Matt met Jo at a party a few months before he came across her personal ad on a sex site he sometimes cruised. "Persuade me to give it up. Smart, sexy Ivy League undergrad seeking the right man for first penetration experience." Next to the personal was a photo of Jo, smiling and topless. Matt felt as if the wind were knocked out of him. He thought about closing the window, but he was already haunted by the thought caressing the soft skin of her cheek, her bare shoulder, the cleft of her collar bone, skimming down to her gorgeous ripe breasts, her tissue paper soft nipples. "No, I can't," he thought. "She's Greg's daughter. I could never."
Matt had known Greg for years. They played together in a pickup hockey league every once in a while, and Greg always invited Matt to the blowout parties he had every few weeks. They weren't close, but they were buddies, and Matt knew Greg well enough to know that Jo was the apple of her Dad's eye. Still, Jo had a hot body and there was something about her - about the way she talked and carried herself - that intrigued Matt. He decided to do a little digging. It wasn't hard: he Googled her screen name and found a blog among the top results.
The entries in Jo's sex blog were absolutely wild: accounts of both real sexual encounters and fantasies. As Matt read them he found himself more and more aroused. Jo was sexually adventurous but had preserved her virginity - not for marriage or for the right man in the traditional sense. She wanted "the right man" all right, but by that Jo meant something like the man who would take the time to understand and fulfill her specific desires.
One entry particularly interested Matt. In it, Jo described an evening spent fooling around with a sorority girl called "Houston." It was accompanied by a photo of Jo's blond head buried in the Houston's crotch. The other girl's face was in shadow and her legs stretched out to either side of the frame. At the end of the entry Jo wrote, "I don't think monogamy is for me. I'll never choose just men or just women, or only one person for that matter. Still, I want one man, who understands me sexually, who is able to see me as an equal and treat me with respect but also push all my buttons and hold me down and take me when that is what I want. When I meet that man I'll allow him to take my virginity. I don't want some tender sweet night of lovemaking when I lose it! I want a night so intense I can never forget a moment of it. I want the physical and mental game, the feeling of being wanted so much that he'll let no barrier stand in the way, even my reluctance. I want a man who can treat me like a treasure and a conquest at the same time. Maybe I'll never find him. But I'm holding out."
A treasure and a conquest? She already was a treasure: smart, beautiful and kind. That was apparent within five minutes of meeting her. Matt wondered if he could use his new found knowledge and his sincere and growing adoration for Jo to master her desires and take her as his conquest.
Over the next couple of months Matt managed to develop a relationship with Jo online. Jo was the equivalent of a streaker on the Internet. She was shockingly, disarmingly honest. She told him about college and about her relationships and flings. She described her ice cream preferences as well as her sex toys: how she employed them and what kind of lube she used. It was clear that she was like this with every Internet suitor, but Matt guessed that most guys didn't have the guts to return the gesture. He did his best to tell her the absolute truth. After about a month of telling her about what he had for dinner, how many boring meetings he had endured at work and what his latest fantasy of her involved (whipped cream, maraschino cherries and bondage tape), he sensed a change. She started asking more questions. How did he feel about monogamy? What did he see himself doing in 5 years? Where were his favorite places to vacation? She started sending him nude photos by email, accompanied by just three or four words: black lace, blindfold, ice cubes. It took him a few times, but he finally caught on. When she sent "Houston, game, vibration" he replied with an intricate story that began with a three person game of strip poker. It led to him and Houston seducing Jo and bathing her attention and pleasure. At the end of the story, Matt produced a small silver vibrator and commanded Jo to get herself off while he fucked Houston doggie style in front of her.
There were several more of these little stories to follow. Jo would give Matt a critique of each one and he quickly learned what Jo really wanted. She wrinkled her nose at anal sex, but loved when he talked dirty and played mind games with her in the stories. All the while Matt was falling for Jo: her complete lack of inhibition on top of all the other great things about her. He did little other than think about her. He was addicted, and had nearly decided to cut himself off and go cold turkey when he got the email he had been waiting for.
"Matt, I've decided. I want it to be you. This Friday, during the party my dad's throwing. Please."
There was a dull ache in Matt's chest as he replied with a simple, "yes." Maybe finally having her would break the spell she had cast on him. Maybe.
Friday night Matt walked into the party at 7:00 p.m. and the place was already swarming with people. The host, Greg, often joked "who says money can't buy happiness?" He had fortune, friends, and a long and happy marriage. The guy did seem to have it all. His house was huge and surrounded by gardens, a tennis court, a pool and many other amenities. Between 200 and 300 people were at the party already, but the second Matt walked in he saw Greg's daughter Jo. She was talking and laughing with an older couple: a vision in a sleeveless navy cocktail gown with a deep v neck that hugged every curve of her thin young frame.
Each time Matt caught Jo's eye, a self-conscious broad smile broke across her face. To everyone else she seemed like the perfect bright upstanding young woman. Matt had the emails to prove she was really a sex-crazed burgeoning slut. Still, when that smile broke, the room seemed brighter. Matt had to fight the urge to grin back at her, starry eyed. Instead he avoided her glances and kept his distance from her.
By 10:00 the party goers were sloshed and happy: talking loudly and continuing to enjoy the open bar. Matt sipped his club soda and kept a discreet eye on Jo. At 10:30 when she slipped into the garden, he followed.
In a dark corner of the rose garden about 30 yards from the house, Jo was looking up at the stars and nursing her drink. Matt approached slowly, making enough noise that he wouldn't startle her. She turned and smiled again when she saw it was him, but more hesitantly than before.
"Matt, hey... it's been really fun talking to you these last few weeks, but I was really just having fun. I mean, I really want to get to know you. I'm just not sure about, you know, what I said in the email. It was mostly just a fantasy."
"Jo, you already know me. I know you, too. You don't say you want something if you don't."
"Well, that's probably true," she said with a laugh. "Tonight, though, I have to get back inside before my dad misses me."
She brushed past him to walk back to the house, but he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close. He brought his lips to the place where her neck and shoulder met, then said in a low voice, just louder than a whisper, "Reality is better than fantasy, Jo. Tonight you're going to get what I know you want, and I'm going to get you." His arms were firmly around her now, and she tried to pull away, but with each breath her breasts heaved between the delicate folds of her dress. Her desire was welling up inside her.
"You've been doing so much to try to fulfill the desire you have. You put a topless photo on the Web for anyone in the world to find. In your blog you describe wild fantasies: exhibitionism, gang rape, being a sex slave. And what about the things you've actually done? You've been fooling around with guys and girls. You blew a total stranger last year. You put all of that out where anyone could find it. It would be a damn shame if someone sent an anonymous email to your Dad with a link to your blog."
