miyako73
01-22-2013, 01:30 PM
I wanted to expand the paragraph below into a chapter to create a cyber-story but I don't know how. I need a model that can inspire me or show me the ropes. Thanks.
"I was ASIAN4LOVE, using my friend Malena’s beach photo in my profile. Her olive skin could pass as a Filipina's dark dermal tone, and the fine ivory sands of Ipanema could be mistaken for that of Boracay, a touristy spot in one of the islands famous for sex on the beach—both a fruity cocktail and an exhibitionist lewd act. Her body, as curvaceous as a Coca-Cola glass bottle, made my instant messaging busy, very busy. Horny white men thought I was real and that I would get naked on webcam. Black men joined every once in a while and messaged me if I could take theirs whole and bare. Some were respectful, e-mailing me love notes with rosy graphics and downloadable floral cliparts. They scheduled dates and promised relationships as though I would believe. Others were brazenly rude, asking if I spat or swallowed. They did not ask my name but the size of my nonexistent breasts. I put on ignore the desperate guys who begged for my nude photos; Malena had none. I pitied the older men who wanted to chat and know more about me; they were lonely. The liars who sent out photos from porn websites gave me their unsolicited numbers for phone sex. The fakers who were not that proficient in Adobe Photoshop boasted of their genitals too enormous for their hairy balls. The sadomasochists asked if I was into pain; their leather outfits complete with whips and chains looked funny. The foot fetishists inquired if I had long painted nails; they made me wonder why red. My computer monitor covered with nasty pictures and private messages from strangers who wanted to get off, I felt worse than a whore."
"I was ASIAN4LOVE, using my friend Malena’s beach photo in my profile. Her olive skin could pass as a Filipina's dark dermal tone, and the fine ivory sands of Ipanema could be mistaken for that of Boracay, a touristy spot in one of the islands famous for sex on the beach—both a fruity cocktail and an exhibitionist lewd act. Her body, as curvaceous as a Coca-Cola glass bottle, made my instant messaging busy, very busy. Horny white men thought I was real and that I would get naked on webcam. Black men joined every once in a while and messaged me if I could take theirs whole and bare. Some were respectful, e-mailing me love notes with rosy graphics and downloadable floral cliparts. They scheduled dates and promised relationships as though I would believe. Others were brazenly rude, asking if I spat or swallowed. They did not ask my name but the size of my nonexistent breasts. I put on ignore the desperate guys who begged for my nude photos; Malena had none. I pitied the older men who wanted to chat and know more about me; they were lonely. The liars who sent out photos from porn websites gave me their unsolicited numbers for phone sex. The fakers who were not that proficient in Adobe Photoshop boasted of their genitals too enormous for their hairy balls. The sadomasochists asked if I was into pain; their leather outfits complete with whips and chains looked funny. The foot fetishists inquired if I had long painted nails; they made me wonder why red. My computer monitor covered with nasty pictures and private messages from strangers who wanted to get off, I felt worse than a whore."