My USB Port Won't Fit Into Your Hard Drive!!

zara's picture

I've been around the block a few times. OK, OK, I've circled the motherfucker more than the cross-town bus. Point is, there is very little out there sexually that I haven't done. I have some limits, but for the most part, if it was suggested and I was curious, then I dove in head first. Very little of any of it bothered me, and even if I chose not to go that route more than the initial foray, I never felt sick or demented for wanting to try.

There's only one thing that has come up on my long list of "have dones" that makes me feel like a complete pervert. It's more common than one might assume, and it's something that I continue to do despite my lack of enthusiasm for it.

That's right folks, I hate cyber sex.

Saddest part is that I can't seem to turn away from it. What "cybering" essentially boils down to is typing out some graphic phrases mixed in with a little "Mmm Hmms" for good measure. Cybering is writing. It's a chance for me to exercise my skills and see if I can accomplish what I do with any other piece I write. Move someone.

I write erotica on a semi-regular basis now, and with the responses that come in, I seem to have a knack for it. I like to attribute it to the fact that I have no aversion to saying graphic terms and have always been rather open-minded. But because I'm a writer and I see words as being just words, the reaction that my readers have is not something that I experience.  I'm much more testosterone driven. I need something visual in order to get a... *ahem*... rise out of me. I suppose because it is something that I have done for so long now that I can liken it to a male gynecologist looking at a vagina and not getting an erection. I don't get off on the written word.

I am apparently kick-ass at cybering though. I can't imagine that it is something that would be all that difficult for anyone with a keyboard and a grasp of the variations on three key phrases ("hard cock", "wet pussy" & "You wanna fuck me?") to do, but I supposedly am the queen at it. Perhaps it's my proficiency at writing. Perhaps it's because I can type fast and spell words correctly, perhaps it's because I keep two hands on the keyboard and don't indulge in anything mutual. All I know is that I've gotten some people off faster with cyber sex than in real person, which - believe me - is saying something.

Only problem is that it bores the fuck out of me. It's not a challenge if you know what the person enjoys and wants to hears. And due to the fact that I usually talk (or "chat," whatever) with someone in a brash manner prior to ever indulging in their silly whims, I've usually pegged their deviant interests. With a couple of hints here and there, I can keep up a running dialogue guaranteed to make them climax. I've even been granted the privilege of viewing the finished product on their webcam. (Now... that's what I'm talking about! Too bad more of them don't have those lovely devices.)

So I had been chatting with a new acquaintance the other night and got into one of these little dalliances. He was actually reciprocating with more than the old standbys of "Yeah" and "Mmmm." At first it was unique. Someone else with an imagination. I talk so directly about sex so much, that talking around it is more titillating and definitely more interesting to me. But then it swung downward into familiar territory and I found myself yawning and waiting for the whole thing to come to its predictable end. Then I just felt like a pervert. A really bored pervert.

I mean, whatever happened to just coming over to a girl's house in the middle of the night and fucking her in the front hallway? Oh... that's right. STD's, computers, broadband connections and the death of face-to-face human interaction. Now we just get our little 1's and 0's bumping and grinding and call it a night.

Well, I guess it's better to never disappoint... even if you're always disappointed.

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