Filthy Dirty Normal, Volume 2

by Lexi Maxxwell

  The window filled with line after line of text. It scrolled and scrolled as she watched it. She made a minor shift in her position and she felt her legs slide effortlessly against each other. God, this was making her wet.

  “They’re begging,” said Chuck, watching the chat. His voice seemed uncertain. He wasn’t sure if he should be playing his role, or just be Chuck. His eyes seemed to ask her if it was okay to even report the viewers’ mood, or if she’d somehow gotten mad.

  But then, she hadn’t moved out of the webcam’s shot, had she?

  “Are they really begging?” she said.

  “They are.”

  The chat grew faster.

  “What will they do to convince me to continue?”

  A smile began to creep back onto Chuck’s mouth. “If you continued with what?”

  “What would they do to watch me spread my legs? What would they do to watch me open my pussy?”

  No longer demure. But this felt very good, too.

  Chuck read the chat. “They’d … ‘Run naked through campus.’ ‘Cut off a finger.’ ‘I’ll pay you a hundred dollars.’ ‘I’’ll do anything; please don’t stop.’ ‘I’ll shove a bottle up my….’’” Chuck shrugged. “Well, you get the idea.”

  “All that just for little old me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? I want them to tell me.”

  Chuck scanned the chat. “Basically, they say you’re hot.”

  One of her legs lifted to the side and hooked over the arm of the rolling chair. She ran a finger between her folds and up to her belly button, leaving a trail of wetness behind.

  “You’re wet,” said Chuck.

  “I’m going to need your cock in my mouth pretty soon,” she said.

  “Just in your mouth?” said Chuck. She could tell he was barely acting. The tent on the front of his pants was prominent. Every once in a while, the tent throbbed and jerked.

  She hooked her other leg over the other arm of the chair, now spread totally open. “Here too,” she said, sliding two fingers inside, up to the knuckles. “Take off your pants,” she said.

  While Chuck unbuttoned his jeans, he watched the chat. “They say they’ve taken off their pants as requested,” he said.

  Once his cock was out and he stood there with only a shirt on, he started to walk forward. Miranda held up a hand.

  “I said pretty soon,” she told him. Then, to show what she intended to do in the meantime, she moved her fingers slowly in and out. It felt good. She added a third finger, eager to be more full. She was so wet. The chair was going to be soaked.

  Miranda closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and let her head tilt back. And with her image being broadcast across the internet, she pleased herself, thinking of the undivided attention of hundreds of men — and maybe even women. But then all of that stopped mattering. All that mattered was what she felt and what she needed.

  “Come over here,” she said eventually. Chuck did. When he was close enough, she reached out and grabbed his erect shaft, stroking it gently across the underside and around the sensitive head. Then she pulled him closer as if tugging on a leash, then slid his cock into her mouth. It went in like a key slipping into a lock.

  Her fingers continued to work between her legs. She stopped thrusting and started running her fingers over her clit — first back and forth with two fingers, then straddling it with the same two fingers and twitching them up and down as if scratching an itch. She forgot about the webcam. She forgot about everything but the responding presence in her mouth and the building sensation between her legs.

  She wanted to cum, but she didn’t want to spread her orgasms out. She wanted one and only one grand finale in which everything happened. She wanted Chuck to shoot his load while she was coming. She wanted it to be a singular, visually and aurally fantastic cinematic masterpiece. It was what her audience deserved.

  So she slowed her fingers, allowing herself to come down from the peak and settle on a plateau. Small flicks of her fingers were all it took to sustain her. She could feel waves of heat coming from inside. Each time a finger glanced across any part of her, she gave a shiver. Her clit was almost too sensitive. Touching it sent a huge sensation rolling up into her belly, inside, and even behind her.

  Chuck couldn’t take long. She couldn’t stand it if he took long. She started to stroke him faster while her mouth and tongue circled the head.

  “I’m going to cum,” he said.

  She took her hand off his cock and pulled it from between her lips. “Not yet, you’re not,” she said. Then she stood from the chair, unable to keep her hands off of herself for a second.

