Confessions Along The Internet Ch 02

The Happy Mysogynist

From a conversation on Prodigy Internet Chat from around 1998.

For years I sat day after day on a chat line looking for personal stories. I started opening my own room, since the program let me, named something like "Tell me sex stories," or sometimes "True sex confessions." Wild women would tell me something viciously naughty, I hoped. I'm not really the typical porn story reader, you see. I like to flip sex on its back and examine it's white, bloated, scaly underbelly. I want to know what goes on in a person's head and hear some dirty, embarrassing secrets.

I found out pretty quick it wasn't going to be easy. For a start there is no shortage of bullshit on the internet. There were guys trying to tell me they were swingers that routinely screwed lingerie models with their twelve inch cocks when I figured they were middle aged, overweight married guys sitting around in ill fitting boxer shorts looking for enough excitement to masturbate. There were people telling me they were teenaged Playboy bunnies that partied with Hef and routinely screwed porn stars when I figured they were actually middle aged, overweight married guys sitting around in ill fitting boxer shorts looking for enough excitement to masturbate. Finding a convincing wild sex story from a woman was like hunting a golden unicorn with only a few brief, unfocused glances and those were a surprise.

But I had those glimpses. I've talked to enough women to know they have their secrets. They guard them closely. Some are as innocent as "my husband and I had sex on the beach," and range through, "I cheated on my husband on a business trip," or maybe, "I had lesbian sex with my college roommate." At the far end of the golden unicorn rainbow spectrum...where really is the end of that spectrum? It fades to invisible without even really seeing a defining line. I've read about women that have sex with hundreds of men and women. I've read about women, in fact, I've known women, that enjoy BDSM, get whipped catatonic for the pleasure of it, and play the part of a sexual slave allowing themselves to be given to anyone their Master desires. I've read about a woman that voluntarily left her family for a man that she knew would sexually torture and kill her; literally knew that the guy would kill her and agreed to it to satisfy some emptiness inside.

I'm chasing the proverbial rabbit. I'll get to the next story.

Forgive me, I can't remember this guys' name. It never was his name, anyway, it was a chat handle. For the sake of the story I'll call him "Chad." He reminds me of a guy I met on a business trip from Florida that had California surfer guy good looks. His name also wasn't Chad, but he looked like a Chad to me.

"You're collecting sex stories," he said, without entering the room in a Private Message (PM). Yeah, I told him. "Getting any good ones," he asked.

"Not so far tonight, but I have a good one from a few days ago," I tell him. I was lying. It was more like a month ago. I was expecting him to ask me to tell it to him. That was usually what I got from guys that PM'ed me if it wasn't an offer to have cyber-sex. "Role play" sex some people call it online. You talk sexy to someone and describe what you'd like to do to them and masturbate. It's a poor substitute for the real thing when you can't get anything else. I don't do it, although, here's my confession, I have. If I'm going to masturbate I have more comfortable places than my computer chair.

But instead of asking he started telling.

"I have hundreds," he said.

My bullshit detector wasn't really ringing yet, but the yellow light was flashing.

"Oh, really," I replied, "real stories that actually happened? Because that's what I'm looking for."

"Oh yeah, I've done all kinds of things."

"Straight, bi, or gay."

"Straight...I'm straight."

I was two or three decisions down my mental algorithm on sex stories, so I started interviewing him.

"Can you tell me some," I asked?

"I have to remember some that are good," he said, and there was a long pause.

"Let me just ask you some questions," I offered.

"Okay."

"You said you have hundreds of stories," I asked?

"Yeah."

"Are these all with the same person?"

"No, different women."

"Lots of different women or just a few?"

"No, lots. Hundreds." Next message a second later, "...no maybe dozens might be better to say." I was typing my next comment but hadn't hit reply yet when he commented again. "No, hundreds is probably right."

"How do you get to have sex with hundreds of women," I asked? I'm thinking porn star, maybe gigolo...pimp. Prostitute review column in the Las Vegas newspaper, maybe.

