When I first began my online dating exploits, I was only aware of sites like Match.com and Yahoo personals. Neither of those was very effective in meeting the kinds of girls I was interested in meeting.

Sluts.

I use that term loosely but what I really mean is that I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Getting laid was the ultimate goal and, if the chick was cool, I expanded my social rolodex as well. No reason not to stay friends after a night of meaningless drunken monkey love.

Her: Last night was great. I really like you.

Me: Yeah, it was fun.

Her: So, how come you don’t have a girlfriend.

Me: Because there is no God, hence he has not afflicted me with one. No wait, it’s really because I keep meeting girls online who show up 15 pounds heavier than their pictures, with grating voices and no personality, kinda like…

Now, you couldn’t very well go searching for “sites to meet sluts” and expect anything other than slutswithbigbutts.com or adultfriendfinder. I found nerve.com, which shared their personal ads with theonion.com. It was a treasure trove of trim, but full of the adult version of emo kids. Today’s story, however, comes from an unlikely place full of wonder, merriment and barely legal whores. Ladies and gentleman, I shamefully give you…hotornot.com.

Yes, that’s right folks. A website devoted to people with low self esteem who require validation from strangers. It’s like a site made for strippers, Hooters waitresses and bloggers, all rolled into one. What would typically happen is that one of your friends would say, “Check out this site. Fucking retards post their pics so other people can rate them. It’s awesome.” You’d go and instantly become addicted to rating people. Immediately after you clicked on your chosen rating, somewhere between one and ten, they’d show you what that person was rated overall. As a person with questionable self esteem of your own, you’d gleefully rate everyone a “1″ and be livid when you saw that their average was an “8″. Yet you would continue to rate like a chimp pounding on the cocaine feeding button. Eventually, the temptation would overcome you and you’d start looking for your own picture to upload. No matter how self aware we are, there’s always that nagging feeling of aesthetic inadequacy or, at the very least, arrogance to prove how hot we are to ourselves. If you’ve ever posted on a site like that you’ve checked your own rating every hour on the hour. Don’t deny it.

One other feature of hotornot.com was called “Meet me”. In your maniacal rating binge, you might come across a picture of someone you found particularly attractive. If they’d enabled it, you could click “Meet Me”, and when they logged in again, your picture would be in their “Matches”. Then, if they were interested, they’d click “Yes” and you’d be connected. At that point, if you’d paid your five dollar monthly fee, you could email back and forth. For the first week or so I refused to pay. But after I saw the number of reasonably hot girls on the site, I plunked down my half a dime and went to work.

Click. No.
Click. No.
Click. Yes.
Click. No.
Click. No.
Click. No
Click. Yes.

And so on and so on and so on.

That first night I probably clicked on five or six girls. Then I went to bed. The next morning I woke up, checked my inbox and boo ya! Five matches wanted to meet me back. The initial email to them would be a casual, soft sell. I didn’t need to bring out the big guns cuz they’d already said, “I like you” by clicking “Yes” on me. Who put these fish in this barrel? Long story short, I wrote a brief cut and paste email to each.

The first chick to respond was eighteen years old. Yes, she was young, but I was fresh off of my divorce and wanted to explore my options. And damn, did she have options. Double D options. Blonde hair and double D options. I definitely wanted those options. So we made plans for her to come meet me on the Third Street Promenade. When I first saw her I was surprised. Not quite what I’d expected from the pictures. Keep in mind, it was early in my online dating career so I wasn’t familiar with the trick photography used to give the impression of a slimmer body or prettier face. Now I see a picture of a super model and immediately think, “that bitch is fat, has green teeth and a big nose.” But back then I thought a picture was a digital recreation of a person’s appearance, rather than a marketing tactic. We all know now that sea monkeys don’t really have little faces and play volleyball. Neither did this girl. But she was cute enough and not “big”, so I went with it. Besides, I could always stuff my face down in them big ol’ titties and forget about it.

Anyway, we head back to my apartment at her request. She was already touchy feely so I anticipated some sort of action, and I was right. The minute we sat on my sofa she started rubbing my leg and leaned in to kiss me. One of the great things about younger girls these days is that they’re highly sexual. Society has gone from teaching youngsters to have self esteem, to value sexual intimacy, to abstain for a while or at least until they meet someone they love, to having girls lose their virginity at twelve, have sex with their female friends and blow all of their male ones. It’s disgusting and horrifying that this generation devalues their bodies to such a large extent, and considers sex some type of party favor. Girls were not this slutty when I was eighteen.

I was gypped.

Luckily, I got single before society remedied this tragic social-sexual situation. And now I’m sitting on my sofa with a giant breasted, barely legal blonde who’s just started unzipping my pants.

(My hands + her tits) x (her lips + my cock) = sploooooooge.

It was the best blow job I’d ever had in my life.