  Chuck sat in the chair with his cock pointed skyward. She sat on his lap, sliding herself down onto his length. She felt it glide into her, pushing her apart. Her muscles pushed back, and she almost came right there.

  “Not yet,” she told herself.

  “Soon,” he said from behind her. “I can’t take it much longer.”

  She was facing away from Chuck, facing the computer so that the webcam could see. She could lean close enough now to read the viewer count. It was over five hundred. Someone had gone viral. The chat was moving almost too fast to read.

  There was a window on the screen that showed what the webcam saw. She watched herself move up and down, her large, soft breasts moving with the rhythm of Chuck’s thrusts. Or rather, her thrusts. She was the one on top.

  She could do better.

  “Scoot the chair forward,” she told Chuck. It had wheels, so he reached down with his feet and pushed, and the view on the small window improved markedly. Then she bent her legs up, resting her feet on the sides of the chair’s front edge, now as high off the ground as her lap was. In the small window, she watched herself open wide. When she pushed herself up, she watched Chuck’s length slide out of her. Then, slowly, she sat back down on it and watched as it was swallowed by wet pink folds of flesh.

  This wasn’t making it any easier to hold back.

  She paused, pushed her pelvic floor down, and tried to still her insides. She willed the orgasm back, but it fought her. And Chuck’s answering moan told her that the squeeze she’d just given hadn’t done anything to help him slow down, either.

  She raised herself up far enough that the tip of his cock slid out of her. She sat down on his lap behind it, his shaft now resting against her outer lips, its head slick and wet. She watched as it twitched in front of her. She rubbed herself subtly against it. There wouldn’t be much friction unless she put a hand on its underside and pushed it against her, but the hand would also block the camera’s view and it was important to give a good show.

  Onscreen, she watched him slide out of her pussy. It hadn’t closed up yet. Then she felt a small contraction run through her and it did close. She closed her eyes and tried to hang on, willing herself not to cum. But it was so hard. It was so tempting to let go.

  She raised herself up and, without using her hands, wiggled her hips so that just the tip of his cock slipped inside, out, and ran over her sensitive spots. She teased it, the shaft exposed to the cool room air and the head warmly inside of her.

  “Oh Jesus, Mir…” Chuck began. He stopped himself just in time, just before saying her name. “I can’t take it anymore. It almost hurts.”

  She knew the feeling. But still she stayed high, refusing to sit, and let the tip lick inside and then out. She bent forward, curving her spine, and watched as two flaps of pink skin made it vanish and appear, wetter and shiner each time, as if she was applying coats of her own kind of high-gloss varnish.

  In. Out. Small pink flaps draped it and uncovered it as she watched, as just the outermost part of her was stimulated and the rest called out for attention.

  She slid down the length of his shaft, still bent forward, still watching as he filled all of her. She felt Chuck’s slow, heavy exhale on her neck like a caress. And her orgasm started to build again.

  She turned her head, her eyes finding Chuck’s through their mas
ks. Just for him, she whispered, “Ready?”

  He looked tortured. “Yes. Yes. I can’t take it.”

  She raised off of him again, the head of his cock barely inside of her. She was at the tipping point, barely able to hold herself up. She wanted to fall onto him, and if she did, she’d cum instantly.

  With just the tip inside, watching the head of his cock slip past those warm pink curtains of flesh, she closed her eyes and squeezed. Slowly.

  “Oh god,” said Chuck.

  She squeezed again. She rocked her hips, still keeping just the head inside.

  “I can’t … I can’t….”

  She squeezed again, then leaned back, found his ear, and whispered, “Then don’t.”

  She gave a final, hard squeeze and the cock inside of her erupted. She could feel streams of warmth pulsing deep inside before spilling out. She glanced at the screen as she squeezed again, the long, exposed shaft twitching, and watched as two thick white lines of liquid lipped up around her opening, at the tip of his cock, and ran down the shaft. She rocked her hips. He kept throbbing, his orgasm still coming on.

