The following erotic story is a work of fiction, containing descriptive scenes of sexual encounters and contact between consenting adults as well as the use of strong sexual language. If you are not of legal age to read stories of this nature or you are offended by the subject matter contained in this story do not read any further.
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Internet Addiction By Nathan Dante Amsterdam
I closed my laptop out after a few hours of late night research on Nifty Erotic Stories Archive. As usual after every investigative visit to Nifty as well as other erotic websites on the Internet I was fully aroused. As I caressed my cock hidden in my cargos it was hard as stainless steel drill rod. My balls felt full of pent up semen aching for an explosive release. After closing out my computer I pushed back from my desk in my plush contemporary office chair. I could feel my heart beating somewhat rapid from the hot stories I'd just read. The armpits of my T-shirt were wet. There was a slight aroma of pheromones permeating the air of my dimly lit apartment bedroom. I was beginning to think my online fact-finding was leading me down the slippery slope towards Internet porn addiction.
The Internet had been a big boost to the porn industry, professional and amateur. The Internet also posed major problems between inquisitive teens and their over protective parents. The Internet gave everyone their fifteen minutes of fame.
Naked exposure, if you will; however, some users wanted more. Internet porn had spawned a secret world of child exploitation and molestation as well as trafficking in child pornography. I wasn't into any of those categories. I was a curious young male who'd been caught up in this new phenomenon of online erotica while away attending college. Normally, at home, even as a young adult I couldn't get away with visiting spicy websites.
I'd been blessed with what now is referred to as helicopter parents. You know those parents that hover over every aspect of one's life while growing up. Even at college I took extra care to make sure that I kept my erotic e-mail and my personal e-mail separate. I took precautions on the erotic e-mail account to make sure anyone I chatted with or e-mailed was not a minor. The first question I always asked when chatting or e-mailing was the person's age, and then copied the reply message or IM into a special folder for my protection, if there is such a thing. I also copied and filed my chats. At some point during my Internet investigations I'd developed an online friendship with a special person.
My new special online friend came across as a very interesting and intelligent young person. We met in a chat room and after a few exchanges we went private. From there we moved onto e-mailing each other on a daily basis or more. Of course I asked the age question of my new online pal and filed it away. He told me he was nineteen going on twenty in the summer and a college sophomore attending a west coast university. I had a cousin in Arizona about the same age who was attending college in Phoenix, so I knew a little about the area of which he spoke. From our conversations I had no reason to think otherwise of my online pal. He was articulate and used the idioms of a nineteen year old college student. After we exchanged a couple revealing e-mails he confided that he was bisexual, which peeked my interest as I had yet to define my sexuality.
After numerous e-mail exchanges I felt I could discuss my inner most feelings with the mysterious online friend on the other end. There is something special about the Internet: anonymity. Oh, we had exchanged names but I hadn't given him my real name and I was sure he hadn't revealed his true name. Both of us by way of our exchanges learned that we were somewhat limited when it came to sex in our lives; however, our conversations would indicate that we both were interested in trying something new: male to male sexual adventure.
At no time during my twenty-one years had I ever experienced a single male to male sexual encounter; in fact, I hadn't had that many female to male relationships. Since my first year in college away form home I'd become interested in all types of sex, but my mind and curiosity always came back to male on male sex. Not that the thoughts of male to male hook ups hadn't crossed my mind years before, it was just didn't happen when and where I grew up.
During my adolescent years growing up homophobia was alive and well in the conservative religious community where I was raised. Parents were very protective and restrictive. The uptight adults were obsessed with ferreting out wicked little homosexual perverts. We were constantly questioned about our friends, male and female, by our parents. Sometimes we were told that we were spending too much time with a particular friend. The city fathers and church elders wanted their city to be clean and free from the sins of homosexuality. Every once in a while schools were awash with rumor and innuendo about students being caught by peers, parents or teachers, engaging in some type of unsavory sexual misconduct. In my town the schools and churches were hell bent on catching little perverts anywhere and turning them out.
At school teachers and coaches who weren't engaged in teaching or coaching were sent to patrol areas such as bathrooms and other out of the way places to catch little sex fiends cavorting, engaging in sexual acts. For me there would be no sexual experimenting such as I'd read about on Nifty and other sites. Later in life I thought that the reason for their homophobic conduct might be because these adults experimented sexually when they were kids. Again, I based my thinking on some of the stories I'd read. I'd only heard of two instances where boys had been caught engaging in inappropriate sexual conduct during my time in school. One time was in my middle school and the other in my high school.
In middle school a teacher walked into the boys bathroom and found two boys allegedly masturbating each other while they stood side-by-side at the urinals pretending to pee. By the time the tail made its way around school and the community the story had been greatly enhanced. One would have thought that the two pre teen boys were capital murders. They were immediately taken by the teacher to the principal's office where they were interviewed and parents were called. From there the boys were whisked away in handcuffs to the juvenile detention center by police. Of course the media was notified but refrained from publishing the boy's names as they were minors.
Many of us had seen the two being led away in handcuffs therefore by next day we all knew who was involved. It was also evident when the two boys weren't in school the next day after the incident. A couple days later there was a general assembly where the principal made a clumsy attempt to explain things to the student body, and further emphasize that the school had a zero tolerance policy for any types of sexual misconduct. Of course "any types of sexual misconduct" was never explained to the students. We were left to figure that out on our own as is usual in our society.
