Lust Online

The Thought of having sex with someone and using a computer as an intermediary hadn't entered my mind until I met Pam at a computer privacy conference in Washington, D.C., where she works as a specialist in computer security for the United States Treasury. We struck up a casual conversation, during which she told me about some pretty sexy things happening on computer bulletin boards and online networks. "It's great," she said. "The things you can do are really wild, and the people are amazing." I was interested, in an academic way, of course. I owned a computer and a modem, and I had at least a passing interest in sex. But modem sex? Is it really sex? I decided to find out for myself.

Later I gave Pam a call to find out how I could reach out and touch someone through my modem. She laughed and suggested that I sign on the Whole Earth 'Lectronic Link, more commonly known as the Well, based in San Francisco. That was simple enough. I plugged its number (415-332-6106) into my software, had my modem dial it up and signed on over the computer. The next step was easy, too: I scanned the conference list for a good title. "Sexuality" looked promising, and within it Text Sex beckoned.

There I found a man confessing to a torrid online affair--with his wife: "My wife and I exchange hot e-mail every day. Sometimes she'll say that she's lubricated, and that she has stretched her legs out under her desk. Then she'll describe how she's sliding her hands inside her panties to rub herself."

Text Sex yielded another respondent with this tale: "I used to talk to a certain Wellite, and sometimes we told each other our erotic fantasies. One night, as I told mine, she became very quiet. When I finished, there was a long pause, and she said, 'Ooh, you sure can tell 'em!' It definitely did something for me. I guess I'd never been complimented before on my ability to describe a fantasy. And it turned out that her silence was just a case of busy fingers." As I continued reading I saw the words "busy fingers" and "one-handed typing" enough to realize that life is hot and heavy on Well.

The next stop on my tour of this byte-size Bangkok was a Well conference called Eros.

Eros is full of homespun erotica. In it, authors share their ostensibly real adventures as well as their fantasies to create an erotic experience for others online. One woman, who calls herself Sara, posted a favorite fantasy:

"It's late at night, deserted on the train platform. You're waiting to catch the last train home. It was a long day and you're exhausted.

"The train arrives. You board the last car. It's empty. Good, you think, I can sleep all the way home. You're nodding off already. Just as the train is about to pull out of the station, a young woman boards the car you're on. The train moves along the tracks and you can feel the vibrations of the rails.

"As you begin to feel hot, you feel your cock getting harder and you squirm in your seat trying to get comfortable. You imagine yourself touching the silky fabric of her dress, realizing that it has fallen apart at your touch and you are touching bare skin--everywhere. Your fingers move down her body, absorbing the wonderful sensations. You hear a slight moan in your ear as you near that part of her that is getting hot and wet.

"You pull her up and make her stand facing you between your legs. Wetness is streaming down her legs. She sits on your lap. She moans, shaking her head from side to side. You can tell she is getting close to coming so you stop. Moving your hands lower, one hand strokes her clit, the other holds her tight, moving her up and down on your cock. Your body is beginning to vibrate along with the train on the tracks. She starts coming just as you shoot deeply into her.

"You notice the train begin to slow as it approaches the station. Slowly, you begin to awaken."

The talk in Eros detailed sexual variations from standard heterosexual encounters to S&M, incest and group sex. But is this what Pam meant by online sex? A series of autobiographical vignettes? You don't have a sexual relationship by reading sexual fantasies on a computer. Or do you?

I wasn't the only one wondering. In another Well conference called Eros, it seemed that everyone was debating whether they'd actually had sex with someone else--a question that's usually been easy to answer in my experience. But when you're alone with a computer and the person you're having sex with is half a continent away, there's room for confusion.

"The idea that folks online, even on the most explicit sex board, are exchanging virtual bodily fluids is a myth," one woman complained. "It doesn't happen." She's seconded by a man who's been on the Well for years. "Sex per se does not occur. Writing and communicating about sex occurs, but that's not the same thing."

Not everyone agreed. One woman insisted it is sex, even though there's no physical contact. "Computers are almost sexy even when there aren't passionate, thinking, feeling people interconnecting through them," she wrote. "They respond to our touch. Add a human who's lonely and horny and creative, and the effect is tremendously powerful. Add a bunch of fascinating humans, and it's easy to be in love with the whole lot."

Others on the Well joined in with their own opinions:

• "Computer sex is definitely happening, and people are doing it in ASCII. How do I know? I've done one-handed typing."