  It was too much. She felt his wetness added to her own. She felt her voluntary contractions becoming involuntary, cresting over into some unfathomable valley. All of the strength left her and she slid down his shaft, swallowing his entire length inside of her, her hips rocking of their own accord, waves of pleasure consuming her in what felt like a cloud. She gripped him with her insides, milking his cock. Her hips rocked against him, but her clit, facing out, was unattended. So her right hand found it and pushed against it, rubbing it hard against her fingers as the waves rolled over her.

  When it was over, she sat on Chuck’s lap, still firmly impaled on him, a pool of cum coating the folds of her pussy. She could feel it dripping out of her. Her eyes stayed closed. She could hear Chuck’s fast breathing over her shoulder and could feel it in the crook of her neck.

  Her eyes came open behind the mask. She reached forward to the computer and unceremoniously ended the webcam session. It was over. She had no use for it anymore.

  Behind her, his cock beginning to soften inside of her, Chuck said, “You’re going to be famous.”

  “If only,” she said.

  “The Mardi Gras harlot who fucked Obama.”

  She sighed contentedly, still not ready to let his fullness leave her. She kept her eyes closed and leaned back. He reached around her and ran his hands over her breasts; gently, slowly. Then, uncharacteristic for Chuck, he turned her head and kissed her gently.

  “Hundreds of people saw that,” he said. “Does that turn you on?”

  “Yes.”

  “Everyone will be talking about it.”

  She gave a small, contented laugh. “I doubt that,” she said.

  But of course, the next day, everyone was.

  Dorm Room Seduction

  Nicole could only hear Thad’s half of the conversation, but she easily picked up twenty percent or more of the rest from the person on the other end of the phone, too — partially because Thad had his phone turned up all the way, and partially because the girl he was talking to got so loud at the end, when the name-calling started.

  “Wait … you did what?” said Thad.

  The female voice on the other end of the phone giggled. Here, in person, Nicole had no trouble reading Thad’s body language and would have known not to giggle. His eyes got wide and his mouth kind of hung open. He was somewhere between aghast and angry. The girl he was talking to, though — either because she didn’t have the visual cues or because she didn’t know Thad very well — seemed to think he was only playfully put-off by whatever she was telling him. But Nicole could see that there was no “play” about it, from where she was sitting.

  “And you think this is funny?” he said. “Kay … what’s changed in the past few months over there? Who are you? Don’t you know how reckless and dangerous that is?”

  More giggling. Whoever he was talking to really didn’t know how to read he mood of a room.

  “Look … how did it happen? Were you drunk?”

  Nicole could make out some small mumblings of explanation, but it sounded truly explanatory and not at all defensive — just a gal telling a tale to her buddy, and nothing more. But as Nicole watched Thad’s face, it looked like he was having an embolism. His eyes closed and he put a hand to his forehead. His head hung as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Then he caught sight of Nicole watching him and straightened back up, but he didn’t seem able to wipe all of the sour look from his face.

  “I don’t … I don’t want to hear the rest,” he said. He paused and listened, then said, “No. Seriously, stop telling me about it. This is making me….”

  Noises of good-natured protest from the other end of the phone.

  “Because it’s … wrong! How could you do that, Kay? You’re….” Sigh.

  Now the girl Thad was talking to sounded like she might be upset, or angry.

  “Well, did you at least use a condom?”

  Pause.

  “Jesus! Are you kidding me? What the hell is wrong with you? What the hell is…?” Pause. “Because it’s so goddamn slutty, that’s why!” He stopped as high-pitched noises came from the phone. “Well, what did you expect? Did you think I was just going to laugh and tell you, ‘Hey, great job going off to college and becoming a slut?’ And then maybe I could reciprocate by telling you that I talked five sorority girls into a gang bang?”

  Angry twittering. Now the girl was either crying or yelling at him, or possibly both.

  “Hey, you called me. Okay, fine. Okay, well, better head to the clinic and get an STD screening. Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. Well, you too, slutty. Wait … I didn’t mean that. But….”

