Wanna Cyber?

Day 3 of 30 of my writing challenge about sexuality.

Oh golly, the Internet!

I remember well, the first time I realized I could type words on a screen, and that those words would be displayed on someone else’s computer.

It was magical.

So, of course, I assembled a small army of online girlfriends.

I remember their names (these ones will be real names, but the names are so common that I don’t see a problem with just being real).

There was Mo, Mel, and Michelle, for starters.

Mel called herself Wonder Woman, which is funny, because my most recent romantic partner identified heavily with the character.

Samantha was the sexiest thing I’d ever talked to though. Sam told me things about my body that I did not already know. She taught me how to stroke my member. Tech support.

I didn’t understand ejaculation though. I mean, I didn’t know it existed, necessarily. Didn’t know there was a goal, except to rub private parts together or something.

I catfished a woman long before catfishing was a thing. She was in her thirties. I was fifteen, but pretended to be thirty-two. I serenaded her with poetry and talked about all the dreams we could accomplish together. Secretly, I hoped she’d stay with me when she found out my actual age.

She didn’t. She cut me off without hesitating. She told me not to do it again. I complied. Mostly.

I say mostly, because I remember this one time I was getting this dude really excited by pretending to be a chick.

When he came, I told him the truth of the matter.

And then, I put the whole conversation in a newsletter that I sent out to fellow KMFDM fans.

What I am trying to say is, if you happen to be the guy I did this to, I invite you for a free punch right to my face. Break my nose if you need to.

Speaking of cum.

The first time I ever came, I was with a girl I met online. Let’s call her Strawberry.

We had seen a movie. Maybe Les Miserables.

Then we were in my room. On my bed. And she… she…. ssshhhheeeeeeeee……..

Went for it.

Slid her hand under my pants.

Made contact with my penis.

I came immediately. And it was the best thing I ever felt. wanted Strawberry’s hand on my penis every day, all the time, forever.

I tried to lick Strawberry’s vagina once or twice. I say tried, because it was a total crap shoot. I’d kiss it a little. Give it a little lick. So on. Nothing too compelling.

But hey, I liked to cum. That was cool.

Strawberry was local, but before her there were girls from all over the place.

Mo was from Virginia. God, I loved Mo. We didn’t get sexual so much that I remember, but we admired each other’s wordsmithing abilities and had a delicious chemistry.

I’d love to reconnect with Mo one day. Honestly, I still love her, all these years later. That’s how my heart works.

After Strawberry went on to brighter pastures, I discovered porn.

Oh, Miss October…

The first time I ever jerked it, I was on the toilet. Not pooping. Just jerking.

For lube, I just put water on my hand. That set the tone, really, because I don’t feel like I have ever needed additional lubricant. Rockin’ it with your hand is an art-form.

Sometime around then, I connected with Marj from Indiana. She drove all the way to Lansing to give me my first blow job.

Oops, pump the breaks. I did get head before Marj, actually.

From the dog.

But let’s talk about Marj.

She brought me to Indiana to mingle with her people, and I was totally bashful, shy, and quiet. It was Marj’s birthday and I told her I was going to give her my virginity as her present.

Probably due mostly to my inexperience and awkwardness, Marj sent me back to Michigan.

First time I ever saw two gay dudes kiss and cuddle was at Marj’s place. It was awkward, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

Another online but local girl. Let’s call her Octopus, because I’m weird.

Octopus was my portal to new worlds.

She was saucy AF. Kinky. Let me touch her butt hole once.

With Octopus, I began to learn how to please a woman. She gave great feedback. Communicated. Told me I was a God with my tongue. Good stuff. Didn’t let that go to my head at all.

All this talk of meeting people online, and I didn’t mention cybersex. Shame on me?

Cybering was pretty great. Words painted pictures. Pictures moved body parts. And beneath it all, I realized that I could actually energetically feel my connection to people through their words. It’s hard to explain.

But to this day, when I talk to people online? I know what they’re feeling, because of that energetic connection.

Anyway, I still had my virgin card until I met Ellen.

Ellen and I met in a chat room on my grandma’s computer. My grandma was one room over, and the door was cracked open even.

But as an opportunist, I embraced having cybersex with Ellen.

Afterwards, I asked Ellen about her life. She seemed surprised I cared. She ended up being my first fiancee.

And she raped me.

I didn’t realize it back then. I thought, “I have always wanted to have sex. My body seems ready for it. So I will let it happen,” but deep inside I was crying.

I had told Ellen repeatedly that I wasn’t ready.

First, I’d been saving myself for marriage.

Then I decided to budge a little and save myself for true love.

Then, all of a sudden some horny Texan is straddling me and she’s wetter than the swampiest swamp that was ever swamped.

My only consolation?

Jack of All Trades was on TV while it happened.

Bruce Campbell, my wingman

I took a shower after my first time. Not because of the physical mess. But I felt dirty inside. And sad.

Ellen and I got pretty kinky with time. We experimented with both of our butts. That was when I realized that butt stimulation can be a new breed of intense.

I experienced almost everything I could think of sexually with Ellen. We didn’t do whips and chains, but that’s only because our whips and chains were of the emotional variety.

After Ellen, there were a lot of sexual partners throughout my twenties. Some swallowed cum and others didn’t. Most of them did for a long time, or at least long enough for me to be a spoiled a-hole when I’d end up dating a girl who didn’t swallow.

Honestly, I can’t think of many better feelings than having my cum sucked out of me.

But that’s no reason for me to be a d-bag and whine about not getting my way, like I used to. Or sometimes, I wouldn’t even whine. Because I was too terrified to even give feedback. So I held in my torment, and probably acted all passive aggressive.

There weren’t many frontiers left to explore after Ellen and I’s run. A couple girls let me pee on them at different intervals. Once for laughs, the other time was actually sexy.

So, through that whole story. What is the underlying thread? What can we take away from it?

Well, I’ll tell you why the transparency demonstrated in this chapter is helpful.

It’s because, now that I have written all of that, I feel a whole lot better.

“Sure, Andrew, but why do you have to feel better at the expense of others?” you say.

“Because, my loves,” I begin to reply, “I want other people to feel as good as I feel. As free. As liberated. As creative, empowered, and equipped for greatness.

We’re all in this together.

Back in the high school days, when one kid figured out a cheat code, he or she definitely shared it with their friends. This is how some people’s reputations were born.

Well, ya’ll. I’ve got tips, tricks, and codes for hacking your own existence and experiencing new levels of pleasure.


By the effing way, in conclusion.

A former flame of mine who I still have a lot of love for, has recently realized what I am trying to do politically, what with the presidency.

She has already publicly decried me as being a Charles Manson wannabe.

I guess I shall take this as a compliment that I have great charisma. Because any other way of taking it is just heartbreaking.

Please don’t believe the hype. Think for yourself. We’re going to win this.


Also published on Medium.