My Cam-Girl

I met Cynthia for the first time when I was 33 and she was just 22. We met online; she worked as a stripping cam-girl and indeed, looking at her pictures made me want to masturbate immediately.

However, as we started our first online chat things did not follow the predictable rhythm and prescribed conclusion. Instead, she mesmerised me with her mind and I found myself drawn to her in a way I could not resist, wanting her to get to know me as quickly as possible, allowing her access to the most fragile and remote places of my mind without knowing or trusting that she would not use this knowledge to hurt me.

Before I knew it I was stripped of my usual defences and any empty quick 'sexual fixes' that kept me going in those wanking sessions. She did the same, this was the amazing thing, and we both found ourselves floating in this space, drawn to each other in any possible way, knowing one another with or without words – an absolutely terrifying experience but one which I could not resist not having again and again, logging on to her like a source of life.

Now, as I am writing this I no longer have any contact with her. The next few paragraphs are about her, what she told me and where it got us.

She did not discover sex until she was 18 mainly because she was so beautiful that men found her intimidating and women found her so envy provoking that she could not tolerate having girlfriends. She then had a couple of boyfriends with whom she systematically tried any sexual experience she has ever heard about.

Sex was something she did not something she had, and she was very proud that noone could make her cum unless she wanted to, feeling that losing control, giving in to her pleasure, would be disastrous – equivalent to being robbed of her vitality. So she did have orgasms, many of them, and gave pleasure to others, but never lost control, always liking to hold on to her 'switch' as she called it.

She told me that something changed after being with a lover who could not stop talking to her while they were fucking (she always called it fucking, never having sex or making love). At first it got on her nerves because she needed to concentrate on when and how she wanted to have her orgasm. Later she noticed that he was not talking directly to her but to her body and more specifically to different parts of her body as if he were simultaneously having sex with every part of her separately.

She wondered whether she could make herself cum like that, just from him having sex with her breasts, her legs or any other part of her. She said that it was like a hypnotic trance that she would get herself into (she, not he) - he would be sucking her nipple, talking to it, directing all of his excitement to this one glorious spot (or any other she would direct him too) – and she would reduce her whole being to this one point of sexual attention. "It was amazing", she said, and I believed her, not knowing in that moment whether I wanted to be that man or her nipple.

Around that time Cynthia came across another guy who asked her if she wanted to become a cam-girl. She immediately agreed without giving it a second thought, believing that this would be the easiest job she has ever had. Indeed having men watch her was the most natural thing for her and making them pay for this privilege seemed to follow the same logic. One thing was a bit different though – Cynthia could never pretend. So she got to know the men (and women) she found interesting and only then she would perform for them, tease, direct and then let go of her self control, making them as well as her explode with pleasure.

Maybe this is the time to say something else about Cynthia – she had orgasms like a man (her words), a short burst of pleasure after which she would go back to an uninterrupted baseline. However, unlike the typical male she could make herself cum again in the same short intensity a few minutes later, with the next viewer that came along – that is, if she felt he was worth the effort.

Cynthia would laugh about how easy it was for her to make a man cum and how sometimes she discovered that she did not even need to get naked - all she needed to do is let the man she was chatting to know that she knew how he was looking at her, how he wanted to masturbate while she looked at him. For some it was enough. Men she chatted with either ran away or were completely captivated by her simple understanding of their needs, not noticing that instead of turning her into their fantasy they allowed her free reign – inducing the fantasy into their minds, owning them and then letting them go as she pleased.

Cynthia was aware of her powers but she was not a dominatrix. After a while, in one of our discussions, she said that she was a 'generous queen' or princess. She did not want to be cruel unless she suddenly felt drawn to this and therefore did not resist the sudden attraction – she wanted the power but used it to enhance pleasure, theirs and her own, never painfully teasing and always loving to release. Her unique way of going about her job meant that people got addicted to her without an idea that they wanted out of this addiction.

But she got bored easily and she could not sustain any form of routine. Ideas, however, just came to her, always there just at the moment when boredom seemed to be settling in.

In one of those moments of insight Cynthia was looking at her naked body – she always put her makeup first – and suddenly had an idea; she was going to catalogue and price herself. She circled each nipple and wrote a number next to it, then her arms, hands, feet, legs, going up and down her body adding more and more details as she did so. At the end she looked like some kind of a sexy medical sketch.

She then turned to list the relations between her body parts to fantasies; she wrote, for example, 'mouth – fuck, suck, cum in, cum on, look at, tongue play, talk from, whisper, shout…' etc etc. She worked for hours, detailing and pricing and when she was finished she had an extensive catalogue of herself as 'the perfect interactive sexual object' – this was how she titled it.

I asked her, joking about it, if she would only use it online or in reality as well, having a special aid looking at her having sex and counting. "Worth a try", she answered, "Will you be the one counting or trying?" (She always had the last word).

So the online guys paid for any little thing she could imagine doing or showing or saying to them, maximising her control over herself and obviously anybody else.

When we met in reality for the first and last time she was hardly what I thought she would be. We were both extremely anxious, having coffee in silence, looking at each other – actually getting into each other in an almost cannibalistic way with words becoming some unnecessary boundary that was useful online but just slowed things down in reality.

"Do you want to see me on cam", she finally asked, putting into action our mutual mental nakedness.

I nodded and we went to her little apartment, where she had her computer, her catalogue and a few furniture pieces. She turned everything on and I looked as she chatted with her online punters until one was on his way to the pay section. She got ready as if I wasn't there.

"So I'm going to be the one counting", I said eventually and it made her laugh for the first time.

She undressed for him very slowly, teasing him, ticking boxes in her mind of what she wanted him to see or not, what he did to himself and how she would bring it to an end. She never looked at me as she preformed and I could not stop looking at her, her beautiful tender long legs, her black hair and eyes, always looking into herself, almost blind to external reality.

She saw how hard I was (I didn't even notice I was getting aroused), after a while, and in a sudden burst of awareness asked if I wanted to masturbate. I nodded and she said that she wanted to see me do it.

All of a sudden she was remote and cold, making me feel that all I could do was to have a wank, a very intense one but nothing more. Under her spell I started touching myself without knowing where this was going to take me - for the first time, I realised, I felt like just another punter and it filled me with a sense of loss.

I stopped and walked towards her. She looked frightened as I took her hand, kissing her gentle long fingers and looking into her eyes with intense passion. We kissed and made love, licking and eating each other in the same intense cannibalistic way of our first moments together, no words, just breathing. I was inside her, then out, moving and rolling, until we were both locked in a long embrace as she sucked me into her angelic body – we were not trying to stop anything from happening and we could not let go even after we came, still hanging on to each other.

It was – without a doubt - the most intense experience of my life and the most terrifying too. I was completely lost inside her and she was inside me.

Being able to have our own separate identities meant that being physically together was out of the question. So we stopped, went our separate ways sharing the understanding that this was the only way we could survive. Since then the days have become longer but otherwise livable. Not a day goes by without thinking about her - having a mental contact with her inside me and knowing it is exactly the same for her.