Memoirs of a Lit. Girl II

Earlier parts may be found here:

Introduction

Part I

First day at Hogwarts

Over the following weeks my friends threw themselves into chat with their usual gusto and I had had to endure several graphic and often ribald accounts of life in Literotica. Nonetheless they simply served to make me even more implacably reluctant. It wasn’t the first time in my life that somebody had suggested I had a Puritanical streak. I really couldn’t see that sex chat would be my scene. However, having recently moved into the wilds of the countryside and become self-employed I was finding myself alone for large chunks of the day, which after the frantic life of university and industry took some getting used to. So one morning while taking a coffee break and feeling short of company, I relented and plucking up courage dipped my toe in the water…. after all I reasoned winding people up has always appealed to my sense of mischief.

In those days there was no choice over your entry point to Lit, everyone had to enter via the Lounge. This really was like running the gauntlet – which extending the metaphor assumes you have the knowledge, or wherewithal to escape to somewhere a quieter. I didn’t. I watched as the scroll spun by at manic speed and quickly succumbed to a sense of panic. I was beginning to wish I’d watched more closely when C explained how to navigate the rooms. My first PM came after a less than a minute. I wasn’t even sure how to reply. The second milliseconds later sought to importune me in such an unseemly manner that I felt like fleeing. The proposition was so vile I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

‘Ruby! Ruby! Ruby!’ somebody shouted and the manic chase began.

‘Ruby! Ruby! Ruby! Will ya do-me, do-me, do-me?’ Some other wag added, joining the pursuit.

Soon every other male sensing new blood took up the chase. ‘Do me, do me, do me Ruby!’

Adopting the nickname Ruby! Ruby! was proving to be totally disastrous. I was beginning to panic and tempted to log off and run, but my stubborn streak finally held sway.

Part of me was also consumed by that ‘first day at school’ terror where it seemed that everyone else knew each other and also knew the ropes. I had this feeling that I was sticking out like a sore thumb.

I spent the next ten minutes ignoring shoals of PMs offering to abuse me in a multitude of nefarious ways, which made a Marquis de Sade orgy seem like a night at the Oxford Union. ‘Cut’ may have been in short supply in Literotica, but there was certainly a wealth of ‘thrust’ on offer. Nothing in life had quite prepared me for this. Eventually my studied silence won the day and the pursuit was called off. By then I had worked out how to respond.

Suddenly I was startled by a huge chunk of text landing on my screen. It looked like an off-cut from somebody’s PhD thesis. Unbeknown to me I had made the acquaintance of my first Lit Legend. Javier Castro. From what I recall, it read something along the lines: Your husband is away at a conference and you are at home on your own, laying on the couch wearing a flimsy negligee masturbating to porn. You hear a knock at the door. You open it to find a tall, handsome man stroking an enormous erection……’ I shut my eyes - it simply confounded all my worst fears about foreigners.

Moments later someone who was clearly a late-comer to the pursuit, enquired in the room: ‘Ruby! Ruby! Have you any idea what I’m holding in my hand?’

I tartly replied: ‘If you’re only holding it in one hand dahling, I’m not interested.’ This brought several guffaws of laughter and somebody with a name like Dingo-Dodger shouted : ‘Good on ya Ruby!’ It seemed I had made my bones and been accepted, or at last conveyed the message I had teeth. Oddly I felt guilty about putting the guy down so unkindly. I knew I was going to have to toughen up.

Eventually I received a PM which seemed half civil; the guy had even mastered communication using whole words and his demeanour seemed suggestive of somebody who had been educated beyond the age of 16 and had mastered the art of walking upright. He however was a man and like most men needed to know my boob size, before embarking upon the normal pleasantries. As guys always stare at your boobs as opposed to your face this didn’t strike me as particularly odd at the time.

He then offered to share with me that he was the proud possessor of a fourteen inch penis. He clearly thought I would go weak at the knees. In that he proved mistaken. Penile inflation by chemical means had been high of the agenda of my last employer and I had dutifully read all the fact sheets. I told him not to be silly and that he could inhibit cGMP-specific phosphodiesterase type 5 all he wanted, but the body lacked the blood pressure and volume to effectively make such an appendage function. Besides I explained men weren’t high on my list of sexual preferences and fell far short of women and even walruses and armadillos. He laughed and took the rebuff well, furthermore he soon divined I was a ‘newbie’. The innuendo tailed off and it became clear the guy simply needed female company and after explaining his wife didn’t understand him, he settled down to explaining how things worked and showed me how to navigate the rooms. He guided me out of the maelstrom of the Lounge to Syd’s Hot Tub where he introduced me to some of his friends of both genders. They for their part all seemed remarkably civil. Perhaps there was hope for Literotica yet? After that he took me to what was then the Bi-Room. He seemed reluctant to leave me there, explaining that the room had an appalling reputation for drama and back-biting. He explained that I was more likely to find real women in the lounge, including women with same-sex inclinations. As he explained, many women wouldn’t touch the Bi-room with a barge-pole with a wet arm-chair strapped to the end.

Before leaving me to my fate he told me that finding nice people in Lit was like diamond mining. ‘That you could ‘spend months here shovelling tons of shit just to find one small diamond.’ It proved to be one of the most prophetic pieces of advice I ever received. (to be continued)