It’s that same age-old question we’ve been asking ourselves for years- the question that plagues our generation, and hangs over our horny, hungover brains like the proverbial Sword of Damocles: Does sex count as cheating if you’re doing it over the internet?
For the past three months my friend Amanda has been meeting random guys on internet sex websites and fucking them over i-chat. Apparently it’s super fun. The problem is that Amanda has a boyfriend, and she can’t decide whether all the kinky emails, solo orgasms and promises of human contact constitute as adultery, or simply, “they just don’t count.”
Amanda came to me with this taxing question in her hour of need. And being the good, honest friend that I am, my answer was, quite obviously, “of course not!” Everybody knows that cheating’s not cheating unless there’s penetration, and even then there’s ways of getting around that (i.e. using a condom). But for reasons unbeknownst to me, Amanda still seems to be tormented by feelings of sadness and guilt (the downside to having a conscience).
“Does i-chat sex count?” whined Amanda, aimlessly shoveling handfuls of Cheerios into her mouth. “Pleeease tell me it doesn’t. I’m beginning to feel like a whore.”
“It doesn’t count,” I said, exasperated. This was the fourth time she’d asked me this. “You’ve never even met the guy.” The man Amanda is presently i-screwing is some banker she met on an online personals website. His tagline was Man seeks horny fuck-toy for a bit of hardcore fun.
“Yeah, but what if you had the best orgasm of your entire life?” she asked, wide eyed. “Then does it count?”
“You had the best orgasm of your life over i-chat?” I asked, stunned. “That’s depressing.” I said this to try and make her feel bad, but in reality I know that no man will ever make me come as hard as my showerhead.
“Seriously,” she continued, “you don’t even understand how good the sex we have is. It’s mind-blowing. But…” she hesitated. “It’s not … just… i-chat sex anymore.” Her words were weighty and separated. “It’s gone farther than that now.”
“How? I asked, intrigued. “Have you met him?” Is he fat?”
“No, I haven’t met him, but… I’ve… been… oh God I can’t even tell you.”
“Tell me or I’m going to write about this on my blog.”
“Ok! Ok! I’ve been mailing him my underwear! Are you happy now? You got it out of me!”
“What, like in an envelope?” It was a stupid question, I know. But I wasn’t thinking clearly and the words just sort of leapt out of my mouth.
“Well, kind of. I mean, I put them in a plastic baggy first, then in the envelope. So yeah, I guess in an envelope.”
“Dirty or clean?”
“Dirty, obviously.”
“And what does he do with them?”
“Well, he jerks off over them and then he…” She paused and made a face I think was supposed to signify shame, but I couldn’t be sure. “And then he posts them back to me.”
“OH. MY. GOD.” It was at this moment that Amanda officially became my perverted sex idol. “Where are they? I have to see them.”
“I’m wearing them,” she smiled, flirtatiously. “That was part of the deal. He told me I had to.” And at that moment she pulled up her skirt to reveal the stained, black lace panties. “Wanna smell?” she grinned. It was like she was reading my mind.
As I leaned in toward her crotch, I was overwhelmed by the stench of rotten cum- old and vile and acute from having spent days ripening inside a plastic baggy. I instantly gagged.
“But see, this is what I mean,” she sighed, staring down at her vagina. “It’s all getting a bit out of control. What should I do? Give me some advice.”
I was flattered by the request, as I notoriously give terribly bad advice. “Maybe you should send this guy some naked pictures of yourself, and then give him your full name, address, and telephone number.”
“How would that help?”
“Not a clue, but it would definitely make things more interesting.”
“I don’t know… did you see that episode of Jeremy Kyle recently about the girl who was cyber-screwing this guy for ages, and then it turned out to be her dad?”
“Yeah, whatevs. Your dad’s hot.”
And at that moment Amanda’s i-chat window popped up with a message from SexyOffender08. “I’M GOING TO RAPE YOUR SWOLEN CUNT UNTIL IT BLEEDS, YOU DIRTY BITCH.”
Amanda’s face instantly went red- inflamed with lust. She turned to me, her eyes growing large with desire. “Does rape count as cheating?”
I only have one question. How come there are not a million comments on this blog post?This is like on a rope hanging from a helicopter over the illegally accessed roof of the NEXT level.
Actually I just realized there is one other BIG thing that makes women better than men. If I wrote this, no one would talk to me anymore and I may actually be followed for a week by a man in a jumpsuit with a flashing light on his van.
i fucking love you 4 evz.
Waghnnt. You'd think your friend would have a vaginal infection by now.