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Confessions of a Cyberslut
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
PLEASE NOTE: The following article contains descriptions of sexual
acts. Parental Guidance is Suggested.
Confessions of a Cyberslut
Article by [email protected]
It's a typical Thursday night in cyberspace, and I'm trolling the
member rooms of America Online, a virtual community that has been
described as a "suburb" of the 25-million-user Internet. With nearly
one million subscribers, A.O.L. is one of the world's largest
floating interactive parties. My stomping grounds tonight include
dozens of member rooms frequented by aficionados of kinky, offbeat,
or just plain knock-me-down-and-do-me sex.
Trolling, unlike the more common term, "surfing", implies that I'm
not just browsing the shop windows of the world's largest virtual
mail - I'm looking for trouble. I find it in the form of three
brawny, horny Air Force and Navy men in a room called "Military M for
hot F." I have a weakness for guys in uniform; the thought of all
those medals pressing into my bare flesh makes my inner thighs
quiver. Entering the room with a click of my mouse, I immediately
make my presence known.
StolenKiss: "Who's tending bar tonight? I'm very thirsty."
Each line I type appears instantly on the computer screens of the
room's other occupants, in places like Spokane and Altus, Oklahoma.
One of the things I like best about interactive sex is the fact that
I can bring men to orgasm in three time zones simultaneously. This
evening the responses come thick and fast.
TopGun: "You look lovely, Kiss. May I buy you a drink?"
AFPilot: <Wiping top of bar while leaning over to glimpse SK's
lovely breasts> "What can I get you, young lady?"
NavySeal: "Let me fix you one of my special margaritas - strong
and salty."
Making myself comfortable in front of my computer, I pour a glass
of wine while I check the profiles, or biographical sketches, of each
of the three men. Since profiles are provided by the user, there's
no guarantee of honesty, but it's surprising how much information
people choose to provide. My profile, for instance, says I'm a tall,
dark-haired, single female in the market for "men who make me
shiver." Each profile also includes a personal quote. Mine is, "If
you can't juggle with knives, why juggle at all?"
TopGun's profile reveals that he's married, and I decide not to
poach on another woman's preserves. But both AFPilot and NavySeal
are ripe for the picking.
I make my move through stage directions rather than actual
dialogue, as though the three of us were making a movie.
StolenKiss: <Walking to the bar, swaying slightly on four-inch
spike heels, and sitting between NavySeal and AFPilot>
AFPilot: <Admiring the way you move in your skintight, strapless
red leather minidress>
StolenKiss: "Glad you like it, AFP." <Leaning toward NavySeal,
the dress riding up on my hips so he can see a flash of black lace
panties> "How about you, Navy? Like what you see?"
NavySeal: <Boing!> "Sure do, ma'am. Let's go to a private room so
I can show you how much I like it."
On commercial services like America Online, hard-core sex almost
always takes place in private rooms. That's because the service
employs watchdogs, known as Guides, to patrol the party. Guides are
trained like bloodhounds to sniff out vulgarity, obscenity, and other
activities that violate the Terms of Service (T.O.S.). They issue
warnings, dissolve member rooms when they become too raunchy, and
"TOS" repeat offenders from the system.
Luckily, private rooms are shielded from Guide surveillance by the
simple fact that no one except invited guests can find them. Imagine
a vast library with no card catalog or filing system; the only way
you can locate a book is if someone tells you where it is. A private
room on A.O.L. is like a book in this giant library.
NavySeal sends me a private message, not visible to the other men,
inviting me to a room called "Too Hot to Handle." That's fine,
except I'm not sure that one man is enough for me tonight. I send a
message back suggesting that AFPilot join us.
While this is going on, another woman has entered the "Military M
for Hot F" room and begun to flirt. Her name is Sex Toy, and she's
clearly good to go. A private message from NavySeal flashes on my
screen: Let's invite Sex Toy.
I agree, and invitations go out in the time it takes to type a
sentence. A few seconds later, the four of us meet in "Too Hot to
Handle."
NavySeal: "That bar was getting a little stuffy."
