Illana: A Second Life Love Story

There’s nothing like the breakup of a relationship to make you do a little soul searching and reconsider your approach to love and sex, and that’s pretty much what I was doing the night I met Illana. I mean, I’m not trying to make excuses for what happened or sweep it under the rug, but I do want you to have some understanding of my state of mind and where I was at the night we met.  Yet another SL love affair had crashed, rolled, and burned on me, and this one quite painfully, and I didn’t know what I was going to do: give up on SL lover, leave Second Life altogether, or somehow try to reinvent myself with a new Av and a new approach to the whole thing. I didn’t know, but I had to do something radical. These failed relationships had become a regular habit and I was sick of it. In the world of imagination that was Second Life, there had to be a better way, and meanwhile I was putting the whole relationship thing on hold until I found it.

That’s what I was doing that night at Frank’s, thinking about SL and what it all meant, standing back by  the meet-rack with the other wallflowers and just observing, reading profiles and idly camming the crowd, not really looking for anyone at all. All the women were beautiful; all the women were sexy, but how do you tell who might be right for you? The profiles tell you next to nothing, except that no one seems to want any drama, which generally means they don’t want any of your drama but they expect you to put up with theirs.  I was just thinking how it’s better to not get involved when I saw her standing there and she took my breath away: Illana Doubledare. The name suited her.

She was beautiful and she knew it, but it wasn’t the studied, self-conscious beauty of a model  and she wasn’t flaunting it the way SL models do.  (Not that I have anything against SL models. It’s just that I prefer women who are as interested in me as they are in themselves.) She just seemed quite aware of what she offered to men and not ashamed of it.

She was, in other words, desirable, that indefinable mix of beauty and sexuality that makes you want her and want her badly, that tells you know she’d be an unforgettable lover, maybe even a once-in-a-lifetime thing. She stood out from the rest of the women like a tiger lily in a violet patch– long, wild, honey-blonde hair cascading over an angel’s face, its innocence belied by a pair of knowing, smoldering womanly eyes and a mouth made for sin. She was wearing a simple but elegant long black gown with a daringly low back that showed off her figure amazingly well, and all the curves and protuberances of divine womanhood were abundantly clear. Around her neck was  a simple blue stone that matched her earrings and drew attention to the real adornment of the dress: a bodice cut so low that just the barest sliver of nipple was visible, and when she moved a certain way, her skirt would part just enough to reveal a long, lethal, leg clad in a smoky black stocking, all the way up to the black garters stretched tight against her creamy white thigh.

I was amazed, but then, it never ceases to amaze me. You know they’re just pixels, just numbers and patterns and textures, but somehow certain avatars seem to take on a soul and a character of their own, and you can read their personalities right on their faces, right through the pixels and the AO’s and everything else. You can almost see their thoughts and feel their desires, sometimes even feel the yielding softness and warmth of their lips and bodies. That’s how Illana Doubledare was for me, like a spell I couldn’t escape.

But I wasn’t going to get involved, I reminded myself. No relationships, no sex, no nothing till I figured all this out and felt in control of things again. That’s what my rational self said, the sensible little angel on my right shoulder.  But the not-sensible one, the little devil on my left shoulder, started jabbing me with his pitchfork and telling me not to be an idiot. The woman was hot and amazing and I might never get a chance like this again. Go for it. Take a chance. Stop trying to figure everything out.

He had a point. Maybe I’d been too analytical and rational in my approach to women. Maybe what I needed was to throw caution to the wind and jump right in, live for the moment and take a chance.

Still, I held back, thinking she might just be too much for me.  I was actually afraid to talk to her, intimidated by such aggressive femininity, and apparently I wasn’t the only one. There was a little dead space around her, a little buffer zone devoid of anyone where Illana stood posing and preening with one of the sexiest AO’s I’d ever seen, thrusting out her tits like a cat in heat looking for something to rub against. The men all stood some ways back, the twitchings and jerkings of their AO’s making them look awkward and uncertain, and though I stood some distance away, I was no better.

But then when I went to read her profile, my Av automatically turned to face her directly, and she either noticed it, or she had Look-see on. In any case, I was busted.

“Aren’t you dancing, Mr. Nightwatch?” she IM’d. ” It might help your broken heart.”

I’d forgotten: I’d put the pain of my breakup in my profile where it was there for everyone to see. I don’t know why; it was a self-indulgent, idiotic move, but she’d apparently read it, and now this impossibly gorgeous woman was IMing me, deliberately opening a conversation.

