Attractive Miss M
The camera lens shifted in and out of focus.
"Huh, that's strange," she remarked, as she bent forward to grab something behind the device, offering us an enticing view of her breasts.
Two enormous DD breasts that were just barely contained by a vibrant green bikini top.
"I'm sure I placed it here somewhere," she said, slightly exaggerating her search for the object.
She repositioned, slowly moving her breasts to the other corner of the frame - mere inches from the camera, offering us a clear view of her cleavage.
Could that be a glimpse of her areola?
The faint dark outline of her bikini top indicated such and her comments intensified.
"Ah, there it is!" she exclaimed as she sat back down, looking directly at the camera.
"Alright, go on and take a nice handful of this Coconut Body Goodness."
She unscrewed the lid of a round saffron container, dipping her hand into a vat of Coconut Body Goodness cream. Scooping a portion of the milky-white substance, she announced:
"Apply this generously to the areas of your body that are exposed to the sun."
She slowly placed the tub back down and used her spare hand to spread the cream all over her visible body. Her face, chest, shoulders, belly, and arms... now adorned with white dots.
"Begin massaging it into your skin... make sure you really work it in or it could lead to wrinkles. Take a look at me, not a day over forty!" She then tipped her head back, laughing in her usual quirky manner, sending her voice soaring into high pitches to seem even more bubbly. Although her laugh resembled one from an animated series, this giggle was her signature gesticulation, driving her viewers and me mad with delight.
"But don't fret about that... I'm teaching you the finest techniques to maintain your youth!"
Leaning in and compressing her cleavage rather innocently, she winked at us, carrying on her self-massage.
She then stood up, picked up another glob of cream, and hoisted one leg onto the chair.
We were captivated by the smallest matching neon green thong bikini imaginable that barely covered her groin. Whatever swimsuit Ms. M had acquired for her back catalog assisted her tremendously, as it completely shielded her intimate regions while leaving her pussy bare.
She rubbed the cream into every inch of her legs as if she genuinely believed in the product instead of it simply being sponsorships that might have netted her a hefty sum. A sponsorship that probably compensated her handsomely.
"Don't neglect those special areas," she said, holding one hand high as she gestured to her breasts before returning to her bottom half.
"Cover all those sun-exposed parts."
And she stood up, turned around, and started to massage the cream into her buttocks.
"As I had previously mentioned, don't forget about those secret parts," she reminded us, and she turned around yet again to show her bared cheeks and gave them a gentle bounce.
"I wouldn't want my lovely rear end to resemble a prune," she quipped humorously.
I nodded in agreement.
"Then let's cover that as well, shall we?" she inquired.
She turned back around and massaged the cream into her rear end, applying circular motions.
She then smiled at the camera, saying:
"Don't overlook those intimate areas."
And she slipped her right hand down the front of her bikini bottoms, sliding it underneath them to stroke from the beginning of her pussy to the apex of her butt cheeks, taking care not to expose any of her godly crotch in the process.
"It feels so slick down here now," she said, giggling.
A faint moan even escaped her lips, producing a faint blush. She was a master of tantalization.
As she withdrew her hands from her bikini bottoms, the tiny piece of fabric slipped sideways, revealing her gloriously cream-coated anus.
Her most intimately wrinkled button.
In the three years I had been following her YouTube page, during the hundreds of hours I had indulged in her beauty videos, I can honestly attest that she had never willfully unveiled her asshole, and now myself, together with 248,945 of her live viewers, were fortunate enough to witness it.
Instant orgasm. I had been edging myself during her entire livestream, and this slip was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.
A slip from YouTube influencer Ms. M, whom I was helplessly drawn to.
"Oops, that was a mistake," she said right away, quickly covering her delectable anus.
I glanced around at the mess I had made and grabbed some tissues. Clearing the cum stains from my dress shirt and a thousand-dollar Armani suit was now a problem for another dry cleaner. A well-deserved reward, three years in the making.
"And that wraps it up for today, team M," Ms. M declared, kissing the camera and switching off the livestream.
I guess I should reveal myself now and tell you that I am Matthew Taylor, a 34-year-old lawyer. As I was making my way to my office from my home in Brentwood, California--a mere mile away from my law firm--I received a notification that Ms. M was starting a live video. In my small three-bedroom condo, located near the law firm where I'm a partner, I hurriedly pressed pause on my work and geared up for another session of masturbation in my expensive business attire.
