I actually do feel like a slut now. I haven't until now. I've just felt like Molly Hadley, misbehaving a bit, being naughty, being daring. I feel cheap. For the first time in all this, I've done something I'm really not proud of. Everything else has been a bit of fun, a bit dangerous, a bit foolish.

Now, I've deliberately gone out and seduced a guy, with a view to bringing him home, where my webcam was switched on and recording, so that I could fuck him in front of it. Without him knowing.

A stranger called Jonathan fucked me tonight, and str8guy was watching. Well, I assume he was, anyway. Haven't gone online to find out.

I'd go for a bath, but that wouldn't get all the grime off me. It's in my soul.

Okay, the details, though it pains me to write this. I went to the Jolly Beggar. This wasn't where I expected to meet my conquest for the evening - it's way too quiet and local for that, most of the customers are regulars and an anonymous pick-up is virtually impossible. I just popped in on the way to Wetherspoon's for a quick vodka and coke to give me some courage.

I sat on the bench in the corner and surveyed the pub. The usual Sunday night crowd, old men whose lives had crystalised into an existence of drink and darts, smoke and conversation. I was feeling pretty low, my encounter with str8guy this morning still running through my head. A guy came in, tall and skinny, mid-thirties and clearly not a regular judging by the reaction of the barman and the drinkers at the bar. He ordered a pint of Guinness and sat at the table next to mine.

We got talking, and I was inwardly cursing him for holding me back, delaying me from getting to Wetherspoon's to pick up my date for the evening. It was a while before it dawned on me that this guy would probably do perfectly well. He had no ring on his wedding finger, he was reasonably turned out, seemed intelligent and didn't come across as a likely axe murderer. He offered to buy me a drink and I accepted, sliding across the bench towards him.

His name was Jonathan, and he was in town for an interview at the University tomorrow. Lecturing in structural mechanics, whatever that may be. He currently works in Ipswich, but hates it and is desperate to get out.

"I've had three interviews in the last month and failed them all," he said. "I just hope tomorrow is my lucky day."

Hmm, I thought to myself, you don't know it yet Jonathan, but today is your lucky day, my friend.

We didn't stay long. He didn't want a lot to drink because he couldn't afford a hangover in the morning, which seemed fair enough, so I offered to walk him round the city a bit and show him the sights. "A good way of calming the nerves," I said. "Better than sitting in a hotel bedroom fretting about tomorrow."

He agreed and we walked for a while, ostensibly while I showed him the main features of the city, but in fact heading, somewhat circuitously, to my house. As we walked beside the river I quietly mentioned that I lived a couple of streets away and enquired whether he fancied a coffee. He did. His fate was sealed.

I seduced him within half an hour. We didn't even finish our coffees. I began to unbutton his shirt as we sat on the settee, slipping my hand inside and feeling his chest, stroking his nipple and rippling my fingers through his hair.

"Would you like to come to bed?" I said. He nodded and I took his hand, leading him to my bedroom. I undressed for him, slowly, demurely, watching him the whole time, appreciating the desire in his eyes. Standing at the bottom of the bed, I beckoned to him with a crooked finger and he approached.

He didn't know, but he was now on candid camera. And I feel such a bitch for doing that to him.

I undressed him, kneeling to remove his trousers and pants and nuzzling my head against his half-erect cock. I rested against him, looking sideways, towards the innocent looking webcam on the desk before us. With the monitor switched off and a blob of blue-tack covering the webcam on-light, it looked dormant. I winked, smiled and took Jonathan's cock in my hand, sliding it into my mouth.

Through the ether, down a melee of copper wires and into a relay of broadband exchanges, transmitted by internet providers from server to server the evidence of my depravity was broadcast. And at the other end of this electronic betrayal, his cock in his hand, str8guy would be watching, smiling at the complicity of his little Molly.