I frantically called up her profile to try and get a feel for what I was dealing with, cursing the lag. She seemed normal enough: young, maybe three months old, so obviously someone had helped her get fitted out for her to have an Av like that. Her SL said, “I’m wild and free and ready for adventure. Seek to meet well-mannered, intelligent gentlemen who appreciate a woman’s sensuality. No noobs or boobs or walking penises please.”

Nothing about a boyfriend, nothing about looking for the love of her life or a long-term partner. Not even anything about shopping and dancing and not wanting drama. The groups she had listed were the usual girly lot: clothes stores, ballrooms, jazz clubs, hair places, a few promising X-rated sims, but nothing really kinky or anything to suggest she was an escort on the prowl.

“I’d love to dance, but only if you’ll dance with me,” I IMed back. “Would you? Feel free to choose the dance.”

“I’d like that,” she said. “But you choose, please. I like for the man to choose. I like a man who takes charge. *smile*”



The little devil jumped up and down for joy and the little angel slinked away as I awkwardly threaded my way out onto the busy dance floor, looking for a decent set of pose balls because I knew the Intan would take forever to deliver with this crowd and I dreaded standing there awkwardly while we waited. I passed up a #3 and a #13. The 3’s just too intimate,  and the 13 is that uncomfortable dance where you press your asses together–not what I wanted to expose her to. I found a #6–just the right blend of grace and cautious seduction. A good getting-to-know-you dance with some sexual overtones, it was just what I wanted. I turned and waited for her to walk out onto the dance floor–Frank’s famous checkerboard where so many games are played out.

“Wonderful,” she said when I took her in my arms. “You can tell a lot about a man by the dance he chooses.”

“Oh? And what does this one say about me?”

I was holding her close so I could feel her thighs moving against mine. My cam was placed so that, when we dipped, I could see right down her body to the two aggressive mounds of her tits straining against the bodice of her gown. They cried out for my hands, my mouth, my teeth.

“Passionate,” she said. “But sensitive to the needs of a lady. The best kind of lover.”

I would have blushed had I been capable of it. Instead I just smiled. “And you can tell all that from the dance I picked? ”

“I cheated, Mr. Nightwatch. I read your profile. I studied your avatar. You can tell a lot by a man’s style, and I’m an excellent observer, and I get to do a lot of it.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “I suppose I’m just not that popular. I don’t get asked to dance that much, though I’m not sure why.”

I smiled at her. “Perhaps you intimidate men. That often happens with unusually beautiful women.”

She looked at me with those glowing cat eyes. “Why, thank you Mr. Nightwatch,” she said.

“Archie, please.”

“Alright–Archie. Then you must call me Illana.”

“Your profile says three weeks old. You seem a lot more experienced than that.”

“Do I?” she smiled. “Well, I was here before, but that was some time ago, Everything’s changed.”

I nodded.  “Unhappy love affair? Or did real life get too busy?”

“Let’s just call it an unhappy affair and leave it at that, please. We’re here together now and that’s what’s important. Let’s just say I learned my lesson about love and commitment in Second Life.”

I was cautious about pressing her, but she seemed to be expecting it. “And what was that?”

She stared at me a moment, then said, “You’ve got to go for what you while the desire is fresh. Whatever it is. No excuses, no apologies. SL is where we come to live our dreams, and dreams don’t need excuses.  They don’t need apologies.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “And what are your dreams, Illana?”

She smiled. “Why are most of us here? To get what we don’t get in Real Life.”

Her beauty, her desirability, made me bold. “And what is that for you?”

She was silent for a while, and then her text appeared on my screen.  “Love,” she said. “Romance. Passion.  I don’t get to come here much, so when I do, I want to make the most of it. I get impatient with extended courtships and long dances. As I said, I don’t get asked to dance that much. I don’t have as many chances for love as you might think.”

The way she said it, I could just hear the italics.

“Oh?” I replied. My heart was racing. “Well, that’s a shame.”

“Yes. Isn’t it?” She grinned knowingly at me.

The emote said she was stroking the back of my neck with her long, manicured fingers, and I could just about feel it in real life too. This woman was incredibly sexy and was clearly coming on to me. My owner’s cock began to harden along with mine.

We danced for a bit longer while I tried to think of something to say. Some Nat King Cole was playing, I think. I’m not really sure. But this was when almost all you heard at Frank’s was Nat King Cole.

