Just Like Mandy
Stacey, Jill’s new roommate, suddenly needs a new job.
I
Stacey threw open the door and shouted.
“Motherfucker.”
Jill sat up suddenly, pausing her movie, and looked up.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just got fired. Tony said the staff was too big, and since I was the last one on, I’d be the first one off. Something about experience and customer complaints.”
“Customer complaints?”
“You spill one Merlot, one goddamn Merlot, and you’ll hear about it for the rest of your life.”
Stacey continued percolating to a boil, exploded, then calmed down for another cycle of percolation, boil, explosion.
Jill shrugged.
She’d gotten used to that from her new roommate.
It wasn’t usually a problem.
They got along well. Sometimes went clubbing together. Sometimes they stayed in, chilled, watched movies, gossiped while painting their nails.
They also spent long times without really seeing one another, Stacey worked odd hours. Mostly at night, till late in the night.
Used to work.
Jill sighed, recognizing the threat to rent.
Cheer up, girl. You could have worse roommates.
II
Stacey didn’t know what to think when Jill started burning incense throughout their apartment. Part of her wanted to protest, to demand an end to it, but the odor really didn’t stink that bad. It actually helped calm her, something about the aroma soothed her, and she needed that.
Job hunting sucked.
A week went by, then another week went by and still no bites on her applications. She networked with her college friends, but nobody seemed to be able to give her a good lead.
So she spent the time hanging out, going to class, hoping for something to break through.
Of course, she hit up her folks, and they finally broke down.
“Money doesn’t grow on trees, dear,” her mother chastised. “And we can’t afford to pay for all your rent and tuition. You said you’d help out with a part-time job at least.”
“I know, Mom. But I can’t find anything.”
That evening Jill sat propped against a big pillow on their leather couch, staring at her laptop. A stick of incense burned in the long brass holder, half-consumed. A long row of ash lined the middle of the holder’s plate, and a dense but pleasant fume filled the room.
Stacey, coming home early from a round of drinks at the local pub, braced herself for recriminations from her roommate, but, smelling the incense, she relaxed, and Jill looked up and smiled at her.
“You remember Mandy?” she asked.
Amanda Gibson. Of course Stacey remembered her. A bit of a snob, really.
“Yeah, why?”
Jill patted the cushion next to her.
“Come. Sit by me. I want to show you something. Take a look at this.”
Stacey sat down next to Jill and looked at the screen of the laptop. Her mouth opened in a wordless exclamation, then she squeaked.
“Oh my god. Is that? Oh my god, is she really? She’s having sex with a cucumber. Oh my god, she’s really having sex with a cucumber. How’d you find this?”
Jill shrugged.
“A friend of mine emailed me the link. I guess he’s the kind of guy that pays to watch webcam girls.”
Stacey stared at the screen. Mandy lay on a bed, bedcovers scattered with frilly fluffy pillows tossed behind her, with her legs spread wide. She wore what remained of pink lingerie, her bra hung unclasped, her large breasts flopped to the side as she thrust her pussy, glistening with lubricant and cunt juices, around a thick cucumber, and she smiled and groaned into her camera, her face garishly made up in glittery eyeshadow, pink mascara, bright pink lipstick, her naturally dirty blond hair dyed to a bright platinum and styled in a swirling, wavy mass around her face.
“Thank you. Thank you Hotcock69. Oh my god, you make me so wet.”
“But we’re just watching,” Stacey stammered. She’d seen webcam girls perform, of course, she’d visited a few websites years ago as a teen, but it didn’t do anything for her except gross her out.
“I mean, we’re not paying. Why would anyone pay?”
Jill shrugged again.
“You pay to tip, and when you tip, she calls out your name. I guess guys like that. I guess it makes them feel wanted.”
Stacey frowned. That seemed so sad.
“I can’t believe she’s doing this. She’s showing everything. I’d never be able to live that down.”
Jill turned the laptop so that Stacey could see it better.
“It’s a way to make money, I guess. Besides, I bet nobody really knows. It’s not like everybody goes to these chatrooms. I bet none of her friends have any idea she’s doing this.”
“But your friend out about it. The one who emailed you the link.”
“A fluke. He just hinted he knew something about her, and I wouldn’t let go of it until he said he’d email me. I don’t think he’s going to tell anybody else, and I’m definitely not going to say anything. I like Mandy.”
“I like her too,” Stacey replied. It wasn’t exactly true, but she didn’t know what else to say.
Jill lifted her computer and set it on Stacey’s lap.
The aroma of the incense filled the room, and Stacey breathed in the fragrance, feeling so relaxed and peaceful.
“You should keep watching her show, watch how she performs. Check out some other rooms, the other girls. It’s not bad money, you know.”
And a little, oh my god. Aroused.
