Webcam exhibitionism
Yulia didn't overthink it. After all, she considered it nothing more than a hobby. And even "hobby" was perhaps too strong a word. Not a hobby, but... Something to occupy an evening or two. To resume an interrupted correspondence. To chat and flirt (as a joke, of course).
Initially, Yulia treated this web service more like a chat, and only later, out of mischief, allowed herself some "liberties." She was a little embarrassed by the latter fact. Of course, she put on an indifferent air, but she still didn't want to disappoint her subscribers. Especially since a sort of "fan base" had formed fairly quickly.
Ilfir had seen such sites before.
What surprised him was something else, namely—that his mom was interested in such things at all. Of course, he was privy to all sorts of indecent public pages, had seen a lot. But he didn't know... or rather, wasn't used to thinking that parents also use the internet. And yes, they also sometimes visit the same sites. Apparently, his mom enjoyed this—receiving "feedback" from viewers. (Whether due to the unusual format of communication or something else.)"Ilyush, are you asleep?"
Ilfir opened his eyes. A second ago, he felt like he had sunk into a well of dreams, but now the sleepiness was gone as if by magic. He sat up. The dim light outlined a female silhouette against the background of the hallway.
"Ilfir..." she whispered again.
Ilfir peered. Something new—strangely braided pigtails in two tails. With them, his mom looked somewhat ridiculous. The crooked, askew nightgown from last time came to mind.
"Can't Yegor do it?"
"No, son, it's not working out today..."
"I have to get up tomorrow... for training."
"I'll wake you up, bunny! I promise! You won't be late."
"Mm..."
"Just half an hour. Can you bear it?"
After humming and hesitating, Ilfir replied, "Well, okay."
"Mom?"
"Yes, bunny?"
"Are you going to... well, that... again?"
Yulia didn't answer.
Last time, his appearance caused a sensation (if one could call the abundant stream of "tips" that), and Yulia said she'd think about it. But, actually, she didn't want to overdo it. Or make it worse. The situation was already not quite right. Besides, Yulia was quite satisfied with the established, albeit modest, audience. She didn't want to dilute it with underage elements ("mama's boys" and the like), and there seemed to be plenty of those, judging by the messages. And excessive attention wasn't needed either.
With a dancing gait, Yulia recaptured the viewers' attention. Although it was hard to call it dancing, her breasts swayed more noticeably under the fabric.
The laptop is positioned roughly at shoulder level, but the camera is aimed slightly lower. Apologizing that today everything is again a little off-plan, Yulia adjusts her nightgown, hiding an excited nipple.
Ilfir felt somewhat constrained from the very beginning. He knew his father wouldn't be home again today, but... Where had Yegor gone? Would he have to sit here again?
"Mom, why do you have such a silly hairstyle?"
The corner of a wardrobe flashed briefly on the screen as Yulia moved the laptop from the desk to the bedside table, fitting the bed into the frame. Ilfir could make out messages in the chat. Someone was perplexed about how such a dude scored such a chick. Someone was teasing the guy. Someone suspected something passive.
"Don't look there," Yulia advised. And absentmindedly continued:
"Why silly? Don't you like it?"
"It's just kind of childish, that's all."
"Really?"
Opening a private message, Yulia typed something. She laughed. Typed again. Ilfir cautiously looked at her from the side: slightly lined eyes, but the lipstick was unexpectedly flashy. In the chat, someone praised the light locks pulled tight with elastics.
"You look like Harley Quinn."
"Ilyush..."
"Huh?"
"Move closer, I can't see you at all..."
Ilfir obeyed. He watched as his mom briskly typed something. He pressed against her from behind. Sat for a bit. Played with the elastic of her panties. Lay down again.
Once again, he was surprised by her engrossment. On the other hand, it seemed a bit tiring to him. He didn't even notice how he dozed off to the clatter of the keys. He probably wouldn't have woken up at all if his mom had been a little quieter. But no, she needed to fuss with the camera, move the laptop from the bed to the windowsill and back.
He surfaced from sleep to see himself on the laptop screen, which was positioned to the side, very, very close. But he didn't see himself completely, only a part. The lower part.
Ilfir didn't immediately perceive the nudity—both his own and not only his own. Although his own seemed especially unexpected and somehow out of place. He could imagine accidentally peeping on his mom, but he couldn't imagine the reverse situation. By feeling, however, that's exactly what it was—something reverse, something hard to imagine. For a second, it seemed to him that he was peeping on himself...
Perhaps he would have slept like that if the wet kisses weren't accompanied by loud and deliberately careless smacks. Here, lips folded into a bow send a kiss to the other side of the screen. Ilfir looks at the screen but cannot dodge the kiss.
Ilfir suddenly realizes he came. Actually, that's what prompted the slyly mocking grimace: sticking out her tongue, his mom was portraying something, apparently depraved, and, reading the chat messages, giggled contentedly.
All this time, she didn't pay much attention to Ilfir. She was occupied with something else. Communication. She had discovered a new way of communicating. It was both wild and new. Yulia was completely absorbed in it. Even though this communication was very specific, based on exhibitionism.
She glanced sideways at the laptop screen and slid along the firm "arc," sometimes slowly and lazily, sometimes assertively and roughly. It cost her nothing to swallow it completely: descending with her mouth all the way to the balls, she slid back up again. And so on until the head clamped in her lips began to spasm...
For the rest of the evening, the woman stared into the camera. She typed something endlessly. A couple of times, she got on her knees and turned her ass around to show a toy sticking out of it—a ridiculous pink "twig," vibrating with every "coin" thrown into the chat. Seeing this was somehow strange. Ilfir never bothered to ask. But he noticed how great the plump labia looked. Especially the pinkish slit in the middle—it seemed inflamed. There was something attractive, alluring about it...
"Let her laugh at me in the morning," flashed through his thoughts. "And I'll be ashamed myself..."
Stunned, Yulia, even understanding what was happening, didn't react. She didn't want any forcedness. Strangely enough, she was afraid of somehow traumatizing Ilfir. (She had already caused him so much inconvenience, dragged him out of bed, etc.)
Only when it became unbearable did she let out a moan. The orgasm washed over her in a powerful wave. Exhausted, she lay on her side, offering Ilfir the same view but from a different angle. She has a high waist, her hips start high, and her buttocks transition into pleasantly shaped, slightly sagging droplets. She had developed quite a butt for herself, but it didn't break the proportions, quite the opposite. Yulia had a wide waist (and a wide stomach), long legs, and—borderline indecent—sagging breasts.
The persistent viewers wouldn't relent. Even though there weren't that many in private mode, maybe twenty or thirty people, Yulia wasn't afraid to show them her face. Some of them even guessed there was some "context." Yulia didn't confirm their "fantasies." But she didn't deny them either.
Strangely enough, Ilfir was left with an impression more of suppressed affection than sharp rejection. Plus, purely physically, it was quite piercing. In a good way.
Reading the messages after the stream, Yulia smiled. That was the last thing Ilfir saw before finding his long-awaited dreamy peace.