Cybersex private chat dating service hampton roads

I’m seeking the ego boost of a couple “Hey, you’re cute, want to chat? He asks for pictures, which I refuse because, hey, you never know where that stuff’s going to end up, right? I’ve had suggestive conversations about likes and dislikes, and I’ve done (more than) my share of flirting, but I’ve never really gone “all the way.” At first I’m kind of awkward, blushing while I type and thinking, “Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that” every time I hit “send.” After about 10 minutes, though, I kind of get into it. I say dirtier stuff to this Internet Hottie than I’ve ever said to any guy in person. Monday Night: Internet Hottie proves to be a fantastic distraction from my recent breakup. He’s been at a friend’s house since he got off work, goofing off, so he shows up in sweat pants and a T-shirt. A tight T-shirt gets me every time if the guy’s remotely built. Tall, but not too tall, blond hair, blue eyes, glasses …elcome to the Frisky “Sex Diary,” in which an anonymous person shares the details of her sex life over the course of a few days. So, fresh from a week of moaning to my BFFs and reciting “you deserve better than that cowardly piece of trash” to myself on an hourly basis, I hit up my favorite free online dating site. The fact that I’m so anxious to talk to him again is probably a bad sign. it requires getting up, taking off my shirt — I kept my bra on — taking photos, uploading them, cropping out my face and sending. Kissing leads to a back massage, which leads to the bedroom. He’s bigger than I’m used to, or maybe just more enthusiastic. The best part, though, is that it isn’t awkward afterward. I’m trying so hard not to hope for a phone call or text tomorrow, or any kind of more-than-sex overture.

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I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that a guy willing to masturbate in front of someone via the internet would be well-endowed, but I admit I am kind of impressed anyway. Tuesday Night: I log on immediately after I get home from work at , but Internet Hottie isn’t online.

In exchange for the picture, he turns on his webcam. I go to bed, snuggling into my newly-inflated self-confidence.

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He just stopped calling and refused to answer my calls, texts, or messages. I rush home from work and log onto IM practically the second I walk through the door, eager to see if he’s pulled the disappearing act yet. He brushes it off, and then starts asking for pictures again. And it isn’t really a spur-of-the-moment thing, either … We sit on my couch for about an hour and a half just talking before anything happens. I’ve never been kissed like that before: long and slow, like the intent isn’t so much to “kiss” as it is to just be touching me. My eyes, my hair, my skin—he’s obsessed with how soft my hands are—all receive praise numerous times. I really want to give him head, but I also want him inside me, and I decide I’d waited long enough. I really want him to pound into me, too, so I’m disappointed when it’s uncomfortable.

Diarist: A 22-year-old college grad, still working in retail because “I picked a Liberal Arts major.” Sunday Night: I got dumped recently. If I saw him at a bar, I would never think I had a shot with someone that tall, blond, and well-built, but online he approaches me. Then he asks if I wanted to have a “discussion” about sex. Of course, this also means I spend most of the day kind of turned on. I give him my usual line about how he could be a serial killer and I need to meet him in a public place first. the kind of guy who, had I seen him at a bar, I would have been too intimidated to flirt with beyond a long glance and maybe a smile. He seems intelligent, funny, and with a streak of dorkiness that puts me at ease fairly quickly.

I even get out my vibrator and, err, go about that business too. We joke a bit about having fallen into a routine (Monday night he’d remarked that he gets horny at the same time every night, around 11), and about him being late. especially since we’re set to meet Wednesday evening. It’s different when you plan it out and go into it with your eyes wide open.

I’ve never considered male genitalia particularly attractive, and I’ve never looked at porn to get myself going, but I’m reconsidering now. Shrugging it off (or trying to), I go about my business. He pops up at about , just as I’m contemplating going to bed. I’ve had one-night hookups before, but they’ve always just kind of happened organically at parties.

I suggest Wednesday, because I’ve got Thursday off work, but we’ll see if I even hear from him again. I’m not very sexually experienced, though I’m not a virgin by any means. but if not, one or both of us could pull a “you know, I just remembered I have to get up really early tomorrow …” and have an out. This is not unusual for me, but it is unusual for me to be pursuing “just sex” so single-mindedly. he’ll see me and not find me attractive in person; I’ll see him and chicken out; he’ll have a weird and un-sexy voice; he’ll give me the clap; it’ll be really bad sex in person; I’ll somehow become emotionally attached to him and wind up heartbroken because an internet hook-up didn’t call me the next day. I like to think that going into this with no illusions, I’ll be able to restrain my over-eager emotions, but you never know. Later That Night: He doesn’t text me until nearly . I’m stupid and give him my address and he comes over.

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