Welcome to Your Dirty Years
I think I've always been a sexually inquistive person. When I was eight years old I would play porno Barbies with my best friend Heathie in her bedroom, stopping momentarily whenever her Dad George would come in passing a vacuum over her crumby carpet.
Before chatlines and onlines, there was just the phone, plain and simple. No number to call, really, just the random act of dialing. I had received several phone calls of an explict nature before the age of 10. I remember being upset when all the other kids on the street saw a pervvy streaker driving around with an open raincoat and no pants on, inviting kids to come and have a wee peak at the wee package. I'd never seen a penis before. My background was Chinese and if there is anything definite about being Chinese is there is a serious sexual repression/shame of nudity from birth.
When I was 2 years old, and I remember this, I was hanging out with my good friend Kelly, who has since moved to Australia. She came from one of those lovely hippie families where nudity or partial nudity was completely accepted and encouraged. The ultimate freedom. She, also 2 years old, and I were running around with just our diapers/underwear on (I graduated quickly from diapers to undies, convinced now, to save money for the old man). My mother took one look at me from the top of the front porch steps and said, "Aiiiyaaah! Get back inside and put some clothes on!" This was my first experience of shame.
But sex was so titilating! I felt so alive when engaged in it or thinking about it. Heathie and I would share any sort of tidbit we could get our hot little pervvy hands on. George had a stack of Penthouses, Playboys and Hustlers down in the basement rec room, hidden under towels used to dry the dog on a wet day (but not too wet to damage any of the reading material). He'd fix himself his usual G&T whilst perusing new tantric positions and Jugs, Jugs, Jugs, sandwiched between current events and political rants. George was *awesome*.
One day we were sitting around reading passages of advice given by Ms. Xavier Hollander, Penthouse's sexual advice columnist. The image of her mouth is still burned on my brain: glossy with freshly applied red lipstick. The lipstick was in the shape of a dick. Nice. Heathie read a reader's question aloud, whose answer will always stay with me to the day I die. The question was ostensibly like this: "It takes me a long time to come manually and I don't have a lot of time. Is there a quicker way to come?" The answer: slide the snatch under the bathtub's faucet. It shouldn't take too long.
Well... everyday, and I was 12 at this point, I'd dilligently go home, and "bathe". Mom thought I was growing up and getting into my "clean" years. What she didn't know was I was just starting to get dirty.
Last week I went for a lovely visit to my new friend PJ's house. As he is older than me by 17 years, I asked him what he thought about how the world was working these days. He's seen a bit more than I have. He was really excited mostly about this internet connectivity. He was thrilled about Lava being an engine that could conceivably bring all kinds of people from different demographics, social structures, certainly areas, race, creed, age. All of it. He phrased it beautifully, "It's the ultimate idea of democracy." And he's right.
I decided to go on Friendster about a month ago. Friendster's really a great idea because you can input all the things you're interested in, or are important to you and they all become a hot link. If, for example, under the favourite music category, you, as I, inputted Interpol, the engine would automatically link you to everyone else on the site whose interest also veered Interpol way. You can do this with life philosophy, literature, movies, etc.
I've met a few people on the site. The first guy, his name was Mike, sent me some innocuous standard form letter wanting to "get to know" me more. Another nice feature about Friendster is you're able to "make friends" and store them on the bottom of your profile. So if some guy, say like Mike, tries to contact you, you can also see who he considers friend. So I check them out. They all have their pictures up and they all look remarkably like people in my extended family. All olived skinned, almond eyed Asian girls. Hmmm. I wrote back to him saying, "If you've got something you wish to discuss with me, say interest in music or literature or something, that would be one thing. It seems, young Mike, you have a bit of a case of Yellow Fever. I'm afraid I don't go out like that." THEN he writes back saying something like I should look in the mirror before making a statement like that. Then accused me of posting a picture that wasn't actually a picture of myself. Apparently I'm too hot to be myself. That was awesome! Then I enlisted one of the nicest features Friendster offers: User Block. I'll never hear from that Mike again.
Then I get this email from Inkoom. He's originally from Ghana, West Africa, now living/working in Hong Kong as a contractor. He was so lovely and sweet. So I wrote him back, trying to match his lovely and sweet. English is his second or maybe 14th language, for all I know. Writing is basic and not great fun. But I love the idea of having a penpal so far away.
Checking my inbox I discover there is someone else vying for my attention. Arnault from Toulouse, France. Hello. Or rather, bonjour. 26 years old. Hot. Fun. Loves my taste in music and offers that we "have sex right now". I countered with, "GET ON A PLANE AND COME TO ME". I SO wanted him to be my new boyfriend. However he does this to a great deal of women. I think he has a harem the size of the average population of the playfield during a World Cup tournament, including the benchwarming fallbacks. He suggested I get a computer cam, but I'm more into flesh and blood and a little more flesh, if you know what I mean.
So then I get this IM from Dark, this 22 year old Russian speaking Ukrainian tamale whom I end up getting rather wet over. At first I wasn't interested; he was pissing me off. I realised later it wasn't really him, my blood sugar had dropped and I just needed something to eat. After a healthy dose of Bolognese I was back in the saddle. Slippery!
This boy kept me up for 1 1/2 hours; just pure... sexual... fantasy... fodder. It wasn't an especially provocative conversation. I don't really need much to go on though. A picture's nice. It's helpful. But it's the IDEA of being with him that was totally hot.
22. And apparently a FUCKING VIRGIN!
I have a coffee date tonight with my new friend Enrico. Italian. Met him on Lava. He's not for me, but he's really sweet and nice and BUFFED. God, my friend Josh is right: I am like an 18 year old boy! Pervert.
