The Final Frontier: Text Message Sex

Who should read this entry: K-Rock, Shim Shim, A-Train, a certain girl in LA I know who is the master of the dirty text (yeah, you know who you are Princess K). And also a certain girl in Chicago who is supposed to be learning to talk dirty from me.

Who should NOT read this entry:

Mom - you should skip this and head right down below it to where the first entry about Spain is.

Person With Whom I Had Text Message Sex Last Night: Don't read this if you ever want to enjoy that activity again. Seriously. Just don't read it. Trust me.

Anyway...

So, as a little background info, I've had this long distance ... thing ... going on for a while now. It's not a SMOS violation (even though SMOS technically ended yesterday!). It's not exclusive. It's not even really defined, but it is a ... thing.

Okay, so media has advanced to the point where the big frontier is no longer cyber sex. Remember when cyber sex was soooo weird and we longed for the days of good old fashioned 900 numbers? Oh no, people, oh no. We have advanced to the point of being mobile while we fuck each other in a virtual imaginary world. We have moved on to text message sex.

And with it comes something totally unique to text message sex as a form of virtual sex: mobility. With phone sex, you may have to juggle that receiver between your shoulder and your ear, but the verbal nature of the act at least requires you to honor the privacy of being alone, usually in your bed. Unless you are a frat boy sharing the experience during rush. With cyber sex, you are by default tied to the location of your computer. But with text message sex -- ah, with text message sex, you can be doing ANYTHING while simultaneously having virtual sex. Think of the possibilities!

Or, don't think of them and I'm going to lay them out for you by telling you the story of my night last night.

So, last night as I was heading home, I get a dirty text from ... let's call him Boom. And I read it, and I smile, and I send back an equally dirty one and think I'm done for the night. And then there is another text with a prompt, and I'm like "Seriously? He wants us to get off via TEXT MESSAGE?" But, whatever, I was there with him anyway. So, you know, games are fun. But, mobility. That's not necessarily conducive to virtual sex, particularly if you have ADD like me. Here's how the night laid out.

Being Typed Into My Phone
I just got out of the bath and I'm imagining rubbing my wet body up against you...
Coming Out of My Mouth
Hey! HEY! HEY! Can I get a sirloin burger, a super size diet coke and some jalapeno poppers? HEY?! Is anybody in there?

Being Typed Into My Phone
Before we even make it to the bedroom, I slide down and put my mouth around your cock...
Coming Out of My Mouth
FUCKIT. That jalapeno popper is HOT. SHIT. FUCK. DAMMIT.

Being Typed Into My Phone
I'm gently teasing you for a long time before I slide you all the way in...

Coming Out of My Mouth
FUCKKKKK. THE GODDAMN CAT PEED ON THE CARPET AGAIN. FUCKING CHRIST. DAMMIT.

Hot, right? Makes me long for the good old normal days of fake fucking on the computer.

But the real issue is if you think of the future. Cell phones - Devil's curse. But they make anything possible at any time. Think about our society's obsession with porn. Then think about the future of iPhones in everybody's hands. Then imagine a future in which people just walk around all day with a dazed look on their face getting off via text message.

I always said my iPhone replaced my need for a man.

 

The Ballad of the Sulking Yonis

Captivated by that title? I'm sure.

So, when Trick and I play Scrabble, the rule is usually that the loser (usually me) has to write the Scrabble poem, which is obviously a poem using all of the words on the Scrabble board afterwards. Occasionally, however -- well, once -- the word list is so enticing, so lush, that we both feel compelled to write a poem. And then we post them so that you can see whose is better.

Listen, I'm going to concede right now that Trick's is far superior in both quality and story value. However, I managed to both invoke a Bobby Brown song AND refer to a penis as a "tender jo."

Enjoy.

Sulking Yonis
by Trick
Sulking, sad, under covers,
two yonis now avoid each other.

Avid once to rut in bed,
now they hog the sheets instead.

Oh, pox-filled nights had been like this
since Jo Tate's pliers had wrung their bliss.

At a dais of ziti the three had et
a plate of nan, then smoked some hemp.

And with a yen to improve their qi,
Jo suggested swapping for a fee.

Cos if you would just suk my seven,
I'd return the favor 'til the clock strikes XI.

But then at twelve he wanted more,
an' knocked his ag at their forbidden door.

Aw, no way, the big one cried
but the teenier one let him come inside.

Hi, Um, Ow, the little one cooed
as her betrayed best friend fled the room.

Now, brr, their fur shivers through the night
with no warming palm to rub things right.

The Ballad of the Sulking Yonis
by Jocelyn
Lost without sleep, the sad boy shivered in his bed with a brr
Tried in vain to find warmth in his romantic covers made of fur

Once, she had been there to suk his tender jo
Her legs like tightening pliers around his torso

Oh, she had been his love, his compatriot, his aide de camp, his toy
Now the memory of her love was like a pox that he strove to avoid

In exchange for her love, this hurt afterwards was a fee
But his heart was now teenier than the pain, and so into the night he wandered to flee

He walked down the darkened street feeling his need, the clocks approaching xi,
He passed gypsies reading palms, Indian stands of hot nan, old men eating ziti and trying to roll sevens,

A hog smoking on a spit, a hippie with a yen to improve his qi,
His friends smoking hemp, an avid Tates fan with his book clutched way too closely,

In a open window above, the sounds of a couple unable to wait,
Ow, ag, cos, aw, hi, um, an, et ... and "Baby, that was great."

His soul felt like it had been washed and wrung,
His emotions in a rut, he went to the bar of the band, knowing what he needed to hear sung,

Past the bouncer, through the door, into the crowd,
He downed his drink and hoped that they played the song loud.

Atop the dias, the band crooned to the audience of tender ronis,
Their tight shirts and messy hair framed the ballad he had come to hear, the song of the sulking yonis

Think you can write a better limerick? It's harder than it looks. Here's the world list you'd need to work with. I bet you don't have the chutzpa to try.
> palm
> hemp
> fee
> hog
> pliers
> pox
> hi
> ag
> oh
> xi
> ow
> avid
> teenier
> dais
> avoid
> sad
> sulking
> suk
> brr
> ziti
> fur
> toy
> yonis
> tates
> qi
> wait
> aide
> yen
> covers
> cos
> wrung
> nan
> jo
> aw
> um
> need
> bed
> rut
> an
> et