She tried out dozens of cam models, reading the tipper comments, listening to the performers talk, watching as the impaled themselves on well-lubricated rubber dicks, fingering themselves with one hand or both hands, holding arm below an upraised legs to finger herself from below while the other hand rubbed her clit.
Some girls rode sex machines, dangerous looking tools that rammed a flexible cock into them as they knelt on hands and knees or fucked them—there really wasn’t any other word for it—as they lay on their backs spreading their thighs for the fucking machine.
Most of the girls had some kind of pink vibrator embedded deep in their vaginas or buttholes, and many girls jammed vibrators against their wet clits, large black objects resembling microphones.
All this was very new to Stacey.
But she was aroused. Somehow she felt herself getting hot.
She’d been aroused ever since sitting down by Jill, and watching the cam models perform caused her to get warm, almost hot. Her eyes dilated, and she fixated on performers spreading their legs and playing with their tits.
At that moment, Jill came into the living room, saw Stacey still sitting there looking at the chatrooms, and she winked.
“If you need to play with yourself, Stacey, you can go ahead and do it on the sofa. I won’t mind. I’m leaving anyway.”
Stacey jumped up, quickly putting the laptop down beside her.
“Oh my god, no, Jill. That’s okay, I’m not going to. I mean, I wasn’t going to. That doesn’t.”
Jill let Stacey’s muttering protests dwindle to wordless noises before dissipating altogether.
“It’s no big deal, really. But do you think you could do it?”
Stacey shook her head.
“No way can I do that.”
Jill sat down again beside Stacey and turned towards her. Their knees touched, and Jill Stacey’s face in her hands.
“Stacey, look at me. Listen to me. You can do this. You’re brave enough and you’re strong enough. If Mandy can do it, you can do it. It’s just a matter of confidence. I want you to be confident. For any job you do, you need to be confident.”
Stacey nodded, but her eyes expressed doubt, disbelief.
“Stacey, repeat after me.”
“I’m attractive.”
Stacey giggled, but Jill squeezed her cheeks.
“Say it.”
“I’m attractive.”
“Now say, ‘I’m pretty.’”
It felt weird, strange, but Stacey’s face went limp in Jill’s hands.
“I’m pretty.
“I’m sexy.”
Stacey remained quiet, doubtful.
“Say it,” Jill insisted.
“I’m sexy.”
“I can do this.”
“I can do this.”
Jill smiled.
“Good, Stacey. Now say, ‘I want to do this.’”
Stacey shook her head.
“But I don’t. I don’t want to do it.”
Jill held Stacey’s head firm.
“Saying you want to do it doesn’t mean you have to do it. But it’s a way of breaking through, Stacey. A way of breaking through those fears of yours. Your inhibition. Mandy broke through her inhibition, and you saw how happy she is. Even if you don’t end up performing in a chatroom, you can still say you want to do it. To give yourself options. To empower yourself. Say it. Say ‘I want to do this. I want to be a camgirl.’”
“I want to do this.”
Jill squinted at Stacey.
“And the last part?”
“I want to be a camgirl.”
“Say it again.”
“I want to do this. I want to be a camgirl.”
“Say it again. Louder. Say it like you mean it.”
Stacey took a deep breath.
“I want to do this. I want to be a camgirl. I really want to be a camgirl.”
Jill release Stacey’s head.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Stacey didn’t answer, and Jill got up to leave.
No. It wasn’t so bad.
But she still didn’t want to do it.
Did she?
“Still,” Jill said, holding the door open before stepping out to leave. “It might be a good idea to watch some more. And maybe play with yourself to see what it’s like. You know. For the customers. The clients. The tippers.”
Jill winked and the incense burned. Then the door closed, and Jill was gone, but the aroma hung in the air, and Stacey breathed in the incense.
III
After Jill left, Stacey went to her room to think. She didn’t really feel like going out, so she just kicked off her shoes, plopped on her bed, and surfed her phone. She couldn’t shake those images of Mandy and the other performers. Shows. That’s what Jill called them. Performers with their own shows.
It sounded kind of impressive when you put it that way.
Professional, creative, and take-charge.
On a sudden whim, she used her phone to Google the name of Mandy’s chatroom site, Camwhore SlutChat, which was kind of cringy, even creepy, and clicked the link. The chat windows were so small, Stacey shifted on her bed to grab her own laptop nearby. She plugged in into its charger, and opened the lid, Googling Camwhore SlutChat and clicking the link.
Most of the same girls were there, but some of the windows showed new girls, new performers, and Stacey clicked on those, opening the windows to read comments and to see the tips rolling in.
It didn’t make any sense to her.
It didn’t seem the to be sexy in the remotest sense of the word.
It all seemed so. So silly to her, and she couldn’t imagine anyone getting off to it.
But she kept looking, more than anything out of curiosity, but that strange arousal lingered like the smell of the incense burning in the living room, and she thought about what she would do, how she would act in some of the scenarios these women put themselves in.