StolenKiss: <Leaning over to unbutton NavySeal's jacket> "Here we
don't have to be so formal."
Sex Toy: "May I help, Kiss?"
StolenKiss: <Taking Sex Toy's hand and guiding it to the swelling
bulge in NavySeal's pants> "Why don't you start here? We can meet in
the middle."
Sex Toy: <Unzipping pants to expose NavySeal's hard cock> "Ohhh,
nice."
NavySeal: "Stroke it."
Sex Toy: <Running my hand over your shaft> "Like that?"
NavySeal: "Harder. Now take it in your mouth."
Sex Toy: <Getting on my knees> "Tell me how you want it."
StolenKiss: "Let me help you, Sex Toy." <Guiding NavySeal's cock
into Sex Toy's mouth and squeezing his balls while she sucks him>
NavySeal: "Ah. Good girls."
AFPilot: "Let me help you, my dear. You look a little... hot."
<Moving up behind StolenKiss and unzipping the back of her dress>
StolenKiss: <Pushing my ass against your stiff prick> "Yes, I am."
AFPilot: "You feel sweet." <Sliding my hands under the dress and
bringing them around to cup your tits>
StolenKiss: "Ohhh."
AFPilot: "I think I need to taste you."
StolenKiss: "Help me slip the dress off... Yes, like that."
AFPilot: "Turn around. Oh, you're beautiful. I love your really
big nipples."
StolenKiss: <Pulling your head down to my breasts> "Suck them...
Please..."
By this point I am leaning back in my chair, legs spread, with my
jeans and sweater on the floor next to me and a dark stain growing on
the crotch of my green silk panties. While AFPilot types, I squeeze
my nipples and run my hand over the sticky silk, feeling the wetness
grow.
Part of the excitement comes from knowing that at this exact
moment, two men and a woman I have never met are sitting in front of
their computer screens, playing with themselves while they share my
fantasy. In a little while, we will take turns bringing ourselves to
orgasm while the others "watch."
As if on cue, AFPilot interrupts my reverie.
AFPilot: "I need to come now, sweetheart. I'm so hot for you."
StolenKiss: "Okay, baby. You've got me backed up against a wall,
and I'm moving my hips up to your swollen purple dick. Now the tip
is touching the outer lips of my pussy..."
AFPilot: "I feel it..."
StolenKiss: "All sensation is centered in that throbbing rod. I
lean back against the wall as you slide it in, first slowly, then
harder... I buck my hips to take it as you pound into me. You can't
stop... You're jerking in and out, gripping my arms so hard there are
marks, but all you can think about is getting deeper and even deeper
into that wet, hot, steaming, juicy cunt...."
I'm starting to breathe faster now. I know he's pulling his cock
as hard as he can, this Air Force pilot somewhere out in cyberspace,
and the realization makes me so hot that I have to stop typing and
play with myself. NavySeal and Sex Toy have been silent for so long,
I know they're masturbating as well. I imagine Sex Toy parting her
wet lips and lowering her head between my legs to watch the first
shudders of my orgasm....
I should mention that before I started cruising the infobahn, I
wasn't especially adventurous when it came to sex. Like many women
on A.O.L., I started visiting member rooms for the curiosity value,
but I quickly felt myself being drawn into a world of role-playing
and explicit fantasies. After a week of silent lurking in such
places as "Hot Tub" and "Have You Been Bad?" I made my on-line debut
as a stripper in a room called "What Are You Wearing?"
The number of men at the party swelled to 22 (the maximum number a
room will hold is 23) as I slowly described my outfit - which
included fuck-me heels, a tight skirt with a zipper up the side, and
a push-up bustier - and then removed it piece by piece. I was unfas-
tening the snaps on my black garter belt when a Guide appeared and
TOS-ed me off the system, along with several of the guys who were
cheering me on.
The next night I was back - and ready to go all the way. After
trolling for about 20 minutes, I ran into one of the men who had
"seen" me the night before and accepted his invitation to a private
room called "Garage."
