Exposing My Body Online Ch. 01

The next day at work was terrible. I couldn't get Rick off my mind. It reached the stage where I thought to myself that I would let him cum in my mouth every night if only he would have me back. But deep down I knew that that wasn't only pathetic, it just wasn't going to happen. Thank God it was gym night; anything to occupy my mind on something else. At the gym as I changed into my lycra gym wear, I was conscious of myself looking down upon my body. The tight lycra showed off all my curves, my legs, my breasts. Yes, by any estimation I did look good. I felt ugly, worthless, but I was attractive.

During my routine I noticed a cute guy working on weights. He looked good: tall, dark hair, nicely proportioned without being too muscle bound. Nice. I thought I caught him checking me out at one point, and it gave me a little thrill. But I couldn't be sure. Was he looking at me? As I kept going on the rowing machine, I tried to steal the odd glance at him. But every time I looked, he was looking straight ahead, not at me. Yet I was sure he was looking. Wasn't he? Yes, he was, but I wanted positive verification; wanted to see the look in his eye, that look that guys give you. But I never caught it, never saw it. Soon his routine was done, and he was gone.

I went home feeling, well, slightly annoyed for some reason. I went into the bedroom to get changed out of my gym gear. Yes, I looked good. Why didn't he notice? But then, it wasn't the done thing for a guy to leer at girls in the gym. Yes, he must have been looking, but discreetly.

I thought about that website. Guys on that website would surely find me attractive. They would for sure. Maybe hundreds. Maybe even thousands. Thousands of guys looking at me, my body, my body objectified, adored, lusted after by males. It would be, if nothing else, confirmation. As I pondered this it occurred to me how twisted, how absurd this thinking had become. Had I sunk to this: contemplating, even if in a theoretical sense, allowing myself to be a sex object for the pleasure of men, men I didn't even know? To be exploited for my sexuality, to be recognized not for my wit, my intellect, my achievements, my warmth as a person, but instead to be recognized only for the size of my breasts, the curve of my hips, the shape of my legs? But it was more than this even: to be, in a sense, famous for these things, and these things only, if only anonymously. Famous in a virtual world, not the real world.

And anonymously, of course, because my face would be blurred. No one would know. I felt somehow charged deep inside my body. I grabbed the camera. Looking into the full length mirror, through the view finder I could see the full reflection of myself. Nice shapely legs, hips clad in tight black lyrca, my upper body encased in my tight yellow top, showing clearly the shape of my breasts. Yes, you do have a nice figure. Holding the camera to my eye, it completely obscured my face. I stood still. Concentrating, I took the shot. Then another. I kept snapping, shifting my hips from side to side as if in some kind of playful dance. I even grabbed one breast with my hand, noticing how hard the nipple had become. It felt, well, somewhere between naughty and downright depraved. It felt good. Soon enough the memory card was full. I downloaded them into the laptop. I logged onto the website.

I stopped. What was I doing? It was as if I had been in some kind of trance. I poured myself a glass of wine. I felt somehow sordid, grotesque. Had I just been seriously considering posting photos of my body on a public website for anyone to see? Get a grip girl! How ridiculous.

I looked around the apartment. It was somehow a quiet, lonely place. My life seemed almost in ruins. Could it get any worse, were I to do such a thing? Look around. Your man has gone; you can barely function as a normal human being. How would doing this make things worse? And in any case, the pictures I had just taken weren't even naked pictures. I was showing no more than at the gym. And the pictures don't even show my face. Anyone looking at those pictures wouldn't know who I was.

I looked at the website. There was a link that read 'Contributions'. I clicked on it. The page opened. I somehow felt like I was entering some kind of forbidden domain. It felt almost exciting. 'Chose An Alias', it read. An alias, I thought. Like 'Lazy Susan'. What would my alias be? I couldn't think of anything. Then for some reason I thought of that old Kinks song. Lola. That can be my alias, Lola. Lola it is.

The site gave instructions on how to upload the pics. 'Minimum of four, maximum of eight shots per submission'. Four would be more than enough. I chose four pictures. It wasn't hard as they were all pretty similar, all showing my lycra-clad body, my face obscured in each one by the camera. I included the one where I was cradling my breast. It looked quite suggestive, that one; I felt almost pleased with myself. Satisfied with my choice, I pressed 'Upload' and waited for the files to load. Then a new window appeared: 'Type in your message here'.

Message? What should I say? 'Hi guys I'm a sad sack chick who's just been dumped because I won't swallow my man's cum. Check me out?' Hmmm. I thought about it for a bit and then decided to keep it short and sweet. I typed:

'Never done this before. Let me know what you think.'

That would do. I clicked on the link. Another line of text and a link appeared.

'Your contribution has been uploaded. It will appear on the site within two days. Click here to confirm you would like to proceed with this contribution'.

I stared at the link for a minute or two. My fingers lingered over the mouse for a moment, hesitating, and then finally:

Click.