• "Modem sex is a far cry from phone sex. It lacks any of the warmth and intimacy that you get with a voice. It does have a certain appeal, though--it can be fairly anonymous."

• "I enjoy a well-written seduction. However, I am very fussy, and only truly literate guys turn me on. It helps if they are poets. Somehow the figurative language helps me imagine what's happening. The first few heated modems are exciting."

•

The media from Los Angeles to Boston agree that sex is a driving force in the computer revolution. Sure, some suits and scientists are traveling the information highway, but according to some studies, more than 50 percent of online communication is sex related, driving users into the one-handed keyboard mode. There are also gifs, the computer equivalent of French postcards--graphic erotic images that cyberlovers scan into their computers to share.

The four most popular online providers in descending order of size are Prodigy, Compuserve, America Online and the Well; according to Board-watch magazine, there are now more than 46,000 smaller services. Of the major players, only Prodigy (which The Wall Street Journal dubbed the family service) censors its bulletin boards. The pretender to the throne, America Online, is a different story. Time and again on the Well there had been mention of AOL's chat rooms. Chat rooms are unique, because instead of leaving messages on an electronic bulletin board, you can communicate directly with up to 23 people at once, as if you were at a big, digital party. With rooms named Single Again, Romance, Flirting Nook, and Gay and Lesbian, AOL sounded promising.

AOL has both public and private chat rooms. Public rooms are listed, and anyone can join the fun. But because AOL monitors its public rooms, the talk there is tame. When like-minded people meet in a public room they can arrange--often through e-mail--to create a private room where anyone who's invited can go for a smaller, more intimate and uncensored group grope.

That's how it works in theory, but that's not how it worked for me. I was still new to typing at the speed of repartee and more than a little self-conscious. There was something odd about whooping it up with a few daring strangers. Were they executives, secretaries, high schoolers? Whatever, the conversation was more Animal House than erotic.

Perhaps because of my inhibitions, I didn't get invited to any private sex parties, but my AOL time was well spent. I was beginning to feel more comfortable in cyberspace. I decided to head back to the Well to see if I could find a woman who had posted something juicy so I could start an e-mail romance.

Armed with new confidence, I began to share a few reminiscences. And they drew a couple of responses. It was titillating to know that my stories were turning other people on. Maybe that was it: You had to create an on-screen identity so that people knew who you were. I couldn't just lurk behind the anonymity of my keyboard. As if at a cocktail party, I had to chat the chat to walk the walk.

I noticed that a woman from Atlanta kept popping up in topics that I found interesting. In one post she even mentioned that people could contact her for the transcript of a hot e-mail affair she had had. She sounded perfect.

I e-mailed her, asking if I could see the material. I also suggested that we chat since we had similar interests. I struck out, receiving the chilliest e-mail reply ever to land in my computer. I felt like an online outcast.

At least I wasn't alone. In the A Look at Online Relationships topic on the Well, another man had the same complaint: "This is the first time I've roamed into this neighborhood, and I'm observing varying degrees of real friendship. The question is how a stranger can enter into a conversation without being introduced face-to-face. It's like my walking up to a small group of strangers and saying, 'Hi!'"

The reactions to this query varied from "You just did it" to "The newcomer needs to make a contribution by way of introduction and not just barge in" to "Barging in is the only way." Not much help.

I was alone on AOL and a wallflower on the Well. Could I perhaps be interesting on the Internet, the forerunner of the famed information superhighway that connects millions of potential users? The Internet is rife with all sorts of alternative news groups (the equivalent of a topic on the Well). One of the things I knew I could find on the net was anonymity--there was no worry that a co-worker would identify me or my posts.

But I needed more help from Pam, my AAA cybertrip planner, to get me headed in the right direction. "Type 'CSH' at the Well's OK prompt, then 'tin' for a news-group reader," she said. "Next, enter 'g,' then 'alt.sex.'"

What I discovered in the alternative news groups in alt.sex.bondage, alt.sex.bestiality and alt.sex.stories singed my eyelids and almost melted my keyboard. The stories by these faceless authors were far more explicit than anything else I'd seen on the Well or AOL.

