Let me briefly introduce myself. My name is Hakan, I'm 43 years old, married, and a father of one. I’m also a partner at one of the best-known advertising agencies in Istanbul. I've always enjoyed watching porn—who doesn't? Years ago, after coming home at 4 a.m. from a shoot, I couldn’t fall asleep and stumbled upon chat sites. For a long time now, I've been using these sites, sometimes for real conversation, other times for something more mischievous. As you can see, I enjoy watching. The experience I’m about to share happened during the pandemic, during that cursed time when everyone was stuck at home and working remotely. We have a team of about 40 people, but all our clients went digital. It wasn’t something we were familiar with, but since we were working from home, we were glued to our computers, trying to keep up with work for nearly 16 hours a day. When we realized this wasn't sustainable, we added 3-4 new employees who understood digital. On their advice, we also brought on about 6 interns. To be honest, I wasn’t responsible for operations, so I didn’t really care who we hired or fired.

Every morning, we have a meeting where team leaders summarize the tasks they're working on and update us on our status. In these meetings, only the team leaders speak, but everyone is required to attend. We were getting used to these online meeting programs that had just become part of our lives. At 9 a.m., with cameras off, you could tell people were still waking up, taking their first sips of coffee, etc.

Within about a month, we started to see the impact of the new digital team members. They were making all sorts of jokes in the WhatsApp groups, boosting both internal communication and camaraderie. Honestly, they were more fun than the old advertising crowd with their scruffy beards and messy hair, whose faces I had grown tired of seeing. The oldest of the new group was maybe 25-26 years old.

I’ll never forget—the incident I’m going to talk about started on a Tuesday night. I received a message on my social media account, which I’d had for a while but had started using more intensely on the advice of the new team. The message came from an account I didn’t follow, with no name or identity attached. My wife and kiddo had long gone to bed, and I was flipping between chat sites while working on revisions for a client presentation.

"I know you're not asleep. I just met you, but I really like you. I couldn't sleep tonight either. You’re on my mind. I just wanted you to know that."

And then a photo. Clearly taken with just the phone's light, a thin fingertip pinching a nipple, small enough to barely fill my palm, a sweet little breast.

After seeing the photo, the message disappeared. I wanted to see it again. I clicked on it, but it didn’t open. I double-clicked, and instead of reopening the photo, I accidentally liked it. As I panicked, I saw the "Typing..." notification appear above.

"I'm glad you liked it. I hope tonight you’ll think of me and stroke your cock. I'll be touching myself too, imagining I’m sitting on that sweet, bearded face of yours, making you eat my pussy..."

There was nothing in that message not to like. I double-clicked again.

"Silence isn’t really your style, but I like that you’re playing along. Go ahead, pull out your cock, but only touch your balls. If I were there, only I would touch your cock, you wouldn’t be allowed to. With my lips, my tongue, my breath..."

I double-clicked again. I was already half-hard from the chat sites, and these messages made me fully erect.

This time, I received a photo of parted lips and a tongue sticking out as far as possible. I stared at it as long as I could before it disappeared.

I double-clicked again.

"That's enough for tonight. Don’t go and wake up your wife to fuck her, because you’ll realize she can’t take my place. Kisses on your balls, my lovely DiLF."

I had a porn addiction, I frequented chat sites, but I’d never cheated on my wife in our five years of marriage. So I didn’t have a lover. Certainly, no one who would call me "lovely DiLF."

I stayed on the chat site until the early hours, chatting with a model whose body resembled the one in the dark photos. This time, I was in control, and I stroked my cock as I watched her until I came.

Around 7 a.m., I wrote for the first time.

"I just watched a girl who looks like you get off for me. I came while watching her but thinking of you."

I desperately wanted an immediate response. If I got one, I knew I’d instantly get hard again and cum once more during my morning shower.

But it didn’t come. She was probably asleep.

So, I took my morning shower, texted my partner, "It was a long night, the presentation is ready. I’m going to get some sleep," and went to bed.

When I woke up, it was past 11 a.m. A couple of client meetings, a few meetings with the team, and suddenly it was 2 p.m. I thought of last night and checked my phone. This time, she had double-tapped on my message.

I got excited. I didn't know when she was online, or when she "liked" it. Just knowing that she liked my message made me happy.

