It always starts the same way.

Late at night, lights off, just the soft glow of my phone screen lighting up my face. I’m lying in bed wearing nothing but a tiny lace bra and panties, scrolling through video after video, getting wetter with every moan I hear.

I can’t stop.

My hand slowly slides down my body as I watch a girl getting fucked hard from behind. My fingers slip under the lace, finding my swollen clit already slick and throbbing. I bite my lip to stay quiet at first, but the deeper I go, the louder my breathing becomes.

I imagine it’s me on the screen — getting used, filled, and made to cum over and over. My hips start rocking against my hand as I watch thick cocks stretching tight pussies, girls moaning and begging for more.

Soon I’m lost in it. Two fingers pumping inside me while my thumb circles my clit faster and faster. The sounds from the video mix with my own soft whimpers. I’m soaked, dripping down my thighs, completely addicted to the rush.

I close my eyes and picture you watching me right now — seeing how desperately I fuck myself while I watch other people fuck. The thought makes me even hornier.

My back arches off the bed as the orgasm builds. I’m panting, whispering filthy things to myself, chasing that sweet release until it crashes over me hard, leaving me trembling and gasping under the covers.

I keep scrolling. Keep touching. Keep getting wetter. Because deep down I know the videos aren’t enough anymore.

I need the real thing. I need your voice in my ear telling me how much you love watching me be such a dirty little slut for porn. I need you to listen while I cum again and again, describing every filthy detail of what I’m doing to myself.