After that she came over a few more times. We’d sit and chat for a bit then she’d attack. Every time it was the same thing. Make out for a bit, play with them jugs, then she’d blow me. Funny thing, it was her idea, not mine. Granted, most guys would love this scenario and I was no exception. After a while though, it got a little boring. So one night I asked, “This is great and all but what do you get out of it? Not interested in having sex?” She proceeded to explain that she’d only had sex with three guys, all boyfriends. And although she was very attracted to me, she wanted to hold off. Not the she expected me to be her boyfriend (thank god, she’s not delusional), but that she didn’t want to get her feelings hurt.

NOTE
If you insert your penis into a girl’s vagina, she acquires “feelings” which apparently get hurt if you do not follow up with a relationship. However, if you insert your penis into her mouth repeatedly and she swallows your man-juice, it results only in philosophical conversations about “feelings”. I’ll take option two thank you very much.

One night, something in the fabric of the universe shifted, and things changed. When she arrived she was wearing a skirt, which she hadn’t done before. I also noticed that she’d done her hair a different way and added some makeup. It didn’t occur to me to question this new behavior, probably because I was mesmerized by her giant mammaries. We sat down on the sofa and after some chit chat, she started her typical process of pre-head making out. Suddenly, she stopped.

“Have you ever had anal sex?” she asked.

I was so shocked that I couldn’t speak. It was like she’d asked if I’d ever raped baby orangutans. What? Did I hear you correctly? Can you repeat that? Finally I said, “Sure, a bunch of times.” (Incidentally, this was in answer to the anal question, not the raping of the little orange monkey-people.)

“I want to try it.”

So now this girl has polished my pole with her mouth at least ten times. She’s got no interest in vaginal intercourse because she’s fearful she’ll catch an emotion and I’ll break her fragile, eighteen year old heart. However, she has figured out a way to sneak in the back door, so to speak.

NOTE: Emotional attachment only comes from sticking things in your pussy. Anal sex is devoid of feelings. Your asshole is emotionless, like the Terminator.

Long story short, I put it in her ass.

It was nice. She enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. My penis enjoyed it. Even her butthole enjoyed it. A huge success all around. Afterward, we were sitting on my sofa and she was yammering on about how great it felt, how hard she’d orgasmed, how she couldn’t wait to do it again, blah blah blah. Eventually she got quiet and started to seem a little uncomfortable. When I asked her what was wrong she said that she felt bad, that she’d been wanting to tell me something. I said, “Hey, my cock was just in your ass, we don’t need to have secrets at this point.” She kept protesting that she was too embarrassed, that she thought I’d be angry, that I might not like her anymore. All I could think was that this fucking conversation might cause that, but if you’d spit out whatever you want to say I probably won’t care. She said that she couldn’t because she was too ashamed. Now I’m starting to worry. Maybe she has a boyfriend. Maybe she’s got herpes. Maybe she’s a post-op tranny with breast implants and an inverted penis for a vagina! Nooooooooooo!

After much cajoling she agrees to tell me. But because she can’t bring herself to say it, she has to write it down. I’m almost in a panic and can’t imagine what news is so shameful, so horrific, that she can’t even speak the words out loud. I get her a paper and pen and she writes for all of about eight seconds. She folds the paper on half and hands it to me. Slowly I unfold it and, in the low light of the room, have to squint to read what she’s written. It says.

———-

I lied.

I’m a virgin.

I’m sorry.

————-

In my kindest, most sensitive, most caring voice—

I laughed hysterically for five straight minutes. The poor girl actually started crying. Now, lest you think I’m an insensitive prick, I wasn’t laughing at the fact that she was a virgin. I wasn’t even laughing at her. I was laughing at the following.

1) I am a grown man sitting on my sofa with an 18 year old chick.
2) I met this chick on hotornot.com.
3) I have just had anal sex with this chick.
4) She is, er, was a virgin.
5) I have just learned this from her passing me a note.

I am flabbergasted, shocked, amused and embarrassed. Seriously, is this what all single guys do? Bang virgins in their ass and pass notes on their couch after? Am I totally pimp or a huge fucking loser? I don’t know and I’m not sure I care.

When I finally come to my senses I ask her why? Why not tell me she was a virgin? Why anal sex? Why tell me now? She goes on to explain that she thought I wouldn’t have sex with her at all if I knew she was a virgin (Um, have you met me? You line up the hymens, I’ll knock em down.) She decided on anal because she was saving vaginal sex for her first “real” relationship, but that she’d considered doing it with me. And she told me in the end (get it?) because she felt guilty. When I finally stopped laughing for the second time we hugged, said goodbye and she was on her way.

I sat on my sofa laughing softly at myself and the situation. Embarrassed but at the same time, proud. I’d blazed a new trail not only for myself, but for this young lady who’d taken her first step toward woman-hood. I felt like I’d helped a little birdie spread her wings (and cheeks), and take that first tentative flight. Although she was far too young for me, and never a real relationship possibility, I’d always have a spot in my heart for her. So as the evening wore on, and sleep began to creep up, a tiny sigh passed my lips, and a smile spread across my face.

I immediately logged back on to hotornot and started clicking like a fucking insane person. If there was one big tittied virgin waiting to get fucked in her ass, there had to be more. I was on a mission to find and anally invade each and every one of them.

Because I care about our nations youth.