Reader Submission: What My First Internet Sex Experience Taught Me
By Tara Dixon
“It’s not embarrassing, it’s hot.”
“Log back on!”
“What’s your snapchat?”
“Can you pull your skirt up a little bit more?”
“Just tease me then, if you aren’t gonna take your clothes off.”
Spending so much time on the Internet has resulted in me feeling more comfortable in this vast world, comfortable enough, in fact, to engage in things I never thought I would.
A few days ago, lying on the floor of my dark room with only a single lamp and the glare of my computer screen to illuminate my face and body, I engaged in my first ever bout of Internet sex. I had many offers before that night, but something in me was intrigued and I decided to go for it.
My virtual partner told me he was from New Zealand and at first his distance from me, coupled with my lack of knowledge about him, made me think of the situation as unreal, and that what I was doing was unreal. He assured me that he was, in fact, real and that I needed to be f-cked because that’s what all bodies need.
I felt some weird connection to this stranger. I liked the way that, when I logged back on later, he hadn’t realized yet and I sat there watching him through my webcam. He was standing by a window and seemed to be pacing. I liked to think that my absence was inducing this anxious pacing. His laptop sat at a table along with a vase full of flowers. It was nice to think that this guy thought to put flowers on his kitchen table, or maybe it was his mom’s house — that thought killed my fantasy for a second. But it was quickly reignited when the man appeared in front of my webcam, picking up the laptop. I asked him where we were going. He said, “my room, duh.” I found myself laughing at how normal that sounded.
My appearance on the screens of men hungry to flash their dick at someone, anyone with a vagina is met with shock, excitement, and wonder. Oh women, how powerful we are to have trapped the male gaze. Being involved in these Internet relationships, situationships, or sexual escapades all make me feel like I have a window into people’s personalities. People, being their uninhibited selves on the Internet, make me feel that I am always hearing the truth from them, that whenever my face flashes on their screen as a potential chat mate, they won’t compliment me as a formality, because there are no formalities in chat rooms. People’s honesty on the Internet propels me to feel more confident about myself, and about speaking to real people. I feel more prepared for the things I will hear from them, be it compliments, insults, or critiques.
As a Black girl, it is also a common occurrence for my appearance to be met with frantic pleas from guys to show me their “big” dick. Men who seem to think I will be disappointed if I see anything under 6 inches. Men who may want to call me a hoe or go on about how sexy I am. There is a racialized element to the chat room, just as there is the ballroom, classroom, and boardroom. I am aware of the already hypersexualized image of the Black woman. I am aware that my presence comes with assumptions about my character or lack thereof, and knowing this I don’t take any calls for role play on my cam, or requests to be a submissive plaything. That’s not what I’m here for.
When my chat mate came after we did our virtual thing, I saw him quickly take a napkin and wipe himself. It was then I realized he got what he came here for. He got to jerk off while watching me, while I, on the other hand, did not orgasm. I don’t go on chat rooms to orgasm; I log on to be a wonder of the world, a wonder of the shady chatroom world, to be given compliments and to be admired.
As he was tidying himself, I quickly logged off. I did not want to stick around when he got bored so I left first. The worry and insecurity that comes with thinking people will grow tired of me quickly is terrifying and doesn’t go away no matter how many times strangers on the Internet, friends, or family affirm me.
Before I logged off, I had asked the man on the other side of the camera whether he would he come up to me or just look at me if he saw me in real life. He asked what kind of question that was, and then assured me he would come up to me and ask for my number. I said that I didn’t believe him. He said it was true.
While I always feel elated and somewhat drained after my webcam sessions, I also feel like I am living my life more and more on the Internet, to the point where every weekend I find myself preferring to sit on my bedroom floor in a position deemed cam worthy as my legs cramp up, and my arms grow sore from being propped up on them, coquettishly, for so long. Rather than answering the texts my friends send, or accepting their invites to hang out, or even accepting invitations for actual physical sex, I prefer to converse and traverse with strangers on the Internet. Internet chat rooms have become a part of my world.
Some may think that odd while others might be as intrigued by that notion as I was. All I can say is if the idea of Internet sex sounds enticing try it; if it doesn’t, then don’t. In visiting these rooms, you could come away with more grit, more confidence, and a deeper understanding of how men truly perceive you. Or, you can become more enclosed in yourself and addicted to virtual partners. Be warned.
Tara is a writer who believes in the power writing holds to transform thought and affect change. Aside from writing, I am also a college student who enjoys learning foreign languages and practicing yoga. Check out my blog to get more unfiltered content: www.liberatingtears.com