You might wonder why I'm such a pervert and enjoy pleasuring myself in fancy suits. Well, in this age of the internet and an endless supply of porn, I have dedicated myself to searching for the most enthralling forms of erotica imaginable. This journey led me from rare, vintage porn magazines to obscure behind-the-scenes softcore DVDs and even high-end porn websites. All in pursuit of the ultimate excitement.
My adventures in this realm culminated in me discovering and adoring influencers who've perfected the art of temptation. These women tantalized their audiences on a regular basis and kept me yearning for more, like Christina Khalil, Caroline Zalog, and Kat Wonders. Very occasionally, I encountered individuals who transcended their teasing skill and ventured into producing hardcore or porn-adjacent content, such as Amouranth, Belle Delphine, Vicky Stark, and Natalie Roush.
I've been a devoted admirer of these creators for quite some time now, keeping tabs on all their posts and watching each one of their videos. I felt connected to them, oftentimes even going as far as sending them tips or gifts when they encouraged it. If a fan requested something for a fee, I didn't hesitate to contribute, shelling out the last $100 for a chance to see their bare skin or an icy cube pressed against one of their nipples.
Over time, I've developed a deep understanding of these personalities and the satisfaction that I've never been able to find with real women. The connection I've formed with these online sensations is unmatched in its intensity--and the bonus of witnessing the sexiest influencers in moment of their vulnerability is the icing on the cake.
It's not that I'm unable to communicate with women, but unless circumstances call for professional interactions, I'm completely stumped when attempting to flirt or engage in playful banter. As a result, when there are a few women online who never fail to stimulate me and stir up that excitement I've long been seeking, I don't feel the need to search for women in the real world.
Instead, I've established connections with ladies who are skilled at utilizing their sex appeals to earn money, enticing others in exchange for a more personal connection. I've studied my craft carefully and devoted myself to the lucrative side of this arrangement. These women, on the other hand, are adept at monetizing their beauty and personalities, and have mastered the art of teasing to the point that their followers are always eager for more.
These smart businesswomen establish themselves with a small following on YouTube, sharing try-on videos and makeup tutorials. As their skills improve and their personalities captivate viewers, their fan base grows exponentially. They eventually transition to more mature content on platforms like Patreon and OnlyFans, where they earn a very handsome income through their unique fantasy content.
However, Ms. M remained purely on YouTube, making her vulnerable to takedown by the platform's moderators. She suddenly skyrocketed in popularity, garnering over 250,000 viewers per live video and totaling millions of views. Recognizing her potential for further success, many men understood the value of her content and yearned for more. But, alas, due to a simple finger slip-up that revealed too much, she found herself banned from YouTube.
Ms. M responded to this unfortunate setback by reaching out to any and all lawyers who supported her cause, asking for help in restoring her YouTube profile. Seizing the opportunity to lend a hand, I quickly emailed M, offering my legal expertise in California for her cause.
In just two days, M messaged her fans:
"YouTube isn't budging. If anyone on team M is a lawyer, I NEED YOUR HELP!"
Seconds later, I shot her a DM, introducing myself as a practicing attorney and ready to assist her in any way possible.
I was in the midst of a hectic work day when I was sent an email from an unknown sender inquiring about the type of legal expertise I had. I mentioned that I specialized in both entertainment and corporate law, and next thing I knew, I had a calendar invitation for a video call from an anonymous email address.
I joined the video call, unsure of what to expect. After waiting with my camera on for a while, a user named M appeared. Her camera was off.
"Hi, who is this?" I asked.
"It's M. Are you Mr. Taylor?" the voice in the darkness replied.
It was her.
"Hello. Yes, I am," I muttered, finding my voice.
Her camera came on, and I found myself in a private video chat with M. She was dressed in professional attire and seemed reluctant.
"I saw on Google that you work for a law firm that represents actors and models," she said. "I guess my situation might fall within your expertise."
"It does," I confirmed.
"Well, right to the point, my main source of income is YouTube, and I'm afraid I don't know what I'll do if I'm permanently banned," she expressed with a hint of worry in her voice.
"Can I help you with that?" She inquired innocently.
"I...I can..." I stammered, feeling apprehensive.
"I know you have clients who may look down on you for working with me," she mentioned.
"No, it's not that," I interrupted.
"Then is it about the money? Because I do have some," she said.
"No...no." I stuttered. "I'm just a big fan." I managed to say.
And at that moment, she giggled, a giggle that was only for me.
"Could you tell me more about how I can make more money and how to do it legally?" she asked.
