When I agreed to meet Princess Tawny, I never in a million years expected that a) it would actually happen, or b) anything would come of it. I've had my share of online "dalliances," even meeting a couple of women for a little fetish fun, but nothing like this... nothing that would so completely consume me and change my world. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
It all began one night while I was surfing the 'Net, bored out of my mind. I was doing my usual chat room ping-pong thing, bouncing from one room to the next, trying to find people who were both enjoyable to talk with and tolerant of other folks' sexual tastes (I had chosen my "TastingHerToes" screen name for the evening's romp, and it more often than not met with a wide range of responses, ranging from disgust to downright belligerence). As the night progressed, I found myself entering rooms with more and more provocative headings, more sexually intriguing, if sometimes slightly masked by more commonly accepted euphemisms. Even online, most people don't want to PUMMEL others with their interests.
Hence, I ended up in a room entitled "Bossy Black Babes." The heading alone got my danglies twitching. I've long had fantasies involving black women, so I thought I'd enter the room and simply watch the proceedings for a bit, just to gauge the room participants' honesty and openness. I can spot a phony or a closed-minded dweeb a mile away. And this way I could simply observe for a bit to see if it was the type of crowd I'd enjoy gabbing with. So, in I went. No expectations, just curiosity and a boatload of boredom. Besides, I'm so white I glow in the dark, and therefore expected to be zapped from the room immediately if this was supposed to be a blacks only room. Again, I could only wait and see.
But how incognito can a person be with my kind of blatant screen name? A few folks in the room noticed me on the participants list and when the room announced my arrival, and immediately began with their snide comments and the trite toe jokes everyone always thinks are so funny, no matter how many times they've all heard them before. I simply sat back and watched, amused at how small minds seemed to band together. Mob mentality. And the more open-minded in the room kept quiet, so as not to get caught supporting the target of everyone's jibes and thus becoming a target themselves. Typical online bully and wall flower behavior.
Shaking my head with pity for those sad chatters, I clicked out of the room to continue my search for a desirable group of intelligent folks, when my Instant Message box popped up. The screen name that "spoke" to me as "PRINCESSTawnyToYou." Her message read, "Don't mind them. They're nice enough people, just a little narrow-minded."
I hesitated for a second, digesting the message. Before I could reply, the message continued, "My name is Tawny, though I prefer PRINCESS Tawny. I love your profile. Everything you like, I like too. Want to discuss it?"
Without going into the conversation's specifics, it suffices to say that we chatted for the next hour or so, each of us feeling completely comfortable with the other. I read her profile as she had already read mine. We did indeed have much in common, specifically from a sexual aspect. As I caught glimpses of her profile between comments in IM, I saw that she was as kinky as I was, and she reveled in her sexuality, especially her dominant persona. Reading her profile helped me find the courage to ask her questions and reply openly to hers in return. In short, in no time at all we'd hit it off beautifully! No one was more shocked than myself. Luck is not something I have in great abundance - at least not GOOD luck. So, I was wary, trying to read between the lines, capturing yet another sick online fake. But, it didn't happen. Tawny seemed more real and more adorable with each sentence. Slowly, my reservations - and what few inhibitions I have - melted away.
Over time, the initial IM's led to many emails, sexually provocative discussions of almost every possible nature. Tawny seemed not only very intelligent, but wickedly imaginative. Her list of sexual fantasies and variations thereof rivaled my own. She seemed eager to delve into the enticing world of erotic role play. Almost anything I spoke of she was willing to try, and vice versa. It was as if our minds and souls were cast in the same mold. And with each chat and email we felt more and more as if we'd known each other for decades.
But, through all of this, we never exchanged photos. I told her I have personal reasons for not putting my picture online, and she was okay with that. However, I described myself completely honestly, with all my physical flaws. She didn't seem to care. Likewise, I'm not into physical appearance, so I didn't care that she didn't send a photo. We accepted each other as we were. Looks, after all, mean very little. The vast majority of sexual arousal comes from what's in the mind. Appearance, at least for me, has very little to do with it. I've known gorgeous women who were about as sexually interesting as a box of Kleenex, and plain women who've repeatedly knocked my socks off. So, a lack of photos (which you can't always trust online, anyway) meant nothing to me. Tawny was obviously incredible, even if she looked like Quasimodo.
That having been said, apparently Tawny picked herself up a digital camera at some point. About two weeks before our first meeting she emailed me a photo. In fact, that's all she wrote in the subject box... just "photo." Now, even though I don't consider a person's looks to be the deciding factor in whether or not I'm willing to meet them in person, I admit I was extremely curious about this woman. And, for all I knew, she'd sent me a photo of her car or a favorite painting. So, again expecting nothing, I opened the pic file...
...and was stunned.
Since I had repeatedly expressed my fondness for women's derrieres, Tawny, obviously paying close attention, had decided to send me a photo of hers. No, no car or favorite painting. It was indeed Tawny's round, lovely butt. The photo was a medium shot of her bent over what appeared to be the back of a sofa, her glorious nether cheeks - unashamedly naked - proudly displayed in the direction of my admiring eyes. And that was pretty much all I could see, except for the backs of her thighs from her knees up to that fine bottom. And between those thighs, just a hint of the promise hidden there. Tawny's oh so desirable ass - and all of its surrounding succulent views - suddenly and unexpectedly mine to view. Teasing me. Enticing me. I have to admit, my penis rose up as if to take a peek for itself, straining against my jeans for a look. Below that rather stimulating photo, Tawny had decided to titillate me further. Knowing the photo would arouse my ardor, and knowing my tendency to be somewhat submissive sexually, she capped off her unexpected gift with the words, "Kiss my ass, white boy!" I could almost hear her chuckling wickedly. As much as that photo did for my libido, my one regret was that I couldn't see her face in it. Facial expressions can tell us so much about people. Still, I stared at that oh so kissable ass for quite a long time that night. I really don't even remember my reply to her. Something garbled and incomprehensible, no doubt. I just remember her subsequent response was quite gleeful and she kept reminding me how much my lips would enjoy giving her ass "proper respect." Ah, the lovely pictures THAT short phrase etched into my brain!