I mean, if I do this sort of thing. Which I won’t. Of course I won’t.
But that anybody got excited, you know, wanked off to this sort of thing. That men jacked themselves off to these models.
She found it hard to believe.
And a little gross.
How could anyone feel so excited?
All of a sudden she heard Jill’s voice in the ear of her mind, teasing her.
“If you need to play with yourself, Stacey, you can go ahead and do it.”
Could she? Could she play with herself while watching a webcam performer?
Should she?
A weird feeling seized her, a tingling naughty thrill, and she unsnapped her fly. Then she raised her hips to push her jeans past her knees and ankles, leaving her only in her panties and blouse. She hesitated a moment, then she pushed down her panties, her heart beating rapidly.
She arranged the laptop, turned her face to see the chatrooms, and moved her hand slowly down her abdomen, so soft, smooth, and yielding, over her bellybutton, reaching her mons covered in a soft fringe of pubic hair.
Mandy’s room was still open.
Stacey admired Mandy’s stamina, her endurance.
It couldn’t be easy to spend hours in front of a webcam, sticking object after object into her vagina to smile at faceless tippers who dropped money into your feed. A true boss babe, all that hard work. Did it pay off? Would it pay off? When she did it, if she did it, would Stacey make any money at it?
She kind of looked hot, Mandy did. Stacey had to admit that. The platinum swirl of her hair had mashed to one side, smashing and misshaping the style set by her hairspray. Her pink mascara ran from the corners of her eyes, and her pink lipstick formed a pink smear across her drooling mouth.
Her pink nightie, meant to be tied at her throat, was now wide open, her wide fat boobs bounced as she writhed on her bed, plunging a thick blue dildo into her gaping hole, wet and shiny with her fluids. Her long pink nails grazed the top of her slit as she rubbed her clitoris to the thrusting of her blue cock.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she kept moaning. “I’m cumming. I’m cumming. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!”
She breathed in the fragrance coming from the burning incense.
She looks hot, Stacey thought. A hot mess.
She imagined herself in the same position, and her fingers slid over her mons, probing her slit, wet now, her vulva gaping and opening readily to her fingers.
So hot.
Stacey stared at the dildo plunging in and out of the web model’s pussy, wondering if that was what the tippers liked, what the boys liked.
The fragrance, the aroma, the sweet scent of the incense grew stronger and sweeter.
And girls.
That thought came unexpectedly.
I’m sure some girls like to look at webcam models. I’m sure some girls will be looking at me when I start performing.
Stacey momentarily stopped caressing herself.
She saw Mandy pull out her dildo, stick her fingers, long pink nails and all, into her wet hole, and bring them out to suck on.
Stacey brought her own fingers to her mouth. Sticky fluid clung to her fingers as she spread them in front of her. A lump of disgust formed in her throat, a disgust quickly giving way to a strange fascination to lick the sheen from her fingers. She plunged them into her mouth, sucking off the fluids slowly and methodically. Sensually, just like Mandy.
Girls are watching her just like I’m watching her.
Just like they’ll watch me when I’m a camwhore.
Getting more and more aroused, giving in to the sexual heat rising from her center and spreading though her body, she turned over on her side, bent one knee out and up to rub her pussy as she gazed at the laptop, at Mandy’s perfect cunt, dripping and suctioning the dildo sliding in and out of her. Stacey imagined herself on camera, fucking herself as the tips rolled in.
She’d need toys.
Lots of toys.
Suddenly her orgasm seized her, coming unexpectedly, coming from unawares, and she howled, staring straight into the camwhore’s shiny pink cunt.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god.
She came three more times that night, before closing her laptop to take a shower and grab a bite to eat.
IV
“So?” Jill asked, coming home later that night. “What do you think? Is it something you’d like to try.”
“I don’t know,” Stacey replied, taking a swig from a juice bottle in the fridge, a pink bath towel wrapped around her body, another swirled in a turban on her head,. “I need to think about it. I need. I need to keep looking, I think.”
Which left the matter open.
Keep looking for a job?
Or keep looking at the cam whores?
“That’s kind of gross, you know.”
Jill pointed at the bottle she capped and put back on its refrigerator shelf.
“You weren’t supposed to catch me,” Stacey shrugged.
V
It turned out to be a little of both.
Stacey spent the first two days of that week nominally looking for work. She looked at Indeed, Craigslist, other sites. She asked around half-heartedly, not really wanting to hear a positive answer. She knew she’d have to find something, but still. She spent a lot of time that week in her room, staring at window after window of cam models performing for their shows.
Jill would walk in, light the incense, and walk out.
“You know,” she reminded her the first night, “if you get excited looking at all those whores, you can always rub one out. You know, finger yourself. You might as well take off your pants. I mean, you should start doing that before you start looking at them.”
“As if,” Stacey retorted.
But she did. Moments later she did.
She looked over her shoulder, saw that Jill had left her bedroom door open, and shrugged to herself.
