands. I fondle and squeeze them while I moan, letting my fingertips trace ticklish circles around my perky nipples.

“Beautiful, Nina. Now, take off those panties for me,” he commands.

I tug my panties down and sit on my ass, lifting my legs up to slowly pull the lacy panties down my legs. I kick them off with my toes and center myself in the frame again.

“Show me your pretty little pussy,” he orders.

I gradually spread my legs open wide and lean back against the end of my bed to give him a fuller view of my body. My fingertips stroke at the sides of my labia as I peel myself open, showing him my dewy, irresistible pink flower. He scoots forward a little, on the edge of his seat.

“Good girl. Spread her open for me. Perfect,” he groans. “Now, touch yourself for me, Nina. Put your fingers on your clit.”

I dutifully obey, letting out a soft sigh when my fingertips start massaging rhythmic motions around my clit. The taut bundle of nerves is so sensitive to my touch. I can hardly keep from twitching and moaning as the tension within me grows tighter. I gaze into the webcam, eyes wide and lips parted, waiting for my next order.

“Grab that vibrator,” Deep Pockets says. “Turn it on.”

I pick up the tiny purple vibe and flick it on. The vibrations tickle my fingers.

“Put it on your clit and hold it there,” he instructs.

“Yes, sir,” I reply obediently.