In a number of alternative news groups, animals from otters to horses became anthropomorphized to have human genitals and psyches. Encounters between animals seemed to be more tender and emotional than the human-to-human episodes--as if donning the skin of an animal allowed the authors more vulnerability: "Kelly smiles at you while snuggling close. You smile and snuggle in as well, relaxing. Kelly rests his head on your shoulder and nuzzles with little licks at your fur. You smile and nuzzle gently into an ear, bringing a giggle. His ear flicks and he chirps warmly. You whuff into the ear and lick its tip. His tail shifts (continued on page 152)Lust Online(continued from page 96) and rubs against you while he softly churrs. His paws ruffle the fur on your thighs as he turns against you. You run your paws over his back, stirring up the fur in random swirls and lines."

I read more. Even though it was exciting to view someone else's fantasy life, my fantasy life was getting nowhere. Modem sex was still eluding me. I went back to the Well and found a private conference, Erospri.

Something had begun there that gave me a clue as to what I was missing. Under the topic Duchess and Ann Flirt in Public, two women were indulging their S&M desires for all to witness.

Having an audience was important to Ann's sexuality. Really important. Listen to one of her fantasies: "I love to put clothespins on my cunt lips and fuck myself hard with a dildo. I like doing it just how I want it, with my own rhythm. I imagine being forced to do this in front of a classroom, on the teacher's desk: The teacher drones on in an academic tone of voice, using her pointer to describe the action: Notice how quickly she gets wet. And watch how she uses just two fingers here, on the most sensitive spot. I can feel everyone's eyes on me. I can see my daddy in the back of the classroom watching and smiling to herself [yes, she has changed her father's gender] and I imagine her reaching down and stroking her cock as it gets harder and harder. See how she tugs on her clit ring. Her breathing is getting faster. I use the clothespins to spread my cunt lips wider. My nipples are so hard they hurt. I reach up and put my fingers in my mouth just to taste myself. I love the smell and taste of my own wetness. The teacher's pointer grazes my sore nipples. And see these welts on the insides of her thighs, from the caning she received earlier today."

When I read this I realized why these stories might qualify as some sort of sexual experience: This was a fantasy that others could vicariously participate in, and it could never happen anywhere else with such immediacy. There is no other medium in which Ann could change her father's gender and have an audience witness the transformation so quickly. There is something about computers that allowed me to accept the gender change without question. After all, anything is possible in cyberspace. The trick is freeing the imagination. This sort of sexuality is simply an X-rated Dungeons and Dragons.

Which raises the most enticing and provocative aspect of modem sex: the freedom it allows users to test-drive their fantasies with other people while still preserving their anonymity. With that facelessness comes the freedom to try different sexual personas. Many on the Well agree:

• "Sex in cyberspace happens in a very surreal landscape. The phenomenon of males masquerading as females is widespread, but oddly enough, it is not necessarily an indication of gay preference. I introduced my male officemate, a shy man with a bit of an inferiority complex, to CB on Compuserve. He found that since he wasn't a verbally skilled person, he had difficulty making friends or finding conversation partners. On a whim, he changed into a female and was suddenly popular. In this case the female persona was like Dumbo's magic feather: If he was adept enough to be a convincing female, then surely he had enough moxie to merely be himself."

• "In the wretched, bombed-out apocalypse of the Santa Barbara bulletinboard scene, where everybody goes by an anonymous handle and has more than one account on every BBS in town, people assume female personas every so often. I've done it. Sometimes it's just to prove a point; you assume a female role to make a rhetorical argument carry more weight. The bulletin board scene there thrives with about 100 hard-core users, of which only about five percent are women. So you can understand why that kind of thing happens."

• "In Austin we developed a special term for those who disguise their gender for the purpose of posting to a bulletin board: transpostite."

• "Things sometimes get real weird on AOL with people arguing over someone's true gender. The other night a woman was accused by another woman of not being a woman. She thought the woman in question was too aggressive to be a woman. The woman in question gave her phone number to several people so that they could call to hear her voice. After doing so, a man verified that she sounded like a female. The woman who raised the allegations was not impressed. She said that lots of transvestites sound like women. Someone then asked her how we were to know that she was a woman. She said that there were images of her available for downloading. She thought this evidence was somehow more solid than the other person's phone voice. She said she could also fax photos of herself to people."

•

Clearly, to find what I was looking for I had to project myself into new environments and sexualities. One Wellbeing, as they often call themselves, explained the danger and seduction of computer projection: "The person who exists as sagittal slices in time across your computer screen becomes a focal point in your imagination. It is easy to project onto this person because you know nothing about him or her. The person becomes the repository of all your lurching romanticism."

