Sexting, Schmexting
On a random evening, about a week ago…
I was laying in bed (naked!), fingers flying over my Blackberry’s qwerty (heh ~ sounds pervy, doesn’t it? 😉 ), totally absorbed in bringing my lover to orgasm, when in walks my husband.
(Yes, you read that correctly.)
Seeing the huge grin on my face, combined with my rapid fire texting, he quirked a brow and asked, “What are you doing, Miss Mischief?”
With a wink and a wide smile, I sang out a giddy, “SEXTING!” 😀
(Yes, you read that correctly too.)
A ‘that’s my girl’ smile and a sweet kiss, followed by “You’re gonna blow his mind,” and off he went about his business.
Intermitently, over the past few days…
He says, “I can’t believe you’re sexting these days, hon.”
“I know, right?! ME, of all people! But we’re so *good* at it together, He and I.”
Snorting slightly, then clearing his throat, he thinks out loud with a twinkle in his eye. “I should sext you and see what you do.”
{Insert raucous laughter here. (Mine, of course.) My spouse? My Smotchy? MY Smotchy? Sexting? Baaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! 😀 }
Wiping tears from my eyes, I do my best to smile encouragingly without biting my cheeks. (Dimples, you know.) “Sure, hon. Any time.”
{More snort-choke-laughing, here. Mine. Again.}
Yesterday, mid-day…
The red light on my phone flashes its red blinking siren call, drawing me in. Email? Maybe it’s work… Text? Friend…? Or lover…?
Unable to stand the anticipation, I quickly snatch (heh ~ I said “snatch”) up my phone to see what written treasures await.
Checking my messages, I am stopped short. It is not at all what I expected.
Nor whom.
True to his word, I see my husband has, indeed…erm…sort of(?)…uhmmm…sexted(?) me…
Him: …tip of my penis is waiting in anticipation to ever so slowly push its way into your moist wet (lubed) (sweet-tea tasting) (munchi-licious) (non-vegan) woman love cave thing.
Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. Sweet tea?! I’m a vegetarian! What?! Love…cave…thing…
{Insert three minute pause here for intense laughing fit.}
Me: My vegan love cave?! Baaaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha! 😀 LMAO! Gimme your love meat, babe! 😉
Him: It’s a NON-VEGAN love muncher. Can’t get enough, no lean meat for you, the thicker the better.
Me: Ha! 😀 TRUE! I love my cock(s)! 😉
(Yes, you read that correctly also. Cocks. Plural. And the “my” was intentional. MINE.)
And that was the end of that. Or so I thought.
Then… Last night, before bed…
“So um, was that the extent of your mad sexting skills?” I asked, in my most sternly disbelieving voice.
My spouse chuckled in reply. “Well, you laughed, right?”
“Of course I did! It was hilarious!”
He grinned smugly. “Mission accomplished.”
“Wha…?”
“See, I know what it feels like to be inside you when you’re laughing,” he smirked.
Unf.
“Yes. Yes you do.”
“And I love your laugh just as much as you love your cocks.”
“Cocks,” I repeated, emphasizing the s.
“I know, hon,” he chuckled. “You love your cocks.”
YES. I. DO.
Fantastic! I love sexting while talking with my hubs, and we are shit for sexting each other.
I’m shit for sexting, period. I typically avoid it. *Especially* with the Mister.
But for some reason, between my lover and I… We’re sort of inside one another’s heads. It’s incredibly natural. And while our communication flows in *all* ways… With the sexting, it’s not a matter of ‘clicking’ where communication is concerned. It’s not even flint to match. It’s more like…
Fire and gasoline.
And I *LOVE* the way his flames lick my body.
So. Fucking. HOT.
That sounds SUPER hot! Good for you!
Receiving a sext truly brightens up one’s day; “Hi, Guess what I’m doing”… 🙂 But the most frustrating thing is that they seem to come at the most inopportune time. Like while I’m at work and the boss is yelling; “Hey Smiley, put down the phone and get back to work!”
Ha! Smiley, indeed. 😀
Not having a cell phone puts me at a disadvantage when it cums to sexting. Talking dirty on the phone doesn’t really do anything for me either. I get stimulated visually quite easily, also by tactile stimulation, and aromas. Some smells just get me going instantly. In 1992 I was dating a woman who often wore Lady Stetson. It was a real turn-on. Then she broke up with me. The next day when I got in my truck and smelled her perfume {residual on the back of the seat.} I took a bottle of new car scent and tried to block it out. That perfume still turns me on.
When someone tries doing something {however awkwardly} to turn you on, it’s a compliment. It’s even better when you can both laugh at the attempt. Porn actor Jerry Butler made an interesting observation in his autobiography, no matter what role you’re playing, it’s still you and your partner, not an exact quote I’m paraphrasing. Fantasy role playing can be a turn on because it can seem like a different situation with different people, and still have the safety of people you trust. Some people like bondage, but it really shouldn’t be tried with someone you don’t know. One scenario that pops into my head every now and then, a porn star comes home after a long hard day on the set. The partner is horny and ready for action as soon as the star walks in the door. The star sees the partner and says, Aw Geez, I’ve been doing that all day.
Joel’s comment about work reminded of the last part.
“Aw Geez, I’ve been doing that all day.”
One of the major disadvantages to the trade, I’m sure.
I am definitely a scent-ual person, Wild. And scent (specifically, the olfactory system) is directly tied to memory. Did you know, for example, that the way a newborn understands parental imprinting (on a primal level) is through his/her sense of smell? It’s incredibly important for new parents (fathers, especially) to hold their babies close, so the child can scent their skin. It’s a cognitive bonding process.
I don’t wear perfume. But I have been known to wear a Stetson with my boots. 😉
With anything else? 😉
NOPE. 😀
Ah, sexting… seduction in the digital age. Scent and sound stimulates me the most, but there’s something about a really good writer/texter/sexter that can really do it for me. It’s that whole intellectual thing. To think how far we’re come from phone and cyber sex. =P
And your hubz is ador(k)able. An absolute A for effort and for making you laugh. <3
xoxo
Ermagheard. My hubz *IS* adorkable. Totally, completely, 100%. And laughter is a fantastic aphrodisiac. 😉