Briar finds herself out of control.

I'm standing in my bedroom, my laptop open on my mattress in front of me. The little blue light above the screen is on, showing that my webcam is active. The stranger on the other end of the call is sitting in shadow, her face indistinct. The lighting in whatever room she's in casts her in blue, her long, dark hair stained indigo, spilling over bare shoulders that look almost purple. She could be anywhere from twenty-five to sixty; I can't begin to guess, and I really don't care. Who she is doesn't matter to me. As far as I'm concerned, she's just a pair of eyes, shadowed and unseen but nonetheless raking over my naked form as I frantically plunge the eight-inch purple dildo in my hand in and out of my swollen, sopping cunt, while the bullet vibe taped to my clit makes my knees tremble.

"That's right," she purrs. "Good girl. Take it all the way." Her camera only shows her from the shoulders up; if she's touching herself, I can't see, but I hope she is. I want her to be just as out of control as I am, just as **** for release. I want the show I'm putting on to do that to her. Whatever she's feeling, though, or doing to herself, her voice doesn't give it away. She sounds perfectly calm, teasing me and urging me on like she's in complete control of everything, including herself. I can't decide if that frustrates me or just turns me on more.

Meanwhile, I've been a complete moaning mess for I don't even know how long now. "Fuck yeah, yeah, I love it!" I'm not forming the words in my head before they spill from my lips; they just come out. "Feels so fucking good, I don't wanna stop...."

"Mhm?" I can't see her lips clearly, but I can imagine her smirk. "You want to keep on feeling this good?"

"Yeees!" Right now, I'd say anything she prompted me to, but I don't need any help with this one. "Fuck, I wanna feel like this all the tiiime...."

"You want everyone to see what a horny slut you are?"

"Fuckyeaaah...."

"You want to show the whole world how good you can feel in that sexy little body?"

"Uh-huuuhhh...."

"Say it for me, beautiful girl."

I don't know how I'm even able to form it into a sentence, but somehow I manage. "I'm such a fucking slut...I want everybody to see me, I wanna be sexy for them and cum for them all the tiiime...."

"As you wish it, so shall it be."

Some detached part of me notices a change in her voice—it doesn't sound like she's teasing now. There's a gravity to her words, like she's promising something of vital importance. But the rest of me doesn't care, because I'm gone, swept away by the wave of orgasmic bliss that crashes over me at that moment. My knees nearly buckle, my hips rocking frantically against the air, as I damn near cum my brains out, screaming loud enough that my upstairs and downstairs neighbors can almost certainly hear me, which I'm sure I'll be very embarrassed about later. I have no idea if my spectator says anything else, too far gone to even hear it.

As the rush subsides, leaving me trembling from head to toe, I almost collapse onto the floor. Steeling my will, I **** myself to stay upright, to let the stranger, my beloved voyeur, see all of me as I come down. The buzzing of my vibe quickly moves past pleasure and into pain; I fumble for the remote taped to my hip, my hand unsteady. Shutting it off, I half-double over to catch my breath, supporting myself with hands on knees.

Just like always, the giggles start coming on about now. "Shit, that was amazing...."

"Had fun?"

I meet the stranger's shadowed eyes, grinning like an idiot. "Hell yeah. You?"

Her laugh is embers and smoke. "Absolutely."

I finally let myself sink to my knees, scooting closer to reach the keyboard. "Good, I'm glad. I've gotta go, though, okay?"

She nods. "Yeah, of course. Have a good night, and enjoy."

For a second, I'm tempted to ask what she means—I've enjoyed myself plenty tonight already. I brush it off. "Yeah, thanks. 'Night." The call cuts off before my finger reaches my trackpad.

As I'm left alone once again, the endorphins fade, and the fear starts to set in like it always does—the fear that this is the time I wake up in the morning to find a recorded video of me frantically fucking myself plastered all over the Internet, and my life comes crashing down around me. My weekly Omegle outings are by far my most closely kept secret. The first time I worked up the courage to actually get naked for someone, after years of fantasizing and weeks of psyching myself up to just fucking do it, I spent the next month in a sick haze of anxiety, waiting for the other shoe to drop and telling myself I'd never, ever do anything like that again. Obviously, that didn't last. Shy stripping became awkward dancing, which turned into furtively rubbing my clit for the audience, and on and on, until I found myself putting on shows like this one. With each call, my resolve to stay away became more short-lived, and the drop afterward got less intense, though it was always there. That part of me that can't stop thinking about the risks just won't go away, and I doubt it ever will. But I don't care. Like it or not, I'm an exhibitionist at heart, and even if I could change that, I don't think I'd really want to.

Of course, I'd never do anything about it outside of these nights. This right here is as much risk as I'm prepared to accept. No matter what fantasies my dumb horny brain comes up with.

Flipping my laptop closed, I sink down onto my bed, scooting back to rest my head on the pillow. Closing my eyes, I talk myself through the drop. It's okay. Nothing bad is going to happen. You're safe. It's okay to enjoy this. As the anxiety starts to fade, the afterglow reasserts itself, bearing me up on a cloud of endorphins. Thoughts of my parents recoiling from a video of what I just did give way to happy buzzing as I remember how good it felt to just let go and cum my brains out for my eager audience, imagining how sexy I must have looked. How much the stranger on the other end must have wanted me.

What if I really could be like that all the time? In the safety of my bedroom, floating on my post-orgasmic high, I let myself sink into the fantasy. To never have to worry about holding back, to be able to enjoy my body and feel good whenever and wherever I wanted, knowing nothing bad would happen because everyone else would be happy to see me doing it; everyone would want to look at me, to touch me, to feel good with me....

Unfortunately, it can't last. Too soon, the endorphins start to wear off, and I'm lying there on my bed again, naked, sweaty, the tape holding my vibe in place pulling at my skin.

Grumbling, I haul myself back to my feet. Grabbing my still-sticky dildo, I make the trek to the bathroom to shower and clean up. As always on these nights, when my head hits the pillow again, I'm out like a light.