Phoning It In

I’m getting ready to hurl my pocket-computer out the van window as it drops a phone call for the thousandth time, lamenting its utter worthlessness as an actual oral communication device and yearning for my little Nokia that absolutely killed at voice connections.

My friend reminds me that I traded it in for a smartphone because sexting was a real challenge on the brick. “Tap-tap-tap ‘I’ tap ‘a’ tap ‘m’ tap-tap ‘h’ tap-tap-tap ‘o’ tap-tap-tap ‘r’ tap-tap ‘n’ tap-tap-tap ‘y’”…. I take her point. I do love the sexting.

I embraced sexting in a way I never cottoned to phone sex or, godforbid, Skype/Facetime sex (where someone can see EXACTLY how tragic your matted hair and crusty eye boogers look without the compensatory enjoyment of a wake-up blow job). Done right, sexting has the convenience of porn, the interactivity of a video game, and the guilty indulgence of cheesy erotica. Even more than phone sex, you can flesh out the scene to the limits of your imagination, custom crafting your partner(s) to spec. Plus, its silence allows you to multi-task, enabling you to sext while, say, proctoring a practice LSAT exam or defending a foxhole in a simulated wargame/military training exercise.

Not everyone is a sext-sational partner, though. Sexting done right is a carefully crafted blend of dirty talk and imagination-inspiring fuck prompts. Similar to in-person explicit chatter, it’s imperative to have good timing for your messages and responses. (No one wants you to tell them how glorious their fuckstick is while they’re wishing their mother condolences for the passing of her Labradoodle, right? So don’t intersperse what you’d like to do to their meat waffle with a request to delouse the dachshund.) Keep messages short, and notice how the breakup of thoughts affects the pacing; no one wants to wait 3 minutes between messages for a three-sentence missive, even if it is an ode to the joy of embracing your perky, gleaming mammary orbs.

If you’re the kind of sensuous, romantic partner who whispers sweet nothings while nuzzling your lover’s armpit, you’re going to have to school yourself in some down-and-dirty, hardcore smut. Compare:

“I want to slam you up against the hood of my ’69 Mustang”

“cupping your ass in my hands”

“feeling you throb against me”

vs.

“I look deeply into your eyes”

“Wanting to hug you and caress you gently”

“Maybe put on a romantic movie”

NOPE NOPE NOPE. I may be a pretty straightforward vanilla fuck – I don’t want you to hit me, tie me up, electroshock me, or any other tortury nonsense – but I like my sexting urgent and dirty, rather than reeking of deleted scenes from The Notebook.

Now, like porn, sometimes sexting is an excellent accompaniment to self-gratification, enhancing the orgasmic experience, and sometimes it’s merely an erotic amusement. And while the amount of connection to your partner-in-slime can be as minimal as with a favorite dial-a-smut 1-900 operator, as I leveled up I learned that sexting can also be a smashing way to erotically connect with an IRL partner who is inconveniently, maddeningly located out of handy fucking distance. (This has been a useful skill to master now that I’m in a relationship with not only GI Joe but also his wanderlust-filled Uncle Sam.)

Finding a sext partner whose style matches your own is damn near as hard as finding a compatible in-person dickride, although I admit I’m unreasonably fussy. Idiotic text abbreviations kill my lady-boner faster than you can type U R SO GORJUS, and by and large, spelling matterz 2. I don’t mind typos or autocorrects so much, especially when the screen reads Oh God I’m Cummerbatch … it’s like erotic humor for nerds! I typically welcome well-shot videos to accompany the text, but this does get a little awkward while sexting on public transportation or while in line at the DMV. Plus, multimedia isn’t my strongest suit; my reciprocation tends to be less than technologically proficient. (The time I got the response “I’m thrusting towards the black dot” both made me snort and alerted me to the fact that perhaps finger-over-lens isn’t the sexiest video position.)

If you’re using FB chat, there’s the constant fear (or turn-on?) that the data scrapers and human monitors are enjoying your sexploits in God Mode. I haven’t been censored or warned yet, so I figure that if I’ve been found out, I’m keeping at least a few underpaid, overworked low-level Silicon Valley paeans smuttily satisfied.

I tend to sext using FB messenger, which allows me to type faster and more accurately, but poses its own dangers, as the steamy conversation gets faster and more breathily intense…especially if you’re multitasking. No kind of flogging will make your cheeks burn with shame hotter than having to send this message to your mother-in-law:

Oops, wrong chat window.

 

 

 

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