A tale of two strippers, NetMeeting and
female hormones gone awry
Written by: Alex Sandell

Strippers. Can't live with 'em, can't jerk off without 'em. But I'm having a premature ejaculation of words. Let me backtrack a little.

About a month ago, a lady visited The Juicy Cerebellum, and sent me a picture of herself. It was just a face shot. No nudity; unless you're counting nostrils.

I wrote back a quick email which read "you're pretty." It was a true Disney moment.

After telling her how "pretty" she was, she sent yet another email containing pics, and no text. This time, the pics were of her nude. They came early in the morning. A nice ass shot before breakfast! How quaint.

Still, visions of pornographic cereal boxes danced through my head. Imagine a nice "spread eagle" shot on the back of your "Fruit Loops". How about a pair of African-American hooters gracing the front of "Count Chocula"? The possibilities are endless.

I sat down and responded (in more ways than one) to the email. "You're naked," I wrote, full of glee. This profound statement must have inspired her.

The next day I received another email, with more nude photos, but this time . . . there was text. Wow, an ass, and a brain. What a concept. Little did I know, the brain was what caused her to be such an ass. But, I'm having another verbal ejaculation, before it is due.

I responded to her email. She wrote back to me. I found out we both had the same chat program. She asked if we could chat. I kept thinking she's probably just a guy, sending me pics he scanned from the back of some cereal box. I agreed to chat, anyway.

"How do I even know you're a girl?" I asked. She laughed (or at least typed *lol*). "Don't I look like one?" "Yeah," I responded, "but looks can deceive. Especially on the 'net." "Do you like me?" She asked.

Rule # 1: If a girl asks "do you like me" upon your first meeting, drop her faster than a used condom. Asking this question, mere minutes into a relationship, is about as subtle as tattooing a bright red sign onto your forehead which reads, "I'm insecure."

I told her I didn't really know her. She then asked if she could strip for me.

Rule # 2: If a girl asks to strip for you within seconds of declaring how insecure she is, you should probably get away, as fast as possible (which would be after the stripshow).

Being new to this "cybershow" concept, I asked her how she could strip for me, over the Internet. She said there's a thing called "NetMeeting" where anyone can strip for anybody. I think it was initially created with business meetings in mind. Much like cereal boxes were originally made to hold cereal, and have drawings of colorful birds.

She said that she strips for guys there, all the time. I figured I could find out whether or not she was really the girl in the pictures, if I could see a live digital video thing of her, so I said "okay." I was skeptical, but could feel a slight tingling in my nether regions (that would be my balls, cock, and surrounding area. I was basically referring to my cock, though.).

We got into the chat, and her "digicam" wouldn't work. Likely story, I thought. After about 2 hours of waiting (and proof that I really don't have a life), the camera was up and running. The first thing to pop on my screen was a huge penis, being stroked by a hand.

Actually, I made that "huge penis" part up. Let me start over. The first thing to pop on my screen was a female's smiling face. She was actually pretty "pretty," even in "person." I instantly became pussy-whipped, as 99% of the male population so easily does, and started apologizing for doubting her.

Then I asked if she could write "Alex thinks I'm full of shit" on a piece of paper, to prove it was really her, and not some videofeed. Oops.

She laughed. I found myself laughing back. Then she smiled, and I found myself smiling. What was I doing???

Rule # 5: Guys that smile back at women who can't even see them, really need to spend less time on the computer.

After laughing, she begged me (literally) to "let her" strip. I felt kind of "odd" about the whole thing, and started wondering if a bowl of cereal would be better. Finally, after about 30 minutes of her nagging me to let her get naked (what a WEIRD story, this has turned out to be), I agreed.

She immediately went into a stripshow. It was neat. When she finished, she asked if I'd like her to do that for me, every day. I said "sure." I went on to tell her that I couldn't chat for the next 2 days, but could come back ("come" being the keyword) online Sunday.

She frowned. "You hated it!" She typed. I then had to spend the next half hour convincing her I "loved" it.

Rule # 6: There really are better things to be doing, at 6 in the morning.

Finally, she let me get off (as in, the other non-"dirty" form of "get off"), and I went to bed. The next day I got home from having a life at around 2 AM. I decided to page her early, to counteract the effects of the life I was apparently having. Like always, she was online.

We chatted for about an hour. I kept waiting for her to say "so, want me to strip?" But she never did. I finally asked her if she still wanted to strip for me. She got all pissed, and said I was using her for her body. "Just like all men - you're only after one thing!" She then went on and on about it, in emails, in chatrooms, and anywhere else she could think of.

Rule # 7: Any woman who sends you naked picture after naked picture, strips for you (because she wanted to), and then tells you that you're only after "one thing," is probably insane.

I left the chat, and haven't talked to her since. I have received dozens of emails calling me a "big fucking asshole" and other things along those lines. When I finally emailed her to ask if she could quit sending out psychotic letters, she wrote back saying:

"Blew it big time, feeling like hell. I am not the easiest person to get to know, and it wasn't fair for me to take out my insecurities on you!!"

I couldn't have said it better myself.

The End

Where was the second stripper, you're asking? She wasn't. I just liked the title.

Send all nude photos of yourself to: alex@juicycerebellum.com. And remember, I'm just using you for your body.

Feminists - if you didn't like this article, please feel free to email me your comments at: not@realaddress.com

Back to the mind-map.

1998 Alex Sandell [All Rights Reserved] No portion of this article may be reproduced, without prior consent from the author. You could probably strip for it, though.