I've had more sex than Madonna has in the last two decades — all without leaving my living room.
I knew almost nothing about computers, but loneliness and insomnia had me pecking the keys in the wee hours of the morning, searching Internet chat rooms rumored to be filled with interesting people. Instead, I only found a breeding ground for illiterate, inarticulate trolls.
But suddenly, I found it: an interactive dating site with thousands of members from all over the world. Any hour of the day/night, there were eligible men waiting in line who couldn't wait to talk to me.
Who could've imagined that just a few days before, I'd been a bored housewife in a sexless marriage who found this amazing site purely by accident? Who suddenly felt like her good ol' smoking hot self again? Thanks to my wicked way with words and my very wild imagination, I'd somehow become a star attraction almost overnight.
The first day my picture and profile were posted, I got over 760 invites to chat, and every moment I was online there was a non-stop stampede of sexy men.
Because everything happened online, I could be with one, two, three, or more men (sometimes as many as six) — all at the same time. I could even change partners every few minutes, all day long.
For hour after hour, without small talk or even a shower, I'd have cybersex with men from all over the world, stroking the keyboard with one hand (so the other was free in case I wanted to stroke something else).
There was ThomasT39 — a sexy, blond, conservative lawyer with a dry British wit, who really wanted it dirty, public, and rough. I happily obliged.
We were up against a back alley brick wall at last call, me grinding against him, my black leather mini-skirt hiked up my hips and my thigh-high boots wrapped around his waist. We were always under a streetlight, certain to be spotted by boys in the bar I'd been flashing and tormenting all night for his pleasure.
Or I enjoyed a sensuous, slow-motion soaping down session in a steamy shower with DirtyDave99.
Or I could be giggling and wiggling on the lap of Big Richard, a burly Scot with a huge penis who liked to pamper and baby me.
All that aching and waiting and teasing would leave me tense and wound up, tighter than a drum.
So afterwards, I needed to be f*cked fast and hard, so I would find someone like TuffKid69. He was always rough and rock hard, with no interest in taking it slow or playing games.
I could just type, "F*ck me now" and we were off — lots of oh my gods and yes, baby, yes, and screaming, "Do it harder, faster!" A refreshing change from the subtle psychology involved in more complex scenarios.
But that was the thrill for me. Working out someone's own particular little secret quirks and then getting myself off by giving it to them — all on a computer — made it even better than if it had happened in real life.
I believe you can orgasm a body just as well, if not better, by making love to the mind.
And I screwed the hell out of the minds of men with qualities that excited me, just for the physical and emotional high. I desperately needed excitement after many numb years watching the laundry go round and the chicken dinner defrost.
It didn't seem cheap or slutty to me. I wasn't touching anyone and no one was touching me.
It was just words, woven together to create a new reality using only the atmosphere, like smoke in the wind.
And what about my dear, sweet husband?
Well, he was much older than I and surprisingly, found the whole thing harmless and ridiculous. He wasn't concerned about what I was doing on the computer, as long as I kept the noise down while the game was on.
I was safely in the house, not having a real affair, so he was happy that I "had a hobby," leaving him undisturbed after work to get some peace and quiet.
As I drifted off to sleep on the third night, I thought, "All this for the same price per month as your average Tuesday night bar tab. And I still have 362 more days."
Then, for the first time in as long as I could remember, I went to sleep excited for tomorrow to come.