Summer and I’m pacing my flat in Camden, London, the soft hum of the city drifting through the open window. I’m James Carter, 34 years old, an accountant with a quiet life, and today feels like a turning point. I’ve brought Niky__Jess here, a 21-year-old webcam model I’ve been obsessed with for months. She’s stunning—brunette hair cascading down her back, green eyes that pierce through the screen, and a body that’s pure temptation. She’s got an average build, but her large breasts, large buttocks, and broad hips give her a curvy allure, not to mention her delicious penis, a secret she revealed in private chats. I flew her in from wherever she’s based, hoping for romance, but so far, she’s kept me at arm’s length, and it’s driving me mad.
I met Niky__Jess online six months ago, her English smooth and captivating as she entertained viewers. Her shows were a mix of flirtation and mystery, and I was hooked. She’s interested in everyone, she says, and that openness drew me in. I started tipping heavily, messaging her daily, until I proposed bringing her to London. “A romantic getaway,” I called it, promising to cover her flight and stay. She agreed, her green eyes twinkling in our video calls, and I imagined nights of closeness. But since she arrived yesterday, she’s been distant—polite, yes, but cold, spending hours on her phone or in her room, leaving me frustrated and confused.
It’s been 24 hours, and I’m losing patience. She’s in the guest room now, probably prepping for another stream, while I sit on my couch, a glass of whiskey in hand. Her broad hips and large buttocks flashed through my mind last night when she walked past in tight leggings, and I’ve been replaying her teasing smiles from our chats. I wanted romance, dinners, walks by the Thames, maybe a kiss—but she’s treated me like a sponsor, not a lover. At 01:45 PM, I hear her door open, and she emerges, her brunette hair loose, wearing a loose top that hints at her large breasts. “Hey James,” she says casually, grabbing water from the kitchen. “I’m thinking of going live soon.”
That’s it. The casual tone snaps something in me. I stand, my voice sharper than intended. “Niky, we need to talk. I brought you here for us, not for your streams.” She turns, her green eyes narrowing slightly. “I never promised anything, James. This was your idea.” Her words sting, and I feel a surge of anger mixed with desire. She’s right—she didn’t promise, but I’d hoped. “I’ve been patient,” I say, stepping closer, “but I’m done waiting.” She raises an eyebrow, unfazed, and that only fuels my frustration. “What are you going to do?” she challenges, her tone mocking.
Before I can think, I close the distance, my hands reaching for her. She steps back, but I grab her shoulders, pulling her toward me. “James, stop,” she says, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. I don’t listen. I tug at her top, lifting it over her head, revealing her large breasts with their prominent nipples. She gasps, but doesn’t fight, her broad hips swaying as I push her toward the bedroom. “You’ve teased me enough, I want you” I mutter, my heart pounding. I unbutton her leggings, sliding them down, exposing her delicious penis, now semi-hard, and her large buttocks that I’ve dreamed about.
She stands there, half-naked, her green eyes locked on mine, a mix of surprise and something else—maybe arousal. I guide her to the bed, my hands firm but not rough, and she lies back, her body tense. “This isn’t what I wanted,” she says, but her voice lacks conviction. I ignore her, positioning her on her stomach, her large buttocks raised. I’ve never done this before, but my frustration overrides my hesitation. I use the lube from my nightstand, applying it quickly, and press against her. She tenses, then relaxes slightly as I enter her anally, the sensation tight and overwhelming for us both.
I move slowly at first, then harder, my hands gripping her hips, her large breasts pressed into the mattress. She moans softly, a sound that sends a thrill through me, and I lose myself in the rhythm. Her broad hips rock with me, and I feel her responding, her delicious penis hardening beneath her. After a few minutes, I pull out, turning her onto her back. “Let me finish you,” I say, my voice hoarse, and she nods, guiding herself to my mouth. I take her in, tasting her, and she shudders, releasing with a gasp, her warmth filling me as I swallow, the act sealing our strange encounter.
We lie there afterward, her breathing heavy, my mind a whirl of emotions—satisfaction, guilt, confusion. At 02:15 PM, she sits up, dressing silently. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” she says, her tone flat. “This was… unexpected.” I nod, knowing I’ve crossed a line, but the memory of her body lingers. She packs her things, and by 03:00 PM, she’s gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts, the romance I craved replaced by a raw, fleeting connection.
