Paul’s smoking hot, nineteen year old step-daughter is home for the holidays, and he can’t understand why she’d rather spend her evenings alone in her room than go out with friends.
When he discovers that she’s a performer on his favorite cam-girl network, he can’t resist getting a private show. But their relationship soon goes far beyond cam-girl and customer, even if she has no idea who he is.
An erotic short story of approx. 6,200 words.
With a dry mouth, and a serious hard-on, Paul clicked the button to request a private show. Within a few seconds, the spinning wheel on the screen was replaced by a full-screen video feed showing … Tammy?
What the hell?
Paul almost fell off his chair in his hurry to click the button that shut down the feed.
His mind whirled. Heart pounding, Paul pulled open the drawer in which he kept his emergency writer’s inspiration – a bottle of Irish whiskey and a tumbler. His hands were shaking so hard he barely managed to pour himself a shot and toss it down. The liquor burned its way down his throat, and he sipped a second shot slowly, gradually calming down.
At least, this solved the mystery of why Tammy was spending almost every evening of her summer holidays alone in her room, ‘reading’. It also explained how she seemed to have plenty of money for clothes without having a job, not to mention the steady trickle of packages that arrived for her, and that she would never open in front of him.
Paul pictured his little Tammy giving private cam shows upstairs in her bedroom – strange men jerking off in front of their computers as she did all the lewd things he always asked his cam-girls to do. Image after image raced through his mind, each more vivid than the last, of his little girl performing the nastiest sex acts he could think of, for men she would never see. Men just like him.
Paul froze, the glass halfway to his lips. His sweet daughter was ‘slutgirl69’ and she was a cam-girl for anonymous men.
Paul’s hand seemed to be moving by itself, as if it were some creature acting on its own volition. He watched his hand as it slid the mouse across the desk, the pointer clicking once again on the button that would start the show.
The video feed flickered back to life. The picture on his large widescreen monitor was crystal clear, showing his Tammy kneeling on her bed upstairs, wearing nothing but a sheer bra and panties, black with white lace trim, he noted, absently. She had makeup on, now – her eyes were dark and seductive, with pink lipstick and gloss that made her mouth shine, wetly. Music was playing softly – he could hear sound from her end, but he preferred to communicate via keyboard, from his side, so she couldn’t see or hear anything from him except whatever he typed.
Tammy pouted, prettily, as she posed for the camera.
“Well, hello again. You left so abruptly, I thought you didn’t like me.”