Whatever.
She slipped off her jeans, then slipped off her panties. Her bare cheeks felt sexy on the seat of her chair, and she clicked on the small window of a red-head spreading her legs into the camera, pistoning her plump pussy with a plastic phallus, fat and black.
Several minutes later, Jill dropped by again, standing in the doorway and winking behind Stacey’s head.
“Mandy’s performing tomorrow, Stace. I know she’s your favorite.”
The aroma of the incense drifted over Stacey’s nose, smell so rich, sweet, and relaxing.
“Hm?” she said, dazed, rubbing herself slowly with both feet propped on her desk, the screen of the laptop between them. Favorite? I suppose she is, Stacey thought. I supposed she is my favorite. I can’t wait to see her.
“You should get an account and tip her tomorrow. I’ll help you think of a username. I can loan you some money for the tips.”
God, could Jill be any sweeter? She thought of everything.
“Thank you.”
She meant to say it louder, but her voice emerged a faint and husky whisper, dry with sexual stimulation.
Stacey turned red, stroking herself languorously, spreading her two wet lips with her middle finger, slipping her finger deep between her hot swollen labia, sliding her finger into her warm center so easily, so easily, sticking a second finger in and hooking her fingers deep, deep, deep, just behind that muscle, that spot, oh god.
“It makes you so hot thinking about becoming a webcam model, huh?”
She mashed her clit with the palm of her thumb and bit her lip.
Oh fuck.
“Just spreading your legs and fucking yourself silly, just like, what’s her name?”
Jill leaned down to look at the cam model’s window.
“Gingerbreadwhore. Oh that’s so cute. I love it.”
She looked down at Stacey sliding her fingers across her sopping cunt.
“I mean, not as much as you do, but still. It makes you so horny, gets you so turned on, so hot to imagine yourself pushing a dildo in and out, in and out as the tips come rolling in, right? God, you get turned on by being a camwhore.”
Stacey groaned.
“So turned on.”
Stacey’s chair squeaked as the girl gyrated her hips into her fingers.
“All those tips, all those boys looking at you. All those girls. All those lesbians and bi girls sending you tips just to spread your legs wider and wider for them. God that makes you so horny.
“Right?”
Stacey tried to say something; instead she squealed. Her breath came ragged, short puffs of frantic air punctuated by bursts high-pitched squeals.
Jill couldn’t tell if it was a yes or a no.
“All those lesbians get you so horny. You want to cum looking straight into her pussy. Like a good little tipper. Like a good little dyke tipper. Good little dykes cum fucking themselves with their eyes glued to a camwhore’s cunt.”
The chiming of tips dropping into the red-head’s account tinkled from the laptop speakers. Gingerbreadwhore squeaked into the camera.
Tipper comments and tipper questions rolled up the screen.
“Oh god, I’m cumming. I’m cumming. Thank you Bigcockforhotcunts, thank you. Thank you. I’m cumming. I’m cumming so fucking hard. Thank you, Hotlezzieslut. Oh god of course I want to taste your pussy. Oh god, I’m cumming so hard.”
The red-head bucked against her dildo as she fucked herself faster and faster, her cunt dripping as she spasmed on her mattress, throwing her head back and howling.
“I wonder what Mandy’s show will be like tomorrow? I bet it’ll be even hotter.”
Eyes glued to the screen, glued to the wet pussy whose glistening hole wrapped so tightly around the thick girth of the slimy black dildo, Stacey fucked herself faster and faster, bringing her fingers fully out of her flowing pussy to rub her swollen clit faster and faster, a blazing speed of fingers swiping her button.
Left to right, right to left, up and down, up and down, down and up, left to right.
Oh god, oh god, oh god. Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck.
Then she came, squealing as she squirmed and writhed in her seat, humping her hips forward until she almost lay flat in her desk chair.
Mandy.
Her favorite.
VI
She walked on pins and needles all day that day, not bothering to go out, her laptop turned on and Camwhore SlutChat loaded on her browser. She looked at so many webcam performances that day, but she never tired of them, never once did she tire of them.
It scared her.
She knew something had gone wrong, that something was off; she’d never before behaved this way, behaved like that.
She’d never been turned on by the sight of a woman’s naked body gyrating and squirming and sweating, covered in oil and lotion and lubricant, just fucking itself crazy on some gigantic dildo.
It was so fucking hot.
She’d leap up from her chair, run to the bathroom, and stare at her face, trying to figure out her mind.
“Stop this!” She’d yell at the mirror. “This is insane. I’m not going to be a camwhore. I’m not into girls. I’m not into girls.”
She’d relax, drift around the lonely apartment in her panties, shirtless, braless, her nipples so hard, so fucking hard, and her pussy so wet, her panties were soaked, but she’d relax, calm down, drift around the apartment. Avoid her bedroom, avoid the computer.