“Illana Doubledare presses her body against you and looks deep into your eyes,” she emoted. “Illana Doubledare leans her head against your hard chest.”

I had to take a chance. She was wearing a backless gown that scooped down so low you could see the top of her crack.

“Archie Nightwatch lowers his hand to the small of your back,” I wrote. “Then lower…lower… Till his fingers slide teasingly into the crease of your buttocks.”

I’d made a few typos because my owner’s hands were shaking  a little, but the gist of the message was clear. It seemed like an eternity as I waited for her response.

“Illana Doubledare moans softly,” I read. ” Illana Doubledare presses her hips against yours and grinds softly, wanting more of you.”


“Archie Nightwatch lets you feel his growing erection.”

“Illana Doubledare sighs and presses her hard nipples into your chest.”

Whew! I was getting dizzy. This girl was hot!

“Do you have a place here?” I asked casually. “A home in Second Life?”

Illana pouted. “No. I used to, but I let it go when I left. I was gone for quite a bit. Do you? ”

“Oh yes. I have a nice little beach house in the sky. Very private, with dances and some very nice pose balls, everything we might want. My bachelor pad.” I smiled.

“Mmm, that sounds lovely,” she purred. “Maybe someday you could show it to me?”

“I’d love to. In fact, maybe you’d like to see it now, Illana. We could dance there in private.”

“That would be nice, Archie. The lag in Frank’s is so bad…”

“You know, you’re right.” I said, acting as if I’d never noticed it before. “This is terrible. Like trying to dance in molasses. And every two seconds we go out of synch. Let’s go to my place. I’ll TP you.”

“Alright Archie. I’d like that.”

“Good. Standing up…”

I tried to warn her, but in usual SL fashion my attempts at a graceful exit proved futile and instead I leaped into the air and landed on her head, totally blowing my attempt to be cool. But I was already banging on Control Shift H, hoping it would work and dreading the Sinatra Time Warp that so often left avatars stranded there or stuck halfway through the floor. The screen blanked and I was headed somewhere.

It wasn’t home, though. I was lost in teleport space, black as pitch, anxiously watching the white progress bar creep millimeter by millimeter from left to right. I prayed to the Linden gods for them to contact my new region before I crashed, but I could see things weren’t going to go my way. Sure enough, that old familiar “Unable to teleport” notice came up, and I ended up in Frank’s basement. Floating in the air and waving my arms.

Two more tries and a restart later, I finally arrived at my place, worried I might have lost her.

“Crashed,” I told her, and nervously sent her the TP. I counted the seconds, holding my breath, but then  her cloud of light appeared near my ceiling, followed by those fantastic legs, and then she was there, standing with her back to me, rezzing. As she was rezzing, I was doing my best to set all my furniture back to decent animations. There’s nothing worse than inviting a woman to join you on a soda or loveseat only to find you’d left it in the middle of some horribly perverse sexual act, so she starts humping away or sucking as soon as she lands on it.

“Come here, Illana. The dances are on the patio.”

She followed me out and I took her in my arms and felt those soft, ripe tits press against my chest and she hummed with pleasure. I wasted no time, going straight to the #3, and I took every opportunity to press my lips against the side of her neck as we danced, feeling the warmth of her skin and the gentle throb of her pulse. She was delicious and responsive, moaning and letting me feel her hot breath in my ear, melting into my embrace.

Her arms were around my neck and she was clinging to me as if she could hardly stand. When I turned my face to hers I found her mouth waiting, willing, and open. She didn’t object when my tongue slid between her lips, just sighed into my mouth and opened them wider, letting me have anything I wanted. My hand went to one firm and heavy breast and caressed it, and Illana pressed it into my hand and met my tongue with hers. I put my hands on her buttocks and pressed her into me so she could feel what she was doing to me.

“Ohhh, yes…” She moaned hotly into my mouth and ground her pelvis right back against me, sucking on my tongue as if showing me what her pussy was going to do to my cock. The dance was forgotten. The music was forgotten. We just stood there and ground against each other as if we were going to fuck right through our clothes.

“Come on,” I said. “Come on. Let’s get into bed.”

Illana unzipped and let the gown slide to her feet. She kept her shoes and stockings and underwear on, which gave her a wanton, whorish look that made my blood pound. The contrast between that gorgeous angel face and that ripe, fecund body now so blatantly dressed for sex was almost more than I could handle, and she knew exactly what effect she was having on me. Before I could get her into the bedroom she sank down on her knees and rubbed her hand over the all-too obvious bulge in my pants as if it was something sacred, a miracle she wanted to worship. Her lips parted expectantly and she looked up at me in willing submission, begging for me to slide my prick into her mouth.

