Men are so alike. I know that's not true, but it has some merit I think as a gross generalization, especially in a sexually charged atmosphere like RLC and much of Second Life. They want to fuck, and they want to fuck now. Some restrain themselves and go through the motions of what they think women want. Some even understand and share the concepts of context and quality. An exceptional few like to draw things out, tease and be teased. But no matter what their style, or how smart or civilized they are, women are first and foremost objects they want to possess. Need to possess. Men have a sense of urgency not usually found in women. There's no tomorrow, and if they don't get between your legs today, their life will have been wasted.
That's why I'm not going to focus on any of the men in my life, aside from FD, before I found NG. Or she found me. She looked a little ridiculous, to be honest. Her superheroine costume made me think of a 50's vintage beauty contest, as if she were going for Miss USA (she'd probably say Miss UK, same colors). The striped bottom bunched up like diapers, and the long blond hair was easily the most popular on RLC, hardly setting her apart. Style challenged, then, since she never had to change her costume. And somehow, though I never figured out why exactly, a little awkward and masculine. That was the first impression, just from looking at her and a brief conversation.
Call me mentally challenged, but it took a while for me to realize that there might be a reason for her showing up every day, hanging around, and throwing out compliments about my appearance. In fact, I think she had to tell me she had a crush on me before it sank in. Meanwhile, I'd let it be known that I was shopping for a new master and I now had four guys after me. The plan was to continue as before: whore and slave. And I thought for a while I'd found a guy who would be a marked improvement over FD. He was on every day. He was not just smart but intellectual and literary. And he liked to be the boss. M. I thought for a while he'd be the perfect master. He was good at head games, and every bit my match.
Inadvertently, NG broke us up. I'd been resisting M for quite a while. Telling him he had to pay, or that he had to first buy me from FD. Finally, though, using some flimsy excuse, I'd lost at a game we played or something, I gave in, and it was very good. I was more convinced than ever that I wanted M to be my master, but the very next day, he suggested that we invite NG to join us for a threesome. It hurt my feelings. I thought he'd want to be alone with me. It made me lose some respect for him, and I never got it back.
No more than a day or two later NG was my mistress. She'd persisted, and I was soon very thankful for that. It took no more than being alone with her a couple of times to realize that she was something special. Very special. As I've said, she didn't look special. We had nothing extraordinary in common. She wasn't literary or intellectual. She wasn't thrillingly bad or nasty. She wasn't really much of a superheroine, not around me at least, or even, as it turned out, a very good mistress. She was just a girl from the UK, my girl for a while (as I was hers) and very very special.
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