I’m an anal sex virgin trolling in an anal sex chat room.
Social chat rooms are a new trend and, although I’ve lost my virginity, I’m not a sexpert. Under the heading “Romance” I find chat rooms for every fetish imaginable (and some never imagined.) Closer to my curiosities, I enter the Anal Sex room and within minutes I’m incredibly horny.
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
Within a couple days, I’m knowledgeable enough to engage in some pretty dirty sex chats. With a dildo next to my monitor, I become more discriminating in choosing who I allowed in my box of anal naughtiness. I soon receive a private message and, when I check his profile, I begin to drool on my keyboard.
Not only is he my age, he’s also a hot musician with a big cock. In no time flat, I’m adding “amazing anal sexting skills” to his already impressive list. In our twenties (with no time to waste) Jim invites me to Austin, Minnesota to see his band play. Once I confirm he’s legit, I book a room and map my 372-mile route to the Birthplace of Spam.
At no time after his invite (or during the 5.5-hour drive) does it occur to me my anal virginity is at risk.
After checking in (and briefly celebrating the full-size hot tub IN my room) I get ready. Jim’s band starts at 8 and (since he’s reserved me a seat) I arrive at 8:15. The moment I see he’s real, my pussy becomes wet. The next moment, reality smacks me upside the head. Not only is he real but he’s REALLY planning on fucking my experienced asshole tonight. SHIT!
I tell him the moment we arrive in my hotel room and, instead of being upset, he’s more turned on. After throwing our clothes in a pile on the floor, we get in the hot tub… The End.
JUST KIDDING! He fucked all my holes all over that hotel room and by the third time, it almost didn’t hurt.
You think, “What about the raunchy details?” I can give you all the raunchy details you want over the phone! More important than raunch are the invaluable life lessons I discover as I relive my sexcapades for you. They must be a part of the annals of PSK history:
Reliving my sexcapades for you has brought to light some very invaluable life lessons:
Driving 532 miles to meet a stranger for anal (or any other) sex is pure idiocy. Put the mileage on YOUR car!
Hot tub water is NOT a good anal lubricant.
If I happen to travel beyond 60 miles, I’m going to fuck someone.
I carry a blow-up donut like a spare tire. As unpleasant as it was having my asshole repeatedly fucked by a nine-inch cock, the 5.5-hour drive home (shifting from one ass cheek to the other) was actually worse.
Although curiosity gave my cat a good bang, it was definitely murder on the ass.
