September 1, 2004

Call forwardly

Far or near, your lover can ring your bell while you let your fingers do the walking.

by Lily Morrigan

As with many firsts, my initiation into phone sex was awkward. It was also unexpected. I’d called a friend to talk about some goings-on at the indie radio station where we volunteered.

“What’cha up to?” I asked.

“I’m jerking off,” he replied.

I laughed it off, chalking up his response to a punk-rock version of “I’m not busy.” Then, I launched into the reasons for my call. After about five minutes, it was clear he wasn’t listening to me. I just kept getting vague “uh-huh” and “mm-hmm” responses from him.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I told you,” he countered.

I replayed the conversation in my head. “Are you really jacking off?”

“Talk to me,” he suggested.

I wasn’t offended by his actions. More accurately, I was intrigued but dumbfounded. “I don’t know what to say,” I sputtered.

Then, he actually asked, “What are you wearing?” At this point, it was clear I was going to have to fake it, since “skateboard baggies and a threadbare Holy Terrors T-shirt” was clearly not going to be helpful masturbatory material. Despite my desire to assist him, I could barely speak. Everything that came to mind seemed ridiculously clichéd. Attempting to get in the mood, I began to touch myself but was too nervous to enjoy it. As a last resort, I offered some fake moans and heavy breathing until he came.

It would be several years before I tried phone sex again. The next time, it was a logical solution to the sexual frustration of a long-distance relationship. Since my boyfriend lived more than 1,200 miles away, we could have sex only every couple of months. Fortunately for me, my out-of-state lover wasn’t a novice at elocutionary acts of love. In fact, he was a poet who often wrote and read erotic poems, and his very first job had been writing and selling pornographic stories to his junior high school classmates.

Initially, he did all the talking as we both gratified ourselves. He’d say something like, “I’m kissing you, sliding my hand behind your neck, leaning into you. You raise your hips, inviting me inside you. I slide into you just a little, teasing us both, kissing you madly.” And as he talked and I became more aroused, his narration was punctuated by my genuine gasps, moans and breathy encouragement.

It wasn’t long until I was offering simple counterpoint like “Oh my God, fuck me” to his descriptions. Then, I began providing my half of the narration, so there was genuine give-and-take in the sessions, just as there would be during sex when we were together.

As I got more comfortable with my new verbal skills, I’d test their power. To be mischievous, I would call my boyfriend at work on the days I lounged in bed till noon. “Hey, baby, I’m naked and stretched out on my silky sheets. I’ve got my hot-pink vibrator right here, and I’m thinking of you,” I’d begin. He’d respond with generic businesslike responses as I took advantage of myself and described every ecstatic moment until I could no longer speak coherently. Sometimes, in my delirium, I’d drop the phone, and he’d listen to the distant sounds of my repeated orgasms with my vibrator humming in the background. Sometimes, I’d call just before the crucial moment, just so I could hear the sound of his voice as I came.

Honestly, I never became as talented as he was at narrating imaginary scenarios. Too often, I’d become so involved in my physical pleasure that I’d forget the story line. Instead, most of the time, I’d describe what I was actually doing to myself. Our long-distance loving allowed us a verbal exploration of the possibilities so that when we were together physically, we knew more about each others’ desires.

For that reason, even when a lover lives close, I’m still a big fan of phone sex. I like exploring our verbal sexual dynamic just as much as I enjoy the physical one. Everyone has his or her own moves, quirks, specialties and limitations. And just like intercourse, phone sex requires some intuition and occasional problem-solving.

For instance, as a writer, it took me a while to realize that I could indulge in the cheesiness of sex talk without it reflecting poorly on my creative abilities. At first, I was too hung up on being artful in my descriptions. As a result, I was inhibited. It’s more important that sex talk be effective than creative. If you or your partner can do both, all the better. But don’t worry about it sounding dumb; it takes a genius to make it artful. Most phone sex sounds as stupid as real sex looks. If you want to enjoy it, you’ll just have to accept that.

If one or both of you are having problems getting things started, I suggest swapping books or stories that excite you and begin by reading these to each other. It’ll break the ice by getting you to verbalize and vocalize your desires, and it’ll give you both a window into the things that excite you. I’ve invested in a small library of sadomasochistic, bondage and discipline erotica, since these are the things that get my juices going. Many Web sites, such as www.nerve.com, specialize in erotica, which will provide you with easy access should the mood strike you before you have the chance to make it to the bookstore.

Have a question or sex story for Lily Morrigan? Contact her at citylink@citylinkmagazine.com.