So who knows what will happen next? I really like how things are going. It's swell to have boys in ones life. It's even better to have a muse... or an amusing gaggle.
Before chatlines and onlines, there was just the phone, plain and simple. No number to call, really, just the random act of dialing. I had received several phone calls of an explict nature before the age of 10. I remember being upset when all the other kids on the street saw a pervvy streaker driving around with an open raincoat and no pants on, inviting kids to come and have a wee peak at the wee package. I'd never seen a penis before. My background was Chinese and if there is anything definite about being Chinese is there is a serious sexual repression/shame of nudity from birth.
When I was 2 years old, and I remember this, I was hanging out with my good friend Kelly, who has since moved to Australia. She came from one of those lovely hippie families where nudity or partial nudity was completely accepted and encouraged. The ultimate freedom. She, also 2 years old, and I were running around with just our diapers/underwear on (I graduated quickly from diapers to undies, convinced now, to save money for the old man). My mother took one look at me from the top of the front porch steps and said, "Aiiiyaaah! Get back inside and put some clothes on!" This was my first experience of shame.
But sex was so titilating! I felt so alive when engaged in it or thinking about it. Heathie and I would share any sort of tidbit we could get our hot little pervvy hands on. George had a stack of Penthouses, Playboys and Hustlers down in the basement rec room, hidden under towels used to dry the dog on a wet day (but not too wet to damage any of the reading material). He'd fix himself his usual G&T whilst perusing new tantric positions and Jugs, Jugs, Jugs, sandwiched between current events and political rants. George was *awesome*.
One day we were sitting around reading passages of advice given by Ms. Xavier Hollander, Penthouse's sexual advice columnist. The image of her mouth is still burned on my brain: glossy with freshly applied red lipstick. The lipstick was in the shape of a dick. Nice. Heathie read a reader's question aloud, whose answer will always stay with me to the day I die. The question was ostensibly like this: "It takes me a long time to come manually and I don't have a lot of time. Is there a quicker way to come?" The answer: slide the snatch under the bathtub's faucet. It shouldn't take too long.
Well... everyday, and I was 12 at this point, I'd dilligently go home, and "bathe". Mom thought I was growing up and getting into my "clean" years. What she didn't know was I was just starting to get dirty.
Last week I went for a lovely visit to my new friend PJ's house. As he is older than me by 17 years, I asked him what he thought about how the world was working these days. He's seen a bit more than I have. He was really excited mostly about this internet connectivity. He was thrilled about Lava being an engine that could conceivably bring all kinds of people from different demographics, social structures, certainly areas, race, creed, age. All of it. He phrased it beautifully, "It's the ultimate idea of democracy." And he's right.
I decided to go on Friendster about a month ago. Friendster's really a great idea because you can input all the things you're interested in, or are important to you and they all become a hot link. If, for example, under the favourite music category, you, as I, inputted Interpol, the engine would automatically link you to everyone else on the site whose interest also veered Interpol way. You can do this with life philosophy, literature, movies, etc.
I've met a few people on the site. The first guy, his name was Mike, sent me some innocuous standard form letter wanting to "get to know" me more. Another nice feature about Friendster is you're able to "make friends" and store them on the bottom of your profile. So if some guy, say like Mike, tries to contact you, you can also see who he considers friend. So I check them out. They all have their pictures up and they all look remarkably like people in my extended family. All olived skinned, almond eyed Asian girls. Hmmm. I wrote back to him saying, "If you've got something you wish to discuss with me, say interest in music or literature or something, that would be one thing. It seems, young Mike, you have a bit of a case of Yellow Fever. I'm afraid I don't go out like that." THEN he writes back saying something like I should look in the mirror before making a statement like that. Then accused me of posting a picture that wasn't actually a picture of myself. Apparently I'm too hot to be myself. That was awesome! Then I enlisted one of the nicest features Friendster offers: User Block. I'll never hear from that Mike again.
Then I get this email from Inkoom. He's originally from Ghana, West Africa, now living/working in Hong Kong as a contractor. He was so lovely and sweet. So I wrote him back, trying to match his lovely and sweet. English is his second or maybe 14th language, for all I know. Writing is basic and not great fun. But I love the idea of having a penpal so far away.
Checking my inbox I discover there is someone else vying for my attention. Arnault from Toulouse, France. Hello. Or rather, bonjour. 26 years old. Hot. Fun. Loves my taste in music and offers that we "have sex right now". I countered with, "GET ON A PLANE AND COME TO ME". I SO wanted him to be my new boyfriend. However he does this to a great deal of women. I think he has a harem the size of the average population of the playfield during a World Cup tournament, including the benchwarming fallbacks. He suggested I get a computer cam, but I'm more into flesh and blood and a little more flesh, if you know what I mean.
So then I get this IM from Dark, this 22 year old Russian speaking Ukrainian tamale whom I end up getting rather wet over. At first I wasn't interested; he was pissing me off. I realised later it wasn't really him, my blood sugar had dropped and I just needed something to eat. After a healthy dose of Bolognese I was back in the saddle. Slippery!
This boy kept me up for 1 1/2 hours; just pure... sexual... fantasy... fodder. It wasn't an especially provocative conversation. I don't really need much to go on though. A picture's nice. It's helpful. But it's the IDEA of being with him that was totally hot.
22. And apparently a FUCKING VIRGIN!
I have a coffee date tonight with my new friend Enrico. Italian. Met him on Lava. He's not for me, but he's really sweet and nice and BUFFED. God, my friend Josh is right: I am like an 18 year old boy! Pervert.
So who knows what will happen next? I really like how things are going. It's swell to have boys in ones life. It's even better to have a muse... or an amusing gaggle.
posted by Comrade Chicken at
11:33 a.m.
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