The burning incense filled the air as Stacey lit another stick, just like Jill had instructed her.
“Don’t forget to keep the incense burning, baby,” she said as she left for the day, going god only knew where. “It’ll help keep you in the mood, and we both know you want to be in the mood. You love it. You love being so horny. So attracted to webcam whores. So attached to the idea of being one. A camwhore. A whore.”
She had wanted to argue the point, she had wanted to tell Jill to fuck off, but somehow her rage dissipated the moment it flashed through her. The aroma coming from the incense Jill had just lighted before leaving swept through Stacey’s senses, and she couldn’t, really she just couldn’t stay mad at her goofy friend.
Now she stood in the middle of her empty apartment, seized by another immensely powerful grip of arousal, of lust. Her hands drifted to her breasts, her tits. Her boobs. She kneaded her boobs with her hands, pinching her hard nipples between her fingers, and, remembering what she saw in the camwhore shows, licked her fingers wet to goop her spit onto her tits.
Her boobies.
Stacey peeled off her panties and fled to her bedroom, sat down, spread her thighs wide, and plunged her fingers into her sopping pussy, already on the verge of another powerful orgasm the moment she some webwhore’s dripping cunt filling her computer screen.
She bucked and arched her back, cramming her fingers deep inside her snatch.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god, I’m cumming.”
VII
Jill came home that evening with a small gift bag and a big smile.
Stacey stumbled out of the bathroom, stark naked and wild-eyed, having screamed at her reflection for the third time.
“Oh my god,” Jill said brightly. “It looks like you’ve really been doing your research. I’m so happy for you. Look! I’ve bought some toys for you! Let’s go to your room and get ready. Mandy’s going to be on soon!”
Stacey, overcome by Jill’s excitement, and perking up at Mandy’s name, let Jill pull her back to her chair. Jill stood beside her and started typing into the keyboard.
“We need to create an account so that you can tip her, let her know how much you like looking at her sexy body and her sweet, sweet pussy.”
She turned to Stacey.
“Tips are really cheap, but it’s so easy to splurge. Because it’s your first time, I’m going to put a few hundred in your account. That’ll give you plenty of money to tip big. Mandy will love it.”
Stacey’s jaw dropped.
“I don’t have that kind of money, Jill.”
“I’ll float it to you. You can pay me back when your own tips start pouring in.”
Stacey frowned and considered her options.
“I suppose. I suppose that would work out.”
Jill clapped her hands.
“Oh girl. You bet it’ll work out. You’ll see. This’ll be the best decision you’ve ever made.”
Jill turned back to the keyboard and screen.
“We need to give you a username. It’ll have to be something hot and naughty. I’ve got it. WetStaceyDyke69. Female, naturally. Interests? Lesbians and solo girls. No guys. No cock for you, Stacey. Pussy only. It’s what really attracts a following.”
Jill tapped a few more keys.
“There. All set. You might be a straight girl in real life, Stacey. But online you’re a hot lesbo whore, and you need to show it. It’ll probably be a good idea not to see guys for a while, just to help you get into your online persona.”
Stacey nodded slowly.
It all made sense, in a way. Didn’t it?
“I mean, you might even want to start dating girls. Just to see.”
Stacey gulped, suddenly uncomfortable.
But then Jill clicked on Mandy’s room, and Stacey’s mind went blank to anything else.
There she was.
VIII
Her hair shimmered in a perfect style around her sculpted face, something in the manner of Monroe, and her lips were red and bright, and bright eyeshadow arched above her eyes like glimmering halos. Mandy had even dotted a dark beauty mark just above and away from her pouting mouth.
She wore a sheer red nightie over a sheer red teddy, open in the middle but tied at the neck and just above her mons.
Stacey had already slid her fingers between the warm lips of her snatch. By this time her lips were wide open, wantonly extended, and her cunt dripped.
She’d been wet all day, no matter how often she fucked herself with her hands, watching camgirl after camgirl perform to faceless tippers with lewd and perverted usernames, the vast, vast majority of whom were male.
Stacey gazed longingly at Mandy’s nipples, her areolas showing beneath the sheer fabric of her lingerie, and her mouth fell open.
Drool ran from her lip and down her chin to land just above her own tits.
“That’s it, baby,” cooed Jill. “Seeing Mandy getting ready to fuck herself for you has you all worked up, doesn’t it?”
Stacey whined and nodded.
Jill retrieved an object from the gift bag, and opened the long package it came in. She wiped it with disinfectant and poured a whitish, semi-transparent lubricant over it from a plastic bottle she pulled from the gift bag.
Jill leaned over Stacey and held the bottle over her private parts.
Then she squeezed, shooting the lubricant all over her pubic area.
“There. Now your new dildo will slide into you so easily. It’ll feel so good to fuck yourself with this. It’s just like the one Mandy uses. Well, just like one of the dildos Mandy uses. She uses so many. It’ll be super helpful to watch her closely so you can practice for your shows.”