“God baby! Not here, not yet. Come on, let’s get in bed!”

She got to her feet and walked past me, and she was already on the pink poseball while I was still getting my tux off. I’d set the bed so the first position would be a cuddle–a nice way to start, I’d thought–but Illana was on fire and apparently had no patience for that, and when I climbed on my poseball and clicked on the mattress to change animations, I found she’d taken control of the bed.

What the hell, I thought. Let her have her fun. If she’s hungry enough that she wants to control the bed and what I do to her, that’s fine with me. I love women who know what they want, and Illana seemed to know exactly what she wanted. By the time I settled into my poseball, she was all over me, sucking and slurping at where my dick should be but wasn’t yet because I hadn’t had time to put it on. I was clicking frantically at the penis HUD trying to get my erection going, while she was on her belly, her head and hands bobbing up and down over the place my dick should have been, too excited to wait.

Finally my cock appeared and grew to respectable length and Illana hummed in pleasure as it filled her mouth. She sucked me wildly, like she had a tornado inside that would sweep up everything in its path, slaving and slavering over me till the saliva dripped down my shaft from the corners of those gorgeous lips and the wet sucking sounds and her frenzied moans filled the room.

I’d never seen a woman turn on so fast, and every time I tried to take control of the bed I found she was already there ahead of me, putting us into one blow job position after another as if she just couldn’t get enough.

“Hey! Easy, easy!” I complained. “Make it last, Illana. We’ve got time.”

“Oh God! Sorry! Sorry! I just love to suck your cock. You just taste so good, baby! Please let me!”

“Sure, baby! If that’s what you want…”

I hit the HUD for MOUTHFCK and she flipped over on her back. I landed on her chest, knees on the bed, laced my hands in her long blonde hair and started punching that big dick into her mouth, pushing it in deep and aiming for her the back of her throat. She started to choke and gag but never stopped moaning in pleasure as my big choad plowed into her, in and out, in and out.

“Mmmmph!! Nnnngh!! Schluuuurrpp!! Come, baby! Come! Give it to me! Let me taste you!”

Her wildness was contagious and I gave myself over to it, fucking her hard and deep like she seemed to want. I’d always thought of myself as a kind and considerate lover, concerned about my partner’s comfort and pleasure, but now I was like a lust-crazed  animal, digging my hands into her hair and pumping her head up and back on my thick, steely shaft. She loved it. She loved it like this, and her surrender enjoyment only seemed to make me rougher and more violent.

“Oh, fuck, baby!” I groaned. “You want it? You want it, baby? Get ready for it. Get ready for a nice hot mouthful, Illana, ’cause here it comes…”

That seemed to set her off even more, and she sucked and vacuumed me with reckless abandon, cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling around my dick, begging me to dump it in her mouth.

“Oh yeah, baby! Oh yeah! Here it comes, Illana! Here comes that nice wad of jizz you wanted!”

I pushed my dick deep so that the head lodged against the back of her throat and I felt her glottis close on me as she choked, then chills skated down my spine as I imagined how it would be–that holy explosion, that gushing eruption, the hot, thick, man-gravy blowing down the length of my tube and jetting into the warm, dark, cave of her esophagus as she gulped and groaned, shivered and swallowed, the white sauce spilling out the corners of her mouth.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I chanted as I imagined emptying my balls into her. On screen the arc of my semen blew out the back of her head and came raining down like pearlescent droplets.

In real life I pushed down my pants and underwear in one tangled ball, spread my legs and leaned back in the chair, slipping my hand between my legs. God, she was gorgeous, and hot as hell. No way I was going to lose the chance for a real life orgasm.

“Doing it!” I typed. “Doing it in RL. Beating off for you, baby! Fisting that big cock!”

“Oh yes!” she moaned. “Do it for me, Archie! God! Yes! I’m doing it for you too, baby! Hand between my legs, down my panties, playing with that wet pussy!”

I used the technique I’d developed in Second Life, using my left hand to pleasure myself, and saving my right for some one-handed typing.

