Sexting

When you have a combination of affection, respect, and lust for a man, but neither your lifestyle nor his allows for seeing one another very often, texting is not a bad alternative to pining away for the guy. Not only is it often faster and easier than either a telephone conversation or an e-mail, it is also more spontaneous.

It began innocently enough about five weeks after Jake came for dinner . . . and dessert. He and I had texted one another sporadically, and I sent him a text asking how life was in his corner of the world, and in particular, how his dating life was going. We were becoming friends, after all. He gave me an update and asked about my dating life. I admitted that while there had been men to date, there had been no one I wanted to kiss in that little notch below the throat since him.

The text back said that I’d just given him a rise. Clearly, the man was easily aroused. And that began a series of texts suggesting how much we’d like to . . . ahem . . .spend more time with one another.

Some days later, I alerted him to the fact that I had published two blog posts (“Jake” and “Jake for Dessert”) about him. He had given me the okay to write about him, but I thought it only fair to warn him when the posts hit. I didn’t think he was reading my blog, but I thought he might want to know when I posted about him. I held my breath after sending the text because I feared he might be annoyed by the true-to-life account of activities he’d participated in.

He did not have the time to read the posts just then, but he did say he liked the title of the second post, proclaimed it accurate to the events, and thought it had been a great dessert. He also liked the fact that I was writing about the two of us.

Was he an exhibitionist?

He began reminiscing about that night and then sent me (with my permission) three photos of himself that served as good visual reminders of our time together without being utterly and completely graphic. That is, there was no unclothed photo of the southern half of his body. Not that he wasn’t willing to send one. I urged him to send no such photos to anyone on the grounds that once they left his hands, he would have no control over them.

I sent him a couple of photos that were tamer than those he sent me. Everything nicely covered. I had never sent sex photos of myself to anyone, nor would I ever. It just does not represent the woman I am. Being unbridled and untamed does not mean that I am willing to document my physical self or my uninhibited behavior in photo or video form. Not happening.

That didn’t mean the photos of him were unwelcome.

Yes, I can refuse to participate in tit for tat (so to speak), unless in person. Unfair? Just taking advantage of my womanly prerogative.

Mostly tame and infrequent texts passed between us for a time. Then I sent him a photo of a holiday dress I had bought. I told him he would have to imagine the woman in the dress. Again, it seemed innocent enough. His text back said that he remembered the woman dressed . . . also. And that led to another series of sexts, on and off over several days. They were apparently working him up into enough of a frenzy that he offered to send me a photo of himself he’d taken in the shower–soapy lather and all–from the neck down.

My nipples immediately stood at attention with the very thought. The woman who has been disdainful of such photos, mostly because men you haven’t known intimately are all too willing to send them, was not only willing but eager to be on the receiving end of that photo. I had been intimate with him. I knew his body. I had affection for it and the man living in it.

Let’s just say that if you have to delay gratification, a photo like that is a good thing to have.

 

Note: The name Jake is fictitious and has been used out of respect for the man involved.

 

Copyright 2016 by Melanie Mulhall

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