I really couldn’t stop watching her move. No matter how many times I looked away and promised myself I would hit command-w on the keyboard to close her window, I looked once again with even more fascination. Empirically she was a beautiful young woman and watching her move unenthusiastically to some eighties Euro-Pop, all the while her fingers were inside her panties, was utterly addictive viewing.

Slowly rubbing her clit, all the while maintaining a blank expression of indifference to her audience, she had mastered the art of seducing her clients. Albeit we were scattered across the world, all hiding behind a computer screen, frantically masturbating to her stoicism. 

Maybe I was the only one reading too much meaning into her movements. At this moment, she had some eight thousand viewers, and perhaps ten percent of those were paying clients. Dropping morsels of internet currency to have her do some specific action. The larger the drop, the more personal the movement.

I hadn’t succumbed to that vice… yet. I wanted to, though. I wanted some connection to her, however tenuous. And this is why the internet porn industry makes billions of dollars every year. Isolated, single men, buying into the perfect woman ideal. Perfect in the sense that they are naked and willing to do anything for you. 

And yet, I am firmly not in that demographic. I just finished my medical residency. A white coat hangs on my office door, although today I’m in some dark grey scrubs since I was in surgery today. I’m vain enough to buy my own since the hospital ones fit like a potato sack, and my body deserves to have its curves accentuated. 

That’s the funny thing. There wasn’t much physical difference between the young Eastern European woman on the screen and me. We both had fabulously full breasts. As she gradually inched her bra further and further down, I could see that the delicious edges of her nipples. 

Unconsciously I reached for my own, my nipples strikingly hard under the scrubs, eager to be touched. It was 4am in the hospital just now, and I was unlikely to be disturbed. Still, even so, there was a little danger involved with my current activity.

She left her bra partially pulled down and then leaned into the camera, obviously writing a response to someone who just spent a chunk of virtual coins on her. Staring at her voluptuous cleavage, I imagined myself licking those breasts, and of course, visualized my own having that same attention. The similarities between us making this internet voyeurism a reflection of myself more than I actually considered.

My tongue would lick and suck those nipples, eliciting a soft moan from her/me, all the while she/I would be fingering herself/myself. 

Argh! My brain wanted it to be me so much. My body even more. I was sweetly wet from watching her, my pussy eager for the same intense attention.

She returned to her dancing, perhaps moving with a little more energy now. The bra came slowly off, and I watched her shimmy to the music, her breasts defying gravity, so wonderfully round and full. Ah, the benefits of youth and perfect skin.

It’s easy to lose track of time watching this stuff. It is streaming live, making it so much more erotic than the standard internet porn offerings.

As her thumbs hooked into the edges of her panties at her hips, I willed them to come down, but she teased me over and over. A cute hip swivel to the camera, the bottom lip bit seductively, a flick of her long brown hair, her pussy in front of me, barely hidden behind the skimpiest of underwear. But each time, she lowered the tease further and further.

By now, I was rubbing myself furiously. Wanting her fingers to be on me and my fingers in her. My body was taut with anticipation, and I desperately wanted to hold out for when she finally slid those panties down her thighs.

More coins were dropped by the other eager voyeurs, and my wish was getting closer and closer. I gripped the edge of the desk, legs spread wide, my fingers circling my clit over and over, sliding in and out of my tight pussy, the fabric of the scrubs quietly mimicking my hyperventilation. I was so close. She was so close.

Finally, her monetary goal was achieved, and she slid her panties slowly down her long legs, leaning over for full effect, her exquisite ass and cleanly shaved pussy perfectly framed in my laptop’s screen. I’m sure there was a collective sigh of appreciation all across the world.

For me, I just wanted her to return to her masturbation so I could mimic her movements, and I was rewarded by precisely that. Surprisingly she came quickly, throwing her head back in an exaggerated gesture of pleasure. It was all theatre, but I never-the-less mimicked her outstanding orgasm by climaxing myself. Except mine was totally real and intensely satisfying.

I would definitely need to change into clean scrubs before heading out to do my first rounds of the day. 

I’m sure she had already started another long slow seduction of her internet audience. The question was, how long could I last before returning to her screen? 

Not long at all, as I unconsciously clicked refresh on her window. 

There she was again. 

I didn’t have to be out for another seven minutes. 

Time enough to squeeze a quick one in.”, I said quietly, smiling to myself, fingers already stroking my swollen clitoris.

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