The idea of being watched turned me on so much that I couldn’t stop thinking about it—until I finally gave in. The thrill, the attention, the buildup… it’s all hotter than I ever imagined. And when I finally let go, with hundreds of eager eyes on me, I know one thing for sure—I’m hooked.
It started as curiosity. In my late teens and early twenties, I found myself drawn to online chat rooms, places where strangers shed their inhibitions as easily as their clothes. The thrill of confessing my deepest, most intimate desires to faceless names on a screen sent a pulse of excitement through me. Just typing out the words—admitting what turned me on, what made me ache—set my skin on fire. My cock would harden instantly, my breath quicken, my pulse hammering in my throat.
Then, I discovered a place where the conversations went beyond words. A chat room where people didn’t just talk about their desires—they showed them. Men and women of all shapes and sizes, bathed in the soft glow of their webcams, bared themselves to an unseen audience. Some touched themselves shamelessly, others simply relished the thrill of being watched. It was intoxicating—raw, electric, and utterly uninhibited. I watched in fascination, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, imagining what it would feel like to strip myself bare, to be seen.
For days, I fantasized about it. The idea consumed me. Would I be able to perform under the pressure? Would I last, or would the sheer adrenaline send me over the edge too fast? My body craved the experience, ached for it. Every night, I lay in bed, hard and restless, imagining dozens of hungry eyes on me.
I needed to do it.
That evening, I rushed home from work, my body already thrumming with anticipation. Stripping down, I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water course over me. My hands moved instinctively over my body, teasing, testing, but I held back. Not yet. I wanted to be on edge, desperate, when the moment came.
Towel-dried and still damp, I slipped into a pair of fitted black boxers, the soft fabric doing nothing to hide my arousal. I sat at my desk, heart pounding as I logged into the chat room titled Show It Off.
Three hundred members online.
The room was alive with activity—flashes of bare skin, messages scrolling in rapid succession. I clicked to activate my camera, angling it downward to show the outline of my hard length pressing insistently against the fabric.
I was live.
A shiver ran through me as I watched the number of viewers tick up. One. Three. Ten. More. My pulse thudded in my ears, my cock twitching in anticipation. Then, the first message appeared:
Damn, that bulge…
My breath hitched. More messages followed. Compliments. Requests. Dirty whispers from nameless, faceless watchers. My skin tingled with heat, a mix of nerves and arousal crashing over me. Slowly, deliberately, I hooked my fingers into the waistband of my boxers and pulled them down.
My cock sprang free, thick, flushed, eager.
The messages flooded in. Hot. Perfect. Touch it.
God, I wanted to. Needed to.
Wrapping my fingers around my shaft, I gave the first slow, teasing stroke. A groan rumbled in my throat as pleasure jolted through me. The tip glistened, already slick with anticipation, catching the glow of the screen. My grip tightened, my strokes deepening, measured at first, but growing more urgent as the need built inside me.
The number of viewers climbed—fifty, sixty, seventy.
My body burned under their gaze, under their words. I let my head fall back, stroking faster, my breath ragged. Every sensation was heightened, every nerve ending alive with the thrill of being watched.
Cum for us.
I bit my lip, fighting to hold back, but my body had other plans. The pleasure coiled tighter, hotter, unstoppable. Ninety. Ninety-five. The numbers blurred as I teetered on the edge. Then—
One hundred.
A strangled groan tore from my throat as release crashed over me. My body tensed, my cock pulsing as pleasure exploded through me, hot and unrelenting. Thick ropes of cum spilled over my stomach, my hand, each pulse sending aftershocks of bliss through my trembling limbs.
I slumped back, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat and satisfaction.
The messages kept coming—That was incredible. So fucking hot. Hope you’ll be back.
I let out a breathless chuckle, reading them through heavy-lidded eyes. My fingers trailed lazily over my stomach, smearing the evidence of my pleasure. God, that rush. That intoxicating, undeniable power.
One hundred strangers had watched the most intimate side of me tonight. But I already knew, one hundred strangers watching wasn’t enough. I wanted more.
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