He was driving me crazy. I hadn’t even met him yet.
He was a Dom. I had recently been propositioned by a slave and decided it wasn’t for me anymore.
Up until now, I hadn’t had what the old school call “cybersex”. Oh I’ve been asked for Skype wanks, sent the odd incredibly dodgy amateur footage of me fapping to someone and of course utilised Snapchat for utter, utter filth.
He had a particular penchant for telling me what to do, and I was ridiculously willing to participate. I didn’t have much on that week.
I’d get home and await his instructions. He’d ask for a series of videos, sent in rapid fire, with varied subjects. Undressing. On my knees in front of a mirror. Inserting a buttplug. Wanking with or without a vibrator.
It was a turn on, I’ll admit – but also a strange mixture of that and shame. What I was doing felt dirty but hot. He enjoyed everything he saw of course, reciprocating with pics and videos of his own.
It got to the point where I was wet before I’d even left work thinking about what I’d be asked to do.
The climax, metaphorically and physically came when he insisted I call him on FaceTime when we were both about to orgasm. Against all of my rules and hang ups about this method, I did.
The screen showed his hand pumping his dick furiously, with my face tiny in the right hand corner. My vibrator, his groans and furiously red cock did the trick and we both came instantaneously.
And what was said, on this inaugural “meeting”, this first visual and aural feast and meeting of minds and bodies
“Oh shit, I’ve got to get ready now. bye!”
And that dear reader, was my first “cyber shag”. In 2015.
I need to get out more, don’t I?