Executive Engagement

Mr. Big.

Normally, I ignore all private messages. I mean, I’m giving an online strip tease and masturbation show open to anyone willing to pay. I don’t have time for potential creepers.

But something about this guy intrigues me. He hasn’t said anything in the comments, and he just drops his cash like it’s nothing. I click on the message.

Are you going to stand there teasing me all night or are you going to show me if those tits are half as juicy as they look?

I laugh and wink at the camera.

“So impatient,” I say again.

Yeah, I’m going to draw it out and drive this guy crazy. After all, he’s paying big bucks. I’m sure he wants to get his money’s worth.

I turn up the music in my room and start dancing, moving my body in ways that I know drive my fans wild.

Another private message dings. You like it slow? If I were there right now, I’d tear your clothes right off you.

I pause, not sure what I think about that. Mr. Big sounds like he likes to be in charge. Yeah, well, guess what, buddy? So do I.

Giving the webcam a feisty look that I know he’ll realize is just for him, I ever-so-slowly turn around and unfasten my bra, one hook at a time. When I turn back around, I slip the straps from my shoulders, then pause, a naughty smile on my lips.

Woman, you’re driving me insane. You have my cock so fucking hard right now.

He really is one impatient bastard. Finally, I let the bra fall to the floor, exposing myself for the webcam and playing with my nipples.

Ding. Mr. Big again. Fuck. Your tits are so perfect. I just want to shove my cock in between them and come all over your face.

Oh my God. This guy is the exact reason I don’t normally engage in private messages. But for some reason, his take-charge attitude has me all kinds of horny.

I mean, he’s willing to pay a shit-ton of money to watch this. And out of all the cam girls he could watch, he picked me. So yeah, that turns me on.

My head falls back, and I take the couple steps back to my bed and reach inside my soaked lace panties. Holy shit.

“I’m so fucking wet right now,” I say to the viewers, but really it’s for the benefit of Mr. Big. I want him to know what he’s doing to me with his dirty talk.

Ding. My pussy clenches at the noise, some Pavlovian response, just knowing it’s Mr. Big. What the fuck is that about?

Finger fuck yourself.

I respond immediately. I never get like this about fans. But he has my attention.

I love how demanding he is. I actually want to do what he says. So I do.

It doesn’t take long at all for me to be right on the edge. Dammit. I wanted to tease him and make him wait, but I’m so close and it feels so good that I can’t help it.

All it takes is another ding, and I’m coming. Like really fucking hard. I moan and writhe on the bed, knowing this is one of the most intense orgasms I’ve had on my show in a while.

When I catch my breath and sit up, staring into my camera, I smirk. Mr. Big dropped some serious cash on me just now.

“Was it worth it?”

Ding.

I had an escort in front of me sucking my cock. I kicked her out so I could watch you. So was it worth it? Fuck, yes.

Lizzie

Dudes who give their credit card numbers to Bennet Babes are harder to please than you're probably thinking. But even with all the free shit out there, I know how to get the tips rolling in on top of those recurring payments. But when the show is over, it's over.