They have always tormented me on the margins of my screen: these flashing banners with the promise of voluptuous, bouncing anime titties. I have restrained myself from clicking on them, knowing full well the forbidden games might strike my laptop with an assortment of viruses and pop-ups. It’s not like I needed a flash game to fulfill my needs when the usual gang bang sufficed. I curbed my curiosity for long enough. The orgasming animations beckoned to me, not out of lust, but out of spite. This will make you cum in five minutes, they sneered. Is that a challenge? Do they doubt my ability to withhold my nut?
In true gonzo style, I set off on my quest like Hunter S. Thompson. It became my journalistic duty to uncover what lay inside the elusive world of online porn games. To begin, I would need to protect my laptop from whatever malware “World of Whorecraft” was going to inflict upon it. The most reasonable option was to procure a burner laptop. That is how I ended up checking one out from Olin Library. If these games were truly going to make me cum, I might have to return the laptop completely stuck together with my seed, but that was a risk I was willing to take.
I fired up the library’s Macbook, navigated to Pornhub, and clicked on the first ad I saw for my own penile pleasure palace. The graphics reminded me of playing Webkinz late at night in grade school, except my plushy lion and dog were replaced with a harem of salacious sluts, ready to be commanded by my every whim. The game told me I could do anything, so we group hugged (I am so starved for human touch) until I was faced with a popup asking for my credit card number. I refused to pay for virtual escapades when I can just Venmo the guy down the hall for hugs instead. I clicked around for another X-rated game, this time without a paywall.
The next game was called “The Sexorcist.” The objective was to penetrate as many seductive demons in a haunted church as possible, but the situation was too interactive. Even if I wanted to reach down and spank my monkey, the controls of the gameplay required that I keep both hands on the keyboard if I was to survive the constant barrage of bosses. Sometimes a priest character would appear to try to smack away my libidinous rage, but then I would just bend him over the altar. I would have to grow a third arm if I wanted to beat my meat and demon poon at the same time. I suppose a successful porn game should be more porn than game.
I stumbled on something more my speed eventually. It was “Spankenstein,” a game where you create your perfect partner. I made my Spankenstein 700 pounds with a bubble butt and a throbbing cock as girthy as a skyscraper. I dressed him up in a maid costume and told him to sit on my face. Right as I was about to rub one out, my avatar started suffocating under the crippling weight of his juicy dumper. I didn’t expect a porn game to suffocate me by my own creation, but I suppose I flew too close to the sun by creating such an unholy being.
Now that I have endured the world of grown-up games, I see no need to venture back. I gave the laptop back to Uris unscathed, a gladiator returning from the colosseum victorious. I didn’t nut, not even once. I guess you could say I’m some kind of sex god. For now, I am content playing hours and hours of Club Penguin where I can cum like a real alpha male.
Anya Neeze is a student at Cornell University. Comments can be sent to [email protected]. Boink! runs during alternate Sex on Thursdays this semester.