Stacey didn’t bother to argue.
She didn’t even know if she could argue.
After all, it’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? To be a camwhore?
Jill placed the bulbous tip of the synthetic cock against Stacey’s fuckhole.
“Take it,” she urged. “And fuck yourself for me. Fuck yourself like the whole world’s watching.”
Stacey’s hand moved over Jill’s hand and she pulled the dildo deeper inside her, pushing the tip past her lips until the dildo sank inside her several inches.
“That’s it, girl. I’ll make sure Mandy gets all your tips. Don’t worry about chatting with her. I’ll do that for you. You just keep fucking yourself like a good little cam slut.”
Time passed, but Stacey lost track of it.
Her world became Mandy’s engorged vulva, her pink asshole, the curved peach of her ass, her tits, her gorgeous tits.
Jill must have been tipping a lot, because from time to time Stacey could hear Mandy’s sweet voice.
“Thank you, WetStaceyDyke69, do you like my pussy?”
Jill swiveled her head to glance at Stacey lost in a haze of lust and mounting climax.
“I’m going to put yes.”
Jill spoke as she typed.
“OMG I love your pussy. I want to lick your pussy so bad.”
Mandy giggled as other tips came pouring in, chiming over the computer speakers.
Mandy’s hips heaved forward, and the camera zoomed to catch her pussy filling the screen. An odd pink device protruded from her lips, and Stacey could hear a vibrating hum.
“Do you? Do you want to lick my pussy, StaceyDyke? Lick my pussy, please lick my pussy.”
Mandy’s voice sounded plaintive, full of need and arousal, and Stacey plunged her dildo into her sopping pussy repeatedly while grinding her hips in circles, humping her ass against the seat of her by now wet chair.
“Do you?” Jill asked. “Then say it, and I’ll chat it to her.”
Stacey bit her lip, hesitated then murmured.
“Yes. Yes I want to lick your pussy, Mandy.”
“Louder.”
“YES! Yes I want to lick your pussy, Mandy!”
“Good girl.”
Tips chimed in, and evidently other users were chatting.
Mandy thanked them all by name.
“Thank you, CuntFuckerFive. I want to fuck you too. Thank you, BiggusDickus! Thank you, MarmeladeSky. I’d love to see your cock.”
The names rattled on and on, all of them male, and Stacey hated them all. Every tip made by them pushed her aside, and she wanted, no, needed Mandy’s full attention. She wanted, no, needed to be the queen of Mandy’s cunt.
A competitive spirit seized Stacey, and she yelled at Jill.
“Tip more, tip more, give her more!”
Jill did as she was told. After all, it was Stacey’s money.
“But CuntFucker tipped 250,” she warned.
“Tip five hundred.”
“BiggusDickus tipped 500,” she informed her.
“Tip a thousand, tip a thousand, tip ten thousand, I don’t care.”
On screen Mandy bucked and squealed, gyrated and shrieked, her body buckling with each new orgasm that hit her.
Her hair had long since lost its shape, her perfect makeup was smeared all over her face, she sucked one dildo while fucking herself with a Magic Wand, her pussy lips were ragged and wide, dark and swollen, and her red lipstick ran across her face.
She looked thoroughly fucked.
But happy, so wonderfully happy.
IX
It had taken everything Jill had not to join in, but tonight was Stacey’s night, and she had a job to do.
When it was all over, when Stacey had screamed her last orgasm, and the last fluids of her last climax had collected in the pool on her chair seat, and Mandy had finally gone offline, Jill closed the browser and shut down Stacey’s laptop.
She leaned over the cum-exhausted body of her roommate and placed a light kiss just at the corner of Stacey’s mouth.
“You did so well. And you looked so hot. I know you can do exactly what Mandy can do. I know you can be even better, even hotter.”
Then Jill left Stacey’s bedroom, and Stacey stumbled to her bed, completely worn out.
Jill stopped at Stacey’s door and looked at her with a tender smile.
“I’m so proud of you.”
X
The next day Jill brought home two large monitors, several webcams, and an assortment of outfits for Stacey to wear, all sparkly, glittery, and very, very revealing.
“You have to start thinking of yourself as a slut, Stacey. To really sell your product, which is you. You have to convince your tippers that you’re just a filthy dirty whore when it comes down to it.”
Jill helped Stacey set her room up, placed webcams throughout the room, adjusted the two monitors. They sat side by side as they read up on how to become a cam model.
“It says model here,” Jill whispered in Stacey’s ear. “But you’ll be a whore.”
Stacey groaned inwardly and shivered, grinding her thighs together.
She couldn’t wait.
They learned how to set up and use her remote controlled Lovesense, how to set up the Wand so that the tippers controlled speed and duration, and Stacey practice posing into the cameras to ensure maximum exposure.
