I don’t wanna blow my own trumpet, but I am one Bloody Amazing Sexter. I’m sure mum and dad would be pleased to know all those creative writing competitions I won during my school years haven’t gone to waste.
And while it’s a pastime usually reserved for boyfriends, I recently had an intense sextual affair with a handsome young man, all while never having laid a finger on each other in the ‘real’ world (i.e. that mysterious place beyond our mobile phones).
It all started innocently enough. We were in communication and, while it wasn’t explicit, a few innuendo filled flirty texts were exchanged. Commentary on licking passion fruit, that kind of thing.
Anyway, knowing I was a writer of sorts and knowing a little of my other hobbies (wink wink, nudge nudge, I’m talking about sex toys) he sent me a text asking me to ‘tell him a fun story’.
Usually, I would laugh this off and maybe tell about the time I got 4 bankrupts in a row on wheel of fortune (yep, it happened), but being a Friday night, being 3 glasses of red down, and being, well, me, I decided to rise to the challenge and spent the next 1.5 glasses composing what is quite possibly the hottest sext to ever leave my phone. It contained, in no particular order, me, him, Scarlett Johansson, a hot tub and various props. But it did not, hand on heart, contain any reference to anyone’s bits, or even sextual activity. Instead, I just set a scene and let his horny little imagination run wild.
You see, just like in the real world, the art of sexting involves revealing just a little bit, leaving them wanting more. Begging for more, in fact. It’s all about the tease.
And it worked a treat.
Over the next week or so, many, many messages were sent. We even wrote a novel to rival 50 shades, taking it in turns to write the chapters to each other. Soon enough, the sextual penis’ was being thrusted, the sextual nipples being tweaked, and even some sextual ice-cream was being thrown into the mix (to sextually rub over our sextual naked bodies, of course).
And you know what? It was bloody fun. Nothing like a good sext induced image of a throbbing, hard sextual member to break up a day in the office, all while fully clothed and maintaining my angel status (cos’ things purely over text surely don’t count).
The whole experience reminded me of relationships past, when I used my sextual cheekiness simply to keep the playfulness in relationships and keep my men focused on me. Ladies, are you looking for a sure fire way to get your bloke home from the pub? Let me assure you nothing gets those feet moving quicker than a quick hot sext.
A sexting novice? Provided you have had actual real-life intercourse first, and want that to happen again, I urge you to try it. It’s fun and noone gets hurt (I’m not recommending pics by the way, just cheeky words. I’m well aware pics stay around for a long time, but that’s an entry for another day). If you’re keen to try it, just remember my rules. Take… it… slow. Start, perhaps, by describing the art of undressing, a sexy scene, or perhaps even a new toy that just arrived in the post from those legends at Naughty Miss Jones. In sending the sext, you want to activate his imagination, too. Then, take it from there, using lots of sexy adjectives like sticky, hot, panting, moist, rounded. When in doubt, get the metaphors out. I’m talking putting the banana in its split, licking the lollypop, that kinda thing. Have fun with it people.
Anyway, so me and my sext buddy reached our climax (see what I did there?) and now it’s over, which is perfectly fine. I had had my fun, my sextual imagination was reinvigorated, and I still have the offending messages in my phone if I ever want to revisit them (or make a fortune by having our better than 50 Shades novel published).
Naughty Miss Jones xx