This is my second of three Omegle stories, it’s shorter than [the first] ([https://old.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ihuqk1/talk_to_strangers_an_omegle_story_mf/](https://old.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ihuqk1/talk_to_strangers_an_omegle_story_mf/)), and it is also pretty tame. I should have the third finished in a couple of days.
…
I tried a few more times, but I didn’t have the patience or the luck to make it work. It was only because of Reddit that I went back on. Someone had sent me a message after I posted a story, and we began talking. For a couple of weeks, we flirted but were careful about our privacy. I think we both liked getting an orange envelope in the morning and having someone and something outside of our regular lives. One night we were going back and forth, and she sent me a picture for the first time. It was artful, cropped so that I couldn’t tell her identity, and absolutely amazing. She wanted me to write her something based on the picture. I started to when she sent me another message, “Do you like?” Again, I didn’t finish my reply before she wrote, “I mean, is it the sort of thing you’re going to look at when you touch yourself?”
“I’m touching myself now.”
“I want to see.” At that point, I started to worry that I was being catfished.
“Can I see you too?”
“Put ‘clairesaysfuckme’ as your interest in Omegle.”
I was trepidatious, but I angled my webcam and went to the site. After a minute or so, Omegle said it couldn’t match me with anyone with those interests. I tried again and it only took a few seconds before I was looking at a small and very tidy apartment. I remember a bookshelf with succulents and a white couch. Then her hand from the side of the screen waved at me. I waved back. I heard someone typing, “I’m nervous.”
“Me too.” But I angled the laptop up so she could see my face and upper body.
She stepped in front of the camera. Her head was out of frame, but the rest of her body was washed in the light of her desk lamp: a prominent clavicle, curly brown hair past her shoulder, beautiful perky breasts with red marks where her bra had been, and a neatly trimmed bush. She was nervously playing with her hands.
“You’re beautiful!”
She started to timidly move her finger around her pussy, not yet touching herself, but tentatively beginning to. I stood up, and I have never felt as exposed as I did then, unbuttoning my shirt, my belt, my pants. I was embarrassingly hard.
She went half out of the frame and typed, “you too!”
As I started to stroke myself, she started to touch herself in earnest. We were both quiet as this slowly turned from being awkward to intimate. I loved the opportunity to simply pay attention to her. The way she only used her middle finger and made short pushing motions as she played with her clit. The way she had to adjust how she stood as she started going faster. The flush that began on her chest and enveloped her breasts.
She only wrote me one message after that. It was short, and most of it was private, but I think I can share this bit, “Thank you, the past few weeks have been exactly what I needed. No one has seen me naked since my husband, and I can’t tell you how happy I am that it was with you.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ijhmgh/talk_to_strangers_omegle_story_2_of_3_mf