“You’ll need to keep that nasty cunt of yours in full view at all times. Once the tips come pouring in. You might want to sit demurely until then, that’s up to you. Personally I say why wait. You’re so horny anyway, the tips are just a bonus for you.”
Stacey nodded readily.
God she was so horny, so turned on.
“I’ll be your moderator. I’ll run your chats, post your texts, things like that. All you need to do is play with yourself. Oh, one more thing.”
Jill brought out her own laptop. It had a larger screen than Stacey’s.
She opened it up, browsed porn sites until she found exclusively lesbian content.
“Your gig will be masturbating to lesbian porn. It’s your online persona, you know? Just a lonely girl in constant need of pussy. That’s you. You haven’t had any yet, but you want it so bad. It’s your gig, your angle. Nobody else is doing that right now.”
It soon became a daily routine, almost a 9 to 5 job with Jill helping Stacey set up, leaving to do whatever she did, dropping in online from time to time to check in on her roommate, who found herself grinding her hips as tip after tip buzzed her sex toys, driving her to almost continual orgasm while she kept her eyes glued to Jill’s laptop, watching lesbians make fuck each other silly.
Stacey stopped thinking about it.
Stopped wondering why and how she got pulled into doing something like this.
The incense continued burning in the apartment, in her room, the scent of it clung to her.
Every day she felt herself becoming more and more turned on by the women she fingered herself to, turned on by such raw and open sexuality.
Jill had made sure to really emphasize Stacey’s lesbianism, instructing her to be vocal and loud about how much she wanted to pussy, wanted to lick pussy, taste pussy, kiss tits, to lick, squeeze, and suck nipples, to fuck hot women.
Stacey dived headlong into the role, fully embracing her persona as a lesbian, promiscuous, whorish. Wanton.
A week later, Jill came home with explosive news.
“I did it. I talked her into it.”
Stacey squinted at her roommate.
Talked who into what?
“Mandy. I talked her into it. She wants to do a show with you.”
XI
Stacey didn’t even think about the cameras.
She wanted to be impressed with Mandy’s set up, so professional and organized, but she had no eyes for that, either.
She wanted to feign interest in Mandy’s idle chitchat over her tippers’ comments, but really. What did any of that matter?
Stacey sat with the heels of her bare feet tucked under her butt, her body starkly accentuated by the sparkling green lingerie she wore, a simple green open-cup bra with matching crotchless panties, the rear panel a sheer mesh only barely covering her ass and the tiniest triangle which utterly failed to conceal her shaved pubic region.
Jill had insisted that she dye her hair platinum and get it styled after Mandy’s look.
Jill had insisted that she wear identical makeup, and so Mandy helped Stacey get dolled up, standing over her, straddling her right leg almost to apply the foundation, concealer, blush, eyeshadow, mascara and lipstick to give Stacey a garish and lurid vividity.
Mandy breathed, and her breath sounded like a hurricane in Stacey’s intoxicated ears.
She trembled as Mandy applied the makeup, feeling herself get wetter and wetter, warmer and warmer.
“Be still, Stacey.”
Stacey tried.
But it was so hard.
But now they both sat on the bed, Stacey placed her hands flat on her knees while Mandy talked into the screen. Stacey didn’t follow.
I’m going to be with her, she thought. I’m really going to be with her.
Mandy reached an arm around Stacey’s waist and squeezed.
“This will be her first time with a girl. And she really needs your support guys.”
Mandy read a comment.
“Well, sure, HotCockExplosion. It’s a start.”
The tips started chiming, and Mandy shifted Stacey to make her face her.
“Have you ever kissed a girl before?”
Stacey shook her head.
No.
“Don’t be afraid. You’ll like it. I know you’ll like it. A shy lesbian like you. It’s what you’ve been needing for so long now, hasn’t it?”
Stacey smiled timidly, but her head bobbed up and down, once. Twice.
Mandy’s soft hands held the sides of Stacey’s face, and Stacey closed her eyes, knowing and not quite knowing what to expect. When Mandy’s lips touched her lips, she flinched, but Mandy held her firmly.
Mandy’s lipstick glided over Stacey’s lipstick, her lips pressed irresistibly against Stacey’s lips and parted as Mandy’s tongue flicked forward to brush against Stacey. Stacey’s lips parted, and her tongue met Mandy’s tongue. Stacey tasted lipstick. Hers. And Mandy’s.
The Lovesense embedded in Stacey’s pussy buzzed as tips chimed in.
She had nearly cum when Mandy’s dipped it inside her, and now she did cum, a small orgasm shaking her as she kissed Mandy, her lips opened wide for her new lover, her tongue gliding and swirling against Mandy’s warm, wet tongue.
It was so nice.
So nice.
And when one of Mandy’s hands dropped to fondle her tit, Stacey gasped and moaned into her mouth.
“That’s it, baby,” Mandy purred. “It feels so good, doesn’t it, finally being with a woman?”
