Almost simultaneously two things happened for your sex life, that together, pushed you over the edge of rational decision and up to your neck in lust.

The first is that you really discovered your own body, and how, by focusing on it rather than the fantasies of thick cocks and powerful men, everything became twice as electrifying. A friend had told you about the power of meditation, which you don't have time for, but maybe she was really talking about this. It starts with you noticing what your hands feel like caressing your soft skin, tracing and cupping, and massaging not with any purpose other than to notice the sensation. Soon you're washing in a steady erotic bliss, your hands independently moving to your body's needs, and your thoughts hyperfocused on the erotic, electrifying feeling that only increases. Sometimes you cum quickly and again and again, and other times you build up and hold off for over an hour, but everytime you finish you promise yourself you'll do it again, and somehow push the boundaries. It's a new side of you that you've never been so in love with, and the end is not in sight.

And then the other thing happened which you understand a little less. It's that while you've been able to keep men out of the fantasies, they seem to appear on the sideline, watching, and you can't push that away. And in fact, it turns you on even more. A guy seeing you enjoy yourself. Watching from a safe vantage point, but explicitly, selfishly staring. It affirms that you want this for yourself and you don't care who knows. Except that it makes your orgasms pretty fucking great when someone knows.

I know. And I have a camera. And you know that.

I'm your roommate, or landlord, or neighbor, or friend. It started one day by accident. I saw you or heard you, and I didn't interrupt, and you weren't sure I noticed until the second time. It's now the fourth time, and we have a very dangerous relationship. We still haven't said anything, but we both know what's happening. You have a delicate balance to maintain where men are a distraction and must stay on the sidelines, and yet, your ability to focus and be disciplined about your eroticism has pushed you to be more bold with it; the challenge of me actually watching you play with yourself is electrifying. You dare me to push it.

Eventually we exchange words but not much. Eventually I show up with my camera. You're not performing, you're not even on display, but you've never felt so alive at the thought that there will be photo proof of how much you love your own body, and how earth-shattering it feels to love yourself. You're going to cum again and again, and I might get a little intimate to make sure I get photo-proof of the pleasure.

Will you break?