Emily is Online Now - Sex Stories

Emily is Online Now

... immediately.

"Tell me about yourself. What are you into?" She asked. Before he could respond, she unzipped her dress and stepped out of it. She was wearing black lace underwear. She danced, turning round and round slowly, hypnotically.

"Do you like my ass, James?"

"Yes"

"Show me." James knew what that meant: She was demanding a tip. He tipped her, twenty dollars.

"Yes. You like it." Emily pushed her panties down, and moved close to the camera, gyrating her ass. James could see the downy pale hairs on her skin. He grunted with pleasure. Her hands stroked her buttocks, then she gave her ass a loud, playful slap, which jerked his dick full of blood.

"Start stroking -- if you haven't started already."

James began to stroke, and came quickly. He suddenly felt sick and disgusted with himself. He covered his face with his cum-covered hands and rocked back and forth. Emily, oblivious to this, continued to give him jerk-off instructions for some minutes, then asked, "did you come?"

"Yes Princess".

"Good. Tip me, James. Let me know how much you enjoyed that. And rate me."

But James didn't tip her, and didn't rate her. He closed his browser and ran from the room to the bathroom, and vomited, crouching over the toilet bowl.

"No more. No more," James gasped. He'd never do that again, ever. His own daughter... But by nine PM that night, he logged back in to see if she was online. She wasn't. He considered calling her, out of the blue, just to say "Hi". But ...

... what was there to say to her now?

He didn't join Paula in their bedroom that night, but slept on the single bed in his 'office', Emily's room. Paula knew he did this often, and she didn't really care anymore. She'd guessed a while ago that he was probably watching porn in there.

The next morning, after Paula had left for work, he logged in again. Emily was online now. His heart raced and he felt himself becoming quickly aroused. Within seconds of entering her free chat she'd noticed his presence there. She looked at him (it was definitely athim), and beckoned with a finger. He entered her room immediately, grateful that she hadn't reproached him for his curt exit yesterday.

This time, James just wanted to "talk", he said. And Emily was happy to. She got to know that he was from England, and revised her image of him appropriately: He'd more likely get her humour. British humour didn't travel well, and her irony often went over people's heads. He asked her a few questions, but was polite, and, being British, very respectful of her privacy. But she wanted to know more about his fetishes, and kept pressing him on them. It was very important, she'd learned, to know how to keep her clients coming back. She found out that he was into legs and heels, and had a foot-fetish. And that he got turned on when he tipped her. That was what she really wanted to find out:Paydirt: Another weak-willed and easily drained sugar-daddy, just what she was hoping he'd be.

She knew how to ...