Wanted: Tutor To Teach Husband To Sext

Wanted: Tutor To Teach Husband To Sext

My husband and I didn't do anything for Valentine's Day.

And by nothing, I mean nothing... in bed.

Or on the couch. Or in the shower. Or on the kitchen counter. Or wherever else all of y'all free-lovin' heathens get horizontal (or vertical, in the case of the shower).

I'm not going to explain the reason for our abbreviated abstinence, because it's not at all interesting. Instead, let's skip to the part where, last night, I decided it was time to get mine and -- because I'm generous-- decided to include my man in the festivities.

Now, I've never been the seductive sort, but lucky for my lover, I have been watching The Golden Girls lately, which is essentially Sex and the City if Samantha wore dentures and Depends. With these ladies' timeless sensuality in mind, I asked myself what Blanche would do if she were not a grandmother and therefore automatically unable to operate a smart phone. And then, in a move that would have made Rose blush, I wiggled into some lingerie, snapped a sultry selfie, and texted it to my husband, Chris, who was in the other room.

Actual image of me in my orgasm-inducing unmentionables:


Obviously, that's an approximation. I'm not going to actually show you my assets. Also, I don't know how to make gifs of my boobs and/or booty.


Barely two seconds passed before Chris sent me back this text:


That's our cat, Mycroft.

So, to recap: My husband and I had been riding the Heckuva Dry Spell bus. I decided to grease the get-it-on wheels by sending Chris a naughty selfie of myself in lingerie. He responded by sending me a blurry picture of our cat.

What the hell, amirite?

I lay there on the bed, somewhat stupefied, contemplating possible explanations for this "sext." Maybe he was trying to take a dick pic but the phone slipped and he accidentally snapped a shot of our cat who happened to be chilling at Chris's feet just as Chris was trying to determine the ideal angle for photographing his junk?


Or maybe he was Trumping this thing by sending me a picture of a cat with the implication being that the cat was a pussy and then he planned on following up that pussy pic with one of him grabbing the cat/pussy as a promise of what he planned to do to me but in a sexy way?

Double ew.

Or maybe this picture was already on his phone and he was about to type some mouth-watering sext but he fat-fingered the whole shebang and inadvertently hit send on this pic instead?

That's moderately better, right?

Fortunately (or not), I didn't have to wait long for an official answer.

Chris walked into the bedroom at that minute, looked me up and down, and uttered a phrase that sent sensual shivers down my spine and made me beg him to let us skip our foreplay...

"I'm super confused right now."

Y'all. For the sake of expediency, let's just go ahead and concede that it's a poor idea to tell your lover that suggestive images of her exposed body make you confused. And let's also concede that you should not follow up that admission with this conversation:

Me: What's confusing? That I sexted you.
Him: Was that what that was?
Me: The picture of me and my boobs in lingerie? Yes.
Him: Oh.
Me: Did you not think the picture was hot?
Him: Yeah. It was hot. I was just confused when I saw it.
Me: You were confused about whether or not the picture was hot?
Him: No. I mean, yes. I mean, no. It's hot. Your boobs were... no, they ARE... totally hot. I just didn't know what to do!
Me: So you sent me a picture of a cat?
Him: Well, in fairness, I was going to take a picture of his ass and send that to you, but he turned around at the last minute, so...
Me: ... I sent you a picture of me in lingerie, and you thought it was a good idea to respond by texting me a picture of our cat's ass?
Him: So, that didn't do anything for you, then?

Guess who is now Captain In Perpetuum of the Dry Spell Bus?



That's who.

And he has a looooooong road ahead.


True story: Life would be super swell if we all embraced our OMG side instead of living a Facebook-friendly existence. So, let it out. Have your efforts to spice up your sex life ever failed so spectacularly? What'd you do? What could Chris have sent that would have been worse than a blurry pic of our cat? How should he make this up to me? Feel free to disclose details. You're safe here.


(Note: As with all my posts containing sexual content, I wrote this from my perspective as a cis-gendered heterosexual female. I'm not trying to be exclusive. I love y'all. It just gets hella wordy when I include every possible scenario.)