Strange how our society is so intolerant when it comes to sex and can not come to grips with sexual issues or address these issues in an intelligent manner with their children. So, instead of parents dealing with the fall out the next week the school brought in what we, the male student body, tagged as pervert police. We never knew for sure who they were, where they were from or what they were there for, but we all believed these homophobe cops were specially trained social work police who were with the child welfare department to hunt down little homos.
The pervert police took each one of us boys away individually to rooms where they began interrogating us with regard to being fondled or touched inappropriately by peers, parents, teachers, clergy or anyone else. Some were interviewed more than once, casting suspicion on them. Of course we all were told that if we were to give up names of suspected homosexual boys we would be rewarded. The pervert police were never specific with regard to the reward. As an eight grader I wasn't too impressed with these queer chasers or there questioning techniques; moreover, I wasn't interested in ratting out anyone. How was I supposed to narc out any of my peers? Hell, I didn't know any gay guys. Oh sure, there was always rumor, but nothing with any substantial proof.
There were certain characteristics that were supposed to indicate queerness. If a guy wore glasses or stuttered he was probably a fag. If he was nerd who belonged to the chess club or audio visual club he was for sure queer. Of course any guy that was a little chubby and didn't engage in any athletics was definitely fairies. One thing for sure that indicated a guy was a fudge packer was after we got into high school and a guy hadn't started to develop sexually: a late bloomer. The late boomers were guys who had not entered puberty along with his peers during middle school years.
Most boys enter puberty sometime during middle school; most between the seventh and eight grades. The boys that didn't have pubic hair or their dicks hadn't started to develop were the butt of ridicule and sometimes bullying. I'd learned from my e-mail companion that he had been a late bloomer therefore was the target of teasing; however, once he matured sexually he was no long the butt of jokes or insults. From what I'd learned by the time he was a junior in high school he'd become the envy around the locker room.
In our e-mails we had described to each other our genital area. From what he described he was more than amply endowed. As I stated earlier I didn't know any homosexuals until after I arrived in college, so I was somewhat naa¯ve when it came to other boys in school. The one thing the pervert police told to me that got my attention and had stayed with me throughout the years was the fact that if any boy caught engaging in homosexual behavior would be charged and then labeled as sex offenders for life.
Just the threat of being jailed and then being tagged as a sex offender, which requires registration was not what I wanted on my resume; therefore, I stuffed my sexual curiosity deep down in my stomach and concentrated on my studies and sports programs. Academic wasn't too bad but being around naked guys in the locker room was the hardest for me. I buckled down and graduated high school at seventeen and was enrolled in college before I turned eighteen. I guess one could say I had always been bi-curious; therefore, by my junior year in college I found that my curiosity had peaked and began researching the subject on the Internet. That's when and where I ran across my bi-curious cyber boyfriend.
I was not only curious about the guy I'd met online. I was damned excited and wanted to meet him in person, but that warning from years earlier still echoed loud in my head. Although the online erotic stories for the most part had been labeled as works of fiction I couldn't help believe that the writers of these stories hadn't been active participants in someway in the stories that they wrote.
Some stories were just crude attempts at writing while others were much more professional. I wasn't impressed nor did I believe the stories about sex between mothers and sons, fathers and sons or whole families engaging in sex. Stories about sex with animals didn't do a thing for me either. And then there were the stories about pre teens and teens with the humongous cocks; those that were over eight inches in length and fat as beer cans. I'd never seen any guys hung such as described in those stories. Reaching over my hand carefully caressed the edges of the black plastic body before putting my little laptop before away in its travel case. Tears were filling my eyes as I did so. I'd lost contact with my cyber boyfriend a couple days before.
We had been cyber dating, if you will, for the past six weeks. A couple nights before I'd sent him an e-mail that came back undeliverable. I'd been online cursing chats looking for him, to no avail. We had gotten to know each other fairly well during the past six months. Not only had we grown very close we had been very explicit with each other in our e-mails and immediate messaging. We knew each other's secret sexual wants, desires and fantasies. We hadn't exchanged explicit photographs with each other and never seen each other's faces. I feared the worst of course, thinking maybe, all this time, he was a minor and his e-mails had been intercepted by his parents.
I'd heard so many horror stories about guys meeting others online and then they ended up getting busted because one person was a minor or chat messages and e-mails exchanged violated some state or federal law. I'd watched the Dateline series and that program scared the shit out of me, reinforcing what I'd been told years before by the pervert police. Nope, I wasn't going to get arrested over some underage cyberpunk who wanted a quick blowjob in the bathroom at the local bus depot or mall. I dismissed these thoughts as life was about to change for me in a few days.
Soon, I would be done with my junior year at college heading out for summer break. My parents were paying for summer of fun in the sun wherever I want to spend it. I was thinking about California as I had family and friends there. Still, my heart was breaking at the thought of possibly never again hearing from or meeting the boy of my fantasies, but hopefully this lapse was nothing more than him changing e-mail address.
I found that during the past semester I eagerly looked forward to and had grown to enjoy our evening online trysts. I fantasized about numerous times; what his body might look like naked, and desperately wanted to meet him in person. I wanted to meet him, touch his flesh and make love to him much like the characters in those steamy stories I'd read on the Internet; however, that had all been put on hold for now. I discovered that I was still just too scared to take that next step, that fateful plunge into reality -- I was filled with fear of getting busted. Good thing there is some security in online anonymity.
Readers of my story let me know if you think this story is worth pursuing.
To contact the author e-mail me at: nathanamsterdamn "at" yahoo "dot" com