Ever since I was in college, I've heard the phrase, "Well, she/he talks a good screw", but I never digested what it really meant. I laughed at the concept. I just thought it was one of those phrases that men and women put together to ultimately mean that all the talk to get a potential love partner into bedroom situations was better than the actual performance - or worse yet, a tease or come-on that never led to even second base or to bed even by the proverbial third date rule. I'm sure we all can relate, somehow. Been there. Done that. Bought the t-shirt in the gift shop. Huh?
Yeah, it's kind of "a thing". It happens andΒ c'est la vie.Β "Next!"Β Sure, you can laugh about it now. Tell it to your blue balls.
The story I'm about to tell may or may not be true. In fact, it probably isn't. Just another sex-crazed idea that bounces around in the head-spaces between the ears of a regular guy as he imagines who is really on the other end of those positive, creative and suggestive comments - written by various people over the years - to his most innocent of blogs, opinions and self-imposed writing assignments posted to online blog-o-sphere. For safety and simplicity's sake, I'm going to combine all those people into one composite fictional person. Chances are, it will never be read, anyway.
It all started about six years ago. It only seems like yesterday, but of course, time seems to fly in the face of an older guy rushing toward that final fade-to-black. As all bloggers know, we post our stuff online for the folks we have "befriended" at that blog site, who then have the opportunity to express their opinions and make comments. Most are generally supportive, some rude and argumentative - which are then, "un-friended" - and those very select few who actually bother to read and understand what ideas I was attempting to convey. I was using the college level English language, but with high school level vocabulary for those who may be impaired. Those comments had the most validity and therefore became the most valuable people. As I read their blogs, I began to really read-into what the responding person was trying to say.
As time continued, the blogs became, more or less, focused on each other. This is serious and risky behavior online. This isn't a box of chocolates - Forrest Gump kind of thing. While fun, exciting and only slightly dangerous, we continued writing AT each other, all the while remaining public in the blog site. To get rid of a lot of borderline "friends", I began to post blogs that neither expressed my personal opinions or ideas, stories or memories. One by one, my "friends" disappeared... all except one or two. I announced that I was leaving the site as it was taking too much of my time and was getting vicious - which is a common complaint online these days. It was ironic that I created it myself. (There really are a lot of whacked-out people who have internet access out there and an opinion to bully onto the weak-minded masses.)
One woman, who refused to post a photo of her true self on her site, sent a personal message that she wanted to continue to read my stuff and where I would be going to blog next. Thinking back, I had already moved my blogging from three sites already - closed down by the servers as "non-profitable". I guess we were all NOT clicking on their advertising banners enough. Not knowing where, when or if ever I was going to continue blogging, I gave her my e-mail address. At this point and after all the time we'd spent sharing ideas online, I felt pretty safe in doing so, but still had no clear idea who she was or anything else. I just knew she was fun, but requested we share more information. I already knew she was near my age, was an adult and had adult children she was proud of after having read her blogs in the past, but still at least, web-cam shy. No pictures.
Over a period of time, e-mails weren't enough to communicate. E-mails progressed to another blog site where we began telling each other stories. It was a matter of timing when/where our online contributions could be posted or read. It was public, but there were only two people on the circuit. The stories turned erotic in nature. We wondered how far this pleasant fiction would go?
Then, one evening, under the influence of more than one glass of a bold Cabernet, I turned on my HD webcam and created a short video. As the image on the monitor focused in, I adjusted the lighting and clicked the red 'record' button. Without any words, I just lifted my shirt, spread saliva on my middle finger tip and rubbed it in a circular fashion around my left nipple, which immediately hardened. Then, I laughed and clicked the 'stop' button. I accessed my e-mail server and created a new e-mail, attached that video and added "LOL" as the only message, then clicked 'send'. I waited.
