The otherwise darkened room was glowing with the feed from a 32 inch computer screen. On the screen was Jasmine, a full red lipped version of attractive, wholesome, curvy, sex-on-legs.

"Why did you choose me Dawson?"

She was in this constant state of motion - suggestive motion. Visible just from the waist up giving the impression she was squeezing her thighs, and that it was pleasurable for her to be doing that. Her enormous breasts were threatening to spill from the tight latex top she wore. Her eyes were narrowed, heavily made up, and every so often her fleshy wet tongue tipped the corner of her mouth and then slid back in out of sight. It was like she was in her own zone. Not on autopilot, but in a gear she needed to be in.

"I don't know..."

"Yes you do Dawson. Tell me, or I can't help you."

Her voice was soft, low, her nostrils slightly flared, as though she was sniffing Dawson through the screen.

"It said in your bio that you're a psycho-sexual therapist....."

"But that wasn't all was it? Tell me the truth Dawson, all of it."

It was like in this soft, seductive and yet firm way, Jasmine was guiding him. Eeking information out of him slowly.

"I, I was attracted to you. The vision of you. I'm sorry I can't help it."

Dawson sounded pretty humiliated at having to 'fess up.

"But again, that's not all is it? You were attracted to me because I'm also a sex worker right? And tell me what this does for your 'urges'?"

She ran her tongue the width of her flame red mouth slowly. All the time she was moving. Swaying, lifting her fleshy breasts - rolling them - filling up the screen with them. Dawson sighed, like he'd been cornered.

"Every time I see you, every time I hear you, get a message from you, my cock goes rigid hard. My bell end goes purple like it's about to explode. I'm sorry I don't know why this is. I can't help it."

Jasmine didn't say anything at first. She just looked into the camera, effectively looking right at Dawson and she smiled. That smile was malevolent.

"You say that like it's a bad thing? It's not. In fact it's a very, VERY good thing that I have this effect on you. I WANT you to be hard like this, for me, whenever we interact. I want you to be dripping pre-cum when I have you alone like this. I want that cock of yours throbbing with desire for me. I want it to be like I am the most important sexual 'thing' in your life."

She sat back and crossed her legs and there was a slight glimpse of nylon sheathed knee. Not to mention the sound of nylon rasping nylon. Her words were designed to lead and reel in Dawson. And yet she spoke naturally, as though she didn't have to put any thought into it. As though it came as second nature to her.

"I know you have one hand on your cock now. I can't see it, but I know."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry....."

"No need to be sorry. I understand. Now, I want you to tell me what your home life is like. More to the point your sex life with your wife, Shelly?"

And still she looked in the camera right down the screen at Dawson. And he was visibly moved by this. The mention of his wife's name, under these circumstances was like an electric shock to the soul. It was like the thrill of bringing Shelly into all this was an added kick for him.

"She's perfect, perfect in every way..."

"I don't think she's perfect or you wouldn't be here, with your hard cock in one hard, talking to me by live feed. But go on, tell me more about the perfection that is Shelly?"

It sounded as though she was gently mocking him just by pointing out the obvious. Dawson didn't reply immediately, it was like he was trying to find the words.

"She's sexy, and perfect. Everything about her. Her legs, her ass, her tits, her lips. The way she carries herself, the way she looks at me. She's just perfect."

Dawson droned a bit. He sounded dreamy for Shelly. That he was in love with her was not in doubt. But this was a lever for Jasmine to use. And she would use it.

"Yes yet, here you are with me, over a screen, rubbing your cock because of how I look, and how I sound. Rubbing your dripping cock because of the filthy halo I have around me - probably rubbing your cock at the thought of me being a whore. But that's ok. Tell me about when you have sex with Shelly? Tell me what it's like?"

She got her accusatory words in and then she moved on quickly not giving Dawson a chance to respond. There was another brief silence before Dawson spoke again.

"She has this ritual. She gets everything nice - everything perfect. She lights a candle and makes herself beautiful on the bed like a princess and then she beckons me to her, to come between her legs. It has to be clean for her, not dirty. For the time I'm inside her, it's just wonderful. But she is perfect though, I couldn't want for any more."

It was more like he was trying to convince himself.

"Once again though, here you are, now, with me. She's not like me you mean? You can't do filthy dirty things with her. But here now, your mind is free to wander into the pits of filth, right?"

She was searching and digging at Dawson, and yes accusing. He didn't answer verbally, he just nodded his head like a goon as he rubbed his cock.

"Tell me what you'd like to do to me Dawson. Tell me what this freedom does to your mind and your urges? I want to know. I want a snapshot of your mind, right now."

She was smiling at him, encouraging him and yet there was this edge to her voice. Like a sharp edge.

"I wanna rip your tits out of that top and suck your nipples until they pop. Then I wanna flood your cervix with my seed. After that...."