She was young.  She was new.  She had never been a part of an adult online community before now.  No one knew about it.  Not her friends.  No one.  This was her private secret.  One of several secrets she was keeping deep in her heart.  She had started by reading some of the stories.  Some had been awful but others were quite, well, stimulating to use an archaic term.  Eventually, she became a regular in the chatrooms.  Her experiences had been decidedly mixed.  There were interesting women but most of the guys were douches even predatory.  However, she was still drawn to this adult community where she could say things out loud that she couldn’t share with most of her friends.

That night had been like any night until he arrived in the chat room.  He had been polite and charming.  He had been flirty and eventually a little edgy.  They had migrated to a private area where they could chat unobserved.  She had told him about the boys she had been with.  What she had done with them.  Girls she had kissed.  What she had wanted but hadn't done with them.  Other lines she had not crossed.  She had no fetishes and no kinks, at least ones that she recognized.  She was not experienced in that way.  He had told her she needed to push her boundaries.  Even though she had resisted, this had excited something inside her. 

He had told her to put her hand on her panties.  She had been relaxing in a t-shirt and her most comfortable boy shorts.  She had been hesitant but what would it hurt.  So she had touched herself down there.  To her surprise, she had found her panties were damp.  Had all that talk about her experiences and boundaries caused this?  She had been told to take off her panties.  She had said no.  He had then told her to put her hand inside her panties.   She had reddened at the thought.  Not of touching herself, but of doing it at his suggestion, his command.  Slowly and somewhat reluctantly, she had slid her hand into her panties.  It had been even wetter than earlier.  She had stroked her lips, inside her lips, her clit, her opening.  She had felt very warm and floaty. 

Just as she was establishing a rhythm, he had then told her to go to the window. 

“Why,” she had asked. 

“For excitement,” he had said. 

She had known what he would ask next.  She was not going to stand with a thin t-shirt and wet panties at her living room window.  She had pulled on a hoodie that came down to her thighs and slowly walked to the window.  It had been still been light out and she could see the yard in front of her apartment.  There was a bar across the street and people were outside of the bar smoking mainly men. 

“Touch yourself,” he had said. 

She had looked at the men on the sidewalk.  Slowly she had put her hand underneath the bottom of the hoodie.  Eventually, she had slid her hand onto her panties.  They had been wet not just damp.  She had then started to move her hand up and down, back and forth.  Her breath had caught in her throat.  She had been so hot.  Moving her hand inside her panties, she had started moving faster, faster.  She had known it was building. 

She had been panting hard by now when she noticed the man.  Cigarette in hand, there had been no doubt he had spotted her.  She had kept going, closer, oh god, closer.  She had wanted to bolt from the window but she stayed.  He had smiled.  She had reddened.

It had then happened.  A gush like a river running through her panties and down her legs.  A shuddering through her body and buckling of her knees.  She had fallen to the floor and laid there spent.

After catching her breath, she crawled to the window and closed the curtains.  She had logged off vowing never to return.  Had she been honest with herself it had been the best orgasm she had ever had.  Did she want more excitement?  Would she be back?  She hadn’t a clue as she rinsed her panties and took a shower feeling spent.

No clue at all.