"They just throw themselves at me."

Mystifying.

"Why is that? Do you have a big cock or something?"

"They think I'm really good looking. The thing about the size of your dick doesn't matter. I mean, how does a woman know how big your dick is before she gets in bed with you?"

At that time I didn't have an answer for that question. If you want the answer make sure to read part two at the end of this chapter.

"So what are you, like a movie star or a model or something?"

"I've modeled. I had a friend that worked at an advertising company. I would go in and they took pictures of me wearing clothes for a department store."

"You don't model anymore?"

"No."

"Why did you quit," I asked him.

"They didn't really pay that much. They told me I could make more money if I would move somewhere else but I didn't want to. Plus they didn't guarantee I would have work all the time and they said I should have an agent and work for an agency. It was a lot of trouble, so I just didn't do it."

This part didn't sound like a lie. Models don't make that much until they get a lot of work and they get those jobs through an agency. They contract from shoot to shoot and never know how long it will be between. It's sometimes why prospective models wind up in porn.

"So women hit on you because you're really good looking," I asked? I just wanted to stress what he was telling me.

"Yeah, all the time. Constantly."

"So what are you doing chatting in a chat room? Shouldn't you be out with someone?" It was my bullshit story trump card.

"I come on here to play backgammon and I was looking around and saw this room."

It was innocuous enough to be true.

"Plus I'm married now, so I'm trying not to screw around so much. My wife doesn't like it."

"Wait, this is just a little unusual. You're married...you still have sex with other women...your wife knows about it."

"Yeah, that's kinda what we agreed on."

"You have an open marriage?"

"No, I can fool around when I'm out of town but she doesn't get to."

"Why does she let you do that?"

"Because she doesn't want to lose me. When we started going out she was like, 'well if you get to fool around then I get to fool around, too.' But I told her that if she fooled around I would open up and have sex with anyone I wanted."

"So why would that worry her? Women can meet way more men that men can meet women."

"No, that's the point. I can get a woman anytime. If she wanted to meet someone she would probably have to go to a club or something. I get women hitting on me all the time."

"All the time?"

"Yeah." One word answers. Interviewers really hate one word answers. They want an entire paragraph. The story has to be fleshed out and one word answers never do it.

"Like who? Where?"

"All of them. Everywhere." That still wasn't an entire paragraph.

"Can you give me some examples? Can you tell me about some of them?"

"Oh yeah." There was a long pause where I hoped he was thinking or maybe typing, remember this was an online chat, and I started to wonder if it was necessary to ask another leading question, but then he messaged again.

"I got hit on by a

Goth girl one day at a store."

"That young? You knew she was that young?"

"Well, I figure that's about how old she was. She was wearing braces. That's usually about how old a girl is when she has braces."

I knew this was true as I was paying for braces for my daughter right at that time.

He continued, "she didn't have a driver's license. When I left she was walking down the street."

"So you didn't do anything with her?"

"Oh, God, no. Way too young."

"How did she hit on you."

"I was in this store buying something to drink and she came over by me like she was looking for something. She didn't say anything but just looked at me and I looked at her. She was this really skinny girl with fake black hair and bad posture. She left the store and I paid for my drink. When I went out to my truck she was waiting and just told me I could take her home if I wanted."

Now I had a paragraph. He continued next message.

"I told her that she was too young and she just looked at me and said I could do anything to her that I wanted. I was trying to scare her, so I asked her if I could spank her."

"Did that scare her?"

"No, she said it would be okay as long as I fucked her. I just told her I wasn't interested and got in my truck and left."

"Wow."

"That wasn't far from where we were living, either."

"Okay." I guess it was my turn for one word answers.

"She probably trick or treated at my house and we gave her candy. LOL." Laugh Out Loud.

"LOL. So is it young girls that hit on you?" This was a bullshit detecting question. The guys in the bathrobe and boxer shorts would have a frenzy fantasizing about teen girls.

"No, usually it's women around my age."

"How old are you?"

