"I know you're all peeking, you boys love this don't you?" Caz runs her hands slowly up a silky, black stocking-clad leg from ankle to thigh, sharing a conspiratorial look with her rapt online audience while re-fastening a suspender clip. Turning her back on the camera she bends over, allowing eager viewers the delightful vision of a curvaceous bottom. Seductively slides down semi-translucent panties, lifting each high-heeled foot in turn to remove them completely.
"Gosh, I'm such a bad girl, you can see all of my bare bum, even glimpse my pink pussy lips peeking between my thighs. Damp and glistening, because I'm thinking of you and how good it'd feel to have your big cock pushing deep inside me doggy style." Caz stays in situ, allowing her punters a long pause to 'relieve their tension'. Big cock, fat chance she reflects wryly.
Don't rush to fill the silence; goodness knows (although to paraphrase Mae West, goodness has nothing to do with it) padding these videos out to a reasonable running time isn't easy. Careful pacing is key, the slow-build succession of familiar erotic tropes, a repetitive choreography of revelation and removal. Because however much they claim to want fresh content, Caz knows her subscribers prefer this tried and tested formula. Blessed with an enviable cleavage and, if she says so herself, excellent legs, Caz ensures her online clients remain entertained and wanting more.
For her next trick, she teases a nipple from her low-cut bra, gently squeezing it while running her tongue over sultry red lips.
"Bet you'd love to suck on this, boys? Look how it's standing up ready for you," she purrs. Dangles a shoe from painted toes for the foot fans, twangs a suspender strap (Americans term them 'garters', Americans are wrong) and traces a stocking seam to thrill the nylon obsessives. Keeping her one-handed audience panting and wanking.
Once again facing the camera, Caz sits on a chair, thighs spread wide and languidly dips a finger into her disgracefully damp pussy. In truth, acting out these scenarios turns her on. Whether it should do so is an entirely different question, this is hardly the moment to debate morality. Half closing her eyes and pouting, she adroitly strokes her throbbing clit.
"Oh yes," moans Caz, reaching for her favourite vibrator, thrusting her pussy forward to further delight her heavy-breathing aficionados watching glassy-eyed as the ersatz phallus pistons in and out. The orgasm that follows is completely authentic; just as well, her paying public is all too used to being conned and soon spots a fake. Honesty translates into subscription renewals.
How strange, reflects Caz, physically stimulated yet mentally disengaged, this is an almost out-of-body sexual experience. Right this moment she'd give anything to be properly fucked by her husband Ryan, who so far remains ignorant of these escapades.
A few months previously, Caz shamelessly copied this nifty money-making idea from a feature in an impeccably woke English newspaper. Apparently, some impecunious students and precariously employed professionals supplement their uncertain incomes by setting up online web portals catering to popular male fetishes. In contrast to most sex work, the women decide when and what to perform and keep the money; an innovative variation on working from home.
How hard could it be, Caz wondered? As a self-employed web designer, she already possessed the necessary basic skills. Intrigued she undertook some discreet research, carefully deleting her search history afterwards.
Blimey, what a revelation! Whole worlds of male obsession. For a beginner stocking worship sites looked a good prospect, nothing too explicit, most simply offering variations on flashing and talking dirty, filmed POV (point of view, there was a lot of jargon to learn). An initial investment in new lingerie proved pricier than anticipated; nylons, (FF, fully-fashioned, another bloody acronym) are a hands-down favourite of putative patrons, but expensive or what?
To contain costs, Caz sought out suitably revealing clothes and sky-high heels in charity stores. The blonde curly wig was a chance find (bought with her standard excuse of "attending a fancy-dress party") and neatly concealed Caz's lustrous dark hair. A disguise further enhanced by make-up so liberally applied that even her closest friends - Caz fervently hopes - couldn't pick her out in an ID parade. Thick blusher, false lashes and lashings of mascara complete the exhibitionist, nympho girl-next-door look.
Initially just offering 'tempt 'n tease' upskirt views of knickers and stocking tops, encouraged by her punter's enthusiastic (and often graphic) feedback Caz's repertoire rapidly expanded to fingering and toying her pussy. Lately, she's been musing about adding a butt plug to her act...
Building a web subscriber base for 'Naughty Nylons' (Caz's domain name) began with Instagram and Twitter posts to spark potential customers' curiosity. Short taster clips sent to free porn sites widened her appeal. Gratifying although the almost immediate response was, the pace of curating and creating new material soon became relentless. Fortunately, money flowed in, and a mortgage deposit was achieved within a few months, a contrast to years of dogged saving. The problem now is that Caz doesn't know how long she'll be able to pass this massively enhanced income off as the fruits of her usual design work - she's never previously been this well paid! At some point, she'll have to tell her husband the true source of the cash. Which ultimately happens unexpectedly when disaster strikes, Ryan discovers her costume stash and Caz has no choice but to confess her clandestine enterprise.
"WTF is this?" asks Ryan striding into the room one evening with her dressing-up box. Caz is shocked, sure she'd hidden it carefully. "How did you find that?" Not in retrospect the smartest reply. Ryan glares in response to this faux pas. "It's not what you think," Caz continues, a note of desperation in her voice.
"And what might I think is going on?"
"I, er..."