I could almost hear him. "Clever girl, Molly, clever girl." I got onto the bed and gestured to Jonathan to join me. We rolled into a clinch, embracing, kissing, exploring, our hands on a trail of discovery across our bodies. "Show me polly," I heard in my mind and stretched myself across the bed, legs parted, pussy staring straight at the silent cam. Jonathan bent forward and began to kiss it, stroking his tongue across my slit, sliding my clitoris into his mouth. What a perfect view for str8guy, I thought, hating myself for the calculated way in which I was manipulating the situation.

I gripped his dick and felt it rock hard in my hand. It was long and straight, like a miniature version of his body, while his balls seemed heavy and full. He swung round and threw himself on top of me, his mouth all over my face, while he guided his cock inside me. I screamed as he pushed in the last few inches but after a few thrusts he was settled comfortably and we began to fuck.

He was slow and deliberate, using the length of his cock to good effect. I was getting distinctly turned on, almost forgetting the bizarre circumstances surrounding our duet. After a few minutes, he pulled out of me and motioned to me to turn round. I got onto all fours and presented my arse to him and he slid into me from behind, thrusting hard and fast against me, settling quickly into a determined and thrusting rhythm.

It was good, but I wanted more. He couldn't thrust as deep as I wanted because he had no purchase, nothing to brace himself against. I groaned and arched my back, pulling away from him.

"Okay?" he said.

"Yeah, but I want to feel you deep inside me." I got up and stood at the foot of the bed, my hand stretched towards him. I rested my arms against the chest of drawers to the left of the bed and thrust my arse towards him, looking over my shoulder at him challengingly. "Like this," I said.

We were closer to the webcam, giving str8guy an even better view, but I can honestly say that was coincidental. Jonathan came behind me and guided himself into my sodden pussy and I squealed as I felt his entire length slide into me. Pushing back, I forced him as deep as he could go, feeling that wonderful fullness inside me which makes my legs turn to jelly. He began to fuck me, too slowly.

"Harder," I moaned. "Fuck me hard. Come on. Slam it into me. That's it. That's it. I want your cock inside me. All the way. Deep inside me. Yes, yes, do it." I kept up a running commentary the whole time, cajoling him, encouraging him, persuading him to fuck me harder and harder. I loved it. I loved the physicality of it, the rawness, the brutality. I urged him to grab my breasts and squeeze hard. I swore at him to ram deeper, ever deeper into me. I began to get lost in a maze of sex, my mind swimming in confusion as it tried to understand the complex sensations flitting through it.

This wasn't my usual style, this wasn't what turned me on. But now, it seemed right, it seemed necessary. I wanted Jonathan to be rough, to fuck me harder than I'd ever been fucked, to grip me and grab me and pull me and twist me, to ram himself deep and skewer my insides. I wanted it. Christ, I wanted it.

My legs felt as though they were on fire, calves aching and thighs straining. My back was sore from the pressure being inflicted on it, and my pussy was throbbing. Inside, I felt ready to explode, my stomach churning, my cunt aching with anticipation.

"I'm coming," I yelled. "Harder. Faster. Now, now, now." I gripped the chest of drawers, all my muscles tensed, thrusting my arse backwards into him, my back arched. Sight and sound and taste and smell merged into one, all-embracing sense which was centred on my womb and radiated throughout my body in a huge, shivering explosion. I screamed and stood rigid as Jonathan pumped into me, harder and harder, the violence of his thrusts increasing as he, too, came close to coming.

"Do it!" I screamed. "Come. Come for me. Come in me. I want your come." He gripped my waist with both hands, his cock embedded deep inside me, and he yelled as he started to come, his hot jism erupting inside me, spurt after spurt, a steady stream of heat and duplicity. Finally, he ground to a halt and we remained where we were, his cock cooling and softening inside me, his spunk slithering down my thigh.

For a few wonderful moments I had forgotten all about str8guy, but as my climax subsided and the heat of the moment dissipated, he came back into my mind. Silently, I turned towards the silent webcam and stared.

Is this what you wanted, I tried to convey throught that stare. Are you satisfied now?

I started to cry.