We ended the day with a client presentation. After dinner and watching a movie with my wife, I came across Fenerbahçe’s Euroleague game. It was an away game against Barcelona. The game ended, and we lost, in a rather frustrating manner. I couldn't sleep again. I was very tired but didn’t want to go to bed until I was sure I would fall asleep. I browsed my new habit, my social media account. I knew from friends who got scolded by their wives that who you follow and who you message is very important. Luckily, my wife didn’t even think I was active on social media.

There was a new message from my new friend (if I could call her that).

"How was your day?"

Clearly, she wanted to chat. I told her about the presentation, the fatigue, and how she tired me out last night...

"Your morning message made me walk around wet all day. I don’t know how many times I came, thinking you were watching. Believe me, I’m very tired too."

She was doing it again. Just the second message, and the topic was already about sex. A woman who spoke so openly was incredibly arousing to me. I liked the message. Immediately, a photo came through. This time, it was different from the others. I could see it directly in the chat window. Two fingers taken into her shining lips and her tongue barely out. I now had a photo I could look at whenever I wanted.

"Even if you watch others, I’d prefer if you came while looking at me. On my lips..."

She was right. I wanted to replace those fingers with my cock and fuck those shining lips and mouth.

"Deal! Let’s see if I can find a girl who looks like you again?"

The girl I watched last night probably didn’t resemble her at all. She just had small, perky breasts and beautiful lips. Another photo came. Still a very dark environment, but clearly her room. No details were visible, but she had placed her phone upright on the ground, stood in front of it, risen slightly on her tiptoes, and spread her legs a little. Her hair, falling down her back, was clearly light-colored. A slim waist, small but round buttocks, and long legs. Legs that you would see in the models we used in commercials.

"Look at the girl who looks like me, does she really resemble me?"

She was right. She was aware of herself. She was also aware of her effect on me, but she didn’t like that I went to someone else. When she said "don’t even fuck your wife" yesterday, she was probably thinking of this.

"Her ass definitely wasn’t as nice and fit as yours, she’d probably smother me if she sat on my face."

I wrote. Although, in truth, my favorite thing is my wife sitting on my face and making me eat her pussy and ass until I can’t breathe. Now that I think about it, is that why she wrote last night that she’d like to sit on my face? Could she be someone familiar?

"Oh really! Don’t worry, when the time comes, I’ll make sure you can’t breathe either."

She said.

I liked it. A photo came. This one was a one-time view type. The fingers that had just been between her wet lips were now between the lips of her wet pussy. This girl was going to drive me crazy.

I liked it. Another photo. Her index and middle fingers were inside up to the second knuckle, she was clearly pulling her knees up toward herself. Her asshole was barely visible in one corner of the photo. The photo closed.

I liked it. I waited for something to come. Seconds turned into minutes, but nothing came. I was stroking my cock while staring at the photos burned into my brain and the only photo I could still see, her lips. If a new photo had come, I was sure I’d explode instantly. Nothing came. It had been about five minutes since the last photo. With the blood in my brain rushing to my cock, I could barely think straight. I made a decision; I put my cock back in my boxers, holding it tightly in my hand. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a huge cock, but the head is unusually large compared to the shaft.

"Is it my turn?" I wrote and sent the photo.

Damn it. I didn’t know how to send a one-time view photo, and there was my cock, grasped through my boxers, right in the middle of our conversation. My face wasn’t visible, but I still panicked.

She liked it.

"It looks great, but it’s time for it to come out. Let’s see when I’ll get to see it up close. I’d really enjoy having it rub all over my face while I suck on those full balls between your legs."

I liked it. An open photo came. It was clear that she had continued fingering herself in the interval between sending photos. The photo showed only her three wet fingers. I knew this wetness wasn’t saliva. I liked it once more.

Knowing that she was getting off while talking to me, even if I didn’t see it, was extremely arousing. I started stroking my cock faster. I pulled it out of my boxers and came all over my chest, soaking my entire t-shirt. After that moment of orgasm, there’s a moment when you don’t know what to do—I had that moment. I took a photo of my still-hard cock, outside my boxers, and my almost entirely soaked t-shirt and sent it. This time, I managed to send it as a one-time view. She saw it and liked it.

"There’s nothing left for the other girl in your balls, it seems. You’re definitely going to cover my whole face. Now, rest a bit tonight..."

She wrote. I was tired, but I still wanted her to continue. I didn’t like it. I didn’t write anything. It was 2 a.m. Looking back at our conversation, we had only been messaging for 30 minutes, but it felt like we had spent the whole night together. My wife wouldn’t mind the t-shirt I came on, knowing about my porn addiction. I threw it in the laundry, took a shower, and then went to sleep.