I loved the chase and finding the right time to go fishing.
Afternoons and evenings in the Korean time zone for the office people in Bumble, Hinge, and Tinder. And for guys on Ometv, my mornings and their late nights were the best.
The vid chat strangers wanted quickies, and though the risk was high with YouTubers lurking in the channels, the reward of an orgasm was even greater. There wasn’t much of a conversation. Jerking off and cumming in minutes was the priority.
This ONS — one nasty second was faster than catching a lover sneaking out of your bed the next day.
Earlier, when I started this journey, I caught two and had two orgasms a day. Maybe three if I was really horny. Each orgasm gave a high like a druggie’s endorphins coursing through.
“How did you lose the weight?”
“What exercise do you do?” The moms would ask.
It was at the tip of my tongue to say, “Sex. Masturbation. Orgasm. You should try it too. Jump on your hubby; he’d like that.”
Of course, I didn’t say it.
My closet was open, and I’d only taken a few steps out. It was a swinging door, and like the tango, I went two steps front and a few steps back.
H and I played with innuendos and hints to our friends and his co-workers. A secret like this was meant to be shared, and it was hard to keep our new lives under wraps when all I wanted to do was shout it out.
These mixed emotions, the secrecy, and naughty meetings, added to our thrills. Sex was better, our bodies were better, and many thought we looked younger than before. Yet, despite the newness, there was a fear, at least, on my part.
The truth.
I was a milf cougar. I loved playing with men ten to twenty years my junior. Those words will result in condemnation and, if not, confusion. My online friends asked if I knew any other milfs. In their minds, they were imagining an orgy of milfs or hoping that I’d know one or two in Korea whom they could hit on since I wasn’t there to fulfill their fantasies.
“The cougar plays alone,” I’d tell them. Yes, I don’t share my fish. They could go wherever they wanted, but I won’t personally match them. I’m a succubus, not a saint.
The vid chat was my go-to in the first three months of my exploration. My shades, blue hoodie, and black lingerie became familiar to the guys who saw me online.
“I know you! It’s you!” One guy pointed right at me the moment I appeared on his screen. “YouTube!”
“What?” I frowned.
“You’re on YouTube!” He grinned, shaking his finger.
“What do you mean?” I studied him. He looked like any other Korean guy in his mid-twenties. He didn’t look like someone I knew. A total stranger. “Who are you?”
“Hahahaha! YouTube!” And he skipped me. The screen switched, and I stared at another stranger’s room.
“What the heck!” I glared at the innocent guy who had to bear the brunt of my confusion and anger. “Is he saying I’m on YouTube?”
“What?” The confused guy in the new room froze.
“Sorry!” I pressed the “skip” button. I had to find that jerk. The randomness of the video app meant the chances of me meeting that guy again were small, but I had to know.
After thirty minutes, I struck gold.
“YouTube!” The same guy again grinned. “It’s you!”
“Do you know me? What did you see?” I asked.
Desperation was now edging my voice. I’m thinking I’ve been betrayed. One of those guys whom I played with was secretly filming us. My mind was spinning. I was freaking out. Who was that asshole?
“What’s the link? Who showed my video?”
“Youtuber!” The troll laughed gleefully and swiped me off again.
“Ahhhh!” I’m shouting now, and all the random people who met me as I scanned through Ometv, flipping from screen to screen, were shocked.
“Asshole!” I shouted. Each time, he appeared. His grinning face lit with mischief. Cheshire be damned.
I was chasing that annoying rabbit. That jerk was skipping and switching screens like some slippery eel.
“Stop it! Stay!” I hollered. “Come on! Tell me!” the next time I caught him again. “Why are you doing this? Who outed me? Who’s that guy?”
“Hahaha!” That pesky rabbit had the nerve to laugh.
“Don’t switch!” I demanded, still trying to keep a cordial tone. I didn’t want to risk him flipping me off, but I really wanted to reach through my laptop, grab him by his collar, and shake him.
“Okay, okay… Raoul,” he confessed. It turned out his English was just fine, and the Korean was just to throw me off.
“Raoul? What’s that? Who’s that?” I asked, taking a pic of what he typed. “Who’s Raoul?”
“You find out!” He laughed again and switched off.
Damn him. Panic set in like a fish flopping for air. A thousand things raced through my mind. The first was that H was gonna kill me. His words echo in my head.
“If anything happens, don't come and find me. I’m not going to help you. You are responsible for your actions. Don’t ask me. I’ll say I have nothing to do with this.”
I said yes. He was right. My mistakes were mine to bear, and as I chased this jerk on Ometv, I was already thinking about how much exposure I'd caused and what kind of stop-gap measures I needed to take.
But my first thought was that when I found that fish that betrayed me, I would sashimi him.
Raoul…I was lucky my Korean teacher taught me enough to read Hanguel. I searched the internet and YouTube and found a guy with that name. He was a comedian and had shades.
How were we connected?
“Hey you!” I shouted the moment I saw the troll again.
“Why are you following me?” He shouted back.
“Where did you see me naked?”
“What?” He laughed. “Naked? You? Where?”
“Where did you see my sex tape?” I was furious.
“What?” he looked confused, and light shone in his eyes. “You have sex vids?”
This time, I typed it down, too—those forbidden words. The AI was bound to catch on, so throw caution to the wind.
The last thing I remembered was his confused and horrified look, and our screens shut down.
Kicked out. That troll bunny was kicked out, and so was I.
Yes, I deserved it. We deserved it. We both needed a time out.