Despite being able to embrace occasional text sex, for the benefit of long distance lovers, I’ve never sent any photos of my naked body, ever. I simply don’t have the trust required to do so. I also know just how easy it is to save, transfer and share images electronically. I’ve known of guys who not only give their friends glimpses of the photos they receive from trusting, naked young ladies but also share them to groups, so their friends can have a wank over them and (potentially) save them to their devices. As a result, sending a suggestive, scantily clad shot to a lover would make me feel more vulnerable than empowered. So regardless of how many times I’ve been asked I’ve never obliged.
I have no problem embracing technology in other ways. I’m all for cloud accounting, automatic backups and Google syncing my contacts to a new phone, but that all relates to information and my body feels too much a part of me to risk sharing within such a unguarded network.
However, intimacy is something you can miss when a lover is unable to share your bed for a long while, perhaps the intimacy of tucking yourself under their arm, playing with their hair or even feeling their erection against you in the morning. Wanting for intimacy (in addition to knowing how technologically uneducated your lover is) can be just enough to push you out of your comfort zone and into a place where sharing your naked body online could be worth the risks previously considered…
Adam had been out of arm’s reach for a few weeks and although we Skyped fairly regularly we’d only ever shared snippets of our recent happenings and face shots. I can’t quite remember how he talked me into it, having tried (and failed) to sell me the scenario several times prior; the planets must have aligned in his favour.
What started off as one of our standard catch-ups, where we both lay in our separate beds many miles apart holding screens in front of our faces, progressed into him showing me how hard he was getting thinking about being with me. How sweet. The buzz that came from knowing that I could turn him on from such a distance, despite an unflattering angle, two day old hair and a makeup free face, was enough for me to trade a glimpse of my nipples for his previously semi-erect penis – it didn’t stay ‘semi’ for long.
I pulled my t-shit over my head and it very quickly became normal to carry on our conversation with my breasts in view of the camera. Admittedly talk had turned to reminiscing about our fondest sexual memories, which happened to be all the stimulation Adam needed for his hand to move out of shot and the repetitive movement of his upper arm to tell the story of what was happening off camera. He asked to see my vulva and I obliged. It turned me on knowing how turned on he was thinking about me, although the thought of Skype Sex could not have turned me on any less…
I gave him a close up on my vulva and used two fingers to let him have a more intimate view of the entrance to my vagina. I’m usually quite good at adapting to situations, or so my CV says, but I was completely out of my depth and realised it at that point. I managed a few semi-sexual questions as I move the camera back up to my original ‘face and tits’ shot: “did that look good?”, “could you see how wet I am?” and “did that turn you on?” But I was a rabbit in headlights and from then on I only took direction, moving the camera accordingly and not saying much.
Luckily this didn’t hinder Adam’s enjoyment and although it was a little like I’d accidentally tuned into someone’s webcam mid-wank (someone who looked particularly familiar) he came and I was relieved from dutifully moving the camera back and forth between my breasts and my vulva as requested.