I smiled and took a deep breath.
"I know how you can increase your income threefold," I said.
She hesitated for a moment before laughing. "How soon can you visit Temecula?" she asked.
"How soon do you want me there?" I asked.
"Just send me your address," she said, chuckling.
I informed my assistant to call my car and let my colleagues know that I had urgent matters and would not be in the office for the rest of the day.
M'S MANSION
I got into my Tesla, programmed in the coordinates, and instructed my assistant to send me all the contracts my company had ever done for influencers. Thankfully, the car had a self-driving function, allowing me to study all the contracts on the 2.5-hour drive to her house.
I had to take control of the car as it reached Temecula, as some roads were unpaved. I arrived at an estate with rows of grapevines leading up to a Spanish-style villa with a view of the valley.
I got out of my car, noticing a mountain of packages next to the entrance.
Carrying my briefcase, I slowly knocked on the door. After waiting for a minute or so with no response, I realized nobody would answer. I began to circle the house.
"Hello!" I shouted until I reached a massive pool area with about a dozen lounge chairs.
On the very last chair, lying on her stomach and completely naked, was Ms. M.
"Hello?" I remarked as I approached her, careful not to startle her.
Her sun-kissed body was glistening from the rays of the sun. Her tannned body shone from head to toe. Her two well-rounded buttocks were perfectly plump.
I approached her, giving her some shade. She slowly turned her head to look up at me, removing her massive Beats headphones.
She was right in front of me, in person.
"I'm assuming you're Matthew Taylor." She confirmed.
"And you must be Ms. M." I replied. She didn't flinch or try to cover herself.
"I timed your drive and calculated that you should be here in half an hour at the most. Did you rush over to see me?" She inquired.
"I always ensure my clients aren't kept waiting," I replied.
"So I'm one of your clients?" she asked, feigning surprise.
"If that's what you want," I responded, trying to maintain composure. She just laughed at me.
"I can leave and come back if you prefer," I suggested, succumbing to my inner doubts.
She chuckled. Her loud, high-pitched voice caused my cock to swell, and I could feel it straining against my pants.
"Just walk towards the house without looking back. I'll be right behind you," she instructed.
As I turned to go inside, I noticed her standing up in the reflection of the windows. I could see a vague outline of her breasts with unusually long nipples, and what might have been a bush. I was sweating profusely, realizing that my situation was far beyond my control. The only thing that kept me in check was that I still perceived her as a client.
I grasped the handle of the sliding glass door and paused, glancing back.
Ms. M was putting on a fluffy robe and had moved a few feet behind me.
I had the bizarre feeling that I was like Jonathan Harker walking into Dracula's lair.
"Go ahead and enter the house. Let's discuss business at the oak table," she suggested.
I felt my shyness creep in. I nodded and stepped into the house, both terrified and sporting the largest erection of my life.
THE MEETING
Upon entering a spacious living room that could have been featured in Architectural Digest, I observed that her living room was divided into several separate seating areas. To the left was a room that I could see was her filming station.
Scattered throughout the house were heaps of packages. I was taking in a large pile of packages when,
"These are all the things that my followers send me," she explained.
"The different piles are divided based on the type of clothes that were sent," she said, pointing at the larger than usual pile. "And over there is all the naughty gifts people send me. Some are companies trying to get me to use their products, but most are fans sending me special toys," she added, indicating a large table. "Let's get settled here, and you can tell me how I can triple my income."
I nodded and placed my laptop on the table. Having read the contracts in the car, I had a good understanding of how various artists had steadily increased their earnings year after year. I prepared my papers and took a deep breath, waiting for her to sit across from me and listen to my pitch.
"So Ms. M," I began.
"Call me Marla," she countered.
I already knew more about her than most of her fans did.
"Okay. Marla." I continued.
"Right now, you only earn money through YouTube, and until last week, you could probably make a living through it. But with YouTube taking most of your ad revenue," I pointed out.
"Did you watch the live stream?" she asked.
"I... I... " I stuttered, adjusting my tie. "I did." I admitted, feeling mortified. She was pleased.
"So, what you saw out there was nothing new," she teased.
I slowly shook my head negating her statement.
"So, why do I need you?" she inquired.
"I can battle YouTube, but no other lawyer will be able to guide you through what you should also do," I said, building up my courage.
"What do I need to do?" she asked.
