Pleasure Dome

Years ago I had a computer game for my XT on two 360k floppies. It was called "The Pleasure Dome". I still have it somewhere. One floppy was for men, one for women. Once loaded the player had to chat up the opposite sex. Good chat led to higher levels and a better response from your date. Poor or hackneyed lines meant that you were stood up. It was all text-based, of course.

While idly wandering around on the net I found a reference to a modern version for interactive real people. Together you could reach higher levels. If you didn't relate well to your assigned partner you could dump her/him and start again.

I logged on to the site. I tried the free demo version for which a webcam was required. As I played, a picture of my date began to emerge on screen, blurred and faint. I had to describe my playing partner who could only hint obliquely. Flattering and complimentary descriptions made the definition better but only if the details were correct. Mistakes erased part of the picture.

"I love your blue eyes…" The eyes blotted out. Wrong.

"Brown?" The picture didn't change.

"Hazel?" Hazel eyes appeared.

The more we chatted the sharper the picture became until the demo produced an attractive lady with brown shoulder length hair. Beside her picture was the picture she had produced of me from her guesses. If my depiction of her were as wrong as hers of me this game would be hard if not impossible.

To play the real game there was a small subscription. At level three and above there were cash prizes for the best scores of the week, month and all-time. Each winner shared the prize with their partner. If the all-time record score were to be broken the new record holders would win ten thousand dollars each and flights and accommodation to meet your partner for real. Once you reached your highest score and dropped 100 points back from it that game was over and a new partner was chosen for you.

My first real game was a disaster. I couldn’t get her description right and she was obviously much more experienced in the game than I. She logged off after ten minutes describing me as a hopeless loser.

With my next partner we came close to reaching level two, cyber-flirting, until a few misunderstood words lost us too many points. We agreed to part and try with someone else.

With my third and fourth partners we reached the higher scores in level two before starting to drop. Level three, cybersex, seemed unattainable and I was getting frustrated with my lack of ability. I dropped back to the entry screen and spent hours reading the FAQs and the game strategies outlined in the associated board.

I left the site alone for a couple of days. I thought about the possible strategies and planned my next attempt with great care.

When I started with my fifth partner, Marilyn, I flew. We seemed soul mates from the first exchanges. In the first few hours we were through level two and powering upwards through level three. I was getting really hot with the cybersex. It was already too close to reality and my brains were sinking closer and closer to my rock hard erection. My fingers flew over the keys as each action was met by an appropriate counter action. Real sex could never be maintained at this pitch. Marilyn and I were faking several orgasms an hour and keeping the interest at a high pitch between the virtual panting and thrusting.

The sudden start of level four threw us off our peak. This level was about how we would make love if we met in real life. We should have switched from the frantic cyber to a more realistic scenario. We lost ten points. How could I be expected to know that this apparently mild-mannered and courteous lady who had been enjoying cybersex with such gusto really was a domme armed with barbed whips who wanted to lash me until my blood was pooling on the floor of her dungeon? My scenario was erotic couplings but by comparison with Marilyn it could have been hearts and flowers or loving wives. I tried to recover and meet her needs but my heart wasn’t in it. The game programme mercilessly penalised my stumbling attempts to correct.

Number six calls herself "Haley". Haley likes her pussy to be worshipped. I like worshipping pussy and using my tongue. I fantasise making love to Haley whose picture is shown in such intimate detail on my screen. Haley is naked, lying back on a silk covered couch, with her blonde pussy hairs so clear that I can almost count them. My virtual hands caress her breasts until her hands grasp my head. Her long slim legs splay out offering herself to my probing tongue. As she pulls me close I can almost taste and feel Haley. My typing fingers seem far away, not part of me, just a mechanical device to help me nearer to the vision before me.

I am so entranced with Haley that my imagination is working overtime. I’m not watching our growing score. I want the real Haley and my tongue in her pussy. The game is no longer important. That real woman exists somewhere and I need her. She needs me. We are destined to become one. The electronic link between us is like an umbilical cord through which our essences are merging.

A siren sounds and a bright red "TILT" sign floods my screen. A loud voice comes from my computer’s speakers. I jump as if I have been hit by an electric shock.

"This partnership is dissolved and the score is disqualified. Haley, please explain to your partner."

Haley’s husky contralto speaks to me for the first and last time:

"I'm sorry, partner. I'm a University's mainframe not a real woman."

I scream as my screen displays "Fatal Error".