As everyone knows who has been there, time is different in the virtual world. A week can seem like a month or more. A month can seem like a year. People you've known for several months are old friends. I've talked to people, most of them women, who say they are on line nearly 24/7, and I wonder if it's not their way of trying for immortality, or at least staying young. When you enter Second Life, or even RLC, you have to pay attention. Really pay attention. So much so that all of your real life troubles go away, especially the boredom, the humdrum chores and routine that take up so much of your time, even if you're not unhappy, or think you're not.
It shouldn't seem odd, then, to say that after a few days, FD and I were established lovers. Nor is it sad to say we peaked after a few days. It seemed like several weeks. And besides, it might only have been me who peaked. We'd tried, more than once, just about everything we could think of and the system would allow. Our favorite routine was for me to ask the first man I met if I could give him a blow job in front of my master, and I was actually turned down a few times, mostly by guys with or waiting for girlfriends, which made it all that more exciting. The point, after all, was to see how low I would go. How much humiliation could I take? And it thrilled me when one guy said, while we were in the act, FD watching, "You like a big hard cock in your mouth, don't you bitch?" I also liked it when FD confessed to me what he called his "darkest thoughts." He wanted to pee and shit on me. Wasn't I shocked? Maybe a little, but I'd read my de Sade. I reacted submissively. I told him I wanted to please him in whatever way I could, but I wasn't sure I could go that far. Even virtually.
This is starting to sound depressingly familiar, isn't it? The man always wanting more; the woman resisting, then giving in little by little, if she wants to keep her man, or keep him happy. And not just give in. Men aren't satisfied with that. You have to also like it. How many times have I heard that? "You love it, don't you bitch?" Especially when the act in question is the penetration of my nether region. Women love to be fucked in the ass. They just don't like to admit it. So men like to think, and whores like me never disagree. All the way to the bank, we say, "Oh yes, baby, give it to me. Fuck my ass. Give it to me hard."
But what FD wanted more of, more than anything, was not my virtual ass, but reality, and in that way he was like most of the men I've met in the virtual world. Unlike myself and many if not most of the women I've met, he was not content to play house, and although I told him over and over again that reality was out of bounds, he wouldn't let up. Even after I stopped him cold a few times when he asked, "is the real woman wet?", he continued to persist, and little by little I gave in. Why? Because pleasing him pleased me. When he got excited, it excited me. It wasn't really what I wanted, reality, but I'd developed a soft spot for my German master with the cute accent, and I wasn't quite ready to lose him.
My point, which the men you have to explain it to never get, was that I wanted to lose myself, full immersion, in the virtual world, not use it as a dating service. I'd use a dating service if that's what I wanted, and I know how to get fucked, thank you very much, if and when I want that. Reminders of reality, references to "that real woman at the keyboard," are guaranteed mood spoilers, and I began to put up with them without question only after I became a professional, as an unavoidable part of the territory. In my own mind, then and now, I'm just Portia. I live in an unidentified South American country, between the beach and the mountains, in a villa with a red-tiled roof. I spend my days writing and reading and eating fish tacos at the nearby village. Now and then I ogle the fishermen, but so far that's as far as it's gone. Now and then I open a Negra Modelo and pour myself a shot of tequila and sit on my terrace and hum tunes to myself as I watch the clouds go by. And yes, sometimes when I go to bed, I'm a little lonely, but not too much. Not yet.
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