  Now the other end of the conversation got incredibly loud and shrill, and then there was nothing as the call ended. Thad was left staring at the phone, a confused and somehow hurt expression on his face. He put the phone aside as if it were a creature that had tried — and succeeded — to maim him.

  Nicole was lying next to Thad on the bed, her white button-up shirt unbuttoned halfway. Her bra was mostly exposed, her color and heart rate up. The phone conversation hadn’t taken long. She was still flushed from pre-foreplay, and was eager to get back to it now that he was done.

  “Come over here,” she said, a sly smile forming on her lips.

  “Not now.”

  “Not now? When?”

  “I don’t know. Look, I need some time.”

  Nicole sat up. The flush was in full bloom. Her lips and everything below the belt were pleasantly warm. Thad was hot, and they had been well on their way when the phone rang. Her body didn’t seem to want to give up so easily.

  “Who was that?”

  “A friend from high school.”

  “A girlfriend?” The way she said it was loaded, not curious. She heard the jealousy in her voice and resented it, but Thad didn’t catch it. His eyes were faraway, his mind still on his conversation with the mystery girl.

  “A friend who’s a girl,” said Thad. “We kind of grew up together. Best friends and all.”

  “And what did she do that was so slutty?”

  Thad shook his head. “Hooked up with some random guy in a bar.”

  “So? That could have been us.” But of course, they had met right here in the dorm, not in a bar. Thad didn’t go to bars. And more importantly, they hadn’t hooked up yet — a fact that was bothering Nicole more each second. Her hand ran across the exposed skin on her chest, feeling her way into the thought.

  “They hooked up in the bar. Screwed right there in the place, like in a back room or something. She told me like it was no big thing, like all giggly, but this isn’t like her at all. She’s always been so reserved. I guess I was supposed to find it delightfully naughty and congratulate her for breaking out of her shell.”

  Nicole wondered why he thought she wanted to know all of this. She was still hot and eager for Thad to move on so they could get down
to business, despite the fact that business seemed to be becoming less and less likely.

  “So what?”

  “She’d just met the guy and they just … went into the back room and did it. Didn’t even use a condom.” He swallowed.

  Nicole was getting annoyed. Thad was behaving as if this girl were his daughter. Nicole didn’t want to be a counselor. She wanted to get to screwing, after all the preliminary work she’d put in with Thad over the past weeks.

  When the phone had rung, she’d told him not to pick up, but Thad was one of those people who couldn’t ignore a ringing phone. But from the moment he’d answered it, the mood in the room had soured. They’d been getting to that serious, no-talking, nothing-is-funny part of making out, where clothes were about to start coming off in a brisk manner and bodies were about to start pressing together in a way that said that no bullshit would be tolerated. But the minute he’d picked up the phone, all of that had screeched to a halt. A big smile had bloomed on his face, and he’d yelled, “Kaylee girl!” as if he’d finally located his lost puppy, and there had gone the dark and brooding mood of intense sexuality.

  “Why do you care, Thad?” said Nicole. “Are you this girl’s dad?”

  “She’s my friend, Nicole. Don’t you have friends you care about?”

  Nicole thought. She supposed she did, but she didn’t have any she’d judge. If her bookworm best friend, Marie, were to suck off a frat house worth of guys, she’d be shocked and maybe even a bit taken aback, but she wouldn’t react like Thad was reacting.

  “Not any I’d yell at like you did,” said Nicole.

  “She’s never been anything like that. The girl I grew up with would never do that.”

  “Well, she’s a woman now,” said Nicole. “She’s allowed to make her own decisions. I don’t see what your problem is.”

  But he was barely paying attention. He was chattering to himself about this girl, this Kaylee, like he was trying to talk himself out of something.

  Nicole decided to make a final effort to change the subject. She knew she looked good, with her new haircut and highlights and her pilates-toned midsection. She sat up and made sure the open shirt put her bra and cleavage on display before saying, “Come on, Thad. Let’s finish what we started.”