Chapter 2 - A Whim

The morning light danced across my closed eyes causing me to stir. I stretch out my hand and grabbed my phone from my bedside table. 10:23am. I hated lying in but when asleep I felt weightless and safe. It had passed 4am before I finally logged off and was nearly 4:30am before I fell asleep. My routine was unhealthy, but I was hooked. I had today to myself and smiled at the thought of not needing to go anywhere, see anyone, speak or even dress. I climbed out of bed and threw on my hoodie. I pulled back my sheets and returned my vibrator to its drawer. The apartment was so cold that I could see my breath. I made my coffee, got comfortable on the couch, and sank right back in.

I had 84 new messages most continuations from the night before. At this point I had no intention of meeting any of them. The harsh reality of Witness K’s statement not far from my mind. I had been careful, I didn’t use my real name, disclose my location nor offer any true personal facts about myself. It wasn’t difficult to do as the nature of conversation was not exactly of high quality. Most messages offered a short “hey”, some complimented my photos and most messages contained graphic images of the sender’s erect penis. I had been a user of Fuckmate for just over a month now and I was no longer phased by them. It was rare that I would open a message of that kind and be impressed. Non-the-less, I replied to all that I could and kept it surface level.

I was initially reluctant to add photos, however, I fast realised that the only way I would really enjoy this would be to show a little skin. I remember the thrill of posting the first. I had chosen an ill-fitting black babydoll dress which did nothing to hide my ample breasts. Once it went live, the messages flooded in. It didn’t take long for the endorphins to subside, so I added another. I was hesitant to go this far at first, but no one knew who I was, as long as I kept my face out of it, I could show whatever I wanted. The excitement made me quiver a little. I pulled my dress down a little further revealing one nipple. Before I could take the photo, she had hardened in excitement. Damn, that photo looks hot. Excitement filled me as I posted and waited eagerly for it to go live.

Nipples were my thing, and I had no idea why. I had always been so sure of my sexuality; I was straight. I knew I had no lesbian tendencies; I didn’t crave to have other women’s nipples in my mouth, but I loved to look. Their form and their ever-changing states excited me. I loved how some were small and button like, some were round and puffy, and some were very long when erect. This nipple obsession was deep rooted. I recalled sneaking out to buy the newspaper with the topless girl on the inner pages. I drew around her breasts with felt tip feeling excitement in my knickers. I was eight.

My porn search history always involved nipples. Licking, sucking, tickling; man on woman, woman on woman, never lactation mind. I loved a guy playing with my nipples and I recalled the first time I climaxed from just that. If I was being completely honest with myself, I loved having my nipples played with that much that I wouldn’t say no to a woman licking and sucking them, if she was very insistent of course. It wasn’t who was doing it, it was what they were doing to me.

In the time of having my account I had uploaded quite an array of photos, mostly of my breasts. My favourites were the ones where it looked like I had pierced nipples. I had always wanted it done but had never mustered up the courage. Non-piercing jewellery were the next best thing and it felt good too. I had added some ass photos for balance and had tweaked some of the photos into black and white for artistic measure.

My messages held nothing unusual for Fuckmate. “Wow. Your nipples look delicious” one read. I typed my usual polite reply and added an emoji, “Thank you ;)”. No matter how many messages came in saying the same thing, it excited me. My confidence had grown tenfold in the time I had been here. It was arousing to know that people across the country were feasting their eyes on my naked breasts and enjoying it. And I enjoyed hearing about it. I craved that attention and feedback. I wanted to hear them describe my nipples back to me so I could understand how they saw them and what they liked. Some liked how big my breasts were, some liked how hard my nipples were. They all wanted to meet me to see them in person.

I say ‘people’ are looking at my naked body online because when completing my profile, I had the option to set who could see me. I had originally set it to just men, late one night, I changed it. I was fast realising that this site was for and full of thirsty men, but I didn’t want to completely shut the door on letting women enjoy me and if they did, I knew I would enjoy hearing about it. That night, I had classified myself as bi-curious and pressed save. Done. Remember; I could be whoever I wanted.

Halfway through those 84 messages, were Vincent & Fay. I had been chatting with their couples’ profile for a nearly a week now. As with all the accounts I was now connected with, they instigated the conversation, lead by Vincent. Very polite, considerate yet generic, and being brutally honest and specific about liking what he saw. In short, they wanted to explore inviting another woman into their bed. I had initially replied to say that I wasn’t looking to meet anyone, no matter how fun it sounded. After speaking with Vincent for a couple of days, he had given me both of their full names, their address and had invited me to look them up as much as I wanted until I felt comfortable. Yet, if I didn’t there was no pressure.

I did just that. Vincent was less present on social media, but I found his LinkedIn. He worked in finance with a job title which was so impressive I had no clue what it meant. Faye, as far as I could tell, did not work and her social media was full of opulent new purchases and their attendance to extravagant events. They were a world away from me, yet here we were connected by a common intrigue. I opened the message.

“Hey Lucy. Please come and meet us for drinks? No pressure, but we are both convinced that you may feel more at ease with us if we meet. Just an hour? I promise that if you feel uncomfortable at any point, you can get up and leave without any explanation. Plus, we will be sure to make it somewhere very public. Please? V&F”

I read it a few times, hit reply then cancelled. Agreeing to meet them, even if it was just for drinks was a huge step for me. I decided to think on it until later. I continued down the list of mostly uninteresting messages until I witnessed my fingers swipe back up, type a reply and press send.

Two days later I hailed a black cab into the capital. It was cold, and raining, typical British winter. However, London always looked beautiful in the rain. The lights danced in the wet streets and as Christmas approached, the colours were becoming more varied. Braving the weather as I arrived at my destination, a small, intimate Champagne Bar in Mayfair, I left the cab hearing my heels clip-clop to the doorway; a well-dressed gentleman ushered me into the dry. The cold air of a November night was quickly replaced by a very warm, welcoming, and cosy feel. I was extremely nervous, made worse by those who had had turned to me as I had entered as if they knew I didn’t belong. The bar was mostly full of men, late 30’s, 40’s and maybe 50’s, the few women I saw at first glance were also older and dressed much more conservatively than I. Having chosen the strapless simple black dress with a heart neckline, I had also mistakenly decided not to wear anything else. My blue waterproof didn’t exactly compliment the look.

Slowly scanning the room, looking at each small, individually lit round table surrounded by plush chairs, I searched for a one of two semi-familiar faces. Just as I was about to walk to the bar to get myself a drink whilst I waited, a voice greeted me from behind.

“Lucy?” The mystery voice asked.

I turned and was face to face with Faye. Her smile as beautiful as her photos, she looked as shocked as she did excited.

“Oh my god, I am so glad you came! Come! We have a bottle open, and we were just talking about what you could be wearing, that’s if you even decided to come, which you did! Oh Lucy, I am so pleased you decided to come!” Faye finally took a breath as we reached their table.