Stacey shivered.
The tips continued pouring in, chiming, sending vibrations deep into Stacey, into her spot, her place, so intimate and unceasing.
Time passed, and Mandy unclasped Stacey’s bra, unclasped her own bra, and pulled her panties off her hips.
“You get to lick me now, baby.”
Stacey moved in a haze, a delirium, any semblance of a conscious mind had long fled, she didn’t consider her motions, her actions. She just did. She just performed. For Mandy. For her audience.
“You’re a natural,” Mandy praised and lay back against her pillows, spreading her legs for Stacey, for Stacey’s mouth.
“Start with my toes. Kiss my feet and suck my toes first, and then work your way up as the tips come in.”
She winked at the camera.
Mandy led her, Mandy guided her, making sure Stacey ass pointed up and towards the camera, her asshole and fat wet slit showing proudly for the viewers.
Stacey held Mandy’s foot, kissing it sole, kissing the balls below the toes, kissing her heel. Sticking out her tongue she licked the length of the foot from the heel ball to the bottoms of her toes, first with the tip of her tongue, then slowly, lovingly with the width, patiently lapping the flat of Mandy’s sole.
Her nails were polished a bright and glossy red, and Stacey’s tongue flicked along the small, polished surfaces of her toenails, kissing and licking each one in turn, adoring Mandy’s feet, breathing in her rich intoxicating scent. Then, looking straight into Mandy’s eyes and almost forgetting about their audience, she put her lips over the big toe, tongued the bottom and plunged the toe into her mouth, sucking on it slowly, deliberately.
Lovingly.
Adoringly.
Mandy’s toe.
Mandy.
Something was happening; the tippers could sense it. A genuine moment of sensuality, of lust, of physical adoration was taking place on the screen, and the tippers fell quiet, of that unspoken accord that rolls over even a virtual group. The knew, they all knew somehow, that they were an intrusion, not exactly unwanted or unwelcome, but absolutely and completely unnecessary. Comments ceased. Even the obligatory “holy shit” stopped.
They’d seen couples before, lesbian pretenders who winked at the camera or stopped to wait for tips, lesbian pretenders who never, ever forgot they were performing.
That was not the case here.
Mandy no longer cast a glance at the webcam, the computer, the tippers, the chiming was forgotten, and when the chiming stopped so did the Lovesense, but that wasn’t needed, either.
Stacey’s hands cradled Mandy’s foot, caressed her ankles, and moved delicately up her calf, amazed and awestruck at her first real touching of another woman’s body, and the contact of Mandy’s skin on Stacey’s hands and fingers left her in a state of numbed enchantment.
And still she continued to suck Mandy’s big toe, sucking her toe for all the world like a man’s cock, only this was better. So much better. She could feel Mandy’s arousal and need building, she could feel Mandy trembling at her ministrations, her adoration, her foot-worship.
“Oh god, Stacey. Oh god. That’s so. That feels so.”
Her words failed as all words do, her words devolved into incoherent mutters which in turn turned to low growls, low moans, plaintive cries, lamentations of delight.
Stacey’s mouth moved up her leg, kissing her calves, caressing her skin with tongue, lip, and hand, moving ever slowly up her leg, winding towards the knee, the back of the knees, kissing her thighs, and licking that hot, salty flat flesh between her inner thigh and the dripping slot of her vulva.
Her fuckhole.
Her cunt.
Her dyke tongue-hole.
All those weird prompts, all those weird statements Jill had made last week came to her mind, all those suggestions and declaration of her lesbian desires.
They all made sudden sense now.
Yes.
I am.
This is the way.
And Mandy, too.
She’s my dyke.
She’s a lesbian now, too.
Then her tongue touched the crevice of Mandy’s pussy, tasted the nectar steaming from her hole, and she touched her own clit with the finger of her other hand.
She came instantly.
But Mandy bucked and rammed her cunt into Stacey’s mouth; she grabbed Stacey by the back of her head and smashed her face hard against her dripping and ravaged hole.
“I’m fucking you. I’m fucking your face. Eat me. Eat me, bitch.”
The bitch had no hostility in it, no aggression, no contempt.
Stacey heard, and her heart swelled with pride.
Bitch.
I’m her bitch.
It somehow felt good and right.
Then Mandy came, a huge orgasm that rocked her body, and forced her head back as she howled in ecstasy.
That’s when the tips started rolling in again. Comment after comments, tips by the twenties, the fifties, the hundreds, and even the thousands came pouring in, and Stacy lurched forward, lay on her back next to her Mandy and laughed, sighed, and smiled.
One of Mandy’s monitors showed them.
Two young women, platinum hair mashed and wild, makeup and mascara smeared over their eyes and their faces, their lipstick smudged. They looked awful and wonderful.
I look like her, Stacey thought. I look like Mandy now.
Just like Mandy.