"I turned thiry-six a few months ago," was one message, the next came a few seconds later while I was typing a reply.

"I have older women hit on me, too, though," he said.

"Like how old?"

"Oh, geez, like sixties. Older even. I had a woman in a wheelchair feel my ass up once."

"LOL. What happened?"

"I was at this show and someone squeezed my butt and I turned around and this old woman was there in a wheelchair. She just looked at me and smiled."

"LOL, OMG." Oh My God, of course. I continued, "What do women do?"

"Older women are the worst. They just don't care anymore so they will walk up to me and tell me I'm handsome and they wish they could fuck me. Women that are younger will do things like telling me what time they get off work and say we should have a drink. Then they look at me so I know what they're saying."

"Yeah, but just because they say they want to go out for a drink doesn't mean they want to go to bed with you."

"Yeah, it does. I've found out often enough."

Maybe I was being naive'. I had no point of reference.

"You go out with them and wind up in bed with them."

"Yeah."

"Often?" We're back to one word answers.

"All the time."

"How does this happen? You go to their place? Your wife doesn't let you bring them home I don't think."

"No, I only let women pick me up when I'm out of town. We go to my hotel room usually. Sometimes I might go to their place if they aren't married."

"If they aren't married? You pick up married women?"

"They pick me up."

"But it doesn't bother you that they are married?"

"I'm not the one that put on a wedding ring, they are. I have my wife's permission. 'Bout half the time they take their ring off when they see me anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, first off a single girl will show you her ring finger."

"Just hold her hand out and show your her finger?"

"No, not really but she'll show you her finger. She brushes her hair back or rubs her eyebrow or something so that you have a chance to see her finger."

"How do you know she isn't just brushing her hair back," I asked?

"With her left hand?"

"Okay, well maybe."

"A married woman that takes her ring off will be trying to hide her hand. Hair might flop in her eyes and she keeps putting her drink down and brushing her hair with her hand. It used to be that way, anyway. Now a lot of them don't even bother to take their rings off. If they think they are good looking and it doesn't matter then they don't even bother."

"So how do you know? If they take their ring off you don't know if they're married unless they tell you."

"They have a tan line on their finger or a little line on their skin where the ring was. They know it's there when they take the ring off so they try to hide their finger. Sometime I catch them lying about it."

"Like when, for example?"

"One night I was with this woman in my room and she, like, sort of put her hand up on her chest and I could see where she had worn a ring. I asked her if she was married and she said she and her husband were separated. When a woman tells you they are separated they mean they're married and they're separated by enough room between them and their husband that they think he won't find out."

"Did you make her leave?"

"Fuck, no!"

"You knew she was married and you had sex?"

"Yeah, I made her admit she was married. It wasn't hard, I acted like it turned me on. Then I stopped and I told her to put her rings back on. She got them out of her purse and I had sex with her."

"Why did you do that?"

"I wanted her to feel guilty. I think she was probably making her husband miserable so she could go out after work and drink with her friends and cheat on him. So I wanted her to feel the rings on her finger while I fucked her."

"That probably made her feel guilty."

"So guilty that she came back the next night."

"She came back the next night." I didn't say it as a question, it was a statement.

"Knocked on my hotel door and came in taking off her clothes. She said she had to hurry because she told her husband she had to work late, again."

"You had sex with her twice." Another statement.

"Yeah. But I kind of resented her. I made her give me head and I asked her if she did it for her husband. She just kinda said "sometimes." The way she said it I figured she probably gave him head once on their wedding night and then told him she didn't like it and never did it for him again. She didn't seem to mind doing it for me."

When I heard that I was reminded of a friend's divorce. His wife would refuse him sex for months, literally, as long as six months he told me once. In the last year before they divorced she took a lover and had sex in every way they could think. They had sex every day. I know this was true. The private detective had handed the tapes from the phone tap to him. He couldn't handle listening to them. He let me listen to a few and tell him what information was on them for his divorce case.

