The Bloggerettes

"I'm not a woman, but I played one on the internet."

It's exciting to know that there are real, live, beautiful and horny women visiting here on occasion, reading my stuff, looking at my "stuff," and making me grin from ear to ear with a clever or sweet comment or mail now and then. I'm still not accustomed to lovely ladies being as perverted as I am, but I'm getting delightfully used to it. I very much enjoy my associations with my fellow bloggers here in what seems to be our little inner circle of reciprocal links - especially the ladies who are most decidedly real and not like I used to be, once upon a time...

I'd been a totally cautious skeptic up until discovering the blogs back in May about believing that women in the sex areas of the 'net are women at all when it comes to interacting with them personally as in the mails. My skepticism was well warranted - I pretended to be a woman on the 'net quite often some years ago when my love life here at home sucked like a Dyson running on a 220 line.

I don't remember if I told the story here before about how I became bi-curious, but in a nutshell it all started with a letter from a man who called himself Toby who wrote to me in response to a picture of myself that I'd posted to one of the amateur male newsgroups. I'm thinking this was 1996. He told me in no uncertain terms exactly how he'd like to pleasure my cock with his mouth. In the few minutes it took me to read through his letter I went from being a card carrying homophobe to wanting to take a man's dick out of his pants and do anything and everything that I could to make him cum.

The nascent curiosity went from being a mild fantasy to a rabid obsession at times during which I went onto IR chat, gave myself a name like "Hot_Pussy" or "Drippy_Slit" and hit the #masturbation channel. (What the AOLers would call a "room." Real internet users and chatters will recognize the "#" as part of a channel designation on IRC. Oh! Pardon me. My elitist disdain for a certain ISP's often juvenile customer base is showing.) My screen would light up like a Christmas tree with requests for private chat - i.e., Everybody wanted to cyber with me one on one. I'd pick some lucky "stiff" and proceed to fondle my breasts, tweak my nipples, and diddle my clitoris while my lucky partner jerked himself off none the wiser that my "clit" was six inches long with a tube down the middle. No, I didn't like being dishonest and it bothered me that I was blatantly lying, but it was the only way I could think of to play with a dick in a sense and get a guy off without possibly opening a door that could totally fuck up my life. It was fun to help a guy to cum. It still is, but now I don't have to be deceitful about it; I simply suck his cock with my wife right there licking his balls or sitting on his face at the same time.

Thus, in knowing how easy it was to have the virtual version of that Swedish transgender surgery, I remained a doubting Thomas regarding women on the 'net really being women when it came to spending any quality interactive time with them over here on the seedy side of cyberspace. (Ohhhh! Did you catch that alliteration?) Until the blogs. I can't believe that any guy could write what the lady bloggers do on a regular basis with total, believable consistency. In spite of having gotten fairly good at, "That's it! Come on, baby! Stroke that big shaft for me! I want you to cum for me!" I sure as hell know I couldn't imitate a woman in lengthy prose on a daily basis and keep up the ruse convincingly for long without being discovered.

That brings me to another thing I love about my fellow bloggers, and bloggerettes. I'd not chance to try to deceive them about anything because they're pretty damned smart. In a day and age when most folks can't be bothered (or, I shudder to think, are genuinely too stupid) to write much of anything online that doesn't look like a bad imitation of e. e. cummings, I credit us here on the blogs for showing the rest of the world that yes, a few speakers of English still know and can apply the rules to the written word. Especially the ladies. A man just has to get a proud woody for a smart lady. Bonus points if she wears dark framed glasses and occasionally holds them with one of the earpieces touching the tip of her tongue suggestive of a, "Come on and put your cock here, big boy," kind of thing. Oh Lordy! A high I.Q. with a "Drippy_Slit" and I turn to putty. No! Not the dick! Just the rest of me.

So, thank you, ladies. For being real. For not being afraid to show your smarts. For being red hot! For dropping me a note here when I strike a decent chord.

My Half-Nekkid Thursday tribute of sorts to a lady of the first order and her devoted, lucky as all hell husband...

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