Cammers With Benefits

I’m wild, completely unhinged. I don’t care about anything except the fact that I never want this orgasm to end. A flash of awareness lets me know that this is the highest point of my life so far.

Get on top of him.

I almost miss this command. Inside, I can feel my pussy contracting as the last waves of pleasure lap against my soul. It would be so easy to just curl up against Brice at this point. To pull the blankets over us and shut out the world while we talk about how this changes us. But we started this for the $2,000 tip. And that was for sleeping with him. For going all the way.

I roll over and direct Brice to lie down. “It’s your turn,” I say as I sit on his stomach, all too aware of the wet splotch I leave behind. I haven’t been this worked up since I can remember. After a soft kiss to let him know that everything is fine—better than fine, in fact—I lay a trial of kisses down his chest. My hands never stop. I just can’t get enough of him. I’ve seen him without his shirt on, and always appreciated that he was in good shape, but now I get to run my fingertips along his shoulders. Slide the back of my hand along his abs. Grab his cock and squeeze.

There are no more directions from our single viewer, so I could just keep flirting and toying with Brice. Or we could take a breather before the next command pops up, but he’s as hard as a rock. This is not something we’re doing for the money anymore. At least, I hope it’s not from his side. To show him that I’m enjoying this, I slide down and take his dick in my mouth. His hands grip at the bed sheets, and a shuddering sigh seeps out.

“Oh, Tess,” he says. I’ve never heard him say my name like that. I love it. I need to hear it again and again.

As I work myself up and down his shaft, sometimes pulling all the way off with a satisfying pop of suction, only to take his entire length in my mouth once more, his hands work into my hair, digging at my scalp. He isn’t being rough, but his trembling fingers work me into a rhythm that his hips rise to follow.

Finish inside her.

Inside me. Not in my mouth. That’s not what this command means. Brice and I stop as we read the screen together. He looks up at me. I can tell he’s about to say something. But this isn’t the time for talking. Whether he’s going to tell me that we can stop now or that he loves me or whatever it is, I’ll never know. Because I climb back on top of him, place his dick between my legs, and slide down on him.

Brice fills me to stretching. Our pubic hair—mine trimmed and his natural—crumples against one another between our pressed bodies. We gasp together. His hands pull my face down to him where he kisses me. Not deep and passionate. No tongues or desperation here. This is tender. It’s filled with love, not lust. Then his hands slide down my neck, my side, and end on my ass, which he grips with trembling fingers. Together we work into a rhythm that never levels out. We’re both too close to orgasm to ride this out any further. All we can do is rush together to the finish line.

Our thighs slap against one another. We both moan. Both beg for the other not to stop. Gone are all thoughts of the biggest tip I’ve ever received. Gone is the voice in the back of my head reminding me that this is a performance. That the pleasure is meant not for me, but for a paying audience.

Brice cums first, but I’m not far behind. Before his dick loses its rigidity, I ride him with a crazed fervor, beads of sweat rolling down my back, until waves of euphoria lock up my muscles, shivering out through every atom in my body. When it finally releases me, I melt over Brice’s body, resting my head on his chest.

Breaths come hard and fast. Hearts slow together. I run my fingers down the length of his arm until I find his fingers. They interlock with mine. Give a comforting squeeze.

“Why didn’t we do that a long time ago?” Brice teases.

“Sure as hell beats movie night.” I wriggle my ass. He moans since he’s still inside me.

The computer dings. Our viewer has left the video chat, but not before approving his tip. We both got what we wanted from this, but I believe that Brice and I came out on top. That is as long as I ignore the tiny voice telling me that tomorrow is sure to bring with it new challenges.

Chapter 3

Brice doesn’t end up sleeping over. We’ve both got jobs to attend to, and all of his clothes are back at his place. When we say goodbye, we give each other a small kiss, but it’s lacking the passion and surety of earlier.

Left alone in the apartment, I collapse on the couch and turn on my tried and true favorite: The Princess Bride. But I’m not really paying attention. My brain is still processing all the new data from the past hour.

A look to my right and I can see into my bedroom where the bed sheets are pulled off the mattress. One pillow has fallen to the floor. My laptop is open, but the screen has turned off. In my mind I can still hear Brice’s moans. See the commands popping up on the computer. The money we’ve earned is already spent in my mind. Brice wanted me to keep it all, but I insisted he take his half. It was a business transaction. I actually said those words. A business transaction. It was one of the last things I said before he left with a promise to text when he got home. Now that I have time to review everything, I regret those words more than anything else.

Not that I regret anything else. And I can only hope that Brice feels the same.

Another glance at my phone. Why hasn’t he texted yet? It’s been forty-five minutes. He should be back by now. Maybe he doesn’t know what to say now that our relationship is blurry around the edges. Who am I kidding? Even I couldn’t pinpoint the boundaries of our friendship. Not now that we’ve blown so far past them.

Did we do the right

thing? I mean, there’s no doubt that it was amazing, but can we ever go back to the way things were? Would we even want to?

Brice and I met way back in elementary school. Two kids without any friends between us. Both sitting at the same lunch table each day. Eating without anyone to talk to. He was the first one to speak up. His first words were so stupid. They still make me laugh. ‘Yoghurt makes me wanna puke. Want mine?’

Boys are so stupid, but I took his yoghurt, and from then on, we started talking during lunch hour. Then we talked after class while walking home. Turns out we lived in the same neighborhood. It’s just that he always had soccer practice after school, so we never crossed paths. I’m not sure why he gave up the sport, but I think it was so he could walk me back home each day. I wasn’t about to complain.

Brice became a friend. Then a best friend. We studied together, ate together, and even watched movies together in each other’s bedrooms. By the time we hit middle school, everyone was sure that we were dating, but every time we were accused of that Brice would immediately chirp up and say that we were just friends.

It hurt at first. This was the height of puberty. Hormones running wild, calling the shots. Girls teasing their boyfriends with risqué photos texted during late night chats. Guys viewing each girl as a potential feather in their cap. The days of boy and girls simply being friends were supposed to be left behind, back with My Little Pony lunchboxes and recess periods spent on playgrounds, not in sexually charged gymnasiums. To have this boy I cared so much about put me at a distance by dismissing me as nothing more than a friend felt like I was being left behind too. I wondered if something was wrong with me for the longest time. But when I finally stopped looking at myself, I noticed something odd about Brice too.

While we both started out with no friends besides the other, Brice was quick to adapt. Once we were in high school, he was back to playing soccer and had managed to become the star player. He was a real guys’ guy. More than once I’d hear girls in the locker room discussing what they would like to do to him, if only they could pin him down. But that was the thing. I was the only girl he hung out with. Sure, he had lab partners who were girls and his debate team was half and half, but those were random assignments. He never chose to be placed with a girl, and when given a choice, he would choose me or one of the guys from his soccer team.

I might have only been a friend, but at least I was his only female friend. I was a lot closer to ‘pinning him down’ than any of the other girls at my school. Even the hot ones who weren’t afraid to flaunt the schools’ dress code with low-necked blouses and skirts that had guys following them upstairs, hoping against hope for the perfect glimpse of what lay underneath. Meanwhile, I was a ‘jeans and t-shirt’ kind of girl. Still am when I’m not camming.