I’m not quite sure when it happened, but I’ve become involved with a serial sexter. I am fully aware that he is bat shit crazy. We don’t see each other and we don’t speak on the phone; we just sext. Truthfully, HE sexts and I just kind of respond with “oh yeah?” “really?” “That sounds nice.”
I met him at a party back in December. He was seeing a friend of mine but we were drunk and exchanged numbers. The next morning I realized that it’s always hoes before bros and I regretted exchanging contact information with him. I heard from him a few days later and made it pretty clear that I wasn’t interested in dating my friend’s current love interest. He was fine with that. A few weeks later, he texted me again. He and my friend had broken up and he wanted to hang out. Since my winter has been so busy, cold and generally horrible, it was really hard to make plans with him. Then the sexts began.
They started out as fairly benign sexually laced text messages. A message about how he loved the short skirt I was wearing the night of the party, another one about how he liked me as soon as he met me, how he followed me when I went to the bathroom and waited outside, planning to kiss me in a semi-private area of the party. I thought it was kind of sweet, but there was something about him that just reeked of a douchebag. I mean, really? Really? You were going to kiss me at a party that your then love interest was hosting? That shit is unacceptable. I told him that I was very flattered, but I never would have kissed him at that party.
Then he became more, for lack of a better word, intimate. I was wearing fishnet stockings that night and apparently, he noticed. He started texting about my stockings. How he wanted to rip them open, pull my panties to the side and slide his cock inside of my pussy. I’m not paraphrasing here. I remember being stunned. What?!? He started asking me questions about my panties and stockings and telling me how much he loved short skirts. I don’t think he’s a breast man. He never once mentioned my own breasts or a bra. Just panties and stocking and skirts. My responses were fairly bland. “I have lots of different panties.” “I like stockings too.” “I love wearing skirts and dresses, but it’s been so cold.” He ALWAYS texts “I want your legs wrapped around me.” That’s one of his staples.
Over time, I began to realize that this guy is a sexual addict with a fetish I had never heard of before. NMCF or CFNM (I can’t remember the order.) He started sexting me one night about my public sexual history. I didn’t give much information. I think my response was “Oh wow, I don’t remember, it’s been so long.” After my response, I realized that he didn’t give a shit about MY public sexual experiences, he wanted to tell me about HIS. A girl started jerking him off in a bar. Everybody was staring. They left. They walked around lower Manhattan until they found a townhouse that was under renovation. They sneaked into the basement, he pulled up her skirt and they fucked. To end their escapade, he left the “cum filled condom on the door latch for the construction workers to find in the morning.” So romantic. This is when I found out about his NMCF/CFNM fetish. Naked Male Clothed Female (or vice-versa). Now, I’m no nun. I’ve always enjoyed sex and have had a few interesting sexual relationships of my own, but I had never heard of that fetish before and that’s when I realized–this guy has been around. And around. And around.
He’s sexted me at 6:20 AM to tell me how hard his cock is. My response “You woke me up.” He didn’t care. He woke me up again early one morning to tell me how he wanted to slide his cock up and down my thigh and rub it all over my silky panties. Apparently, he doesn’t like lace panties–too itchy. Makes sense.
I know that these sexts are just a distraction for me. I don’t plan on ever seeing him in person and honestly, he scares me a little. I could block his number, but I don’t want to. I want to see what happens next. His messages make me gasp and giggle. I know it’s terrible because he does have a sincere addiction and issues with women, but it’s entertaining. I never contact him. Never. I don’t have to. He’ll sext for days in a row, I won’t hear from him for a week and then “my cock is so hard for you baby, I’ve got my hand wrapped around it right now” pops up on my phone. As disturbing as it is, meaning he actually disturbs me when I’m trying to sleep or watch a show on TV as well as the fact that he’s clearly disturbed about women, I’m going to wait it out. He’ll eventually find someone else to sext and I’ll be history. But for now, the warped attention is fun.
And for the record, no sexts today.