"So you don't think she felt guilty about it?"

"No, she didn't. They never do. See this is what I hate about women. They complain that guys watch a woman walk by, but when they want another guy they are worse than men about cheating."

"You can't really say that."

"Yeah, I can. I got two women in my room once. They were sort of competing to see which one could pick me up, so I just persuaded both of them. I didn't really like them. They were cute and all, but they were really pushy. I had them both naked in my room and I was going from one to the other and just told them it would be really hot to watch them with each other. They were telling me they weren't bi, but I just kept pushing them. One of them said she didn't want to, so I told her to put her clothes on and leave. So they started kissing each other."

Next message.

"They kept looking at me to see if I was satisfied with them kissing, one of them started sucking the other one's nipples. I told them it was hot, but I wanted to see them go down on each other. They didn't want to but wound up doing it anyway. I told them they had to make each other come, so they went down on each other until they came."

I didn't understand why that mattered, so I just told him. "I don't understand what you're getting at."

"What guy do you know that would blow his friend so he could get laid? Women are way worse than men."

In a case of "wish I knew then what I know now," I had stories later about guys that did exactly that, had sex with another guy because it would get a woman to have a threesome with both of them. I never had a direct story about that, though, so it won't ever make this book.

"So you resent women for hitting on you," I asked?

"No, really it isn't that they hit on me. It's just their attitude. They think men should bow down to them and that men are bad to women because they cheat, but then they are worse about cheating than men are."

"No, I don't really agree. Women should be allowed to be sexual if they want, just like men."

"Yeah, they can be sexual, but don't treat a guy like crap just because you can and complain about the way they act, then act worse."

I was thinking about his relationship with his wife, but I didn't mention it.

"But you pick up married women and let them do that."

"It really does't matter that I pick them up, that's the way they behave before they ever meet me. There was a woman in an office where I was working. She spent all morning complaining about her husband. She thought I couldn't hear her. She was telling her friend that he was always bothering her about sex and so she had rules about when they would have sex and what they did. Then she calls the poor guy before lunch and tells him she's hungry and didn't have anything for lunch."

Next message.

"She talked him into spending his entire lunch break driving across town to bring her something to eat just because she didn't want to get off her ass and get it herself. When he left she bitched about him some more. When I finished working and was telling her about what work I had done she started telling me what time she got off and suggesting we have a drink. She probably told her husband she had to work late. I took her to the hotel and fucked her. She probably told him she had a headache when she got home."

I'd heard a few stories by that time, but I was a little stunned. I knew women had secrets, but didn't really understand how much some of them have to hide.

"Fucking women are stupid bitches," was the last thing he typed to me.

Part 2- Another Misogynist

"Women are stupid bitches," the guy was saying. Unlike my prior story that started interesting but turned prejudicial, this guy just started that way and didn't let up.

It was around four years after I had talked to the first misogynist and the beginning of the story was also about the guy having dozens of sexual encounters with women. But instead of being handsome he was claiming to be hung. He claimed that women found out and picked him up.

"How would a woman know you have a big dick if they haven't ever seen you," I had asked him.

"Women talk. I guess they talk a lot. I have women start coming on to me that I didn't even know who they talked to."

"So, like, are you a porn star or something?"

"I could probably do porn. I'm not as big as the really huge guys but I'm bigger than some of them."

"But, like, how did this get started?"

"When I was in school I got a girl to get naked with me. She wouldn't have sex with me, but I got her to play with me and I played with her. Next thing I know is that girls were hitting on me. I guess she started telling her friends and word got around."

"That's a little hard to believe. I don't think women talk like that."

"Women talk worse than men do, and they talk about each other. They smile and act like friends and then call somebody a slut or a whore behind their back. They do that with me, they suck my cock and complain about what a slut some other girl is."

"No, but really, I just don't think that happens."

"Yeah, it happens. I had a black girl walk up to me in college right out of the blue and just say, 'I hear you got a great big ol' dick.' So I asked her if she wanted to find out and we had sex."