Thursday, January 31, 2008

Well you tried it just for once found it all right for kicks

but now you found out that it's a habit that sticks/you get in a heat, you get in a sulk/but you still keep beating your meat to a pulp/and you're an orgasm addict.

Or: Part Two of How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love Getting Off Online

For one reason or another (or a thousand), it’s really difficult to begin describing what’s happened on this portion of the journey to the center of my libido. Perhaps because it’s continuing and perhaps because this is where it gets trickier, stickier, weirder and, well, real-er. Now it involves other living, breathing human beings. Faceless [mostly] and nameless [mostly] human beings, but human beings nonetheless.

Well, I had to start somewhere. As I said, for days and days I had glanced at the chatroom link in my bookmark file, nervous and excited and afraid. Finally, on January 2 I got up the nerve to check out the site for real. I navigated around, finally getting to the list of “rooms”. Knowing absolutely nothing about this culture, I wasn’t sure if the room names were literal. I did know that I probably wasn’t interested in any room that implied barely legal or medical professional role play. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; just not my thing. Finally, I poked my head into a room, aided by a fairly generic screen name. (It wasn’t until later that I realized that some users get very creative with their online names.) In every room I was bombarded with “whispers” (private messages that the rest of the users in the room can’t see) asking for my age/sex/location or just lewdly propositioning me. There wasn’t a lot of public conversation with which to gauge the personality or character of anyone in the room.

Now here’s the embarrassing part – I can’t remember exactly how my first real experience began. I think I actually whispered to him, after he posted some vaguely snarky comment about being stoned and horny. Normally I wouldn’t necessarily respond to that but I think at this point I was getting antsy for some action. And I got some. Oh man, did I. Again, I’m hazy on the details, but I definitely had a happy ending and came away with his email address.

Yeah, his email address. OK, this was already getting less anonymous, one guy into it. Obviously I’d have to create some alternate email account to deal with this phenomenon. Add that to the list of things to do.

Apparently I had accumulated enough fuel during this encounter to, um, enjoy myself a couple more times without the benefit of the computer. If that wasn’t recommendation enough to go back to the chatrooms, I can’t think of anything that would have been. By the end of the next day, I had hooked up with three more individuals successfully and had had a longish, flirting conversation with another. All of the three were quite sweet experiences. Does it seem weird that I’m describing cybersex as sweet? It was unexpected, that’s for sure. They were hot, they were certainly descriptive and dirty (in the best possible way), but with these three each time was almost romantic. One of them incorporated a little workplace [mine] fantasy and the second was sort of like a first date that went really, really well. The third was very prolonged, maybe three hours or so, and established that I have some physical capabilities of which I wasn’t aware. (Hooray for me – I am multi-orgasmic!) This third one ended in a way a little less appealing to me, casting me in a more aggressive, dominant role than I generally enjoy, but hey, I couldn’t really complain about the results. Did I mention that two of these guys were Canadian? Is that relevant? I dunno, yet. And another Canadian loomed on the horizon, as it turned out.

At this point I feel I should mention a secondary thrill of this new game – the absolute power I felt (feel) when my cyber-partner achieves their own happy ending. Of course, I have to trust that they are telling me the truth, but I do ask because it gives me an extra little bit of pleasure to know I could make that happen. More on this later, though.

Upon checking my notes, I see that I squeezed in yet another encounter this day. I’m pretty certain I approached this guy, only because I liked his screen name. When he described himself as 6’2”, thin and red-haired, I was hooked. (I will get to the whole dichotomy of the physical description issue later.) He set up a rather elaborate beach party scene that eventually included several of the other partygoers and a good deal of bisexual activity. In fact, while it was yet another successful venture for me, it kind of felt like he was more excited to be describing his man on man stuff. Which was perfectly okay, but I felt a little left out with my anonymous female partner. However, by the time of our parting, I was feeling just a little suspicious that he may have indeed been a she. Not that it really mattered, but it gave me a little pause and made me wonder just how much I could trust anyone’s stated identity. And then further made me wonder if it even mattered.

Was everyone exactly who they said they were? Is anyone?

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