"You should immediately announce on your Instagram that you'll start a temporary OnlyFans account. You should upload any old videos from YouTube to this page and set a date for your next video to generate excitement. To drive traffic there, you'll need a linktr.ee account to direct visitors between your Instagram, YouTube, Reddit, Patreon, Twitter, or any other sites you're active on."
She regarded me with a skeptical expression.
"So, you want me to become an OnlyFans escort?" she quipped, throwing me off balance.
"Certainly not. Not at all. You can continue posting try-on videos as much as you like. However, if you want to increase your subscribers and income, you'll eventually have to provide your audience with something they will pay for," I clarified.
"Such as more of my ass?" she asked.
"Only as much as you're comfortable with," I interjected.
"And how do you know my fans will pay for this?" she asked, surprising me.
"I have no way of knowing for sure, but your followers are desperate for more content. You've consistently posted videos for the past three years, and if you don't keep them satisfied, they'll eventually seek satisfaction elsewhere," I concluded.
I couldn't help but notice the towering pile of packages in your house and at your door. It's proof enough that you've received more than you've ever had after your YouTube flash. 'I did,' she responded.
For years, I've seen this tactic employed by other content creators. They keep their audience hooked by telling stories that have a structure and feigning accidental flashing. They don't actually have to do anything explicit, as long as they maintain this reputation. I know of at least fifteen women who do the same thing, earning millions every year.
I pulled together some slides on my tablet, explaining how her brand could operate, the companies we should be associated with, and some hard numbers on the payments from these collaborations. This pitch seemed to have an impact on her.
'You mean I can make millions?' she questioned.
I simply nodded.
'And whenever you sign a deal, I get 5% to ensure everything is above board,' I put forward.
I was flattered when she complimented me, comparing me to a young boy caught with his hand in a cookie jar and a corporate shark. She continued by saying she was not looking for a friendship but rather a professional relationship. She wanted someone who could handle her affairs without needing to rely on anyone else except her.
'I'll be involved in every aspect of building this empire and won't need anyone else's assistance,' she stated.
I grinned as she extended her hand and we shook on it, sealing the business deal.
'Now, set everything up. Let my fans know that I'll have a show in two days. That'll give them enough time to sign up and get excited,' she directed.
I suggested that we announce this with some new content, preferably a photo. There was a bottle of champagne in the corner, and I asked her if she was ready to pop it while I filmed. She agreed, and I carefully positioned her to make sure the lighting was perfect. Holding the front of her robe, I pulled it open slightly to reveal her chest and her signature valley.
The smell of strawberries wafted from her hair as I made this move, and we were virtually nose to nose. 'Perfect,' I remarked, and she grinned mischievously.
I filmed her popping the champagne, making sure to capture the slight jiggle of her breasts. She yelped at the noise and took a sip from the bottle. Handing it to me, she told me to continue with setting up everything, followed by walking upstairs.
For the next three hours, I worked on establishing and linking her online presence. I set up tweets and connected them to her new OnlyFans page. Finally, I uploaded a photo with the caption, "Celebrating my new page!" This was the ideal teaser.
Once I finished my work, I declared, 'I'm done.'
I linked her account to my business' bank and set up weekly payments, taking a 5% cut for myself.
She descended the stairs, still holding the bottle of champagne, and asked if it was over. 'Done,' I replied.
I laid out everything - how she needed to upload videos moving forward, and how she would be compensated. I then presented our contract to her for confirmation. Finally, I mentioned that her OnlyFans page was live, fetching 8,000 subscribers at $10 per month.
'Come let's sit down here.' She suggested.
I was surprised by her remark about my likely lack of romantic experience or difficulty connecting with women.
'Am I intimidating?' she inquired.
Surprise was the emotion I felt.
'No,' I responded.
'Am I exciting?' she probed.
'Yes,' I replied, struggling to verbalize my response.
She then beckoned me to sit beside her and we relaxed on the low green couches. 'I can tell you've never been married, and I think you struggle with women,' she said matter-of-factly.
I couldn't deny her observation.
She patted the seat next to her, asking me to sit there.
I rise and step over to join her, finding a spot to perch.
She examines me intently.
"My counsel advised me to learn the craft of teasing," she reveals.
I gasp audibly.
"Exactly how would you judge this ensemble's capacity to arouse a crowd?" She inquires.
Slowly, she removes the robe from each shoulder, then leans towards me, only to return to a standing position with her back toward me, peeling the robe off. Wearing a black bikini set with coordinating briefs, she displays herself.
I wriggle uneasily in my position.