I needed a better visual than the one of her bobbing her head over me, though, so I clicked back to the main screen and chose INTIMATE–>SEX–>MAN ON TOP –> MISSIONARY and watched as we disengaged and rearranged ourselves on the bed, her on her back with her knees up and me lying on top of her, feeding it to her, pumping it away. Her bra and panties came off, just disappeared, and his big tits sloshed on her chest as I pounded into her.

“Ohhhhh…” she moaned. “Yessss…!”

I could just feel that wet pussy grabbing me, resisting me as I pushed my hard dick inside her. Her tissues parted before me like butter before a warm knife as I worked that big cock into her.

She was delicious. She was exquisite, and I couldn’t get enough of her, taking her through one animation after another, starting with missionary position and then going up the scale to holding her ankles in the air, having her wrap her legs around me, flipping her over for some rear entry, then putting her on her back again and pressing her knees up against those big, juicy tits and plunging my big, thick dick deep int her waiting hole.  Everything I did, she loved, the harder the better. And all the time I was doing that on screen, I was masturbating in real life, using my left hand to play with myself, typing the occasional oath or moan with my right.

“Fuck me, baby! Fuck me!” Illana cried as my big dick sluiced in and out of her dripping cunt. “Harder! Faster! Harder! Make me come, baby! I’m close! Close! Fuck me and make me your bitch!”

The things she was saying were driving me crazy and I really wanted to pound it into her harder and faster, but the damned bed I have doesn’t have any speed controls, and all the poses proceeded at the same maddeningly leisurely pace. I suppose the animators thought this made them appear sensitive and sensual, but all it really did was make it frustrating as hell as we watched my ass rocking lazily up and back like a porch glider between the open saddle of her spread legs. What we both wanted was some raw and violent full-body cunt-busting slam-fucking, but there was nothing I could do. To rezz some new pose balls and climb aboard would have ruined the mood, and as it was, I was close in real life.

“Let me fuck you, baby! Let me!” she moaned, and she took the bed again and flipped us over into a woman-on-top position. Her knees were up, her tits bare as she bounced on top of me, taking it deep, deep, not caring how slutty she looked or how loud the obscene, wet,  slapping sounds of flesh against flesh were. She was mad to fuck and I was mad to fuck her.

“Cum baby cum” I typed as I masturbated. “Cum all over me. I’m close, close. Cum w me cum w me cumjkjlllll…..”

And I felt it start, the real one, the real life orgasm, the one that crashed down on me like a big wave and took my breath away and made me shake. I just had time to center the cursor on the CUM button on my cock’s HUD and then it hit.

I slammed my hand down on the keyboard and threw my head back and managed to type, “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” just as I felt that delicious orgasm start to course through my body, making me writhe in pleasure.

I closed my eyes and fell back into the embrace of rhat pleasure, feeling the whole world go dim around me and picturing hot cum spurting out of Archie’s cock and deep into Illana’s lush body, igniting her own raupturous orgasm.

She didn’t disappoint me.

“OOOOOOOOOOO! OOOOOOOOOO! OOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” she typed. There was a pause, and then a crazy hash of letters as she lost control of her body in the throes of an intense female release. I could just imagine Illana’s pussy spasming with pleasure and shooting out her hot, watery girl-cum all over Archie’s big balls till he was dripping with the stuff.

“omg,” I typed when my hands had stopped shaking. “omg omg omg that was so good baby so goooooood!  Was it good baby? Did you cum good?”

“oh wow wiow woqw,” she typed back. “fuck! Wow! came so much! All ovr my balls!”

In my pleasure-numbed state, my brain took a moment to register the words on the screen.


The pleasure began to drain out of me like an icy tide going out. It was replaced with a cold, empty, sick feeling.

“balls???” I typed again. “BALLS??? WTF???”

Silence from the other keyboard. On the screen, our Av’s still humped away at their calm and leisurely pace.

“WTF??” I typed again. “Why’d you say balls???”

As if I had to ask.

“Are you a dude???”  My hands were still shaking from my orgasm so it came out, “dujde,” but the point was made. “Are you a guy???”

I waited for an answer. If she bolted and ran, I’d know it was true.

“No way!” she shot back. “ur crazy! Do I look like a guy?”

“Why did you say you came all over your balls? Why did you say that?”

“LOL.  Joking! LOL. LOLOL!!!!! Joke!!!””

I sat there staring at the screen, feeling kind of numb.

“typo,” she said. “my =YOUR* I came all ovr UR balls!!!”