Since I didn't have the hang of projection yet, I thought I had better try to get more information about real-time chat--the stuff I flirted with briefly on AOL. But I didn't know where to find it. Once again I turned to Pam.

I told Pam that I didn't think I had found sex online, certainly not the sex she'd been so heated by. She made it easy. "Get back to the Internet," she said, "type 'IRC,' then '/join #hotsex.' It's really good, but only in the evening. The rest of the time it's just kids."

Amid the background chatter of the large group gathered there, I finally found what Pam had been talking about: the creation and consummation of an online affair. Try to imagine, if you will, a virtual Plato's Retreat, where off in one corner Nikki and Priapus are meeting and mating:

Priapus: Hello, Nikki.

Nikki: Hello there.

Priapus: You have been wandering around for a while--not finding what you want?

Nikki: Yeah, there's sort of a chill in the ether. I'm bored with people not having fun.

Priapus: Perhaps I could be what you're looking for?

Nikki: Well, what would you have to offer?

Priapus: An intense, erotic, uninhibited interlude.

Nikki: You have my attention.

Priapus: Tell me about yourself.

Nikki: I'm not interested in the mundane--more exotic than that. And you?

Priapus: I'm interested in the extreme and the unusual. Here, I'll do anything.

Nikki: I guess I'm ready for anything, too. Why don't you lie down and get comfortable?

Priapus: Lying down and comfortable. Very comfortable.

Nikki: For now, I'm feeling a bit full and need to relieve myself.

Priapus: Oh, yes. Straddle me, move up my body and lower your pussy to my face.

Nikki: I'm seeing you lying in a tub, naked and aroused.

Priapus: I'm as hard as a rock, and panting eagerly.

Nikki: Yes, I'm hovering, holding myself and waiting for your hand to move over yourself.

Priapus: I take my hard cock in my hand and stroke it slowly. I stare at your pussy, waiting for the first drops.

Nikki: That's good. I let a bit, a small drop or two, fall into your mouth.

Priapus: Please, I say. Please, now.

Nikki: Now I'm ready for you to please me as I grind myself down on your mouth.

Priapus: My tongue lashes out at your clit, licking furiously.

Nikki: Lick me! Hard, long, from front to back.

Priapus: I taste your mingled juices, and my hand runs up and down my cock. Long swipes of my tongue, from your clit back over the lips of your pussy.

Nikki: My lips graze your cock, lick its tip, taste the salt.

Priapus: I thrust up my hips, seeking to enter your mouth.

Nikki: I can't wait any longer and swallow you whole, my lips stretched around your fullness.

Priapus: My tongue thrusts into you so I can reach far in.

Nikki: Now, I want you to come now, as my cunt begins to contract.

Priapus: My fingers reach between your legs, finding your clit to stroke it. I thrust hard up into your mouth. My cock quivers, pulses.

Nikki: Oh, goddess, yes, come in my mouth, spill into my mouth.

Priapus: Exploding into you.

Nikki: Yes, fuck my mouth as I drain myself into you.

Priapus: My come spurting, spurting, filling you.

Nikki: It drips down my chin as I try to swallow it all. Goddess, give me more.

Priapus: More, dear? You want more? Mmm.

Nikki: Now I'm ready for the evening--thanks! Bye for now.

Priapus: I hope we talk again soon.

Nikki: This was delightful. Truly delightful.

Priapus: Mmm. Me too.

Watching this did prove, to me at least, that there was a live-sex scene that involved the spilling of digital bodily fluids--and probably real bodily fluids as well. It was fascinating to watch this exchange flit across my computer screen and imagine all those others variously aware and unaware of what was going on in this electronic enclave of hedonism.

"Here, I'll do anything," writes Priapus to Nikki. And that's the point. Going for it is the attraction of the computer sex scene. The virtual city allows you to experiment with your boldest fantasy: try on handcuffs, be part of the leather crowd and still have the safest of safe sex. To paraphrase Lisa Palac, editor of Future Sex magazine, virtual-reality sex is only as interesting as our real-life sexual imagination. In order to enjoy modem sex, I had to learn to supply imagination and desire--which, of course, is what good real sex requires as well.

However, the hardest aspect of computer sex for me was not imagination--and certainly not desire--but getting used to the digital environment. When I figured out the technology, it felt liberating to be able to act out sexually and not worry about the ramifications. Will it ever replace real sex? No, but neither will phone sex. But that doesn't mean it's not an entertaining addition to the sweaty, smelly, great thing that is face-to-face sex.