"This isn't new to me," she observes.
She then swivels around, her arm positioned to obscure a nipple, and the other shielding her crotch.
I affirm her statement with a nod.
"But what if I disclosed that these were transparent?" She inquires, pointing at her breasts.
I begin to breathe heavily.
"And this brief covering might not suffice for complete concealment," she observes, stretching her arms forward; flashing me for a brief moment with her transparent top, erect areolae, and panties hinting at the bush beneath. She spins back around to show me her back once more.
Every muscle in my body freezes as reality sinks in.
Refastening her robe, she laughs and slides over to resume her position.
She doesn't tightly tie the robe so it slightly opens, revealing a patch of flesh.
"In this relationship, you're not allowed to touch me. Yet, I desire to touch you. Would this satisfy you?" We questioned.
"Yes," I reply breathlessly.
Gliding her right hand over my thigh, she edges nearer her target until she encircles my stiff member through my pants.
"You're very hard for me," she says.
I nodded.
Assuming the cowgirl position, she settles atop me, maintaining her grip on me as she drops down and clutches me inside her silky folds.
"Is this the best night of your life?" She inquires.
"Yes," I declare tremulously.
She leans over and lets the cups of her unfastened bra spill open, allowing me to feast on her eraser-tipped nipples. She dashes her breasts into my face, then repeatedly rubs them on me, brushing each areola across my stubble. She even sticks one of her nipples in my mouth, prompting me to slowly drag my tongue along its tip.
"No touching." She orders.
Regaining composure, she covers her breasts once more and stands up, revealing a view of her pussy's barely discernible opening and her blonde curls. The V of bush at the edge of her bikini bottoms is faint. How I long to taste her snatch.
"Is a girl with a tuft of hair above her vagina attractive to you?" She wonders.
"I adore it," I state, shocked by my own declaration.
"I can tell," she affirms, staring at the solid erection in my pants.
She eases onto her knees and situates herself so her face is inches from my cock's head, her breath warming it. She's near enough to lick my tip.
"It was so hard," she whispers.
I just nod.
"Have you been hard since you saw me by the pool?" She inquires.
"Yes," I reply.
She slides her hand into my trousers to grip the primitive tool within.
"Not larger than average, not entirely small. A perfectly lovely cock you possess." She gushes.
I grasp the couch's edges as I fear my imagination might abandon me.
"The longer you withstand, the more my cups may slip down, revealing my nipples." She teases.
"I would love to see your tits exposed," she remarks.
Groaning, I grow closer to the precipice.
Her top edges are barely visible as her areolae continue to prop up the cups of her bra and keep them from sliding down.
Licking the head of my underwear-shrouded penis, she chuckles.
"You've shown remarkable endurance." She observes.
She removed her hand, releasing my erection, which bobbed with the rhythm of my heartbeat. Marla spit onto her hand and, using her dry hand, rolled down my underwear, exposing my enlarged head. Then she placed her saliva-coated hand on my member and gave me a hand job, stroking from base to tip, twisting and turning for maximum sensation.
"Wow, what a large dick," she chuckled as she leaned back, holding onto my erection. The movement caused her nipples to poke through her bra, aiming for my eyes.
Those small, pencil eraser-sized nipples had been a source of desire for me for years.
Everything - her handjob, her nipples, and her giggle - had prompted me to reach the point of no return.
"I'm about to," I warned before releasing a wave of ejaculate, which she redirected towards my body, covering my entire front with a deluge of semen.
She laughed out loud as she slowed down her stroking. I was drained.
Marla threw her robe back on, retrieved her phone, and snapped a photo of me with my cock exposed, having just climaxed.
"This, my dear Matthew, will be my assurance." She said nonchalantly.
"I'm not signing your contract if you don't pay me and provide me with the support I need. If you try to cheat me, I will send this photo of you, cumming all over yourself, to your firm's partners."
She gestured towards the corners of her house.
"I have cameras installed everywhere, recording all of this, including your agreement to let me masturbate you."
My mind was reeling, struggling to comprehend the situation after experiencing one of the best orgasms of my life.
"So basically, we're a team, and if you try to wrong me, I'll destroy your career." She emphasized.
I hadn't intended to cheat her, but she now had something that could potentially ruin me.
"So, get cleaned up and return to LA. I'll call you if I need you." She ordered casually, and she strolled away.
I was still absorbing the events, cleaning up, getting my things, and sitting in my Tesla. What did I just get into?
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Source: www.nice-escort.de