StolenKiss: "Why a garage?"
Jeff222: "I spend a lot of time in the garage working on my cars.
It gives me ideas."
StolenKiss: "Such as?"
Jeff222: "Take off your clothes and lie down on the hood of my
Corvette. Careful, the engine is still a little hot...."
After getting ravished in the garage, I found men who wanted to
fuck me backstage at a Broadway show, on a workbench in a toolshed,
and at a Washington press conference. One of my favorites was the
guy who insisted I'd just totaled his car.
CleverDick: "What a mess. The worst part is, your insurance
recently lapsed, and your car isn't damaged but mine is - big time."
StolenKiss: "Oh, no!"
CleverDick: "You'll lose your license if I report this, you know.
And it's going to cost you a bundle if I don't."
StolenKiss: "I can't afford to lose that license." <Leaning in the
window of your car, blouse gaping open.> "Can we discuss it?"
CleverDick: <Catching a glimpse of your full, heaving breasts> "I
just might allow you to beg for mercy...."
The morning after this incident, the same man left me an
electronic-mail message:
"Meet me in a room called `Interstate' at six tonight, honey. My
car's still out of commission, but I want to take you for a ride on
my Harley.
"While we're dodging in and out of four lanes of rush-hour
traffic, I plan to reach down between the gas tank and flip a little
switch. You'll feel something moving on the seat between your legs
and discover that I've built in a retractable vibrator.
"There's nowhere else for you to put your weight, and nothing to
hold on to but me as we race through the traffic in the hour before
sunset. I want to feel your arms squeezing my waist and your hips
convulsing against my back as you come.
"Don't be late. Richard."
During my first weeks on A.O.L., encounters like these - which ate
up three or more hours of my day, at a cost of $3.50 per hour -
whipped me into a more or less constant state of arousal. By the
time a month had passed, I had gone through two bottles of
lubricating cream (one man I met was on his third keyboard - he kept
spilling oil on them) and was beginning to feel like the top of my
head would blow off if I didn't have sex pretty soon.
Several of my fantasy lovers had suggested we speak on the phone,
and after some initial hesitation, I agreed. My first telephone
encounter was a disaster - the verbal dexterity that had flowed
through my partner's fingers and into the computer completely
deserted him on the phone - but the second one melted the wires
between the deep south and my apartment in New York.
Oblivious to skyrocketing phone bills and unfinished assignments,
I followed my Pied Piper on a magical mystery tour of fantasies,
fetishes, and sexual secrets. No subject was off-limits, from role-
playing to bondage and multiple partners.
In between orgasms, we talked about our sexual histories, dreams,
and aspirations. We exchanged photographs and ultimately agreed to
meet.
The meeting - in a hotel room on the Gulf of Mexico - was as
sexually changed an experience as I had ever imagined on A.O.L. Here
was a fantasy made flesh - a living, breathing man whose sexual self
was as familiar to me as the pages of my diary and who knew my needs
as well as he knew his own.
We spent hours touching in every possible way, while I got used to
the phenomenon of that sexy voice coming out of an equally sexy
mouth. When we finally went to bed, it seemed as if we'd been
learning each other's erogenous zones for years - yet at the same
time, everything was excitingly, overwhelmingly new.
That weekend is one of my hottest memories. But when we tried to
plan another one, it became clear that this form of meeting and
mating may be better suited to casual flings than lasting
relationships.
Once we left the bedroom, the daunting logistics of a long-
distance love affair all by overwhelmed our fragile connection.
Other women report similar experiences with men who claim they're
searching for a real-life mate - until faced with a partner who isn't
just a fantasy.
The bottom line is, if you're looking for a long-term lover,
chances are you'll have better luck through friends or at your local
coffeehouse than out in cyberspace. But for the sheer thrill of
instant, virutal gratification, there's no better road than the
information superhighway.
So the next time you're looking for a woman who will match your
appetite for sleazy, uninhibited sex, turn on your computer and head
for A.O.L.'s member rooms. There are thousands of us out here - and
we want it just as badly as you do.
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