They Call Me Julie
by James Vaughn
The people in the chat room knew Chuck, as Julie. Chuck said men were
always sending him instant messages asking what he looked like. They
always asked how big his breasts were. Chuck has an old picture of his niece
he sends when someone asks what he looks like. It showed her in a bikini on
the beach, when she was 19 years old. Chuck said he got all kinds of
responses, from all kinds of men. The responses ranged from wanting to fly
across the United States and meet him, to proposals of marriage, Chuck said
it was very entertaining.
The women of this one particular chat room he frequented, were very territorial
when it came to the men they considered to be available. Chuck said. If they
were standing next to each other in an alley, blows would surely be
exchanged. Not all of them are like that, Chuck said, but a large percentage
are. Besides, Chuck said, flirting with the men that went in there and trying to
get a rise from the cackling hens, was fun.
It started when this guy somewhere in the Nevada dessert had wanted to
leave his wife, quit his job, and move to Colorado so he could be nearer me.
Well we exchanged pictures, Chuck said. Then instant message’s started
flooding me, and the next thing I know, he wanted to have cyber sex.
“Well, I’ve never had this particular form of sex” , said Chuck, so I had to ask
how a person had sex in cyberspace and what exactly it entailed, The guy
replied, “I take my clothes off, you take your clothes off and then we sit here,
and describe what we are doing to ourselves and what you would like to do, if I
was there with you”.
“Well at first I sat there, aghast, not quite knowing what to do” he told me.
Reading Redbook had allowed him some insight into how a woman might
think, but not enough to want to try and figure out what a woman might say.
So Chuck told him he had never done this before, but if he wanted to lead the
way he would see if he could follow. The man started by describing his manly
physique, (having seen his picture previously, Chuck said, he wondered to
himself what the hell he was smoking) he then went on to describe the act, of
removing his undergarments.
Now the guy said he was totally nude, and it was Chuck’s turn. Chuck looked
pitiful as he explained this to me. Chuck said he started by saying it was hot,
so he was wearing nothing but a tube top, and some frilly lace panties. The
guy asked Chuck to describe them, “I saw my wife’s cotton underwear and
decided improvisation was going to be necessary here”, Chuck explained.
Chuck described them, substituting that instead of being a size 12 they were
size 3, and covered in little silk hearts with lace trim. The Guy asked if they
were soft, Chuck said he thought to himself, dude it's silk for gods sake why
wouldn’t they be, but he answered yes they are. I have them off, and I’m
rubbing them on your thigh, can you feel how smooth they are. The man
replied, “yes I feel the lace as it draws closer to my manhood”. Chuck said he
was once again forced to think to himself, if panties do this to him I wonder
what hell he’d think of my fruit of the looms. Chuck had a big grin on his face
when he told me this.
Chuck told the guy, I'm kind of hot now and I'm taking off my tube top. Seeing
that his wife Diane hadn’t worn one of these since Moses was growing the
tree which he carved his walking stick from, Chuck said he was forced to use
memory that barely existed.
Chuck told him, it’s red and it’s a little to small, I’ve had it since I was 14; this
seemed to excite him, Chuck told me. So, I told him my breasts are so big
now I’m unable to slip it off and I have to shimmy out of it. Chuck told him that
he was totally naked now, standing in front of his window right next to his large
four poster bed.
They guy said to Chuck, lay down on the bed. Chuck asked, “how can I do that
and type what I want you to do to me”. The guy replied, “no pretend you’re on
the bed, and I have your hands tied to the bedposts with silk scarves”. Chuck
told me, he was starting to warm up to this. Having a healthy imagination,
Chuck asked “well what if my mom walks in on me. For some reason that
excited him”, Chuck explained with an impish smile.
Chuck told me he replied, “lock your bedroom door”. Chuck said he waited a
second, and responded “okay, it's locked, what do I do next”. The guy replied, I’
m straddled above you, my engorged manhood centered above your big
I looked down at Chuck’s stained Nike T-shirt and said, “he might not be far off
base, maybe you should drink less beer.”
“Oh baby look at the size of that thing”, Chuck told the guy, ignoring my
comment. The guy asked “would you like to touch it.” Chuck said he was
forced to think people in Nevada can't be very smart, he just told me not four
minutes ago he had my hands tied to the posts on the bed. Chuck said he
played along saying, “yes baby I feel it swelling in my hand, the heat is
incredible” . The guy said it needed cooled down.
Chuck said all he could think at this point was, let your wife walk in and catch
you like that and I'm sure it's going to be more than cooled down. But
because, as Chuck explained, he was four beers into his nightly six-pack, he
was game to play.
Chuck told the guy he could put ice cubes in his mouth and lick his manhood
to cool it down. (No small wonder here the guy thought it was a grand idea) By
now Chuck said he was pretty buzzed, his typing skills were seeming to fade
rapidly. Then the guy went on to describe sexual positions that even the
monks in India probably excluded from the kuma sutra for safety reasons.
Chuck said he was laughing so hard Diane came into the room and pushed
him out of the way so she could read what he was laughing so hard about.
Chuck said Diane read for a few seconds and turned and gave him a
withering look and started typing.
“Hi do you know who this is.” The reply was, “are you Julie’s Mother?”
Diane turned and shot Chuck another scornful look,
“Well not quite“, “I'm chucks wife Diane.”
The guy asked, (as I would have at that moment).
“Who the hell is Chuck”? Diane replied, “Chuck is my husband, and if I didn’t
know better, I would say the person with whom you were simulating sex”.
The screen went blank for a few seconds, Chuck said.
Diane asked, “Who is this”.
The reply was more than she could bear, Chuck said.
Diane sat there watching the monitor, awaiting the response. After a few
seconds the answer came back “Hi Mrs. Chuck, my name is Amber”.
James Vaughn, an unusually diverse author, has received awards for his
poetry. Having had articles on government reform published in “The Truth
Magazine” “Cigarette Politics” and “Associated Content.” Mr. Vaughn blends
real life with his own twist, he is currently working on a compilation of short
stories of which this story is one, called “Life In a Chat Room.” and hopes to
publish soon. His poetry is published in the Anthology of American Poets, The
Poets Corner, Subcutaneous, Circadian poems and The Writing Village.
They Call Me Julie
|©2006 by James Vaughn
All Rights Reserved