The Clickable Clit: "I'm getting spanked in Second Life, but I'd rather be sleeping."

By Bonnie Ruberg

The Clickable Clit continues this week with more online adventures from an SF-based cybersex expert.

Monday, July 14, 2:21 a.m.

I think I'm selling myself for traffic. Or really, I'm giving myself away for free.

As a side project, I started a cybersex matchmaking site this week called Beautiful Stranger. It began with the idea that there should be somewhere online to meet up with other cybersex enthusiasts that's not quite so shady as, say, AOL chat rooms and doesn't take as long to get started with as Second Life. I used to put the site together, so it's got profiles and forums and hopefully everything a body could need to hunt down a fun cybersex partner. Now all it lacks is people.

To get things started I've published a forum thread on the site looking for new cybersex research partners i.e. people to have cybersex with in the name of "science." Really, it's a way to get users exploring the forums, filling out profiles, and so on. Plus, a girl has got to keep researching, otherwise what would she write about? Still, I can't help but feel like I'm putting my own cyber body on the line for the sake of daily site traffic.

Since it got started, Beautiful Stranger has already picked up a little bit, and I've had a number of replies to my "Who wants to have research cybersex with me?" query. Hopefully some interesting encounters will come it (at the moment things are still on the flirting/planning level), otherwise it's just going to feel like giving hand jobs in exchange for page views...

Wednesday, July 16th, 6:37 p.m.

My over-eager online friend called me three times in an hour yesterday.

As I was waiting to have tea with a video game writer I'd interviewed two years back, I made the mistake of sending the boy who IMs with no pants on a text message with the ever-tantalizing question: "What's up with you?" When I checked my phone post-tea I had not one but two reply texts, three missed calls, and two voicemails. All of the above were awkward and goofy. The second voice mail opened with, "So, I'm at a Dairy Queen..."

Nice girl that I am -or at least attempt to be- I called him back, but he must have been busy ordering a Flurry because he didn't answer. When I got back to my apartment I already had an email that said, "Sorry about all those calls. I probably sound like an asshole." Well, not an asshole, but definitely bored.

The saddest part is I'm actually kind of endeared. His awkwardness, played correctly, is strangely adorable. There's also the fact that 1) he lives multiple time zones away, so what's the worst that can come of it? And 2) I'm easily flattered.

Friday, July 18, 4:45 p.m.

Dilemma: I'm getting spanked in Second Life, but I'd rather be sleeping.

As of the other day, I've started a new bout of Second Life research for a mini ethnography I'm writing on BDSM in the virtual world. It sounded like fun, until I remembered the hours of undercover research “i.e. wandering around Second Life searching for kinky sex my avatar and I would be forced to endure. It's not that I can't enjoy Second Life sex, and the kinkier the better. But when doing research of this kind it's not about what I want, it's about observing first-hand what other people want -- or at least what they do. That means moaning along with cybersex good and bad, arousing and absurd.

By the time I'd found a partner the other night, snagged from the crowd at Second Life's club Bound and Determined, it was 11:00 PST. In my pajamas, curled up on my squishy bed, I was honestly a lot more interested in sleep than in the avatar in a suit who'd decided I needed a spanking. First he had me undress. Then he unceremoniously tied me to a bed. I waded through the long pauses in his text, which seemed to imply he was actually enjoying watching the animations of our avatars clumsily interacting. Eventually he put my over his knee and began smacking my avatar's ass. The pose ball he was using, however, was poorly programmed, so he appeared to be smacking the air around me. Hot.

By that point it was midnight, I had an hour of cybersex transcript to work with, and my love of bed outweighed my interest in getting somebody off. So I feigned connection issue and disappeared. It's not a nice thing to do, I know, but even a cybersex researcher has got to get her beauty rest.

To reach The Clickable Clit, write to bonnie [at] heroine-sheik [dot] com—or follow her exploits in detail throughout the week at her cybersex blog, Cybersexy.

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