Awesome Alt!

By Art Vine

You think you’re alone. You and those . . . thoughts. Those feelings. Those fantasies. The deep, dark freak shows that play out in your head. Day and night. All the time. With every passing body that kicks up every fathomable cavalcade of lust and transgression.

You’re a degenerate, you fear. A nightmare. A kink-warped outcast among an endless sea of “just plain folk” who never identify sex with violence or anger or pain or domination or submission or a surrender to the wildest extremes that the human id is capable of whipping up.

Guess what, pal? You’re wrong.

I know because I’ve been there. I’ve been you. And I’ve also come out on the other side of all those sleepless nights and gut-churning concerns and gritted teeth--in triumph.

All because of Alt.com.

It turns out that there are millions of people just like us, buddy. Carnal explorers who aim to burst through the constraints of “normalcy”. Some of us go for whips and chains and torture and humiliation--on either side of the doling-out equation. Others like to ignore what lies beyond the limitations of “gender”. And then there are rubber and vinyl fans, electro-sex enthusiasts, water-sportsmen (and women), fist-fuckers, shit queens, splooge-sucking cuckolds . . . the list goes on to the exact extent of one’s erotic imagination.

There are millions of us in this way-out world, friend. And you can directly reach thousands upon thousands of such like-minded orgasmanauts on the World Wide Web at one be-all, end-all gathering place: Alt.com.

Yeah, it’s a personal ad site. Essentially. But look closer. The features are so numerous that they may at first seem overwhelming--until you realize how incredibly easy they are to use and how useful they are in directly plugging you into the exact sexual experience you’re looking for. Right this minute.

Among Alt.com’s features--beyond the very best standard personal-ad materials I’ve ever seen--are detailed ads with graphic, accurate photos; chat rooms (including video!); instant messaging; special-interest groups; blogs; personal networks; picture rating; editorial pieces; and compatibility measuring devices.

Most important, though, is that Alt.com is brimming with twisted misters and wicked sisters on your same sexual wavelength. And they’re everywhere.

I like the ladies. I like them big and small, from heavy-hootered humongesses to A-cup adorables, plus all variations betwixt the outer edges. What really matters, to me, is a woman’s ability to endure a verbal beating--in fact, for her to get off on it--while suffering at my hands into an endless onslaught of climaxes. And then I like to switch places. I get down and worship the wench I’ve just pummeled and I prepare myself for her to respond in kind. Only harder. And meaner. And with no boundaries.

Hailing, as I do, a few hours outside of Chicago, I was immediately amazed upon browsing Alt’s personal ads at how many women resided within a reasonable distance of me. There was one full-bodied, heavily tattooed Goth beauty a few towns over. Her name was Lily. She needed to be put in her proper place, she said. I knew just where that was. And I could take her there. In a hurry.

There was none of the expected let’s-meet-in-a-safe-public-place nonsense. Lily and I connected via Alt.com, then I made a single phone call. We talked. We hit it off. An hour later, I was driving to Lily’s house where she told me the basement door would be open.

It was.

Lily was gorgeous, all right. Milk-white skin (except for the explosions of multi-colored ink). Jet black hair. Massive tits. A huge, round ass. And a pretty face I smacked upon first sight.

That was, let’s say, a leap of faith on my part.

And I landed safely. Or, rather, dangerously.

Lily moaned in ecstasy over my brazen introduction. We had discussed the rules of engagement beforehand and face-slapping was a definite go. And so I continued. And so did she.

The hours that followed were an all-out, all-night eruption of years of pent-up urges and buried secrets torn screaming into delirious reality.

It made me understand that however hard it is for men who harbor a taste for hard-kink to come clean, it must be infinitely more difficult for the fair sex. And that is why women such as Lily find Alt.com so liberating. They feel among their own there. They’re at ease. It’s a welcoming, judgment-free environment. And the ladies tend to run wild with this new freedom. Ladies like Bianca Jane.

Lily was--and has been, repeatedly--a dream come true on the submissive front. But her own desires end there, and I respect that. For me to find a merciless bitch to decimate me as the dirt-dog I am in every sense, I needed to look elsewhere. And, fortunately, Alt.com has no end of possibilities through which to search.

Bianca Jane is a petite, tiny-breasted, blonde-bobbed Kewpie-doll of a young woman who dresses in cardigans and nerdy eyeglasses. She lives in Chicago itself, and we arranged to meet at a hipster coffee shop near her apartment.

She sat down at my table and announced, “You’ll do. Come.” I then followed Bianca home and accepted mental and physical punishment astonishingly past any previous limits that I thought I might have been capable of taking. She punched me. She pissed in my mouth. She stomped my nut-sack. And then she fucked my ass with a mighty purple strap-on. All the while, she insulted my physique, cursed my mother for producing such a worthless heap of shit from her diseased cunt, and used seemingly every inch of my skin (even my tongue) as a living ashtray.

I can not convey how much I loved my afternoon with Bianca Jane.

And I also can not convey how these two experiences are just two of the highlights of the whirlwind erotic carnival my life has become since getting active on Alt.com.

Your ideal partner is right here on this site. And then some.