I hit STAND UP and my Av leaped to his feet and hung naked in the air above the bed, his big erection still standing out. With his AO off, he put his arms back stiffly and gawked around in that pitiful newbie way, like a bewildered chicken. She was still on her back with her legs open, humping the empty air. I took a good look at her.

Had I just been fucked by a man running a female Av? The thought made my flesh crawl.

“Go to voice,” I typed. “Just say something, anything.  Go to voice.”

“Can’t,” she wrote back. “No mike. Sorry.”

“How convenient,” I said.

“Hey, I’m a woman. I promise!”

“Yeah. Illana is. But what about the person I’m talking to now?”

Illana jumped off the pose ball but quickly hit her AO so she stood there in her stockings and shoes preening and posing. “I’m a woman. Honest. I’m 29 years old and I live in California.”

“Yeah? What’s the state capital?”

No answer.

” What year were you born in?”

There was a pause, a long pause. Even I could subtract 29 from 2010 faster than Illana could.

“Fuck this,” she said. “This is really insulting. I don’t have to put up with this shit!”

Now that she was standing up, I took a good look at her, something I hadn’t done during the excitement of sex. Her tits were awfully big. Bigger than a woman who actually knew what it was like carrying boobs around would probably have made them, but just the size a man would like.

She was wearing a pussy, and the skin tone didn’t seem quite right. But that wasn’t all.

“Your pussy,” I said. “Doesn’t that seem a little high? And your shoes! I don’t think there’s a woman alive who would wear cheap crummy shoes like that!”

“Oh yeah? Like you’d know anything about that! What do you know about women anyhow?”

“You’d be surprised,” I said. “What kind of BC you use in RL?”

“What the fuck is BC?”

“Birth control. If you’re a 29 year-old woman from  California, you’ve got to be using BC. What do you use?”

“I’m on the pill, of course. Not that it’s any of your business!”

“Yeah? What brand?”

Smiley face.

“What are your fertile days?” I asked. “How many days after ovulation?”

“Oh fuck you!” she said. “Fuck off!”

And with that she disappeared in a little swirl of twinkles, but I pursued her in IM, sick and furious.

“You’re a man, aren’t you? You’re a man posing as a woman! That’s why you were so hot to fuck. And why you wanted to blow me. You’re a fucking man in drag! You son of a bitch!”

There was no answer and I sat there in a fog of shock and outrage, trying to figure out what this all meant.

She’d been hot. She’d gotten me off in RL. I came for her. But there hadn’t been any her. No long blonde hair, no beautiful face. No big ripe tits or juicy pussy. Instead I’d probably been rolling around with some sad, fat, fifty year-old accountant who never had the nerve to come out of the closet in real life and had to get his rocks off here. I wanted to puke.

But then I started to think… Had I really fucked a man? The image I’d been with had been completely female. In my mind, Illana was a woman and she’d been a woman when I was fucking her. What if her puppet master was a man? He intended for Illana to be female as well, as if she were a daughter of his, his own flesh and blood. He experienced me as a woman experiences a man, so was that so wrong?

I sat back and stared at the ceiling for a while, waiting for her to come back or say something, but Illana was gone and I wasn’t about to go after her. What was I going to do, anyhow? Track her down and report her? Call her names? Stalk her? It had been sex, and what was sex but a special kind of intimacy that can happen between any two genders, a kind of intimacy that’s expressed through the give and take of bodily pleasure and the sharing of emotion. Hadn’t that been what I was really after anyhow? And in Second Life, are any of us really sure of who’s running that Av?

I didn’t know. I’m not much of a deep thinker.

I said goodnight to poor, bewildered Archie and logged off, then stood up and got some tissues from the bedside table. I dropped my jeans and panties and wiped my pussy, which was still awfully wet from all the excitement and from that wonderful cum,  so wet I’d really soaked my panties. I’d have to change.

I guess that when you got down to it, I really had no reason to complain. Not many other lezzies in SL were getting  half the straight snatch I was with this Archie angle, so if Illana had burned me, maybe it was only fair.

On the other hand, I really would have liked to show “her” who “she’d” really been fucking.  That would have blown his mind. That would have been very cool.

I opened by viewer and logged back on, but as my primary this time, not as Archie, and started going through my inventory looking for something hot to wear. It was Friday night and I wanted to look good for the girls at the clubs, because things would be jumping about now.

[Images by Beatrice Serendipity of Simply Bea photography]

About Aiden Swain

Editor/Publisher, Humm Magazine: Journal of Cybersexuality

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